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  Table of Contents

  The Viscount in Hiding

  Preview of The Viscount’s Conquest

  Bonus Book

  Alex & Harriet

  The Viscount in Hiding

  Lords of London

  Book 1

  By: Emma Evans

  Chapter One

  Viscount William Morton tried not to sigh as he waved off his good friend and his new bride. Viscount Stephen Radcliffe was to be congratulated indeed, for it was not often that a gentleman managed to find such a love match. Especially when Radcliffe had been so set against matrimony only a few short weeks ago!

  “It certainly can be nothing other than love,” William muttered to himself, dragging one hand down his face as the carriage turned the corner, going quite out of view. “And, it seems, I am nothing but a fool.”

  Jumping back into his own carriage, William toyed for a moment as to whether or not to go back home and sit in complete solitude or whether he might be better suited at Whites. At least at his club, he would have company and plenty of brandy with which he might drown his sorrows.

  “Whites!” he shouted, rapping on the roof. The carriage jerked into motion at once and soon William was being taken through the streets of London towards his destination.

  Leaning back heavily against the squabs, William let out a long sigh, hating that he had been such an ignorant fool. For too long, he had considered himself lost to not one but a great many eligible young ladies, culminating in the very lovely Miss Stanway.

  Miss Stanway who was now Viscountess Radcliffe.

  Closing his eyes, William let out a long, frustrated groan. Stephen Radcliffe had gone out to prove that William was not truly in love with Miss Stanway and he had done that rather well, managing to fall in love with the lady in question during his endeavors. Of course, there was a little more to the story than that but it still brought William a great deal of embarrassment to realize just how fickle his heart truly was.

  For instance, it had been nothing more than a single dance that had made William believe he now cared for Miss Sutherby rather than Miss Stanway. He had forgotten about the latter rather quickly, taken in by a pair of bright eyes and a curvaceous mouth. He knew nothing about the lady at all and yet he believed himself to be head over heels in love with her.

  How foolish he had been.

  Putting his head in his hands, William let out another groan, burning with mortification. How the ton must laugh at his foolishness, how his changeability must be wonderful gossip fodder! It made him wince just to think of it.

  “I never knew a thing about them,” he muttered aloud, shaking his head to himself. Miss Hemmingway, Miss Ardler, Miss Clementina, Miss Harper, Miss Georgia, Miss Stanway, Miss Sutherby—he had never once attempted to get to know anything about their character. One look into their eyes and he was lost. The truth was, should anyone ask, he could not recount a single interesting thing about any of them.

  “But no longer,” William muttered aloud, holding onto the strap as the carriage came to a stop. He climbed out before the steps could be brought round, telling the coachman to return home. He would find his own way there some time later.

  Whites was noisy, just as he had anticipated. He had hoped that the conversation and raucous laughter might cover the constant thoughts in his head, which were tumbling over one another in their desire to get to the forefront of his mind. He did not want to think of what a ridiculous fool he had been, nor did he want to think of Stephen Radcliffe’s current happy state, for such a thought brought jealousy rising up within him. Whilst he was determined not to fall in love with another lady again, all William wanted to do now was throw himself, headlong, into a barrel of whisky.

  “Morton!”

  A heavy hand was slapped on his back and, just as he recovered, another one hit his other shoulder.

  “Morton!” the other gentleman roared, as William tried his best to right himself. “Where have you been?”

  Recognising two of his acquaintances, William cleared his throat and tried to smile, aware that they were both well into their cups. “Just seeing off Lord Radcliffe,” he muttered, unable to think of an excuse in time. “Honeymoon, you know.”

  “Ah!” Lord Telton exclaimed, his eyes brightening. “Some friend Lord Radcliffe is, stealing your lady out from under your very nose!”

  Morton shook his head firmly, not wishing for Stephen’s name to be sullied. “No, not in the least. She was never ‘my lady’, as you so delicately put it. I wish them both all the happiness this world can offer.”

  Lord Telton snorted, whilst Lord White chuckled darkly. “Of course she was not your lady, Morton. We can hardly keep up with which lady it is you have chosen to be your particular angel for a time! Although, I did win a substantial amount of money due to your changeability, so I must thank you.”

  William froze, bile rising in his throat. “You bet on me?”

  Lord White roared with laughter, slapping William’s back so hard he almost fell over. “Of course I did!” he shouted, as Lord Telton sniggered loudly. “Almost half the ton did! It is right there in the betting book!”

  William felt as though his feet had been fixed to the floor, his stomach churning wildly. His two acquaintances were still laughing furiously, making him cringe with embarrassment. They apparently felt no shame in taking a bet on his account, clearly delighted with what they had won.

  His limbs felt like lead as he moved towards the other side of the room, where the large betting book was kept. His fingers were numb as he began to run his hand down the page, trying to find his name. He had to turn over three separate pages before he could finally see it, his face growing hot with embarrassment as he read the conditions surrounding the bet.

