The Viscount's Scandalous Return

by Anne Ashley

Overview

Viscount Blackwood left home amidst a blaze of scandal. Accused of killing his father and brother, he was saved from the gallows by the testimony of a girl he'd never met….

Nine years later Sebastian can return, but the notorious viscount has unfinished business. It's lucky that Miss Isabel Mortimer is now both heart-stoppingly beautiful and has a penchant for sleuthing….

Not only must Sebastian find the real culprit—it looks as if he'll find the perfect wife, too!

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781426846519
Publisher:	Harlequin
Publication date:	10/10/2023
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	300
Sales rank:	162,088
File size:	840 KB

Read an Excerpt

September 1814

Miss Isabel Mortimer's return to her farmhouse-style home coincided with the long-case clock's chiming the hour of eleven. She had been out and about since first light, and so might reasonably have expected a more enthusiastic welcome than the decidedly reproachful glance her ever-loyal housekeeper-cum-confidante cast her.

'Oh, Lord, miss!' Bessie exclaimed, as she watched her young mistress deposit the gun and the fruits of her labours down upon the kitchen table. 'You've never been a'wan-dering over Blackwood land again? I've warned you time and again that there steward up at the Manor will have you placed afore the magistrate, given half a chance. Heard tell he weren't best pleased back along, when them there high-and-mighty legal folk came up from Lunnon, asking questions about the night of the murders, and he discovered it were you had stirred things up again after all these years.'

'No, I don't suppose he was pleased.' Not appearing in the least concerned, Isabel collected a sharp knife from a drawer and then promptly set herself the task of preparing the rabbits for the stew-pot. 'What's more, young Toby told me, this very morn as it happens, there's been no sign of Master Guy Fensham these past two weeks. Which I find most revealing in the circumstances. After all, what had he to fear if he told the truth about the happenings on that terrible night?'

'Well, that's just it, miss. He couldn't have done, now could he, if what the old master set down on paper be true? And I would far rather believe the old master, 'cause there were nought wrong with him at the time of writing.'

'Well, I, for one, never doubted the truth of Papa's version of events. As you quite rightly pointed out, he wrote his account before he suffered that first seizure.'

Whenever Isabel thought of her late father she experienced, still, an acute sense of loss, even now, after almost two years. They had always been wondrous close; more so after he had become infirm and had come to rely upon her for so much. Yet nothing in her expression betrayed the fact that she had nowhere near fully recovered from his death. If anything, she seemed quite matter-of-fact as she said, 'So you've no need to fear I shall fall foul of Fensham, especially as I didn't take one step on Blackwood land. I've been in the top meadow, as it happens. Besides…' she shrugged, emphasising her complete unconcern '…what would it matter if I had been trespassing? If and when his lordship does return, I shall make it perfectly plain that he owes me a deal more than the few fish I've removed from his trout stream for all the damage his overgrown ditch has done to my vegetable garden during his long absence. Why his father ever employed such a lazy ne'er-do-well as Guy Fensham as steward up at the Manor, I shall never know!'

Thoughtfully drying her hands on her apron, Bessie joined her young mistress at the table. 'Well, miss, no matter what folks may say about the old Viscount—and you'll find plenty hereabouts who never liked him—you'll never hear anyone say he neglected either the land or the Manor. When the old Lord Blackwood were alive the steward did his work, and toed the line.' She shook her head sadly. 'Now look at the place! It's a year and more since you went to Lunnon to seek out Mr Bathurst,' she reminded her mistress. 'And never a word since!'

'Now, that isn't strictly true,' Isabel corrected, striving to be fair. 'We've never been precisely kept abreast of developments, I'll agree. Even so, Mr Bathurst did take the trouble to send that one letter, confirming he'd set the wheels in motion, as it were, and thanking me once again for the trouble I'd taken in seeking him out personally in order to pass on Papa's written account. And he fully reimbursed me for all the expense of travelling to London and remaining there for those few days. He was most generous, in fact!'

