Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (255 page)

have to sit and tolerate it.

Valerian sank into a chair near the cold hearth in his private sitting room. He hated the dream. More, he hated what the dream represented: his failure to protect people he cared about.

It had been his job to help the Turks negotiate a peaceable surrender after the Negush district had rebelled against Ottoman rule. The district had actually succeeded in temporarily liberating themselves. It had spread to neighbouring villages, but eventually the revolutionaries were no match for the

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Turkish army. He'd been sent to advise the revolutionaries to lay down their arms. But they'd not relented. They'd been shown no mercy by the Turks, who'd slaughtered the soldiers, rounded up prisoners, sold them into slavery and relocated any who had escaped those two fates deep into Macedonia. The district of Negush had been effectively erased from the face of the earth.

But he'd known the Phanariot rebels. He'd feasted at their tables, stayed in their homes. They were regional aristocrats. Natasha had been like a countess, her brother an earl of sorts. They'd reminded him intensely of Beldon and Philippa.

Originally, Britain had charged him with the mission of befriending the Phanariots, but then switched sides when it became apparent that a weak Turkey needed British support if Britain wanted to stand against Russia in that part of the world.

Even now, eight years since the disastrous 1822

uprising, the whole event filled Valerian with loathing. Britain had changed sides, seen innocents slaughtered all for the sake of maintaining friendly waterways to India.

There were no ideals behind what they'd ordered him to do, simply pure capitalist greed. Britain liked having a weak Turkey in its pocket. It did not like the idea of people throwing off the Ottoman yoke to form a new, powerful Christian nation that might compete against England.

Natasha,

and

gallant young son

had died for their ideals of freedom all because Britain couldn't countenance the emergence of a

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The Viscount
Claims
His Bride
new, large Christian nation that might unite eastern Europe into a competitive force.

Valerian fought against the grief that rose up at the thought of the loss: Natasha bleeding to death in the copse; the boy fighting futilely against men twice his size; Dimitri executed with the other leaders two days later in a gruesome display of Turkish revenge.

He supposed

technically committed treason

that night, stabbing the ally Turks as he fought to save Natasha, but he could hardly care when the reasons for supporting the Turks had been so mer-cenary on England's behalf to start with.

done

his duty by attempting to negotiate peace. Then done his duty by Dimitri and got the two other children to relative safety. He hoped it had been enough.

That had been the beginning of a stalemate in the region between the Great Powers, each checkmating the other in their bids for dominance. It had also been the beginning of

own disillusionment with

diplomacy. Diplomacy was not, as

originally

believed, a chance to participate in history, to leave mark on the world.

The remainder of his time in Europe had been marked by a constant shifting of allegiances as Britain attempted to pre-empt Russian control and pull Ottoman strings. Towards the end, the balance of power was shifting again. Britain had gained control of Cyprus and no longer needed to control Turkey in order to control waterways. Further proof that Dimitri had died for nothing, not even for the posterity of the waterways. The cause for which

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Dimitri's dream had been pushed aside had been fleeting. The Turkish alliance had only held for a few years until Britain had achieved its objective.

Valerian had come to the conclusion that if he wanted to leave a legacy, it would best be done in the beauty of his gardens, where the focus was on living and peace, and in his nursery where he could raise a child. But he needed a wife for that. He needed Philippa.

She would be here at

by tomorrow af-

ternoon. She'd responded to his request affirma-tively, no doubt because of his promise to have Beldon on hand. He'd promised many things in that letter, anything that would get her here and give him a chance to prove his worth to her.

He was a man of action, but in his desperation to claim her, his actions had all been wrong. He'd rushed his fences. He knew the whole of his story, but she didn't. She needed time to know him again, believe in him again as she once had.

sighed and carefully refolded Valerian's letter, placing it back in her reticule. She was twenty times a fool for coming. She was inviting all

of madness. She and Valerian had proved they could not behave rationally in one another's presence. The few times they'd been alone had led to all sorts of mischief. Yet here she was. There had been something plaintive about the note, a personal plea of one friend to another, that she found she could not refuse.

looked out of the window of the coach.