Viscount England Novels & Stories

Lord Griffin Blackwood-Carter, Viscount Torrington, the future 10th Duke of Richmond, stood before her, with enough tension emanating from his body to fire a rocket to the moon. “Oh… Griffin,” she breathed unnecessarily, her mind at once accepting that he was the most sublimely handsome male she had ever seen and rejecting that fact at the same time.

I was nearly falling asleep when he returned with a lady on his arm. I was on my feet already; from her well made hair, her expensive gown to her leather shoes, I knew she was the lady of the house. "Lady Penelope, this is my bride Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn, this is Lady Penelope, the viscountess." I didn't know if I should curtsey or kiss her cheek, I didn't know how I was supposed to behave in the presence of a viscountess. She was such a young woman, she didn't even look above three and twenty, yet she was a viscountess.

“Every time I see you, I always love your handsome face. Your face that really teases me every time." “Charlotte, I don't care if I say a word that is not appropriate for the royal family. For me, all humans have the same degree, there is no such thing as caste discrimination. Even if you're not a princess, but a noble-blooded woman of the Viscount family, our rank is still the same. I hate it the most when there are royal people who discriminate between castes, even though we are still human beings." What the Viscount meant here was Charlotte's surname. Not a title of nobility in another kingdom.

I called after walking a few metres from there. He turned, surprised to see me behind him. "I see you visited Melody," I asked, pretending as if I didn't know what he said to her. "I was only doing what is best for the kingdom," he replied. Who is he kidding? Was he doing what is best for the kingdom or does he hate Melody so much that he couldn't wait to get rid of her. I would love to find out why the viscount despises Melody so much, but before that I'll have to make sure that she stays close.

Nicholas narrowed his eyes in disbelief, looking with slight disgust at my tattered appearance after the practice: wrinkled raincoat, trousers in green stains and disheveled brown hair, which, I confess, had not seen a comb since yesterday. - How else to understand it? “I suppose it would be possible to give way to the lady,” I muttered, moving away. -Something I do not see a single lady here, - the magician raised his black eyebrow expressively. Oh, you selfish bastard! And you don't feel bad about your self-importance? “It seems that the title of viscount allows you to avoid even the slightest respect towards other people. Sorry, didn't know about that benefit. "I see you've heard a lot ab

Viso was a respectable man and known for his good works around the world. She was terrified thinking about his reaction if this turned out to be true. But how would she know that she was not married to some respectable billionaire but the mafia royalty? The Boss of Bosses, The Bonkers, Viso D'Angelo!

Aldrich sneered as he stormed out. Christopher had just come back when he saw his usually calm brother storming off. He raised an eyebrow towards his valet, Max Pike. The young valet followed Christopher to his room and told all the gossip he had heard from the parlor maids. The next morning Christopher set off to Viscount Clifford’s house. He asked for the Viscount for his daughter’s hand in marriage. The Viscount was a tactful man of court. He didn’t want to make powerful enemies. He politely declined Christopher and send him off. Beatrice sneaked away from her house and intercepted him midway.

Outside. Currently, the average looking man was tailing his target for the evening, a man in his late 50's who was currently being accompanied by a young woman who appeared to be in her late 20's and a few armed guards at a distance to give the couple some space. His name is Lord Stevens Von Earshire and he is a Viscount for this country. The man was following these people at a distance to keep them from picking up on his trail while thinking about the events that lead to him even being in that mansion that night. '.....If only I didn't owe him that favor, I wouldn't have been forced to do this crap job.'

He patronized, making me more infuriated. “Who are you?” I demanded, my tone unwelcoming and filled with contempt. He inclined his head before he smiled softly. In this view, his eyes looked more icy than usual. “Visconde, the third son of house Monsalve,” Visconde chuckled as if he found my expression amusing. "You never once acknowledged my existence before. All you saw was red whenever our household was mentioned, but here we are," he remarked. I smiled a little bit. “Thank you for telling me, at least I’ll know what to name your grave,”

Zach and Dexter, among many others, grew exhilarated. A group of tall and strong western-looking men with blonde hair and blue eyes stormed inside. They wore layers and layers of clothing, and some even had fake white hair on. The one leading the group was a middle-aged western man. One look was enough to discern that he had been to war. He carried a powerful aura with him. He was none other than the ambassador of The Empire of the Sun that Never Sets, Viscount Rubert, in the flesh. He had another identity attached to his name, and that was the ex-vice commander of the Knights Templar of the country itself.