Meeting Her Promised Viscount


 
 
 
 How in the blazes had a simple kiss turned so wrenching?
 Fletcher knew what Eirene would say. They were meant for one another, their futures bound by a dream or whatever hocus-pocus controlled people’s futures.
 But it was going to take more than one remarkable, quite poignant kiss to convince him that was true.
 Two kisses perhaps? Four or seven? No, nothing would be proved by kissing her seven times. If he did that, it would be because he was in love with her.
 A love resulting in the logical progression of their relationship, not destiny.
 The greatest mystery in this situation was that he was giving the idea of being in love any thought at all.
 
 
 CAROL ARENS
 Meeting Her Promised Viscount
 
 
 
 Carol Arens delights in tossing fictional characters into hot water, watching them steam and then giving them a happily-ever-after. When she is not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, beach camping or lounging about a mountain cabin. At home, she enjoys playing with her grandchildren and gardening. During rare spare moments, you will find her snuggled up with a good book. Carol enjoys hearing from readers at [email protected] or on Facebook.
 Books by Carol Arens
 Harlequin Historical
 The Cowboy’s Cinderella
 Western Christmas Brides
 “A Kiss from the Cowboy”
 The Rancher’s Inconvenient Bride
 A Ranch to Call Home
 A Texas Christmas Reunion
 The Earl’s American Heiress
 Rescued by the Viscount’s Ring
 The Making of Baron Haversmere
 The Viscount’s Yuletide Bride
 To Wed a Wallflower
 A Victorian Family Christmas
 “A Kiss Under the Mistletoe”
 The Viscount’s Christmas Proposal
 Meeting Her Promised Viscount
 The Rivenhall Weddings
 Inherited as the Gentleman’s Bride
 In Search of a Viscountess
 A Family for the Reclusive Baron
 Visit the Author Profile pageat Harlequin.com for more titles.
 
 
 Dedicated to the memory of Bobbi Pearson. We will always cherish your bright and happy spirit.
 
 
 Contents
 Chapter One
 Chapter Two
 Chapter Three
 Chapter Four
 Chapter Five
 Chapter Six
 Chapter Seven
 Chapter Eight
 Chapter Nine
 Chapter Ten
 Chapter Eleven
 Chapter Twelve
 Chapter Thirteen
 Chapter Fourteen
 Chapter Fifteen
 Excerpt from The Marquess and the Runaway Lady by Samantha Hastings
 
 
 Chapter One
 Warrenstoke Estate—June 1875
 ‘Mother, I do not know why you like such dreadful stories.’ Eirene closed the cover of the book with a snap. It was not as easy to close her mind on the dark, mysterious raven in the tale.
 ‘Why, I suppose it is because at my age, it is the only adventure I have. Mr Poe does keep one perched at the edge of her chair.’
 ‘Running out of the library, more like it.’
 Her mother smiled as brightly as if they had been reading a merry tale about Father Christmas. ‘Oh, my dear...you do know that The Raven was inspired by one of the stories of our very own Charles Dickens?’
 ‘Then tomorrow we shall read something by him.’ Eirene stood, setting the book aside.
 Her mother lifted her cheek for a kiss. Mother’s cheek was sunken, her skin lined with ill health.
 The physician believed that living in the fresh country air would do her a great deal of good. It might be true. During the year they had been living at Warrenstoke her mental attitude had improved and she could take several steps without becoming too winded. In spite of her mother’s admiration of Edgar Allen Poe’s dark works, she seemed happy. Far more spirited than she had been in London.
 ‘Run along, my sweet girl, and enjoy the rest of your day.’
 A walk on the manor grounds was just what she needed.
 Coming outside, she stood on the back terrace, took a deep breath of summer air and smiled.
 It was a day among days with sunshine making the sky bright blue and birds singing like happy little spirits in the trees. Not a raven in sight.
 Eirene wanted to twirl down the steps. Since there was no good reason not to, she caught her skirt in her hands and did just that.
 Once on the garden path, she walked along, singing. She was far from being an accomplished chanteuse, but she enjoyed it anyway.
 ‘Remember yourself, Eirene. Who you are.’ Percy! Drat, she had not noticed him lounging on a terrace chair. ‘And do look your best for tea. I have invited guests.’
 It grated on her the way he acted as if he were already Viscount Warrenstoke. As if she was already his wife and could tell her how to act.
 The only claim he had on Warrenstoke was as heir presumptive. A title he was likely to gain since the late Viscount’s eldest son, born of his first wife, had passed away a year ago and his second son had disappeared along with his mother many years before, never to be heard of again. But there was a search going on for him and until possession of the title was determined one way or another, she was not going to wed anyone.
 Father was the one who dealt with Percy most of the time. The Larkin cousin had arrived at Warrenstoke soon after Henry’s death and was quite unprepared to act as Viscount.
 Assuming he would be one day, Father had been training him in what was required of the title.
 ‘Of course, Percy,’ she said pleasantly because he was easier to deal with when things went as he wished them to. ‘I will see you at teatime.’
 Until then she had hours to spend rambling about the estate she had visited and loved since she was a baby.
 Father and Viscount Warrenstoke had been the greatest of friends from the time they were boys right up until the night, a few years ago, when Warrenstoke died in Father’s arms.
 Grass and flowers brushed her skirt while she strolled across the meadow. The mingled fragrances floated up. She breathed in so deeply that she could nearly taste summer.
 Being at Warrenstoke