Ruined By The Reckless Viscount by Sophia James

Author:Sophia James
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harlequin Historical
Published: 2017-07-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

It was a whirlwind week of fittings and bustling activity. The Warrenden tailor had come and measured her up for the clothes and, on a generous retainer from her brother-in-law’s coffers, had been the very soul of discretion and confidence. If he guessed her figure was not one pertaining to a youth he made no mention of it whatsoever, fashioning the clothes around her form and fitting them with barely a word uttered.

Standing in front of the mirror an hour before they were all to leave, Flora looked at her reflection and was shocked.

This was what Bryson would have looked like had he lived. She could see the lines of him in her face and the blue of his eyes gazing back at her. The wig and the moustache blurred the resemblance a little, but at that second all she could feel was the unexpected closeness of her twin.

‘I wish you were here,’ she whispered. ‘I wish you could help me.’

She smiled because all her antics and movements were completed with him in mind. The way he walked, and spoke and was. Without Bryson she knew she should never have chanced such a deception.

Her fingers went to a ring he’d worn that now sat on her hand. The gold was solid and real somehow, a circle that had not broken.

Would Viscount Winterton be there tonight? Would he come if he knew she was invited or was he still away seeing to the specifics of the property he was acquiring? She had not seen him since she had exited the carriage outside the Warrenden town house. But she had dreamed about him. She had dreamed they were before a beautiful country house in the sunlight and that he had pulled off her wig and kissed her, hard and true.

Ridiculous, she thought, and shook away the image. He was probably doing his very best to never see her again.

She had drawn him every single day, late at night when the others were asleep and when there was no chance of interruption. She had drawn him in colour as well as in all the shades of grey.

She hoped he would be there. She did. She wanted to meet him again and feel his eyes on her own. She wanted to ask of the portrait and of his new home.

My God, what was she thinking? James Waverley, Viscount Winterton, would hold no interest in who she was. Every woman in society was angling to catch his eye after all and with his investments in the lucrative timber trade he was exactly the sort of man the society mothers would want for their daughters.

The night suddenly seemed less of an adventure and much more of an ordeal to get through and when Maria came in with her new blue gown, her hair a cascade of ringlets, Florentia felt suddenly sick.

‘I know that look, Flora, but you have to come. Roy would be devastated if you did not and we have already sent back our intention of attending.

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