  “That Lord William Morton will propose to Miss Stanway,” he muttered, wishing he had never come into Whites. He ran his finger down the book, seeing another one just underneath it. “And that she will refuse.” His blood ran cold in his veins as his two acquaintances burst into raucous laughter beside him, evidently finding his mortification utterly hilarious.

  “At least that bet was voided,” William muttered to himself, going hot all over as Lord Telton slapped him firmly on the back, still guffawing. “I never even got the chance to propose to her.”

  “Lord Radcliffe got in there before you and stole her away,” Lord White chuckled, shaking his head in mock dismay. “Not that you’ll mind, of course. The market’s full of fillies just waiting for you to cast your eye over them!”

  Aware that the rest of Whites had grown rather quiet, with the other gentlemen evidently listening to his exchange, William drew himself up to his full height and cleared his throat.

  “I warn you now, gentlemen, you need not make any more bets of the like as regards my interest in the opposite sex. I am done with them all, I tell you.”

  Lord Telton and Lord White blinked, their smiles dying on their faces.

  “Done with them?” Lord White repeated, sounding rather confused. “Whatever can you mean, Morton?”

  “I mean that I intend to return to my estate and bury myself in my responsibilities there,” William replied firmly. “Save your money, gentlemen. I will no longer be an object of your ridicule.”

  Lord White lifted one eyebrow, his eyes glittering. “Going into hiding then, are you? Don’t tell me you’re not going to attend Lady Winthrope’s ball this evening, Morton! You’ve already accepted, I’m sure of it. To not so much as put in an appearance would be more than a little rude.”

  “And you might find someone to soothe that broken heart of yours,” Lord Telton added, sniggering just a little. “Come now, Morton, don’t be so ridiculous.”

  For a moment, William wanted to sag his shoulders and give in, allow them to mock him, allow them to continue to call him out as the ridiculous fop he was. But then he recalled the way Miss Stanway had looked so lovingly into Lord Radcliffe’s eyes—and his resolve returned.

  “I shall be a changed man this evening,” he declared doggedly, slamming his hand down hard on the betting book. “And the minute the ball is over, I shall return to my townhouse and begin to pack my things. My constantly changing heart shall no longer be a much-chewed piece of gossip.”

  He stormed past them without another word, trying to drag some of his dignity with him. Lord Telton and Lord White were not laughing anymore, at least, although there were a great many whispers following after him, calling his return to his estate nothing more than an escape, a place to hide to bury his shame. In fact, they became so loud and so many that they practically chased him out of the door, right into the pouring rain.

  “Blasted carriage,” William muttered to himself, pulling his hat a little more firmly down on his head as he went to hail a hackney. He had not expected to return to his townhouse so soon, otherwise he would have instructed his driver to wait for him.

  Rain tr
ickled into his collar, running its icy fingers down his back. Shivering violently and wishing he could curse loudly at the sky, William tried to hail hackney after hackney, but luck appeared to be against him. Every one seemed to already have occupants, which was no surprise given the sudden downpour but, unwilling to wait even a moment longer, William set off home, trudging through the grey streets of London as rain continued to trickle down his back, his mood matching the grey clouds above.

  Chapter Two

  William sighed heavily as he stepped away from the receiving line, finding his starched collar a little on the tight side. This was possibly the first time he could remember being less than eager to attend a ball.

  Walking down the short staircase and into the ballroom, William immediately made his way to one of the quieter areas of the room, hoping he might blend into the shadows. It was as though every eye was on him, all wondering whom he might choose to be his next infatuation.

  Closing his eyes for a moment, William silently wondered how long he would have to remain before he could hurry off home. He could not have ignored the event, given that he had already accepted as well as the fact that Lady Winthrope was well known for noting which of her guests did not turn up on the night, which often had rather uncomfortable consequences. She had once railed at a particular couple for not appearing at her ball, humiliating them in public—and no-one had ever dared to miss her social events again.

  But that did not mean he would have to remain for a particularly long time. After all, an hour or so in the ballroom itself and then he could escape to the card room and, from there, leave altogether. He would certainly not be staying until the very last moment as he usually did. William was determined to no longer be that man, just as he had said to Lord Telton and Lord White. A few dances, perhaps, but nothing more. He would not lose his head. He would not look into a pair of beautiful, sparkling eyes and completely forget himself, spending the next few hours desperate to catch another glimpse of the lady—all before becoming entranced with yet another beautiful creature. No, he was no longer of that ilk. He would dance, he would politely converse, he would play cards and then he would return home. London could wait until next Season, when he might have an altogether more sensible outlook on his future and his need for a bride.

  “Lord Morton!”

  Cringing inwardly, Morton turned around to see which gentleman was greeting him, only to let out a long breath of relief upon seeing his friend Lord Thackery. The man was giving him a rather puzzled look as he shook his hand firmly, evidently surprised to find William in such a quiet corner.