Isabel cast a long, considering look at the large dresser that almost covered the entire wall opposite. 'How very fortunate it was that so many hereabouts recalled that it had been none other than Mr Bathurst himself who had sold this very property to my father, and had gone to London to study law. Fortunate, too, that so many remembered he and the Honourable Sebastian Blackwood had been upon the very best of terms in their youth. He was the ideal person for me to seek out and pass on what Papa had revealed about the Viscount's younger son.

'And you must remember,' Isabel continued, after a further few moments' consideration, 'Mr Bathurst was in something of a precarious position. Just how much of a hand he had in effecting his friend's escape from the authorities, after Sebastian Blackwood had been accused of murdering both his father and brother all those years ago, I can only speculate. All the same, for some considerable time Mr Bathurst has been a well-respected barrister, a veritable pillar of the community and a staunch upholder of the law. He would need to be circumspect and surely wouldn't wish his name to be too closely connected with a man who, as far as we know, is still accused of committing the atrocities.'

After listening intently to everything her young mistress had said, Bessie nodded her head in agreement. 'But do you know, Miss Isabel, long afore you found your father's papers about the happenings on that terrible night, I never for a moment thought young Master Sebastian had gone and done that wicked deed. And I weren't the only one who disbelieved it, neither. Now, I ain't saying he were a saint, 'cause he weren't. For a start, he were a devil for the ladies, young as he was. Not that I ever heard tell he got any round these parts into trouble—think he preferred painted doxies, or maybe those nearer his own class.

'Oh, but he were right handsome, so he were.' Bessie continued reminiscing, her plump cheeks suddenly aglow at some private thought. 'I can see him now—so tall, so proud, riding by on that fine horse of his. Why, he used to send my heart all of a-flutter, to be sure!'

'Get a hold of yourself, woman!' Isabel admonished lovingly. 'I remember him too. And I'll tell you plainly we're far beneath his touch. Why, he'd never give the likes of you and me a second glance!'

'Not me he wouldn't, that's for sure,' Bessie acknowledged a moment before a surge of loyalty, borne of an ever-increasing loving respect, prompted her to add, 'But you're quite another matter. Well, you would be, if you'd trouble yourself about your appearance once in a while,' she amended, frowning at her mistress's shabby, worn attire, and windswept chestnut locks, numerous strands of which had escaped the confining pins.

Isabel responded with a dismissive wave of one hand. 'I've better things to do than sit before a mirror for hours on end preening myself. I might have been born the daughter of a gentleman, and raised to be a lady, at least when dear Mama was alive, and had a hand in my upbringing, but even so I never was the sort to attract the attentions of any aristocratic gentleman, least of all one so high on the social ladder as the son of a viscount. And I've always had sense enough to realise it! I'm far too managing for a start. Besides…' she shrugged '… I'm not altogether sure I really wish to marry. I'm happy enough as I am, and I enjoy my independence. No, if and when Lord Blackwood does return to take his father's place up at the Manor, my only interest in him will be to see how long it takes him to improve the drainage on his land, and to improve, too, the lot of those unfortunate wretches who rely upon the estate for a living, not least of which, as you very well know, is poor old Bunting.'

At this Isabel became the recipient of a hard, determined look. 'Now, miss, the old butler up at the Manor be none of your concern. I know 'tis a sinful shame he weren't pensioned off years ago, and given one of the estate cottages promised to him by the old Lord Blackwood. I think it's wicked, too, that a man of his years should be alone up there in that great house, hardly seeing a soul. Why, if it hadn't been for you and the young curate visiting him so regular last winter, I swear the influenza would have taken him off.'

'You did your share of nursing too,' Isabel reminded her.

Bessie, however, steadfastly refused this time to be won over by the warmth of her mistress's lovely smile. 'I know I did. But that don't change matters. You simply can't afford to take on any more waifs and strays. You've too many folk depending on you as it is.

'And it's no earthly good you looking at me like that!' Bessie exclaimed, totally impervious to the reproachful glance cast in her direction. 'I know you feel grateful to Troake for all the care he took over your father during those last years. And there's no denying he worked well enough when the old master were alive. But even you can't deny he's become dreadful slow of late, not to mention a bad-tempered old demon. And then there's young Toby. Now I ain't saying the lad ain't worth his weight in gold,' Bessie went on, thereby successfully cutting off the protest her mistress had been about to utter. 'The boy's nothing less than a godsend, so he is, the way he repaired the barn roof last winter. But the wages you pay him could be put to better use.'

