Vying for a Viscount (Widows of Mayfair #5)

Prologue

Miss Letitia Cambridge’s mother meant to achieve what many debutante mothers tirelessly and ruthlessly strived for. She intended to persuade the wealthy, titled, and never-married Graham Fernsby, the Marquess of Rutherford, to marry her daughter without ever participating in a Season.

Thanks to a close friend of Letitia’s mother, they’d learned that the marquess, at the age of forty-seven, was finally seeking his first bride to settle down and produce heirs.

Realizing the cost of a Season was beyond their current means, they’d invited the marquess to afternoon tea, which, against all odds, he’d accepted.

And today was the day he would grace them with his presence.

Letitia had butterflies swarming in her stomach as she sat on the settee beside her mother, waiting for his visit.

Beyond his age and title, she knew nothing about him.

When she had hoped for a Season, she had studied all the eligible bachelors listed in Debrett’s Peerage.

She had wanted to familiarize herself with them in case she was fortunate enough to find herself dancing with one.

Knowing a little about their backgrounds and families would have worked in her favor.

She had no doubt the marquess was listed in the book.

Their butler, Mr. Henry, entered the drawing room and announced, “The Marquess of Rutherford.”

After the formalities were concluded, Mrs. Cambridge invited the marquess to take a seat. “Knowing this is rather unusual, I thank you for accepting my invitation. Please forgive me if I overstep, but I heard from a close friend that you are seeking a young bride.”

Letitia found, to her relief, the marquess to be handsome with dark hair streaked with gray and intelligent amber eyes.

He glanced down at his hat in his hands, then looked up, meeting her gaze.

He looked at her with kindness and interest. Her breath whooshed from her lungs as his eyes casually roamed up and down her figure.

Thank goodness he didn’t leer. Her mind had, for some reason, pictured an old man with a hunched back and sinister, leering eyes and a drooling mouth.

She could hardly contain her excitement that she’d been wrong. So very wrong.

His eyes flicked to her mother. “You heard correctly.” Even his voice sounded pleasant and strong, sending awareness up her spine.

Her mother continued, “What I’m about to say stays between us, and I don’t want your pity.

I don’t know whether you know my family, but I was the daughter of the third Earl of Edgewater.

When I chose to marry a gentleman my father deemed unworthy, he cut me off.

I took my husband’s name and never looked back or regretted my decision.

That is, until now. My husband has been gone for over a year, and sadly, I cannot spare the funds to give my daughter the Season she deserves. ”

“What about your brother, the current Earl of Edgewater?”

Her mother lifted her chin. “I have my pride.”

Rutherford’s face softened. “I understand completely. I would prefer not to deal with the Marriage Mart mamas, who, no doubt, will swarm me and force their daughters on me. It is degrading for the poor girls and uncomfortable for the gentlemen. So be that as it may, I would like to spend some time getting to know Miss Cambridge and see whether we would suit.”

Mother’s wide, enthusiastic smile illuminated her blue eyes along with her whole face. One would think Letitia was already engaged to the marquess rather than in the midst of a courtship.

“That is acceptable to my daughter and me.”

He turned to Letitia and said, “I would like to hear what Miss Cambridge has to say.”

Letitia swallowed her nerves and said not only what her mother expected of her but also what she truly meant. The marquess intrigued her, and so she replied, “I would like to get to know you as well, Lord Rutherford.”

“Perfect,” he said as he stood. “I will call on you tomorrow for a ride in the park.” He bowed. “Good day to you both.” Before Letitia’s mind caught up with his words, he was gone.

“Well,” her mother said. “That went better than I could’ve hoped. I predict you will marry the Marquess of Rutherford within the month.”

Her mother was correct. She did indeed marry the marquess. However, the timeline was two weeks with a special license rather than a month.

*

After the wedding, Letitia and Graham were happy and kept to themselves for the most part. Although, she felt he spent rather a lot of time at his clubs. But when she gave birth to a healthy boy and heir, he was beyond grateful and proud.

It was unfortunate that all good things must come to an end.

On a night of wind-swept, driving rain and violent thunderstorms, five years into their marriage, they quarreled for the first time.

Graham was going out for the night and refused to explain what was so important that he would risk going out in such dangerous conditions.

He was angry with her and stormed out of the house into the storm without his greatcoat or hat, only to return minutes later, soaked through, rain dripping from him.

He marched up the grand staircase and faced her, indecision in his eyes.

“I must go. I promise to return by morning.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“I’m sorry. I must check on my mistress, as she just gave birth.”

At hearing his words, her heart tore in two.

Why couldn’t he have kept the knowledge of his mistress and child to himself?

She’d never suspected anything, so why tell her now?

Yes, she’d begged to know why he was going out, but why hadn’t he lied, as he obviously had in the past?

She could have continued living in ignorance.

Tears blurred her vision as she turned her head from side to side. “How could you?”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and she fought not to turn away. “Forgive me.”

Their eyes met, and she witnessed regret and heartache before he turned and hurried carelessly down the stairs, only to slip halfway down on the wet wood, tumbling over and over until he landed with a sickening thud.

Screams escaped her mouth without her realizing it.

She could hardly breathe, and her body shook uncontrollably.

Pure instinct had her pulling up her skirts and hastening as quickly as she could down the stairs, careful not to repeat what had happened to her husband.

By the time she reached the landing, the butler and housekeeper stood side by side, comforting each other.

Letitia fell to her knees, arched her back, tipped her head up to the ceiling, and screamed at the top of her lungs as her heart was torn from her chest. When no air remained in her lungs, she dropped her head into her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

Her husband, his eyes open and sightless, lay in an unnatural position. His neck was broken, and he was dead.

The husband she loved.

The husband she provided with an heir.

The husband she thought she knew.

The husband she would never get to apologize to.

If she hadn’t demanded to know the truth about his quest that night, he would still be alive.

She would have had to share him with his mistress, but at least he would be among the living to witness their son grow up to be a fine, upstanding gentleman.