Winning the Viscount’s heart (Regency Romance) (Regency Lords Book 2) by Regina Darcy Page A
Authors: Regina Darcy
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if there’s a threat of me becoming an old maid. At nineteen, I can afford to wait for someone truly wonderful for a little while longer, can I not?”
“I fear your judgement may be tainted by all those fairy tales you love so dearly,” Archibald muttered.
“Oh, you are hardly in a place to lecture me on judgement,” Emmeline shot back at her brother.
Archibald tutted. “So bold. You are fortunate that none of your followers heard that.” Miss Lucy Grove watched the playful sibling rivalry with an amused smile, but Mrs. Knight seemed eager to change the subject.
“Now, you two, please. Emmeline, I would like you to be married in a timely manner,” Mrs. Knight said. “Though a love-match would be perfect, my dear, most maidens marry out of practicality and convenience. You are unlikely to find a prince in these parts.”
“That’s not quite so,” Lucy interjected, lips touched with a sly smile. Emmeline’s curiosity was piqued.
“What do you mean, Lucy?” she asked.
“Well, I heard whispers while you were on the dance floor. Apparently, someone just rented Archester Manor.”
“Archester? Really?” Emmeline said, breathless. Archester Manor was no humble abode. The estate covered nearly 4,000 acres and looked fit for a royal’s summer retreat. For the money it would take to rent it, the guest may as well be royal. Lucy watched her friend’s shock with excitement.
“You have yet to hear the best of it,” she said.
“Please stop holding me in suspense and just say it, Lucy!” Emmeline cried. By this point, all three Knights were leaning in, eyes wide.
Lucy enjoyed her last few moments of superior knowledge, then spoke. “The guest is a Peer from France.” Her small crowd let out a single synonymous gasp. She continued, “His name is Le Comte de Coligny , and rumour is he plans to stay all season.”
“Did you say his name was de Coligny?” Mrs. Knight echoed. “Hmm…a Count…I believe my grandfather knew him. Archibald, perhaps you should call on him?”
Emmeline seemed not to have heard her mother.
“Did you say that he came alone?” Lucy nodded.
“I hope I do not presume too much to say that may be the reason he came for the season,” she said.
“Why Berkshire?” Archibald mused quietly. “If he is truly of the peerage as the rumours say, why not look for a companion in a city like London?”
“I do hope you do not mean to insult Berkshire ladies, Mr. Knight, or some of us may take offense,” Lucy said, still wearing her sly and amused smile.
“I can hardly believe—here. A French Count!” Emmeline said. Her thoughts enveloped her. She imagined a reason as to exactly why he had come to their humble village instead of some city; he wanted to meet women of a more non-material nature, who had lived in luxury less than those he was used to. This golden-hearted Lord wanted the company of humble ladies, polite and plain in attitude despite soft and lovely appearances. In her mind, they were already a perfect fit.
“Well, we already have the heir to an earldom. Not that I’ve seen you pay any attention to Lord Blackwood,” Mrs. Knight said, sounding sour. Emmeline paid her no head.
“Oh dear,” Emmeline sighed, fanning herself, “a Peer.” Distantly, the music swelled and descended into silence as the band prepared itself for the next song.
A hand fell softly on her shoulder and rested there for a moment before jerking off as if it had been burnt. It tore Emmeline from her thoughts, and she stared into the stern face of Lord Blackwood. “My apologies, Miss Knight. I simply wanted your attention.”
“Apologies for what?” She looked at his hand, held carefully at his side, then back at her shoulder. He looked about as surprised as she did—perhaps at his own boldness.
“Oh. There is no need for apologies, Lord Blackwood. How may I assist you?”
“I would like to ask your company for this final dance of the evening, if it would please you.”
“Hmm?
“I fear your judgement may be tainted by all those fairy tales you love so dearly,” Archibald muttered.
“Oh, you are hardly in a place to lecture me on judgement,” Emmeline shot back at her brother.
Archibald tutted. “So bold. You are fortunate that none of your followers heard that.” Miss Lucy Grove watched the playful sibling rivalry with an amused smile, but Mrs. Knight seemed eager to change the subject.
“Now, you two, please. Emmeline, I would like you to be married in a timely manner,” Mrs. Knight said. “Though a love-match would be perfect, my dear, most maidens marry out of practicality and convenience. You are unlikely to find a prince in these parts.”
“That’s not quite so,” Lucy interjected, lips touched with a sly smile. Emmeline’s curiosity was piqued.
“What do you mean, Lucy?” she asked.
“Well, I heard whispers while you were on the dance floor. Apparently, someone just rented Archester Manor.”
“Archester? Really?” Emmeline said, breathless. Archester Manor was no humble abode. The estate covered nearly 4,000 acres and looked fit for a royal’s summer retreat. For the money it would take to rent it, the guest may as well be royal. Lucy watched her friend’s shock with excitement.
“You have yet to hear the best of it,” she said.
“Please stop holding me in suspense and just say it, Lucy!” Emmeline cried. By this point, all three Knights were leaning in, eyes wide.
Lucy enjoyed her last few moments of superior knowledge, then spoke. “The guest is a Peer from France.” Her small crowd let out a single synonymous gasp. She continued, “His name is Le Comte de Coligny , and rumour is he plans to stay all season.”
“Did you say his name was de Coligny?” Mrs. Knight echoed. “Hmm…a Count…I believe my grandfather knew him. Archibald, perhaps you should call on him?”
Emmeline seemed not to have heard her mother.
“Did you say that he came alone?” Lucy nodded.
“I hope I do not presume too much to say that may be the reason he came for the season,” she said.
“Why Berkshire?” Archibald mused quietly. “If he is truly of the peerage as the rumours say, why not look for a companion in a city like London?”
“I do hope you do not mean to insult Berkshire ladies, Mr. Knight, or some of us may take offense,” Lucy said, still wearing her sly and amused smile.
“I can hardly believe—here. A French Count!” Emmeline said. Her thoughts enveloped her. She imagined a reason as to exactly why he had come to their humble village instead of some city; he wanted to meet women of a more non-material nature, who had lived in luxury less than those he was used to. This golden-hearted Lord wanted the company of humble ladies, polite and plain in attitude despite soft and lovely appearances. In her mind, they were already a perfect fit.
“Well, we already have the heir to an earldom. Not that I’ve seen you pay any attention to Lord Blackwood,” Mrs. Knight said, sounding sour. Emmeline paid her no head.
“Oh dear,” Emmeline sighed, fanning herself, “a Peer.” Distantly, the music swelled and descended into silence as the band prepared itself for the next song.
A hand fell softly on her shoulder and rested there for a moment before jerking off as if it had been burnt. It tore Emmeline from her thoughts, and she stared into the stern face of Lord Blackwood. “My apologies, Miss Knight. I simply wanted your attention.”
“Apologies for what?” She looked at his hand, held carefully at his side, then back at her shoulder. He looked about as surprised as she did—perhaps at his own boldness.
“Oh. There is no need for apologies, Lord Blackwood. How may I assist you?”
“I would like to ask your company for this final dance of the evening, if it would please you.”
“Hmm?
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