How To Tempt A Viscount

By Margaret McPhee

London, 1807. A disastrous start to their marriage caused Ellen to leave her husband, Marcus Henshall, Viscount Stanley. Instead of retreating in humiliation, Ellen has been busy learning how to transform herself from a timid girl into a confident, sensual siren. Now she has returned to London –– and Marcus –– with a mission: to seduce her husband and show him how it feels to have desire go unrequited. But when her plan starts working, she may not be able to resist her own attraction to Marcus…

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Mar 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460805220

Margaret McPhee

Margaret McPhee trained as a scientist, but was always a romantic at heart. She wrote two manuscripts and suffered numerous rejections from publishers and agents before joining the Romantic Novelists Association. A further two manuscripts later and with help from RNAs new writers' scheme, her first regency romance was born. Margaret enjoys cycling, tea and cakes and loves exploring the beautiful scenery and wildlife of the islands of Scotland with her husband.

Book preview

Chapter One

September, 1807

Within the Duke of Arlesford’s private box in the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, neither Viscount Stanley nor any of the friends with whom he was sitting could cease staring. But they were not watching the play.

‘I did not know you had let your box, Stanley.’ Arlesford’s voice was subtle yet Marcus heard the unspoken question within the words.

Marcus’s attention did not shift from his box on the opposite side of the theatre and the lone woman who had just entered it. She could not have timed her entrance any better to pique his curiosity if she had tried, arriving only moments before the start of the play so that Marcus was provided with a fleeting glimpse of an enticing creature with golden brown curls piled high on her head, and a scarlet-edged cream silk gown cut low and moulded to a perfect body. The lights dimmed but even then the shimmering pallor of her dress marked her from the shadows, illuminating her in tantalising allure.

The actors took to the stage and a murmur rippled through the theatre, but Marcus knew it was not the start of the play exciting the theatregoers’ interest.

The woman took her time in making herself comfortable, her movements unhurried, leisurely, sensual almost, as if she had every right in the world to be sitting there in his box; as if she were waiting for him. Every eye could see that she was quite alone, save for her maid.

Sebastian Hunter, who was sitting on his right-hand side, grinned and whispered what Marcus knew every man in the house would be thinking. ‘No wonder you kept quiet about that little diamond, you sly dog!’

‘A trifle…indiscreet, Stanley,’ cautioned Arlesford sotto voce so that only Marcus would hear. ‘Southampton is not exactly the other end of the country.’

Southampton—where Ellen had been ‘visiting’ her parents for the last four months. It was as close as anyone came to mentioning his wife. No one ever mentioned his wife. Or his marriage. No one dared.

Marcus’s face was stony yet he did not take his eyes from the woman. Whoever she was she must have known that she was stirring a scandal, perched provocatively, blatantly even, in his box as if he were exhibiting his mistress when his marriage was barely six months old. It occurred to him that perhaps Amanda had sent her to cause trouble. And as he watched, the woman turned her gaze from the players upon the stage to him. Their eyes met across the auditorium. Held for that moment too long. As if she were daring him. Teasing him. Marcus’s heart skipped a beat at the shock of the sudden recognition.

‘Devil take it!’ The words slipped as a breath from his lips. He stared, scarcely able to believe it and saw what he should have seen from the very beginning. ‘If you will excuse me, gentlemen.’ He got to his feet, and there was a rustle of movement as those in the surrounding boxes craned to see, and below in the stalls a sea of pale faces upturned in unison. His expression was grim as he glanced once more across at his own theatre box and drew her a small nod of acknowledgement. ‘I believe I should be sitting with my wife.’

Every jaw dropped in the Duke of Arlesford’s theatre box and every eye widened in disbelief. Marcus did not wait to watch them drool all the more over her.

Ellen Henshall, Viscountess Stanley, took a deep breath and tried to calm the thunder of her heart and the nervous tilt of her stomach. In a few moments Marcus would be before her and this façade—the looks and poise, that had taken so much effort in the weaving—must withstand the closeness of his scrutiny. A moment of doubt swept over her but then she remembered just why she was doing this. And with those memories of the first few months of her marriage came determination and a hardening of resolve. And a strength that overcame all of her anxiety.

‘Ellen.’ His voice was rich and cool, stroking a shiver down her spine. ‘You did not tell me you were returning to London.’

So you could ensure that you had rearranged your engagements to minimize the time you must spend in my company? She had not spoken the words to him before out of timidity. She did not speak them now because they were contrary to the purpose she had in mind.

‘I wanted to surprise you, Marcus.’ Most certainly she wanted to do that. She curved her lips and looked at him with that heat in her eyes, just the way Kitty