Page 3 of The Vagabond Viscount
I have endured because I’ve had to, but I’d rather die than let him get a hold of my beloved G.
But time waited for no man or, in this case, woman, and even the ever-patient Lady Augusta Kembal would eventually tire of waiting for Flynn to offer for her hand. And if he didn’t, it was inevitable that she would, in time, look elsewhere. The thought of her being with someone else filled him with soul-deep despair.
I have to find a way out of this situation. I can’t bear the thought of losing her.
Before crossing the street, Flynn stuffed his hands into the warm pockets of his coat. He might well be set to handle the cold of the night, but he was still struggling with the thorny problem of how he could marry Augusta while at the same time keeping her safe from his father.
There was one thing of which he was certain—if Earl Bramshaw dared lay a finger on the woman he loved, Flynn would kill him. Even if it cost him his own life.
ChapterTwo
Augusta couldn’t help herself. No matter how hard she tried, her gaze kept returning to the front door. If she wasn’t looking, she was listening, taking in every name as guests arriving at the party were announced. But one face was yet to appear. One name was yet to be called. Viscount Cadnam.
You promised you would be here tonight. Where are you?
When the sharp elbow of her sister, Lady Victoria, dug firmly into Augusta’s ribs, she quickly turned. “What?”
Victoria huffed in annoyance. “Gideon said that Flynn was coming tonight, so would you kindly cease with the lovestruck glances at the front door. If you don’t, people are sure to eventually notice. Besides, it’s not that late. Give the poor man a chance to dress and make a proper entrance.”
The idea of Flynn making any sort of grand entrance filled Augusta with a mixture of both joy and sadness. She would be happy to see him, but knowing that heads always turned whenever the Vagabond Viscount appeared at a social event made Augusta heartsick. It wasn’t Flynn’s fault that he lived with so few coins to his name. She hated the horrible nickname that the man she loved had been saddled with by London society. People could be so cruel. Especially Earl Bramshaw.
The members of thehaut tonwere more than content to judge a man on his manner of dress. Still, no one wanted to deal with the uncomfortable subject of just why a nobleman was forced to mend his own clothes and get about the city streets in tattered boots.
If only I could openly give him my love. Let the world know that he is mine.
Then she would be well within her rights to defend him publicly. To call to account those who whispered spiteful remarks. To confront his odious, penny-pinching sire. One day, she would do just that. She would give Flynn’s father a piece of her mind.
Until then, she would remain nothing more than the sister of Flynn’s best friend, Gideon. It was a role she constantly chaffed against. She wanted to be his everything.
Like the rest of her siblings, Augusta had been raised to speak her mind—and her heart. To seek love and claim it. The Kembal family was one where passion was not suppressed. Her parents had a fiery marriage, but secretly she envied them. They had blistering rows and were known to tear at one another. They were also madly in love.
Her cheeks burned at the sudden memory of wandering the woods near Mowbray Park the previous summer and stumbling upon the Duke and Duchess of Mowbray in the middle of marital congress. Her father had her mother backed up against a tree, with Lady Anne’s legs wrapped around her husband’s hips. From their grunts and sighs, there could be no mistaking their occupation. Her brother Lord Richard Kembal had dragged Augusta away with all due haste and made her swear never to tell a soul what she had seen.
That was a love she could understand. A union of two people who had decided they wanted to be together and build a life based on their mutual desire. They were united as one.
I want that love. That life, with Flynn.
Her gaze drifted once more to the front door of the town house and the next guests whose arrival was being announced by the head butler. But she didn’t take notice of them. Rather, her eyes settled on the man who had just taken his place at the back of the receiving line.
He is here.
Relief. Her pulse raced at the mere sight of Flynn. An aching need clenched in her core. Under her evening gown, her nipples turned to hardened buds.
He’d had this effect on her for as long as she could remember. Over the years, her girlish infatuation had matured into the wants and needs of a woman. To her heart’s delight, her long-held prayers had been answered when, last summer, Flynn had finally let down his guard and confessed his feelings for her. Since that day, they had met in secret at every opportunity.
Flynn’s declaration should have been the end of her problems, not the beginning. Any other young couple would have been able to go through the normal process of a public courtship leading to marriage. But Flynn’s situation was anything but normal.
Augusta had never thought herself capable of hating someone, but what she felt toward Earl Bramshaw came close.
“It looks like someone has decided to save money on flowers this evening.”
That voice had Augusta stirring from her private, forbidden thoughts of the viscount. She put her social mask firmly in place, then turned to face her cousin.
Lady Catrin Shale moved and came to stand alongside Augusta. The Earl of Shale’s younger sister pointed at the nearest floral arrangement and gave a haughty sniff of disapproval. “I hear the hostess is working to a strict budget this evening, and it was either a room full of gorgeous roses or a quality orchestra. From the paucity of blooms, I would say that the music appears to have won out.”
The fair-haired Catrin was a breathtaking beauty, a true diamond of the first water, but she was also an unashamed gossip. If there was anything of note happening within the ranks of the unwed misses in London society, she would without doubt be in the thick of it.
Until that moment, Augusta hadn’t taken in much of the room. Her attention had been fixed on the front door and the other guests as they arrived. The details of this evening’s decorations had evaded her notice. But as her cousin pointed to the small vases with white roses which were dotted around the room, it dawned on Augusta just how little money had been spent.
