Inventing the Viscount: The Bluestocking Scandals Book 2 Read online

  Inventing the Viscount

  The Bluestocking Scandals Book 2

  Ellie St. Clair

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Discovering the Baron

  A Sneak Peek…

  Also by Ellie St. Clair

  About the Author

  ♥ Copyright 2020 by Ellie St Clair - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Cover by AJF Designs

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  Also By Ellie St. Clair

  Standalone

  Unmasking a Duke

  Christmastide with His Countess

  Her Christmas Wish

  Happily Ever After

  The Duke She Wished For

  Someday Her Duke Will Come

  Once Upon a Duke’s Dream

  He’s a Duke, But I Love Him

  Loved by the Viscount

  Because the Earl Loved Me

  Happily Ever After Box Set Books 1-3

  Happily Ever After Box Set Books 4-6

  Searching Hearts

  Duke of Christmas

  Quest of Honor

  Clue of Affection

  Hearts of Trust

  Hope of Romance

  Promise of Redemption

  Searching Hearts Box Set (Books 1-5)

  The Unconventional Ladies

  Lady of Mystery

  Lady of Fortune

  Lady of Providence

  Lady of Charade

  Blooming Brides

  A Duke for Daisy

  A Marquess for Marigold

  An Earl for Iris

  A Viscount for Violet

  The Blooming Brides Box Set: Books 1-4

  The Bluestocking Scandals

  Designs on a Duke

  Inventing the Viscount

  Discovering the Baron

  The Victorian Highlanders

  Callum’s Vow

  Finlay’s Duty

  1

  London, 1820

  Lady Fredericka Ashworth watched the man she had been supposed to marry waltz off with another woman.

  His wife. And her new friend.

  She wasn’t the least bit jealous.

  No, Valentine St. Vincent, Duke of Wyndham, was not the man for her. She had known it the moment she had met him, when she had seen his gaze slide past her and fall upon the woman he would eventually marry.

  As it turned out, she and the duke wouldn’t have particularly suited — though she would have married him anyway.

  “Are you all right?”

  Freddie turned her head to the voice of her friend, Miss Jemima St. Vincent, Valentine’s sister. While Freddie and the duke did not develop a relationship, she had, at the very least, formed a great friendship with his sister.

  “Perfectly fine,” Freddie answered, her smile true. “I was simply thinking about how well everything worked out. Had your brother and I married, he would have been miserable.”

  Jemima quirked an eyebrow.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He is obviously a passionate man, and there was no spark between us. We would have been friends, but nothing more.”

  “Would you have been fine with that?”

  “Yes, I would have,” Freddie said with conviction, laughing at Jemima’s surprised expression. “Friendship is much more than many are lucky enough to have. Besides, he is one of few men who would have likely put up with my… eccentricities.”

  “As he does with mine,” Jemima murmured, and Freddie nodded.

  “Exactly.”

  Jemima looked around them at her family’s ballroom, filled with people who were eager to make the new duchess’ acquaintance. Freddie and Jemima were currently hiding in the corner. Jemima’s friend, Celeste Keswick, had reluctantly agreed to a dance orchestrated by her mother but would be returning shortly.

  “But, Freddie, don’t you want more?” Jemima asked, her plea impassioned. “Don’t you desire love, like Rebecca and Val have found?”

  Freddie adamantly shook her head.

  “Not at all,” she said, setting her chin. “I thought I had it once before. It wasn’t worth it.”

  “Oh Freddie, I had no idea—”

  But Freddie smiled sadly and shook her head.

  “Another time. Suffice it to say that I would be content with a man who would respect me, be friendly to me, and allow me to do as I please.”

  “Not a particularly strong man, then?” Jemima asked, to which Freddie shrugged.

  “I suppose you can say that.”

  “Must you marry at all?” Jemima persisted, to which Freddie nodded sadly.

  “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t,” she said. “But I am already four-and-twenty. My parents are desperate for me to marry. They will support me for as long as they must, of course, but I know they worry — and rightly so. My sisters are married, and with no brothers, one day my father’s title will go to a cousin. I should hardly like to have to place the entirety of my existence on his benevolence — or lack thereof.”

  “It isn’t fair, is it?” Jemima murmured, to which Freddie shook her head.

  “Of course not. But that is the reality of our lives, Jemima, so we must make the best of it. Ah, here comes my mother now with a potential beau in tow. She was truly heartbroken when your brother and Rebecca married, you know.”

