Dreaming of the Heartless Viscount

By Roxie Brandon

The London season is turned scandalous by the development of a love triangle between Lady Cynthia Montgomery, Lord Ferguson and the Viscount of Wiltshire. The arrival of innocent Isabella Ross ups the stakes. She is a quintessential English beauty with her sight set on the Viscount.

To win the man who already owns her heart she must agree to a dastardly plan that might just land her in a hot mess. In their pursuit for happiness (or in the Viscount’s case revenge for a bruised heart), they might just find love along the way.

Enjoy this sweet Regency romance with a happily ever after!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roxie Brandon
• Release date: Jan 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005215859

Roxie Brandon

Roxie Brandon is an author of historical and contemporary romance, beauty and fashion books.Her romances range in setting from Medieval times to the Twentieth Century.She loves walks in the countryside and having afternoon tea with family and friends.

Book preview

DREAMING

OF THE

HEARTLESS

VISCOUNT

Copyright © 2021 Roxie Brandon All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER ONE

Miss Isabella Ross, the only daughter of the Viscount of Daventry, laughed to herself as she heard the shrill cry of her governess calling her name. She did not respond, of course, choosing to hide herself away deep within the gardens of her father’s estate. It was not as though her governess, Miss Jones, was being deliberately annoying.

Quite the opposite in fact. She was doing a marvellous job of trying to keep Isabella under control whilst her mother and father were gone to town for a time, but the truth was, Isabella did not particularly want to be kept under so watchful an eye. She longed for freedom, for the time when she might herself go to London and attend all the various balls and soirees that her parents were currently enjoying.

Not only that, but she was drawing closer to the age when she might start preparing for her debut into polite society, but her mother seemed insistent that she wait another two years! Isabella was rather annoyed by that, of course, given that some young ladies were allowed their debut at only a year older than she currently was. But her mother and father were quite steadfast in this matter.

The Viscount of Daventry, her father, was a hardworking and studious man who spent the majority of his time at his country estate alongside his wife and daughter. Their only son, Edward, had married some years ago and had already sired an heir. His wife had already produced first a daughter and then a son.

Edward was eight years Isabella’s elder, which meant that she did not know him particularly well. That said, he appeared to be happy, which she was glad for. Her niece and nephew were quite adorable as well, and it was a relief to her parents that the family line would continue when the time came for the title to be passed on.

Now, of course, it was to be Isabella’s turn to be the focus of a matrimonial match, albeit not for another two years. Her mind was already filled with dreams about London and what she might experience there. She hoped that she would meet the most handsome of gentlemen and be courted beautifully by as many as her mother would permit before she made her choice.

Isabella’s governess always insisted that she learn womanly accomplishments such as watercolours and the like. Apparently, all young ladies of quality knew how to paint and embroider, but Isabella was much too dreamy to concentrate for any great length of time. She much preferred to walk in the gardens, away from the house, letting her head fill with all kinds of ideas.

Of course, once she returned, the governess would scold her, just as she always did, and Isabella would ignore her completely, just as she always did. It was not as though Isabella was in any real danger, for she knew the gardens and even the grounds beyond very well. She had roamed all through them many a time, her heart soaring as high as the birds that sang above her. Out in the open, she felt a sense of freedom that carried her through the rest of the day, giving her hope and expectation for the future.

One day, she muttered to herself, pushing an errant curl out of her eyes. One day, I shall be mistress of my own home and go wherever I please and do whatever I wish – with no governess to try and stop me.

Lifting her chin, Isabella continued to walk through the gardens. The governess’s shouts grew distant and faint, until they disappeared entirely. This was just as Isabella liked it, being entirely alone within the grounds. It was just her and the small birds that chattered as they hopped about in the trees. She smiled to herself as the fragrance of the nearby rose bush clung to her senses, and her smile broadened all the more. This was heaven.

Walking purposefully towards the stone wall that ran the length of the estate, Isabella found the small gap and quickly squeezed through, laughing softly as the wind brushed her hair lightly across her face. Her lock caught the sun, practically glowing red in its light as she tucked it behind her ear. She wore no bonnet – much to the chagrin of her governess – but she did not care whether or not she got a few freckles. The autumn sun might still turn her skin brown, but come the winter, she would return to being as pale as a ghost once more.

Isabella loved the feeling of the warm rays on her cheeks. She tipped her head up a little more as she walked further away from the house. Coming to a fork in the small trail, Isabella chose to climb the hill to the right of her father’s estate, thinking that it would be a fine day for a view of the house and the surrounding countryside once she reached the top. Besides which, there was also a small brook that ran down the hill which would give her more than enough to drink since she was very likely to be rather thirsty by the time she climbed to the very top.

Gathering her skirts, she began to climb, her breath already quickening as she scrambled up the rather steep slope. It was a hill she had climbed a good many times, and the day was one of the best she could remember. There were only the smallest of clouds in the sky, and even that did not appear the least bit ominous.

The different birdsongs seemed to blend together to make one beautiful tune, and, finally, Isabella found herself right at the top, only for her foot to slip, and with a sudden, painful thud, she found herself flat on the ground. Pain shot up her leg, making her wince in unexpected agony. This was not what she had intended.

Slowly pushing herself up to her knees, Isabella tried to stand, only to let out a soft whimper of pain when her ankle protested violently. Half hoping, half limping, she made her way to a large boulder to her left and with a great sigh of relief, sat down heavily.

Good gracious! Isabella started violently in surprise. She twisted her head to see a young man in his late twenties, she guessed, staring at her, his hands planted firmly on his hips. She did not know what to say, staring into a pair of the most beautiful dark eyes she thought she had ever seen. Her mouth went dry as he came closer to her, his long, wiry frame towering over her.

I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking, he said quietly in a low voice. Did you hurt yourself?

I – I fell, Isabella replied haltingly. I never fall. I know this place very well.

Oh?

My father is the Viscount of Daventry, Isabella replied, finding her cheeks burning with both awareness of him and embarrassment over what