Tempting the Viscount

She’s looking for a lover, but he intends to make her his wife…

After surviving an unhappy marriage, the Dowager Baroness Mansfield plans to enjoy her freedom. But when Lucy meets Viscount Holbrook, she can’t ignore the spark of attraction that flares to life between them.

So she does the only logical thing for a woman in her position—she asks him to be her lover. But her unsatisfactory experience with her first husband has her wondering if she’s even capable of enjoying such an arrangement.

Holbrook counters by proposing a wager. If he can show her she’s capable of experiencing pleasure, she’ll allow him to court her.

Holbrook is determined to behave honorably, but Lucy tempts him to give in to his baser desires. His only recourse is to convince her they can both get what they want.

TEMPTING THE VISCOUNT is the final book in Suzanna Medeiros’s Landing a Lord series!

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Excerpt

One hour. That was how long it took Lucy, the widowed Lady Mansfield, to become uncomfortable with her surroundings.

It wasn’t the event exactly. A dinner with her brother, the Duke of Clarington, and his wife Charlotte, who was also her closest friend. But the intimate dinner party the Claringtons held annually on the evening before their ball had increased in size since the last time she’d attended, two years ago.

Lucy had remained in the country last year after her husband of eleven years died. Looking back, she supposed his death had been inevitable. It was only a matter of time before he’d be challenged to a duel by one of the many men he’d cuckolded over the years.

She’d avoided London because she couldn’t face the scandal that had swept through the ton after gossip about the duel had spread. Her humiliation had been sufficient without having to deal with the pitying looks and whispers from everyone she knew.

She’d married for love after her first season. But that love quickly turned to hate when the man who’d wooed her relentlessly tired of her company after just one year of marriage.

The pain that overwhelmed her when she first discovered his infidelity faded over the years. Of course her husband had blamed her when she’d failed to bear him an heir. Or any child.

Mansfield had been angry, and he’d thrown his affairs in her face, telling her that if she couldn’t give him children, perhaps another woman would. It had been a move calculated to cause her pain, something at which her husband seemed to excel. But when he failed to father even one bastard—despite his diligent efforts to do just that over the years—he’d finally stopped berating her for her inability to fall pregnant.

She’d stayed out of his way, and he’d left her alone.

Lucy didn’t miss her husband. The man with whom she’d fallen in love had been a fiction. When her husband died, she realized she’d already mourned the passing of the man she loved many years ago.

She settled more comfortably into an armchair in a corner of her brother’s luxuriously appointed drawing room and observed all the guests. Aside from herself, every person present was happily married.

She didn’t begrudge them their bliss. But watching the way each couple gazed at their spouse with affection, if not barely concealed adoration, made her feel anxious. And with every loving smile and touch she witnessed, Lucy grew increasingly uncomfortable.

She couldn’t help but wonder if something was wrong with her. Why had her love match turned horribly wrong while these people were able to secure happily-ever-afters? It was impossible to believe that true love didn’t exist when surrounded by such evidence to the contrary. Apparently love did exist. Just not for her.

She dreaded the dinner that would be starting soon. If her sister-in-law hadn’t been her closest friend since childhood, Lucy would have pleaded a headache to escape the suffocating bliss. Since she was staying with Alex and Charlotte during the season, it would be easy to slip upstairs and seek solace in her bedchamber.

But Charlotte would know she was lying.

So Lucy smiled and engaged in small talk with the other guests. Above all, she tried to ignore the sensation that she didn’t belong with these people. Dinner had yet to be served, and a very real headache was beginning to form, but she ignored it.

And then he walked into the room.

Viscount Holbrook.

She’d met the man only briefly before tonight. He was tall with dark brown hair that was kept fashionably short, and his eyes were a deep blue that seemed unnatural.

It was almost unfair how handsome she found him, and in another lifetime she would have gone out of her way to seek his attention. But experience had taught her such men would never be faithful.

She watched as he made his way around the room, greeting all the guests as though they were lifelong friends. She couldn’t help but wonder how he’d made it into her brother’s inner circle. And watching the way Alex greeted him warmly, it was evident her brother liked him a great deal more than he’d ever liked Lucy’s husband.

In the beginning, Alex had tolerated Mansfield because Lucy loved him. After that first year, when it became clear that her husband was intent on bedding every willing woman of the ton, Alex’s indifference to Mansfield had turned to something much darker. Her brother wouldn’t welcome someone else into their group who behaved in a similar manner.