  Jemima squinted at the approaching pair. “Who is that with her? We haven’t been part of society long enough for me to know many of the ton yet.”

  Freddie craned her neck around the dizzying array of swirling dancers before them. The man beside her mother was only slightly taller than she was, which meant he was rather short himself. Brown hair tinged with red, trepidation on his face…

  “Oh! I’m in luck. It’s simply Lord Gilmore.”

  “What of Lord Gilmore?” Celeste said as she rejoined them, her pale cheeks flushed from the exertion of dancing. “Please don’t say my mother is bringing him here for me. I am finished with dancing this evening. Besides, he’s nice enough, if a bit of a bore.”

  “Agreed,” Freddie said with a smile. “But no, it is my mother this time. Our families have known one another for ages. There is nothing particularly disappointing to say about Miles except that he hardly ever speaks and conversing with him is akin
to speaking to a statue.”

  “My brother likes him,” Celeste said with a shrug. “I haven’t heard many speak ill of him. An agreeable sort. Goes along with everything.”

  An idea sparked in Freddie’s mind — one that Jemima clearly suspected by the intense way she was looking at her.

  “You have a rather intriguing look on your face, Freddie,” she remarked, and Freddie nodded. Perhaps they could all find what they were looking for — both Freddie, as well as her parents.

  There was only one unknown factor.

  Miles himself.

  * * *

  Miles followed Lady Rothwell across the ballroom with trepidation. He had no wish to dance with her daughter, but the woman had been insistent. When Lady Rothwell wanted something, well, she was known to chase after it with the stubbornness of a dog after a stick.

  When he finally realized that she wasn’t going to let him alone without his agreement, he decided he would come and get this over with.

  He knew she was chattering incessantly beside him as they walked, but he didn’t bother attempting to determine just what she was saying, for he knew her well enough to be aware that her words flew so fast they required a great deal of concentration, and usually it wasn’t worth the effort.

  Lady Fredericka, on the other hand…

  Despite her diminutive size, it was easy to find her through the crowd. She was as pleasing to the eye as she had always been. The same dark-brown hair, the color of cocoa, piled high on her head in the latest style, well-crafted ringlets floating around her temples. The same warm brown eyes, wide in her heart-shaped face. That same knowing, intelligent smile on her pink, bow-shaped lips.

  A smile that was currently directed at him. Why did she look so cunning, so satisfied? It slightly unnerved him. He hadn’t seen her in a couple of years now, for their paths didn’t cross nearly as often as they had as children. He only attended these things to appease his mother, despite the fact that he hated them with all of his being.

  The music was too loud, the ballrooms too echoey, and the conversation too difficult.

  But his mother was insistent that they attend, that he begin the search for a wife. She was desperate for grandchildren.

  And he would do anything for his mother. Without her, who knows where he would be. Likely a madhouse. Instead, he was the Viscount of Gilmore, heir to the Marquess of Dorrington, and no one knew his secret.

  He intended to keep it that way, but accompanying ladies such as Lady Fredericka in dances only added to the challenge. What made it worse was he knew her well enough to be aware that she wasn’t an empty-headed simpering miss. No, Lady Fredericka was one of the most observant people he knew, and one of the very reasons he attempted to keep his distance from her, despite her beauty.

  But here he was.

  “Lady Fredericka,” he said with a bow before holding out a hand. “Would you care to join me in a dance?”

  He looked up at her, awaiting her response.

  “Of course, Lord Gilmore,” she said with a smile, placing her hand in his. He led her to the floor, saying nothing else, both relieved and chagrined when a waltz began to play. They were easiest to dance, for he only had to count, but if she decided to have a conversation, it might prove rather difficult.

  But, of course, she did. She had always had much to say. He leaned back slightly to determine just exactly what she was now saying.

  “How are you enjoying the Season?”

  “Just fine,” he responded, noticing from up close how much she had grown into her looks. She was still small, but he was struck by the warmth of her brown eyes and her easy smile. She had always been a precocious little thing, but now she had gentled somewhat. “It’s been busy.”

  “I can imagine,” she said, before saying something that he didn’t quite catch.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I said that it is good to see you again. It has been so long.”

  “It has,” he said, wishing she would dispense with the polite conversation and allow them to simply dance.

  “I believe our fathers are still acquaintances, but it is a shame they do not spend time together as they used to,” she said, to which Miles shook his head.

