Page 1 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
Prologue
LONDON, SEPTEMBER 1844
Simon, Lord Wade, was the most sought-after gentleman of Society, full of intelligent wit and sincere charm. Though young and handsome, he never neglected to converse with hard-of-hearing dowagers or dance with the plainest wallflower. Men found him such an easy companion, ready with a lightly humorous story or an opinion on a tricky investment, that they couldn’t even regret his success with the fairer sex. Simon, grateful to be so blessed, thought his life could only get better.
Until he was thrown from his startled horse while riding through Hyde Park.
When he awoke, safe in his own bed except for a badly sprained ankle, he thought everything would be fine. Then he began to suffer horrific headaches, but the doctor assured him that this was normal with the several blows he’d taken. Not only had his head hit a rock, the horse’s hoofs had clipped him on the other side, leaving welts and bruises. His younger brother Leo joked that it might be a while before he would be presentable to the public.
But the headaches grew worse, and Simon’s sight deteriorated. The doctor’s reassurances became vague. Simon’s family insisted that his sight would be restored when the trauma to his head healed.
But they were wrong. His sight faded until all he could see was gray darkness. Sometimes in very bright light, he could make out vague shapes. The only good thing was that the headaches had gone when his vision had.
As he lay in bed day after day, unable to walk on his ankle, he almost wished to see only true blackness, instead of this unending dark gray that gave him false hope, made him think his world might someday brighten again. But it wasn’t going to, and he finally had to accept it.
The carefree life he had known was over. As the months passed, he put away the recriminations, the useless self-pity. In the beginning he needed a cane as his ankle improved, and he discovered that it helped to walk with it even when he no longer limped. He could feel furniture in front of him before he ran into it. Whenever Leo escorted him, Leo tended to forget to keep him safe.
Simon still had his work overseeing his many estates. He could be useful. His secretary and valet proved invaluable in his return to a somewhat normal schedule.
On the other hand, his ability to socialize was permanently damaged. He couldn’t attend dinner parties—who would he let watch him eat? And dancing, something he had always enjoyed, was out of the question. He was no longer the recipient of dozens of invitations every day, though his true friends continued to encourage him without the pity so many of his dwindling acquaintances implied.
Simon retreated from London, where the busy city life reminded him too much of what he would never have again. He didn’t want to go as far as the family seat of his viscountcy in Derbyshire, so he went to his grandmother’s home in Middlesex, ten miles outside London. His whole family—grandmother, mother, brother Leo, and sister Georgiana—was with him for a while as he adjusted, but he sensed a distance from his mother that he’d never felt before. Simon was trying to be his usual, pleasant self, but she didn’t respond as she used to, as if laughing at a blind man’s jokes was too cruel. It made everyone feel awkward, but he resigned himself to it.
When his mother decided to go back to living her own life, Simon was relieved. He sensed her detachment, as if he was no longer of any use to her now that he didn’t attend social events. Leo came and went, not bothering to hide his discomfort with Simon’s condition, and Simon appreciated the honesty. Their sister, Georgiana, recovering from a disastrous first Season, was Simon’s devoted companion. She became his eyes when he dealt with tenants and businessmen, and the two made a good team. Though his mother had discouraged him from working, Simon was not about to languish on a chaise lounge in despair. He would live his life to the best of his abilities.
His very quiet life.
ChapterOne
LONDON, 1845
The summons from the Dowager Viscountess Wade took Miss Louisa Shelby by surprise. She sat alone in the drawing room of Banstead House, her sister’s home, and perused the letter a second time. She had met the grand lady on several occasions, but after Louisa’s family had lost their fortune, their paths no longer crossed. But six months ago, Louisa’s sister, Victoria, had married Viscount Thurlow, effectively restoring their family in the eyes of Society.
But Louisa didn’t feel restored. She felt restless, even…bored by the parties and the life she’d once so loved.
“Louisa?”
Louisa looked up to see her sister Meriel, in London for her first visit since her marriage last autumn to Richard O’Neill. Louisa rose to her feet and hugged her sister, who stepped away, laughing.
“I’ve been here for several days,” Meriel chided playfully. “You’ve hugged me at least once a day.”
“I’ve just missed my sisters.” Louisa sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her.
Meriel joined her. “If I remember correctly, you always had more than enough friends to keep you occupied whenever I was studying or Victoria was immersed in her music. Surely that letter you’re holding contains another invitation.”
Louisa could have hidden her dismay, but this was Meriel, who would pry until her curiosity was satisfied.
“Lou? What is it?” Meriel frowned and put her hand on Louisa’s arm.
Victoria suddenly sailed into the room, full of smiles and happiness. She was about to embark on her long-delayed honeymoon to the Continent.
Before Victoria could even open her mouth, Meriel held up a hand. “Shh, Vic, I was just persuading Lou to talk.”
Louisa laughed as Victoria sat down on the other side of her. “Ladies, there are other seats in the room.”
“But none right beside you,” Meriel said firmly. “Lou just received a letter, and she doesn’t look happy.”
“Who is it from?” Victoria asked, her face full of concern.
