Read Married to the Viscount Online
Authors: Sabrina Jeffries
Tags: #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Historical
Married to the Viscount
S
ABRINA
J
EFFRIES
Married to the Viscount
Contents
Spencer Law, the fifth Viscount Ravenswood, drained yet another redware…
The bride-to-be was here. The groom-to-be was two hours late.
When Spencer saw Miss Mercer’s usually rosy complexion pale to the…
Judging from how he gaped at her, Abby had shocked…
The morning after the dinner fiasco, Spencer sat at the…
Although Abby could almost smell Lord Ravenswood’s alarm, she stood…
Spencer drummed his fingers impatiently on the curved arm of…
In an instant, Abby forgot about the cruel gossip and…
Spencer had spent the entire morning in the office of…
Torn between awe and fear, Abby surveyed Lady Tyndale’s modest…
When Spencer brought Abby over to meet the Blakelys, his…
Spencer paced the edge of the ballroom, too frustrated to…
Abby probably shouldn’t have encouraged Spencer to kiss her. What…
The afternoon after the ball, Abby surveyed Spencer’s dining room…
Irritated that he had to return home in the late…
Abby could hardly contain her pleasure. Surrounded by babbling children…
Abby had relaxed while Spencer was with the children, but…
A week and a day after her disastrous encounter with…
Spencer’s eyes narrowed when he saw Abby head toward him…
Night had already fallen by the time the crowd of…
Curious to see his response, Abby held her breath.
As Abby lay with Spencer draped across her in a…
Early in the evening on Monday, only two days after…
Abby’s pleasure vanished when she caught sight of Evelina pacing…
Spencer’s next few hours passed in a blur. After taking…
“Heaven’s Scent is a decided success,” Clara told Abby as…
Spencer sat in the hall, dandling Belinda on his knee…
Other Books by Sabrina Jeffries
Philadelphia
Early December 1821
S
pencer Law, the fifth Viscount Ravenswood, drained yet another redware mug of hard cider. It didn’t help. He could still remember what he’d come to the noisy American tavern with his younger brother to forget.
He was going back to England in the morning. Back to the disordered Parliament and disgruntled populace. Back to his demanding duties as undersecretary to the Home Office in his country’s time of turmoil. The weight of his responsibilities, which had miraculously eased during his sojourn in America, already began settling heavily upon his shoulders again.
What he needed was more hard cider.
When he called for it, a laugh erupted from Nat, who lounged on a wooden bench across the table from him. “Perhaps you should slow down, old fellow. You’re getting foxed.”
“That’s the general idea.”
“The great Ravenswood drowning his sorrows in strong drink? Astonishing! Usually you’re too busy running England to overindulge. And too dignified.” Nat planted his elbows on the sturdy oak table. “Though I must admit you haven’t been yourself since we arrived two weeks ago.” He cocked his head to examine his brother. “It’s Dr. Mercer’s daughter, isn’t it? She’s the one making you act so strangely.”
Spencer barely mustered one of his steely-eyed glances. “Don’t be absurd.”
But just that quickly his mind conjured up the image of Abigail Mercer, whom her father called “my wild rose.” A fitting appellation for a woman with leaf-green eyes and petal-soft golden skin and a glorious scarlet bud of a mouth…
“You hummed an aria for her yesterday,” Nat pointed out.
“I told her about seeing
The Marriage of Figaro
this year, and she wanted to hear some of it. What’s your point?”
“I’ve never heard you hum anything in your life.”
“I never had occasion to do so.”
“You never felt the urge to do so,” Nat said dryly. “Until you met Miss Mercer, that is. Now you spend all your time conversing with a pretty colonial lass—”
“What else is there to do while you discuss business with her ailing father?” Spencer stared down into his empty mug.
“True. And she does seem easy to talk to.”
Exactly. Easy to talk to and artless and utterly American. Unlike all those English misses raised to worship a title and an estate, Miss Mercer treated him as if he were her equal in station.
The woman even had the audacity to tease him whenever he grew too serious. No Englishwoman had ever done that. They were too aware of his position—or too cowed by his sober manner—to be at ease in his presence.
Nor did Englishwomen debate him about politics and such. But Miss Mercer plunged right into every argument
with all the fervent optimism of her fellow countrymen. It was maddening.
It was fascinating.
“Mind you,” Nat went on, “I’m delighted that you and Miss Mercer are friendly. It can’t help but soften her father toward my proposal.” He steadied his shoulders. “And speaking of that, have you thought any more about advancing me those funds?”
Since his own mug was empty, Spencer reached across to steal his brother’s. He wasn’t foxed enough yet to deal with this. “You mean, so you can pursue your foolish plan to become a partner in Dr. Mercer’s enterprise?”
