“Psst.” The man beckoned to Miss Forsythe when he nearly bumped into her at his friend Saintfort’s engagement ball. He knew of her, but she didn’t hold his fancy like a certain platinum-haired beauty did. In fact, the first time he’d met Lady Laughton’s sister and had seen her in the Bath chair, his heart had become engaged.
If anyone were to describe him, he was a veritable Greek Adonis, for he had those looks, but to his way of thinking, he was only average. Or rather, perhaps a notch above that since he would inherit a title one day. “Come closer. I have a bit of gossip you might wish to hear.”
“Why, Lord Randolph?” But her eyes were wide as she followed him into a corner near a grouping of potted palms and ferns.
It wasn’t well done of him to share such Drury Lane drama, but he rather thought of the chit as a little sister, and any time spent in his company was bound to help launch her in society. “Do you see that man over there?”
“The Earl of Laughton?”
“Yes.”
“He’s been blacklisted in the ton.” Her tone was well scandalized.
“True, but, he’s my best friend, and I’ll wager he’s about to be dressed down quite splendidly at this event by the Duke of Bradford—the man who wishes him dead.”
She gawked. “Is it because he jilted His Grace’s daughter and married her instead?”
The gossip, of course had made its way around society. “Just so. But if he can stay away from the brandy, he shall hold his own against that threat.” Then Lord Randolph moved his finger to the opposite side of the room. “And that is his wife, Lady Laughton. Isn’t she a looker?”
“I envy her the brunette hair and her eyes.” Miss Forsythe followed where he’d indicated. The countess carried herself with regal authority. How she managed to ignore the vicious whispers and stares was anyone’s guess. “But she looks both nervous and sad. Why?”
“I suspect she’s hopelessly in love with her husband, but she doesn’t think he returns that regard.” Lord Randolph chuckled. He had conducted enough conversations with the earl to know that was far from the truth. “The trouble is, good old Laughton has been mucked up with grief over his first wife that he thinks he cannot love again.”
“Is that a lie?” Miss Forsythe frowned as the two approached each other to partner in a country reel.
“Oh, quite. Percival has fallen tip over tail for the lady but is so riddled with doubts, has been unable to break free from the demon drink, that his confidence is shot.” Lord Randolph shook his head. It was a sticky wicket. Until he saw what his friends did, he would always stay stuck. “Look at them together, though. If that’s not a well-matched pair regardless of how they came together, I don’t know what is.”
“That’s a sad story, Lord Randolph. When a couple marries, shouldn’t they do so out of love?”
“Indeed, but you know how some things in the ton work.” He followed his friend’s progress with his gaze. Every so often, Laughton would grin and that would make his wife laugh. Damn, but why couldn’t the man see he was so much better off with the woman than without?
“Do you think they shall make a go of it?”
“It’s my fondest hope. Lady Laughton certainly knows how to handle him when he falls into a maudlin mood, and she’s been instrumental in keeping him off the drink, but even she has a breaking point.” Lord Randolph shook his head. “Only time will tell now… if the duke doesn’t drive a permanent wedge between them.”
“And doom them both?” Miss Forsythe tsked her tongue. “Surely love—and common sense—will prevail.”
“We can wait and watch.” But he frowned. He’d known Percival since their school days, and the man didn’t enter anything lightly. If he would just acknowledge how he felt for his wife, he’d be better off, but grief was as difficult to find distance from as the hold of alcohol. “However, I am of the mind that good always triumphs over evil.”
“Yes.” His temporary companion nodded. “That is indeed correct. Love is one of the most powerful things we can find. I wish your friend and his wife well.”
“As do I.” The country reel had come to an end, and the next set assembling was a waltz. “Perhaps you will do me the honor? I’ll tell you another story about Percival that happened while we were at Oxford…”
An Accidental Countess is a steamy, standalone Regency romance. It releases on March 3rd. Here’s the blurb: True love doesn’t come from position or status but by the whispers of the heart.
Miss Lavinia Thompson’s life hasn’t been a bed of roses. Being born on the wrong side of the blanket ensures she’s not welcome within the glittering, respectable world of the London ton. Left with little choice, she embraced her status in the demi-monde, content to remain a mistress to whoever would pay the highest price. Until that life dimmed, and she wanted acceptance for herself.
Percival Hughes, the 12th Earl of Laughton is a powerful man who takes great pride in his title and position within society. Until one night of drunken revelry when he accidentally weds his mistress thinking her his real bride-to-be. As the repercussions of his ill-fated decision rock the ton and shift the foundation of his life, he struggles to make peace with the fact he married a highly unsuitable woman.
As the days go by, Lavinia and Percival grow close in their marriage of inconvenience. Outings in London with his young daughter form lasting bonds. While the new countess isn’t readily accepted into the beau monde, Percival’s determination to see her legitimate increases, but when forced proximity has romance blooming from desire, they retreat to keep their hearts aloof. To move forward together, they’ll need to rely on trust and love, and perhaps a bit of faith, regardless of what viper-tongued society gossips say.
You can preorder the book right now for .99 cents. The price goes back to regular after release: https://books2read.com/AnAccidentalCountess
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‘Tis a question we shall be pondering as we wait with bated breath to see what the earl will do in reply. After all, the gentleman is not known as a man who gives up easily, in fact his tenacity is both admired and to be feared. The lady would do well to be cautious, very cautious, indeed. Though we’ve heard rumors that this particular lady in question is unlike other ladies; apparently, she prefers to she throw daggers, not dinner parties…. How delightfully wicked!
The event took place as she was walking, alone I might add, to visit Lolly’s bookstore late one afternoon. Professor Cole Alexander Gusford Charlton was unaware of his impending doom when Miss Sinclair flew at him. Onlookers have reported her diving at the poor man, wrapping her arms around his waist and propelling him backward with some force. He came to rest with a thud against a sturdy wall. With Miss Sinclair still pressed to his body, a chimney pot then crashed to the ground a mere few inches away.
Somerset Sinclair vows not to follow in her elder siblings’ footsteps. There will be no marriages or daring rescues of any man carrying Raven blood. Somer has a career, and nothing is about to thwart that.
Sir:
I am quite, quite distressed to add that my precious Wellington, an extraordinarily noble pug, has taken him dislike as well. The impudent young man accused my darling Welly of damaging his boots. I cannot believe poor Welly has developed a taste for leather. He has demonstrated no such affinity in the past. I am certain Mr. Clarke enticed him as an excuse to make a quick departure.
The Earl of Seahaven desperately wanted a son and heir but died leaving nine daughters and a fifth wife. Cruelly turned out by the new earl, they live hand-to-mouth in a small cottage.