Bessie's brown eyes slid past her mistress to the large shaggy dog lying sprawled on the floor, close to the range. Before she could voice any condemnation of the hound, which had been saved from a watery grave in the millpond, and which had become totally devoted to the mistress of the house, his rescuer forestalled any criticism by announcing, 'Don't you dare say a word against him! I won't deny there is some justification in what you've said about both Troake and Toby Marsh. But I would never be without my darling Beau! Why, if it hadn't been for him the house would have been broken into on at least three occasions that we know of these past months. Furthermore, but for him, we wouldn't be having rabbit stew for supper. He managed to root out half a dozen in the top meadow.'

Bessie, ever sharp, wasn't slow to pounce upon this interesting snippet. 'In that case, where be the other two?'

Isabel had the grace to look a little shamefaced in view of what had been mentioned already. 'I let Toby take them home to his mother.'

Bessie cast a despairing glance up at the ceiling. 'Now, why doesn't that surprise me none, I wonder! I don't suppose you took a moment to consider we've an extra mouth to feed, now that young cousin of yours has taken refuge in the house. Now, I ain't saying you shouldn't have taken her in the way you did, she being the only child of your papa's dear sister, and the only close kin you've left in the world that's ever had any dealings with you. And there's no denying she, too, be worth her weight in gold,' she hurriedly conceded. 'I do declare the house has never looked so clean and tidy for many a long year. I defy anyone to find a speck of dust about the place! And sew…? I've never known anyone set a neater stitch than Miss Clara, not even your sainted mother. It's a pleasure to show folk into the front parlour nowadays, what with the new curtains, and all.'

It was clear that Bessie was at least a staunch supporter of the young woman who had surprisingly turned up on the doorstep late one evening a month before, almost begging sanctuary. Isabel hadn't recognised the beautiful stranger as the young cousin she had seen only a few times in her life, and then many years ago, when her aunt and cousin had paid the occasional visit to London. None the less, she hadn't doubted her authenticity. Nor did she regret for a moment the decision she had made to help her hapless relation, who had been fleeing from a forced union with a man old enough to be her father. All the same, she couldn't help feeling that her act of kindness might bring trouble in the future.

She tried not to dwell on this uncomfortable possibility as she enquired into the whereabouts of her relative, and by so doing gave rise to a look of comical dismay in her ever-faithful companion.

'The young curate were round here again, bright and early this morning, with a few more newspapers from up at the vicarage. It's good of him, I suppose. But it do put queer notions into your cousin's head. Now, I ain't saying Miss Clara ain't in the right of it not wishing to be a burden on you,' Bessie went on, somehow managing to preserve a serious countenance. 'But what wife and mother in her right mind would ever employ such a beautiful girl as a governess? She seems to suppose someone will, though, and begged a lift with the local carrier into Merryfield so that she might visit the sorting office with her reply to an advertisement she spotted in one of them there journals.'

Smiling wryly, Isabel shook her head. 'Yes, you're right. Clara has the sweetest of dispositions. She's hardworking, can set a stitch better than most, and she is far from dull-witted. Sadly, though, she isn't very worldly.'

She was suddenly thoughtful. 'I just hope she doesn't come to regret this determination of hers to find employment. I cannot help but feel that the fewer people who know her present whereabouts the safer it will be for her.

Should her stepmother discover where she is, I'm not altogether sure I could prevent her from removing Clara from under this roof.'

The application of the front-door knocker successfully brought an end to the conversation. The housekeeper made to rise from the table, but Isabel forestalled her by saying she herself would go. Although mistress of the house, she had never been too proud to answer her own front door, should the need arise.

Consequently, as soon as she had washed her hands, removed her soiled apron and made herself reasonably presentable by repositioning a few wayward strands of hair, she went along the passageway to discover a man of below-average height awaiting her on the other side of the solid oak barrier.