“It’s not foolish,” Nat protested. “I know you had reservations about the Mercer Medicinal Company, but you’ve seen the doctor’s records on how well his tonic sold seven years ago—you must admit the numbers are phenomenal. If he hadn’t taken ill, he’d be rich by now instead of hounded by creditors. All he needs is someone like me to rejuvenate the company while he’s incapacitated.”
“Not incapacitated,” Spencer corrected. “Dying. The man’s dying, Nat.”
“But that’s precisely why he might sell to me. I already own the shares I won in that card game. And even you must have thought the business a promising investment or you would never have accompanied me to America for a look.”
Spencer slumped against the wall behind his hard bench. “You said you’d go without me. Couldn’t let you do that, given your past record with other occupations.”
Nat bristled. “Must you always throw my failures up at me? Never mind that I was only doing what you wanted. I told you I’d be no good at the law, but you insisted I study for it, so I did.”
“Apparently not very hard, since you failed your exams. And let’s not forget the navy. After that fiasco, even my influence couldn’t keep you in.”
Nat winced. “I wasn’t cut out to be a navy man. I can’t even steer a carriage straight. I only agreed to try because you went to all that trouble to gain me the berth.” He leaned forward, his voice growing fierce. “The thing is, I
know
I can do this. I’m good at numbers. That’s why I’ve always won so much at the gaming tables.”
“Always?” Spencer finished off the cider in Nat’s mug. Where the bloody hell was that tavern maid?
“All right, so I got cocky one night. And you had to pay for it.”
“Quite a lot of money, as I recall.”
“I know, I know. But this is different. The old man is in a bind—he won’t leave the Mercer Company entirely to his daughter, because he thinks she lacks the business sense to pull it out of debt. But if he doesn’t find someone to be her partner, he’ll have to leave it to some relative he hates. So I can step right in.”
The sour-faced tavern maid plunked down two freshly filled redware mugs, and Spencer seized his with a vengeance. Now he had something else to drown out—the unsettling image of Miss Mercer working with his brother.
He mustn’t think of that, mustn’t think of the mischievous smile she’d be flashing at Nat instead of Spencer. It wasn’t as if Spencer could stay here while his brother tried out his fool scheme. A summons from the Home Office mustn’t be ignored, and with the sudden resignation of the old home secretary, Spencer was badly needed at home. So like it or not, he had to accept that his pleasant idyll in America was over.
Not that anything could ever come of Spencer’s association with Miss Mercer anyway, no matter how cheerful and appealing he found her.
He scowled. Half the women in England would happily settle for a position as Spencer’s mistress, yet none of them tempted him. No, his idiotic mind had to seize on the respectable Miss Mercer for its lusty thoughts, a woman who’d
take nothing less than marriage. So since he couldn’t marry her or anyone else, it was probably just as well he was leaving tomorrow and would never see her again.
Bloody hell.
He drank deeply of his cider, then set the mug down. “How does Evelina feel about all this? Or have you even bothered to tell your future wife about your plan to partner a business halfway around the world with the beautiful Abby Mercer?”
Nat eyed his brother speculatively. “Evelina will understand. It’s only temporary. Once the old man dies, I’ll buy his daughter out. Miss Mercer will have enough money to support herself, and I’ll own Mercer Medicinal.”
“You don’t know how to run a business.”
“You didn’t know how to be a soldier all those years ago when Father bought you a commission in the army, but you learned. You’re good at that sort of thing.”
“I had to be,” he growled, resenting his brother’s freedom to do as he pleased. Spencer had lost that freedom when their eldest brother died unexpectedly.
“And I have to be good at this. What’s left for me? The church?”
They groaned in unison. Even Spencer could see that would never work.
“Besides, I’m not going to run it,” Nat went on. “I’ll hire a manager for that. I just want to own it.”
The growing buzz in Spencer’s head hadn’t turned him into a complete idiot. “And you want me to give you the money for it.”
Nat had the good grace to flush. “Not all of the money. I’ve kept some of my allowance aside. And in the past two years, I’ve lived responsibly. I won’t need much.”
With a roll of his eyes, Spencer reached for his mug again, but Nat stayed his hand. “Soon I’ll be married, which is why I want to do something useful with myself, something
I
want to do, not something you choose for me.” A wan smile
crossed Nat’s face. “I know I can make a go of this. So what do you say? If I get Mercer to agree to my plan and I need money, will you send it to me?”
Spencer was still trying to forget Miss Mercer’s kissable lips. The ones he would never, could never kiss, even if he wasn’t leaving. He drained his mug. “Write to me in London, and I’ll do what I can.”