Charlotte Hawthorn had everything she could ever want. She lived alone, enjoyed freedoms that few women ever experience, was a governess and an artist, and she had not seen her husband in four years. Theirs was a marriage in name only, a convenience.
Victor Hawthorn, Viscount Blackmar, had not wanted to marry a stranger at the age of one and twenty. However, when a wealthy merchant purchased all his father’s debts, Victor was given the choice to either marry the man’s soon-to-be sixteen-year-old daughter or his family would face complete ruination. Victor had chosen marriage then left his young bride on a small estate and returned to his life.
When he reluctantly returns four years later, Victor doesn’t find the girl he left behind, but an enticing, independent woman who not only creates beautiful art but would rather be a governess than married to him. Will they find their way to love and happiness or will all be ruined by an enemy who sets out to destroy their future.
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Regency30 Ratings on Amazon average is 4.7
40 Ragings on Goodreads average is 4.4
Charlotte Thompson strained to look out the window on the nursery floor where she’d been sequestered when the important guests had arrived. She honestly didn’t mind and preferred to be up here, away from her father and not being reminded that she was forever a disappointment. This was where she could paint and be herself.
“Are you certain that is Mr. Victor Hawthorn?” she asked her maid, Tilly.
“He and his father, Viscount Blackmar, arrived with Lady Blackmar this afternoon,” Tilly confirmed. “They were meeting with your father for the longest time.”
“Perhaps Lord Blackmar is seeking a loan,” Charlotte mused aloud. Why else would the Viscount be here? If gossip sheets were to be believed, Blackmar was a gambler who had taken the family to the brink of financial ruin several times. He was also rumored to be a womanizer and imbiber. “Father is richer than most and it would not be the first time a lord has shown up on our doorstep.”
“Your father must have denied the request, given all the yelling I heard,” Tilly responded.
“Thank goodness I am to stay up here. I do not like to be around father when he is in a foul mood.” Charlotte frowned. “Then why are they still here? Others with similar requests have left immediately upon rejection.”
Mr. Hawthorn’s walk through the gardens was not a casual stroll, but more of irritation. He’d stop, push his fingers through his hair, or shake his head. His shoulders rose and fell with some frequency as if he were taking deep breaths before blowing them out. What could have happened in the meeting with Father to put Mr. Hawthorn in such a foul mood?
