The Viscount and the Virgin by Annie Burrows

her aunt had re covered from the initial shock, and had leapt to her feet, beaming with pleasure. ‘Oh, Imogen. Congratulations! Well done!’
    It did not occur to her aunt, thought Imogen with resentment, that she might have turned down such a flattering offer. Nor her uncle, who breezed into the dining room that evening, positively gleeful over what he termed ‘Imogen’s conquest.’ The atmosphere at the table was more convivial than Imogen could ever remember it being since she had gone to live there. She had finally, she observed with a sinking heart, managed to do something they approved of.
    Drat the viscount for being right about this! She did not have the heart to disappoint them. In the end,with what her aunt declared was a becoming show of modesty, Imogen had bowed her head and accepted her uncle’s congratulations in a muted voice.
    â€˜His Lordship will be coming to dine tomorrow night, so that we may all discuss arrangements,’ her uncle informed them both as he sawed off a generous portion of game pie and tipped it onto his plate. ‘Captain Bredon will accompany him.’
    â€˜Captain Bredon?’ Lady Callandar echoed in astonishment. ‘You have invited him to dine?’
    Imogen felt as surprised as her aunt looked. But Lord Callandar quashed any further objections by stating, ‘His Lordship is bringing him, as his guest.’
    â€˜Oh, well, in that case, of course…’ her aunt trailed off, bowing her head over her plate in dutiful submission.
    Imogen was sure her aunt would never have raised any objections to having her step brother to dine, had she ever plucked up the courage to risk rousing her uncle’s displeasure by inviting him. It had only been surprise that had made her seem to question her husband’s choice of dinner guest. But apparently, the fact that Rick numbered a viscount among his closest friends now outweighed the ignominy of his humble birth.
    Lady Callandar did look somewhat anxious when Rick breached all codes of etiquette the minute he entered the house—striding into the drawing room and enveloping Imogen in an enthusiastic hug. fortunately, her uncle was too busy fussing around the viscount to even notice.
    â€˜I am so pleased for you, Midge,’ Rick grinned. Then he leaned and whispered in her ear, ‘You will like beingmarried to Monty. Always thought the pair of you would suit.’
    Imogen guiltily disentangled herself from his embrace. It was hard to know which was making her more uncomfortable; deceiving her brother or exposing her aunt to one of her uncle’s tirades, by indulging in what he would term un acceptable behaviour in his drawing room.
    Her aunt, seeing how uncomfortable she was, gamely tried to make light of the situation by swat ting Rick play fully with her fan, and saying, ‘You are not in France now, Captain Bredon. We cannot have these continental habits creeping into our drawing rooms.’
    Rick backed off, muttering apologies, a dull flush on his cheeks.
    Imogen wished there was some thing she could say to smooth things over. It was not Rick’s behaviour she found difficult. It was the situation with the viscount.
    She schooled her features into an expression of polite welcome as she made her curtsy to Viscount Mildenhall.
    He bowed over her hand, the epitome of a courteous suitor, but there was a look of such cynical amusement in his eyes as he straightened up that Imogen wished she dared swat him with her own fan.
    She mastered the impulse, out of consideration for her aunt’s feelings, and the evening proceeded along utterly conventional lines.
    â€˜Do you have a date in mind for the wedding, my lord?’ asked her aunt, as they took their places at the table.
    â€˜Before the week is out,’ replied Viscount Mildenhalltersely. ‘When Captain Bredon will be rejoining his regiment.’
    â€˜Oh, but that will leave no time to purchase bride