The Viscount's Revenge

CHAPTER ONE ~ 1877-1

CHAPTER ONE ~ 1877Viscount Trent gave his splendid team their heads when they moved out of the built-up area.

They were a new acquisition that he was very proud of.

He was quite sure that every man who passed him was thinking how lucky he was to have such magnificent well-matched horses.

He was driving a chaise he had designed himself in which he could travel a great deal faster than he had ever done before.

The groom perched up behind him had difficulty in holding onto his cap.

Today the Viscount found himself in a particularly good mood because he was, for the first time in his life, going to make a proposal of marriage.

He had habitually avoided the London debutantes, who had regarded him every Season with an eager eye full of hope.

He had also managed to keep well out of the reach of their ambitious mothers, who felt that they would surely be fortunate enough to capture him where a great number of their friends had failed.

The Viscount would have been very stupid, which he was most certainly not, if he had not known that he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the whole of London Society.

Being exceedingly handsome, it was not surprising that every matrimonial trap was laid out carefully to catch him.

His father, the Earl of Trenthanson, was known to be one of the richest men in England.

His huge ancestral home in Oxfordshire was noted for one of the finest collection of paintings, furniture and china of any other house in the whole country.

The Viscount himself was an exceptionally bright young man, who had come away from Oxford University with the highest degrees possible as suitable awards for his exceptional intellect.

He had travelled a great deal.

Not only had he been welcomed by the Ruler of every country he visited, but had brought back information for which he was congratulated by the Prime Minister and Queen Victoria.

At the same time it was most surprising that he had managed to avoid the ties of marriage.

Finally he had at last decided that he would take a wife and produce, which was absolutely essential, an heir for his illustrious family.

He had now found that the acclaimed beauty of the Season was even more attractive than she was proclaimed to be.

In fact he believed that no one else could grace the family tiara and all the other jewellery as well as Marigold Marlow.

She came from an ancient country family. It had a Family Tree almost as long as the Viscount’s own.

The only title in it had been given to Marigold’s father, Lord Marlow, for the way that he had assisted the Cabinet in extending the British Empire even further than it was already.

Marigold Marlow had astounded the Social world from the first moment she appeared as a debutante at the age of sixteen.

That she was indeed one of the great beauties went without saying.

A number of other debutantes had perfect peaches and cream complexions, but Marigold managed to assert herself by being exceedingly amusing.

Young men who often found the average debutante somewhat heavy on hand, found themselves laughing and enjoying every word of her wit.

She was usually witty at the expense of others.

Equally it was unusual for have a debutante who could assert herself and who was not shy of anyone she had to meet.

Actually Marigold was christened just ‘Mary’ after her mother, who had dead ten years ago after a long and debilitating illness.

But she had thought, if she was to be a sensation in the Social world, ‘Mary’ sounded too dull.

She therefore, before she made her appearance, re-christened herself ‘Marigold’.

She knew that the name itself would be unusual and cause people to notice her.

And she was, in fact, determined to be noticed.

She had managed to do so by wearing clothes that were somewhat unusual for a debutante and she never had the slightest tinge of shyness about her exotic appearance wherever she went.

The Viscount at twenty-seven years of age found her most amusing and very different from any other young debutante in the Social world.

He began to look forward to the evenings when they invariably met at some smart party in London.

When he asked her to dance, he was conscious of the heady fragrance of her scent and the fact that her small hand clung to his very tightly.

Because she was not at all shy, she teased him and he found himself laughing from the moment they took to the dance floor until the moment they left it.

‘She is unique,’ he thought to himself.

There could be no one better than Marigold for the magnificent house and estate that had been in his family since the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

The house had been added to by every generation until it was filled with fabulous treasures that were envied by every Museum and connoisseur.

The Viscount had been pressured by his family ever since he left Oxford to marry and have an heir and extra heirs to be on the safe side.

“It may well be traditional,” they all said, “for the Trenthansons to have only one son, but it’s dangerous, very dangerous! If you had an accident or was killed in a war or anything like that, then our family would come to a dismal end.”

The Viscount, without being told, knew all this.

He was so used to hearing it that he merely turned a deaf ear to his relatives’ pleas and continued to enjoy being a bachelor.

He was a very popular member of White’s Club.

He laughed when he was told that they were betting over which year he would be married and if, when he did take a wife, she would be as aristocratic and distinguished as he was himself.

What had always interested him more than women were his horses.

As his father was so rich, he had given him his own racehorses as a present on his twenty-first birthday.

He rode them with joy and was not at all surprised, because he had been allowed to choose them himself, when they won one Classic race after another.

