The Viscount Takes a Bride: A Steamy Regency Romance, page 1
THE VISCOUNT TAKES A BRIDE
A STEAMY REGENCY ROMANCE
VIOLET HAMERS
CONTENTS
A Thank You Gift
Before You Start Reading…
Love to Read?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Preview: The Duke Gets Even
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Also by Violet Hamers
Loved the Book?
About the Author
A THANK YOU GIFT
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called The Duke she Desires. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
With love and appreciation,
Violet Hamers
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ABOUT THE BOOK
“Was compromising me part of your plan so I have no choice but to accept your offer?”
The Viscount of Saxton killed her brother. That much is certain amongst Margaret’s family. And now he has the audacity to blackmail them in exchange for her hand in marriage!
Seth is a man of few words. And as the Viscount of Saxton, he is used to getting his way. Even if it means forcing his new bride into a marriage of convenience with him to protect her.
Only…Margaret proves to be too feisty for her own good. And his own sanity.
CHAPTER ONE
“Who?” Lady Margaret Plymouth’s fork slipped from her fingers and clattered onto her plate while her mouth hung open in a rather ungraceful fashion.
Her father, Harvey Plymouth, the Duke of Woodport, repeated his pronouncement, “Margaret, you are to marry my good friend, the Duke of Dormer.”
“You cannot mean that, Father,” she whispered, too shocked to speak any louder.
He raised his graying eyebrows. “I have never been more earnest.”
Margaret glanced at her mother, Gloria, seeking her help, but the woman’s eyes remained on her plate. Next, she turned to her brother, Andrew, but he, too, avoided her gaze.
Am I to face Father alone? She could excuse her brother because he was only sixteen and was powerless against their tyrannical father. She swallowed her disappointment and took a fortifying breath.
Her older brother, Simon, died a year and ten months ago which caused Margaret to make her debut late. At nineteen and barely halfway through her first season, her father, for some inexplicable reason, wanted to throw the elderly Dormer, a man with an unsavory reputation in society, in her path. Margaret was as shocked by her father’s decision as she was wounded by it. To think that he would so willingly give her to such a man…
“Surely, Father, you can allow me to reach the end of my season before you make me marry.”
“And why should I do that? Why should I incur more unnecessary expenses?” Her father had always been careful with his fortune, but some unfortunate circumstances had caused him to hold onto every penny even more.
Desperate and knowing exactly how his decision would change her life—for the worse—Margaret tried, once more, to appeal to Harvey’s spirit. “Father, I implore you to reconsider. Give me until the end of the season, and I promise you that I will find a hus—”
Harvey pounded a fist onto the dining table and glared at her, the tips of his ears coloring. “Your manner offends me, Margaret!” he roared, and she winced. Why was he desperate to get her married without giving her the chance to find a husband? She opened her mouth to ask him that question, but he continued his tirade. “Your stubbornness is reprehensible, and no decent gentleman would tolerate it, much less offer you the privilege of marriage. Must you question everything?”
“But I did not quest—”
“Be quiet!” Margaret clenched her teeth and did as she was asked, afraid he would bring Dormer and a parson to the manor this instant and force her to wed him.
“Take what you are offered while it is still available. I refuse to tolerate a spinster for a daughter!” He was raising his voice again even though he had quite asserted his authority, and everyone understood their place. He jabbed a finger at Margaret. “Now, you will listen to me carefully, for I will not repeat myself. I shall be hosting a ball, and at said event, I will announce your engagement to the Duke of Dormer.”
Margaret stared at her father as a vision of her future played in her thoughts. She would become a duchess and be sent to live in one of her husband’s estates in the north without friends or family, forced to bed a gouty old man and bear his children. Margaret shut her eyes and ground her teeth, her stomach churning with dread.
Harvey stood then. “This conversation has robbed me of my appetite.” He picked up his wine goblet. “Margaret, I hope you are quite pleased with yourself.” As he walked out, he gestured for a footman to follow him with his food. This would have amused Margaret if she were in a better disposition.
Refusing to concede, she turned to her mother. Gloria must have been frightened by Harvey’s anger as she usually was, but perhaps she could plead with him on Margaret’s behalf later. “Mother,” she began.
“I will not discuss this matter now, Margaret,” Gloria said coolly, and Margaret’s hands clenched underneath the table as something bitter tightened her chest.
Her father had always been a strict and unfeeling man, but her mother had not always been withdrawn. Simon’s death had caused it, and although a lot of time had passed, they were still very much grieving, all of them. After finishing her main course, Gloria rose.
“You are not going to have dessert?” Margaret asked stiffly.
“No. I have no care for it.” She smoothed her hands down her light blue satin dress before walking out of the dining room.
Margaret stared at her barely touched food, misery stinging her eyes. The hand that gently came down on her shoulder made her turn to her left to see Andrew. He had been sitting across from her, but he had moved beside her now.
“Father is difficult to argue with,” he apologized. “Would that I could…”
Margaret shook her head. “I know, Andrew, and I thank you for commiserating with me now.”
“You should find Mother and speak to her. Only she can plead with Father,” he advised, and she nodded. Their mother might be as wary of their father as everyone else, but she still had some power to persuade him. “Now, let us have dessert.”
The footmen brought some orange cake and cream which was Margaret’s favorite, but it tasted different because she was distraught. After dinner, she left her brother to find her mother. When she did not see her in either of the drawing rooms in the manor, she decided to go up to check her bedchamber.
Gloria’s lady’s maid was coming out of the bedchamber when Margaret arrived in the hallway. “Is my mother in?” she asked.
The lady’s maid curtsied. “Yes, My Lady.”
Margaret knocked lightly on the door, and once she heard her mother answer, she turned the handle and walked in. Gloria was sitting at her vanity, already dressed for bed. Her mother slept after dinner when she was not in a fair mood.