  “It is good to see you, Thackery,” William said, his shoulders slumping with relief. “I had thought you might have been….” He trailed off, realizing that Thackery might not be aware of what had happened of late.

  “You thought I might have been someone come to laugh at you for the loss of Miss Stanway,” Thackery finished, a wide grin on his face as William rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping. “I may have only been back in London for a week or so but I have already heard all the wonderful gossip surrounding you. My congratulations to Radcliffe, of course.”

  “He and Miss Stanway—Lady Radcliffe, I mean—are already away on their honeymoon,” William muttered, shaking his head. “I cannot believe you have heard such things about me, Thackery. I am already humiliated enough, I assure you!”

  Thackery chuckled and slapped him on the back in an attempt to encourage him. “Nonsense, you need not feel ashamed! It is all in good humor, I am quite sure.”

  William lifted one eyebrow. “They took bets on me.”

  The smile dropped from Thackery’s face at once. “They did not!”

  Nodding, William leaned on the back of a chair and gave his friend a rueful smile. “I’m afraid so. Whites’ betting book. Apparently, I made some men very rich!”

  “Then I hope they thanked you for it,” Thackery replied quietly, his expression a little concerned. “Are you quite all right then, Morton?”

  William wanted to shrug and say that he was quite all right, but instead, he found himself shaking his head, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I confess that since Miss Stanway wed Lord Radcliffe, I have been forced to look at my own reflection for a rather prolonged period of time. I see now what others see—a clown who cannot settle on one particular lady at a time, a gentleman who has not even a notion of what true love is like. My heart is fickle and constantly changing.” He lifted his gaze to the crowd of guests in front of them, seeing them blur together in a rainbow of colors. “I am a ridiculous fool, Thackery. At least now I have seen myself for what I truly am and this, at the very least, has given me desire to change.”

  There was a prolonged silence and as William glanced over at Lord Thackery, he saw him frowning heavily, as though considering what to say. William, content with the quiet, turned back to look at those out on the dance floor, finding no desire to join them with the prettiest lady he could find on his arm. Instead, he felt rather lost, a heaviness in his soul that he could not quite rid himself of. The burden on his shoulders weighed him down, his spirits low and heart sorrowful.

  “I am sorry, old man,” Thackery said, after a few moments. “You know I will not lie to you, Morton, and I must say, I am glad for this to have occurred. I know it is painful at the moment but I can see nothing but good in it. Allow yourself some time to go through all that you feel and all that you have learned. Do not rush yourself—but do not be too harsh with yourself either. We all make mistakes.”

  Appreciating Thackery’s honesty, William stuck out his hand and shook his friend’s hand firmly. “You are always honest, Thackery, and I am glad of it.”

  “You must call on me soon,” Thackery suggested, pushing away the darkness of the moment. “Are you at your townhouse?”

  “Yes, but I return to my country estate come the morrow,” William replied, a little frustrated that he would not see much of his friend. “I think it best I have a little time away from the hubbub of London. Some may call it hiding and mayhap it is. I cannot face the ton at the moment, not when my shame weighs so heavily on my shoulders.”

  Thackery nodded, his expression grave. “Then, when you return, you must call on me,” he said, just as a lady approached them both. “I insist upon it.”

  William made to thank him but just as he opened his mouth, the lady in question came to speak to Lord Thackery, holding up her dance card as a reminder. William watched as she blushed prettily, her eyes warm as Lord Thackery excused himself from William and took her hand. Normally, he would have been delighted to have seen such a beauty but nothing flickered in his heart. Not a single spark of warmth spread through his veins and even his eyes did not linger on her form.

  He was a man lost in his own fog of worries and embarrassments, still wincing as he recalled how loudly he had been mocked in Whites.

  “Did I hear you say you were to return to your country estate, Lord Morton?”

  His attention dragged away from his own thoughts, Morton cleared his throat as he saw a young lady approach him, a gentle smile on her face. He did not recognize her but given the use of his name and the way she spoke to him, he assumed that, at one time, they had been acquainted.

  “I am, yes,” he replied, his voice a little sad. “By first light.”

  “I see,” the lady replied, her grey eyes studying him carefully. “Has some business taken you away, right in the middle of the Season?”

  Not wishing to reveal his true reasons to her, Morton gave her a tight smile and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Something like that, yes.”

  “How sorry we shall all be to lose your company,” she said softly, tilting her head just a little. “How long do you go for? Shall you be back before the Season ends?”

  Growing a little irritated with her questions, particularly when he did not recall her name, William turned to face her a little more and gave a short bow. “No, I shall not and now I really should be going. I wish you a good evening, my lady.”

  He knew he was being somewhat rude but could not find it in himself to care. He was finished with all the eligible young ladies of the ton and mayhap being less than friendly to one such chit would ensure that he was left alone for the remainder of the evening.