He was quite certain that this year he would claim the Gold Cup at Ascot, which so far had totally eluded him despite all his efforts.

But now he mused that even his horses would have to take second place if he married, as he intended to do, the most beautiful girl who had ever astounded and surprised London Society.

And she would certainly be the most outstanding and exquisite bride who had ever walked up the aisle on anyone’s arm.

What was more she would help him to entertain the foreign visitors who came to England to pay their respects to the Queen and to meet Members of the Cabinet and the House of Lords.

He was honoured to be their guest, which his father had enjoyed for some years. But he was now finding it somewhat arduous and was extremely anxious that his son should take his place.

The Viscount was only too willing to do so.

He knew that, if he entertained the Rulers of other countries, then he and his wife, when he had one, would be invited back.

He was, unlike many other Englishmen, proficient at speaking foreign languages and therefore on a State Visit he would miss nothing.

Lord Marlow’s house was only ten miles from the centre of London.

That was very convenient when he had to spend so much of his time at No. 10 Downing Street with the Prime Minister. He also had a house in Mayfair, but he loved the country.

He begrudged having to stay in London when he might be enjoying his garden and the dogs and horses that were his great joy.

If Lord Marlow was at home, which the Viscount thought was unlikely, he certainly would have admired the new team of chestnuts he was driving.

They were not only well-trained but also perfectly matched and so it passed through the Viscount’s mind that Lord Marlow would surely enjoy inspecting them and then congratulate their owner on such perfection.

Then he remembered that he had to be alone with Marigold if he was to propose to her as he fully intended to do.

Last night at a party given for the Prince of Wales by the Duchess of Devonshire, he had said, as they finished dancing,

“I want to talk to you alone, Marigold. Will you be at home tomorrow afternoon?”

“I will be at home,” Marigold replied, “but not in London. Papa is very anxious to drive back tonight and, of course, I am always ready to accompany him.”

“Then I will call on you tomorrow afternoon,” the Viscount said. “I have something of great importance to say to you.”

He felt that Marigold would eye him questioningly.

Instead of which she laughed and made some witty remarks that made him laugh too.

It was because she was so unusual that he enjoyed being with her.

He told himself, when he went home in the early hours of the morning, that he would definitely propose to her tomorrow.

He rather expected that it would be a surprise, even though quite a number of young men had already laid their hearts at her feet.

‘Surely no one would look lovelier in the family diamonds,’ he told himself before he went to sleep. ‘Lord Marlow has always been kind to me since I was a boy and I know that he will be delighted to have me as his son-in-law.’

He could not help thinking that a great number of old gentlemen would feel the same when his father was so rich.

After Windsor Castle Trenthanson Hall was indeed without question the most important house in England.

When the Viscount saw the gates of Lord Marlow’s house just ahead of him, he thought, with a smile, that this was the first time he had ever asked a woman to marry him.

He was quite sure that it was something he would not regret in the future.

‘And at least we will be able to laugh together,’ he reflected, ‘which is more than I can say for the majority of women who have very little sense of humour and take their love affairs too seriously.’

Because he was expected, a groom was waiting to help with the horses and to show his groom, sitting behind him, the way to the stables.

“I will let you know when I will be leaving,” the Viscount said, as he stepped out of the chaise. “See that the horses have plenty of water.”

He was always very fussy about his animals and he knew that after the fast way they had travelled and, because it was a hot day, they would be in need of a long cool drink of water.

It was unlikely that his own groom would forget, but then he never took any chances where his animals were concerned.

As he walked up the steps to the front door, a butler opened it and bowed subserviently to him.

“Miss Marlow is expecting your Lordship,” he said. “Will you come this way?”

There were two footmen in the hall dressed in the Marlow livery that was not in any way as spectacular as that of the Trents.

The butler opened the door of a room at the end of the hall and announced in stentorian tones,

“Viscount Trent, Miss Marlow.”

The large drawing room filled with flowers made, the Viscount thought, a perfect background for Marigold and her beauty.

She had been sitting by the window and when she rose the sunshine seemed to make an aura behind her that would have entranced any famous artist.

She held out her hand to the Viscount and said in her usual sparkling manner,

“You are a little later than I expected, Charles, and I was just wondering if you had forgotten me.”

“Do you imagine that I could ever do anything so ridiculous?” the Viscount asked. “I came as quickly as I could, but I was held up by a rather boring luncheon given for the German Ambassador, who was even more pompous than he usually is.”

Marigold, who was looking very lovely, laughed.

“That is something you never are,” she said. “To be honest I loathe all pomposity.”

“So do I,” he agreed. “Therefore my beautiful one, I am not going to make you a formal speech, but ask you quite simply if you will marry me.”