The Viscount's Vow (A Regency Romance) by Collette Cameron Page A

wasted no time but came directly to the point. “Uncle Gideon, please reconsider this union.”
    She couldn’t bring herself to say, my marriage.
    She searched his compassionate eyes, then played her trump card. “I want love in my marriage, Uncle. Love like my father and mother shared. Love like you and Aunt Adélaid feel for each other.”
    Taking a deep pull of air, she challenged him. “Would you deny me that happiness?”
    His lips curved in a poignant smile. “My dear, I’d like nothing better than for you to marry for love, but after the affair at the Armstrong’s, if you don’t marry Lord Warrick, it’s unlikely you’ll marry at all.”
    He looked away and straightened a short stack of papers. His face was in the shadows, but he seemed tense. “The ton has a long arm, and a far longer reaching memory.”
    “I don’t care about the haut ton. I can stay in the country. I’ll never venture to London again. I’ll . . . I’ll go away, perhaps with the Roma. Or . . . or I’ll go to the colonies.”
    He set the papers aside, then met her gaze. His was tormented. He extended a palm upward to her. “Vangie—”
    “I’ve no desire to marry someone of a high station.” She heard the desperation in her voice. His next words doused the remnant of hope in her heart.
    “The scandal combined with your heritage—”
    Vangie’s mouth dropped open. If he’d slapped her, she’d not be more hurt or taken aback. An icy blanket of shock engulfed her. She grasped the edge of the desk to steady herself.
    “My heritage?” she whispered hoarsely.
    Uncle Gideon closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his forehead. He took a large breath, then quietly said, “I’m sorry. I ought not to have said that.”
    “But, that’s the real issue isn’t it, Uncle Gideon?” She clung to the desk as the truth of his words hit home. “Because of my Romani blood, I’ve been labeled a lóoverni , a . . . a loose woman.”
    She searched his remorseful gaze with her own, reading the truth mirrored in their depths. Lord Warrick was right.
    Uncle Gideon came around the desk and grasped one of her cold hands in his. “As your guardian, I must protect you, and while an arranged marriage isn’t ideal, many couples who enter into such unions have been happy.”
    And many miserable their entire lives .
    “Lord Warrick is a decent man, though at present, he’s angry at having his hand forced. Give him time, dear. He’ll come around.”
    “Please, I. . .” Vangie swallowed the lump of anguish clogging her throat. “I don’t want to marry him,” she whispered.
    “Vangie,” Uncle Gideon sighed. “It’s not only your honor at stake—”
    Her breath caught as she stared at him, aghast. Even in the dim light she could see the lines of strain on his face.
    Faith, that was the true crux of the matter.
    Who else’s then? His? Aunt Adélaid’s?
    Would her disgrace adversely affect his and Aunt Adélaid’s position in society and his business dealings?
    Undoubtedly.
    Yvette’s? Could the gossip destroy her chances of a brilliant match? Any match at all?
    Possibly.
    She couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything Yvette, Aunt Adélaid, and Uncle Gideon had done for her. Then there was Lord Warrick. What would her refusal do to his honor? Was he the type of man who valued honor above all else? She lowered her trembling chin to her chest, struggling for control.
    Dash it all, he was, of course.
    Uncle Gideon squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly. “It’s a most suitable match for you, dear.”
    Scalding tears burned her eyes, though she nodded. “It’s a better match than I dared hope for.”
    Yet, she would settle for a haberdasher if he held some degree of affection for her. Instead, she was to wed a man whose only sentiment for her was scornful contempt. How could she endure it?
    Her last encounter with Lord Warrick still stung. He hadn’t even bothered with the proposal Uncle Gideon expected. Without a proposal