“Mother, will you help me beseech Father?” Margaret asked once she was close to her.
Gloria shook her head. “I fear I am powerless in this situation. Your father has already made up his mind, and it would be impossible to change it now.”
“Did you know about his intentions before he announced them?” Margaret asked.
“Yes. He told me this morning.” She raised deep blue eyes to regard her daughter.
Margaret pushed down the painful lump of desperation rising in her throat before crouching in front of Gloria. “I do not understand why he is doing this. Do you?” At the start of the season, Margaret thought she would find a goo
Gloria sighed. “Our fortunes are suffering, Margaret. I did not want to tell you this, but I have cause to believe it is why your father wishes for you to marry Dormer. He is a very wealthy man, and joining our families will help our financial situation.”
Margaret stared at her mother in shock. It was worse than she thought. She could not speak for several seconds, but when she finally found her voice, she said, “He would rather sell his daughter than find a proper way to recover our fortunes?" She felt her shoulders stiffen, and the anger she had felt earlier returned.
“Our lost wealth is not his fault, Margaret. You know that,” Gloria defended, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“What are you saying, Mother?” Margaret questioned, despite having an inkling of what her mother was alluding to. This would not be the first time she was hearing it.
“You know that Simon…” Gloria began, but Margaret quickly interrupted her. Indignation on her late brother’s behalf joined her warring emotions right then.
“Allow the dead to rest, Mother—especially your son. How long will you continue to blame Simon for the littlest of things?”
Simon had been a wonderful brother, everything Margaret wanted one to be. He was a good son and heir, too—the force that united her family. Her father had little respect for people, but he respected Simon. Margaret had never admired anyone more, but he had flaws like everyone—one of which had been the love for gambling. Their fortunes had severely declined as a result, and her mother could not seem to forgive him for it.
If anyone should be angry, it should be Margaret because she was being sold, but she treasured his memory too much to allow his mistakes to influence her thus. The entire family still mourned Simon despite everything, and naturally, grief came to each person in different forms. Margaret had always felt as though a part of her father died along with his first heir, and Gloria mourned by blaming her son for leaving her behind to continue to suffer Harvey’s overbearing ways. It was painful for Margaret to see her like this.
Andrew was still a boy and one in want of guidance, too. She’d had to push her grief to the side to be the daughter and sister her family needed. Now that it was time for her needs to be heard, she was being pushed away. At least, that was how she felt.
Gloria’s chin began to quiver with emotion at Margaret’s words, and instinctively, Margaret pulled her mother into her arms, doing all she could to comfort her. “Simon was all I had,” her mother cried. “He was my strength, and he left me.” Margaret’s heart twisted at that.
You had me, Mother, she thought but could not say. You still do. Andrew, too. Margaret instead said the words she thought would soothe Gloria. “He loved all of us, and he still does, wherever he is. I know he would not want you to continue grieving like this.”
Margaret remained in her mother’s bedchamber for almost an hour, and when Gloria had fallen asleep, Margaret retired to her bedchamber, thinking the best thing for her to do was to sleep, too. However, she knew her thoughts were too restless to allow her to have a peaceful slumber. Margaret flopped onto her bed and sighed, thoroughly lost. Would she be doing the right thing by agreeing to marry Dormer to save her family's crumbling finances? The more pertinent, yet disturbing question was whether she had a choice.
Her head ached thinking of the answer to the question, and she rose from her bed and walked to the door, imagining her mood brightening with either a good book or some embroidery which was one of her most enjoyable pastimes. Besides, anything that would distract her from her pathetic reality would be good
Andrew stumbled into the room as soon as she opened the door. He caught himself and balanced the laden plate he was holding, but a biscuit fell onto the carpeted floor and crumbled. When he straightened, she saw his mouth was full, and he was chewing.
“What are you doing, Andrew?” she asked, smiling.
“I had my ear to the door, wondering if you were awake.” He picked a slice of cake from the plate before handing it to her. “I brought this to cheer you up.”
“All for me?” she jested.
“You know you cannot eat all of it.”
“What if I could?” Margaret accepted the plate and sat on the sofa before the hearth.
“You could, but it would never show,” Andrew laughed, sitting beside her. She was very slim, and he never failed to tease her about it.
He started to reach for another cake, but she pulled the plate away from him. “I believe you have had enough.”
“Come now, Ret,” he groaned. He called her that sometimes because when he had been learning to speak, her name was too difficult for him to pronounce, and thus, he settled on calling her Ret. “I did not eat well because of Father. I believe he gave me quite the indigestion.”
“You should not be having all these if you are suffering from indigestion then,” Margaret pointed out, but she allowed him to have more of the contents of the plate—most of them to be exact. She was not hungry, but she needed the distraction that eating something sweet would provide her.
“Ret,” Andrew said after a while, his hazel eyes—that were the same color as hers—serious.
“Yes?”
“I would never marry you off to some old man if I were Duke. You know that, do you not?”
His care brought a smile to her face. “I know that, Andrew.” She fondly ruffled his blonde hair, more emotions turning inside her.
Andrew groaned in protest. “Why do you keep doing that?” He smoothed down his hair. “I am a man now, not a boy.”
“No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little brother,” she chuckled.
“Little,” he scoffed, looking down his nose at her. “Observe yourself before you say that next time.”
They laughed and jested for a while longer before he rose to leave, taking the remainder of the cakes and biscuits with him. After bidding him goodnight and closing her door, Margaret rested her back against it.
Her mother should not blame Simon for their plight. No, she should blame that man who killed him—Viscount Saxton. If ever she was presented with the opportunity to exact revenge, Margaret would happily take it, for if Simon had not befriended the wretched man, he just might still be alive.
CHAPTER TWO