  “It is not a shame, Lady Fredericka. You know as well as I do that my father has never been easy to get along with, and it has only worsened as he has aged.”

  Her eyes widened in shock and her mouth snapped shut. Thank goodness.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

  “How is your mother? She is always such a dear. I have seen her time and again when she comes for tea.”

  “My mother is well,” he said, pleased she had finally found a topic of conversation which he was interested in taking part in. “She especially enjoys visits with your mother. A respite from her own home.”

  “Yes,” she said, blinking but nodding sagely. “I suppose that is true.”

  “She always liked you, Lady Fredericka.”

  “Oh, come, Miles, call me Freddie, please. The fact that we have aged is hardly reason for us to become so formal with one another.”

  “Very well,” he said, softening, but then muttered a curse as he stumbled slightly into Freddie when they both stepped forward at the same time. He had become distracted and stopped counting.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, but she shook her head, saying something he didn’t quite catch before a smile softened her lips.

  “You know, Miles, no one has regarded me so intensely for quite some time.”

  He swallowed. There was a reason he did so, and it wasn’t the same one she had conjectured. She squeezed his hand, which was currently outstretched and wrapped around hers.

  “Miles, I must ask you something. Something important.”

  He nodded.

  “Would you— would you call upon me tomorrow?”

  Miles lost count altogether at her question. He stopped, blinked, and she, continuing to move, ran right into him. He caught her, holding her up. Had he heard her correctly? She wanted him to call upon her? He asked her to repeat herself, which she did. Yes, it seemed he was correct.

  “Why?” he said, causing her cheeks to flush beautifully, and then he moved her out of the way before another couple knocked into her.

  “Why not?” she asked with a shrug before taking her plump bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it for a moment – causing an unexpected flicker of desire to course through him. “We have known one another long enough to be aware that there is nothing distasteful about the other, no family secrets or skeletons in the cupboard.” Or so she thought. “Unless my mother is in the wrong, you require a wife, so you are currently seeking one out, and I am far past the marrying age. I need someone to provide for me. Does that answer your question?”

  If he was right, she seemed angry with him, though why, he had no idea. Her reasons for courting were as unromantic as he had ever heard, but perhaps she had a point.

  “It’s only a call,” she said, holding her head high. “It is not as though I am proposing marriage. Yet.”

  Miles took her hand and led her off the dance floor, needing to be free of the swirling dancers, to go somewhere where he could properly hear her and not have her words garbled by the music.

  “Freddie,” he said when they were out of the ballroom and into the foyer to where the doors led. “Are you sure about this?”

  A frown marred her perfect features.

  “Do you not want to call upon me? I understand if you do not wish to. Perhaps there is someone else you are—”

  “There is no one else.”

  “It was just a thought, Miles,” she said, and he could tell she was attempting to feign nonchalance. “If you’d prefer not to, it is perfectly fine.”

  He sighed. She had clearly decided that something was the matter with her, which was so far from the truth. He was surprised by her lack of confidence.

  “All right, Freddie. I’ll be there.”

  “Well, you needn’t be so excited a
bout it. You know what — this was a terrible idea.”

  She moved to brush past, but he grasped her arm and gently turned her toward him.

  “I will see you tomorrow,” he said firmly. “Goodnight.”

  It was he who walked past her now. It was time to find his mother, and get the hell out of here.

  2

  “Oh, Miles, Lady Fredericka? How lovely! I never would have thought the two of you— Well, I suppose perhaps when you were younger it crossed my mind, but then…”

  “Then you realized that she was too smart a woman to marry a man like me?”

  “I’m sure, Miles, if she came to truly know you, she would love you as much as I do,” his mother said, though she flushed guiltily as she sat on the window seat in her parlor, a cup of tea in her hand. Miles spent many mornings visiting with her. It had been one source of concern since he had taken his own rooms a few years past — leaving her here, alone with his father. But he trusted his brother enough to look after her, and he could not spend another night under the same roof as Lord Dorrington.

  “She is rather astute,” his mother said with a tinge of worry in her voice before taking a sip.

  His mother was right. It was what had plagued Miles since that bloody dance with Freddie yesterday.

  His mother’s eyes were drawn to something behind him, and Miles turned to find that the maids had entered with the rest of their breakfast. He nodded to them before they departed. It tortured him to no end that he often had to rely on his mother to keep up this ruse. But as a child, it had always been either that or being sent away and all but disinherited.