Perhaps Holbrook limited his love affairs to widows.

A zing of awareness went through her at the thought. She was a widow. There was nothing to stop her from also taking a lover. She might not have love, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t find enjoyment with a man. Or many.

Distaste soured her mood at that last thought. No, not many men. But perhaps one man. This man. If she could find the courage within herself.

She rose to her feet when he made his way over to where she was sitting.

“Lady Mansfield.” He took the hand she held out to him and bowed over it. “It is a pleasure to see you here tonight.”

He was too polite to say anything about her husband—had he known Mansfield?—but his cautious expression made it clear he was curious. He probably assumed she was still mourning his death.

She clasped her hands at her waist as she replied, but she couldn’t remember what she said because all her thoughts were centered on the fact that her hand was tingling from where he’d held it.

Neither of them wore gloves. She’d known they wouldn’t be necessary since this wasn’t a formal dinner, but it surprised her that Holbrook had also foregone wearing them. Just how well did he know her brother?

It was foolish to wonder. If she was considering the possibility of taking a lover, surely she could ask the man a simple question. Not that she believed she’d ever be quite so bold, but it was fun to entertain the notion.

“When my sister-in-law spoke about tonight’s dinner party, I wasn’t expecting quite so many people to be in attendance.” She wanted to wince after the words were out. Had that sounded like an insult? Did he think she was questioning why he’d received an invitation? “I mean no offense, of course. But with the ball tomorrow, I’d assumed there would only be a few people here.”

The Marquess of Overlea and the Earl of Kerrick were Alex’s closest friends, and they saw each other every day when they were in town. She’d known the two men and their wives would be here tonight, but she hadn’t expected everyone else.

The Marquess of Lowenbrock was the brother of Overlea’s and Kerrick’s wives, so his presence wasn’t a surprise. But Viscount Ashford’s, Baron Cranston’s, and the Earl of Hargrove’s attendance was unexpected, as was Holbrook’s.

The corners of Holbrook’s eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her. “I think Hargrove and Cranston might have lobbied for my presence tonight.”

She released the breath she’d been holding. Her husband would have bristled at her words even though no offense had been intended. Clearly Holbrook was more even-tempered. It was yet another point in the man’s favor.

“And Charlotte would have agreed because it meant there wouldn’t be an uneven number of people at the dinner table.”

“It seems that is my role now. The man you invite to your dinner parties to even out the number of guests.” Despite his attempt to appear chagrined, he couldn’t hide his amusement.

“Well, I for one am glad I won’t be the only unmarried person here.” She wasn’t sure what made her rush to add, “Fear not, I doubt they’re matchmaking. Charlotte doesn’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

His gaze became serious, and she had the uncanny sensation that he saw right through her. Could he sense how broken and uncertain she was beneath the detached demeanor she’d perfected after her husband made her an object of pity?

“Would she be correct in that assumption? That you’re not yet ready to…?”

His words trailed off as though he’d only just realized the question was too forward, and her imagination leaped to fill in the blanks. To find love again? To marry? To have a torrid love affair?

She was no innocent. As a widow now out of mourning, she knew men would seek her out. They would issue all manner of lewd invitations—over the years she’d seen it firsthand with other widows, who made no secret of the fact they were enjoying their newfound freedom. But somehow she didn’t think that had been Holbrook’s intention.

He stiffened as though just realizing what he’d implied, and she laughed when he passed a hand over his face. When he dropped his arm again, his smile was tilted at one corner. The hint of color high on his cheekbones charmed her.

“One would think I’d never spoken to a beautiful woman before. I meant no disrespect, of course. Please don’t tell your brother. I’m quite famished and don’t relish being thrown out.” He leaned in close. “And my friends would retell the tale for the next year for their own entertainment.”

She laughed again, amused. She liked the viscount, and she didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. “Your secret is safe with me. For now.”

The butler stepped into the room then and announced that dinner was ready. Holbrook raised a brow and held out his arm. He’d been invited to act as her dinner partner, so she shouldn’t have felt the flutter of nerves low in her belly as she tucked her hand into his elbow.

“I’ll endeavor to be on my best behavior for the rest of the night.” The rumble of his voice settled over her, low and intimate.

She didn’t reply, but she couldn’t help the small twinge of disappointment. But we were just beginning to have so much fun.

©2024 Suzanna Medeiros