Read Online The Kiss of a Viscount (The Daughters of the Aristocracy) by Linda Rae Sande - Free Book Online Page A

“He took me for a ride in Hyde Park last week and requested I save the first waltz for him at Lord Weatherstone’s ball,” she said quietly, her eyes dancing in delight at sharing the news. “I said I would, of course,” she added as she glanced about the shop, apparently just then realizing it was a hat shop. “Oh, I really must find a suitable bonnet for my old carriage gown,” she murmured as she wandered from Charlotte’s side. “Something to make it appear newer than it is.”
    Charlotte rolled her eyes before shaking her head. She’d spent most of her life preparing to be a duchess, having been betrothed to Joshua’s older brother since she was three. There was a kind of security in knowing who she would marry, and she’d felt a bit of relief in not having to participate in the annual Marriage Mart. But now that John Wainwright was dead and his younger brother had the title of Duke of Chichester, Charlotte was no longer so sure of her own future. Elizabeth’s words had helped to reassure her, though, as only a good friend could do. So, in a sing-song voice, Charlotte said, “I heard from Penelope Winstead Seward, who said she spoke with Lady Asheford, who apparently heard from Lady Worthington that Gabriel Wellingham’s mother was especially happy that her son had decided this was the year he would marry, and that he had decided to pursue the daughter of a certain marquess that wielded a good deal of power in Parliament.” At Elizabeth’s amused expression and quick wave, she followed her friend through to the back of the shop. “And then Hannah Slater’s father mentioned it last night during dinner,” Charlotte added, almost as an afterthought, her voice returning to its normal rhythm and pitch. 
    Lady Elizabeth paused before trying on a jaunty bonnet of deep green velvet adorned with peacock feathers. “Good heavens,” she replied, her eyes wide. “The Marquess of Devonville mentioned it?” she asked in disbelief, the bonnet falling to one side of her head. She caught it in her gloves hands before it fell off completely. “Oh, dear. This is happening much faster than I thought it might,” she added when she saw Charlotte’s raised eyebrow.
    “Oh, taradiddle! You’ve known for the past week he would ask for your hand,” Charlotte scolded, suddenly wondering at which social engagement the two had originally met.
    “I did not,” Elizabeth protested, her voice carrying a bit more than she intended. The man at the counter – Elizabeth was fairly certain his name was Mr. Peabody – glanced up from his reading to give them a curious look. “I merely ... suspected,” Elizabeth added, holding the feathered bonnet as if it were a weapon. “And if I must marry someone, why not Gabriel Wellingham? I rather adore his blond curls, and those blue eyes, and the ten thousand a year I hear he’s worth,” she said in a voice that clearly mocked the way debutantes talked. “And being a countess seems like a perfectly acceptable way to spend married life, don’t you suppose?”
    Charlotte smiled at her friend’s description of the earl. She might have agreed, but having listened to Lady Hannah’s father complain about the man through two courses of last night’s dinner party, she was having doubts. When she and Lady Hannah left their parents to play cards after the men had enjoyed their port and cheroots, Hannah mentioned how her father, the Marquess of Devonville, had voiced similar complaints about the Earl of Trenton for the past week. Apparently, Gabriel Wellingham’s youth and lack of decorum in the House of Lords was a distraction, and his political views were at odds with her father as well as Lady Elizabeth’s father, the Marquess of Morganfield. “Why, Lady Elizabeth, I cannot believe you would settle for something less than a duke,” Charlotte teased then, her grin betraying her mock seriousness.
    Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Unlike you, Lady Charlotte, we can’t all be