The Viscount Claims His Bride
30 December 1829
An icy wind blew steadily through the poorly sealed post chaise, keeping its two occupants chilled in spite of their caped greatcoats and the hot bricks they'd installed at the posting inn. But it had been the best they could do at the time. The west country was not known for its luxuries. The newly returned Viscount St Just didn't mind. He'd been in far less comfortable situations over the past nine years and he was simply glad to be home.
'What are you smiling about?' Beldon Stratten, the young Baron Pendennys, groused, stamping his feet in a futile attempt to generate some body heat.
'Am I smiling?' Valerian asked. 'I was unaware of it.'
'You've been smiling since the inn at St Austell. I can't imagine what about.'
Beldon was right. There wasn't much to smile about. Their journey had become a comedy of errors. Nothing had gone right since they'd left London after celebrating the Christmas holidays in town. They'd hoped to sail down the Cornish coast to St Just-in-Roseland, Valerian's home on the peninsula, and avoid the roads. But foul weather on the Channel had scotched those plans. So they'd set out on horseback, hoping t ... read full excerpt from: The Viscount Claims His Bride ebook
