Novel & Cerita Viscount England

"Mistress, He is a prince from Africa. He came by dawn to speak to the Count." Wilhelmina knew her husband to be extremely hateful of visitors-especially the vampire kind-so she found it strange that he was actually discussing with one and considering the entire court had not turned into a house of mass hysteria, Wilhelmina was sure the visitor was alive and well. "Dress me," Wilhelmina ordered. "I would like to see this man for myself." Her maidservants immediately got to work, fastening the buttons at the back of one of the Countess's gowns and retouching her makeup. When they were done, Wilhelmina cast her gaze into the looking glass, She looked perfect.

He'd made up his mind by the time he reached his apartments. He would go to England and meet his uncle, hear him out. And if he was going to inherit the bloody viscountcy, he would bloody well make the best out of it. Jacob might have learned to live without a conscience, but the sense of duty in him still prevailed. Anyhow, the damned viscountcy would probably die with him because he had no intention of marrying. Ever. And he could always manage the lands from here by hiring a good steward. Tons of nobs did it.

But one thing is for sure, he would have been the one up there with his wife as the king and the queen if not for his uncle. Revenge is something the viscount had vowed to get and that will only be done when he is closer to the palace, hence why he wants Chloe to marry one of the prince and then he get the possession of the abandoned palace and then he strikes when no one expects him to. “Calm down, Chloe. You have all the day to get to them but now enjoy the dance.”Her father told her as he gulped down the rest of his wine and pulled her into the dance floor.

The weight of the tool made the tendons in his neck cord. Neoma stopped in front of the Viscount. She looked at the shovel. She looked at him. "You're right," she said. Her voice was calm. It lacked the resonance of the Void, but it carried a weight that made my own stomach tighten. "You are a Lord. And Lords don't dig." The Viscount’s shoulders moved back. He appeared relieved. "Exactly. Now, if you could direct me to the officer's mess—" "Lords also don't eat," Neoma finished.

"That probably wouldn't be so easy to prove. It didn't take Mr. Wessex long to discover that there was no Viscount Sydney." A strange expression crossed his face, amusement mixed with exasperation, and he seemed to have a silent struggle over whether or not to tell her something. Finally his mouth twisted, and he let out a long breath. "Wessex is wrong. There is a viscount Sydney. At least, there is a legitimate heir to that title." Torcia looked at him suspiciously. "Who is he? And if what you say is true, why didn't he come to claim his title and property?"

"Mi' Lady, we have an emergency." The Viscountess straightens her spine and looks towards her men. "Speak" "The Viscount is home." His eyes are wide. "And he is not well. He says he was attacked by a dragon."

The King asked with enthusiasm laced in every word. "Yes, Sire of course," Began Elder Gilbert Song as he stood up from the table. "We did some research on your mate's family, at first it was fruitless. We were going to move on and look into the laws to support you and your mate until we came across Ms. Euphemia's fourth great-grandfather, Viscount Booth, Conrad Booth, of Billings," "I don't believe I've heard of Viscount Booth," Killian spoke up as he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

More than one meter eighty-five of flesh and muscles, very close to the young lady She tried not to flinch as he put his big hands on the table and leaned towards her, plunging his brown eyes into her. “I am the Viscount of Hadleigh, now. The head of the family... if Ivan had done his duty and married you before he died, I would be your guest tonight in this mansion. And your child, if it is a boy, would have become Viscount Hadleigh. I would have remained Ian Boyle, his guardian, quite simply. Do you think I can ignore it?”

(Viscount Johnathan) Viscount Johnathan, a silvered haired man, dressed neatly in a suits, for everyone in the room, all of them looked at him with envy and also hope, as he was the only noble here, that actually have a direct connection with Aeternum leadership, He had married his daughter to an Aeternum Nobiilty that had connection with Aeternum Military. Since then, inside the Queen camps, he is the one trusted mediator between Prime Minister Wilfrid and the Aeterum Military.

“And what exactly are you offering, Viscount?” The Viscount inclined his head respectfully. “I understand the political climate in the capital is... delicate, with rivalries that grow ever more complex. Yet I also see opportunities where others see only fog. The Griffith and Margrave clans are locked in an endless struggle, and I believe there’s room to maneuver—room that could benefit both you and Prince Davion.” Silvia remained composed, weighing his words. “And you think I need someone like you to take advantage of that?” “I merely wish to inform Your Majesty that I possess certain connections that could prove useful,” the Viscount replied, his voice low, almost a whisper. “And I know how