Never Vie for a Viscount by Regina Scott – Cover Reveal, Excerpt

Posted September 24, 2018 by Phyllis Helton in Book Spotlight, Cover Reveal, Excerpts /

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Author Regina Scott is revealing the cover for Never Vie for a Viscount today, This is the newest book in the Fortune’s Brides series. And in addition to the cover, you will also get to read an excerpt.

I’m excited that Lydia gets her story told. Here is the synopsis:

Lydia Villers is determined to leave behind her life as a social butterfly and do what she’s always dreamed of doing–pursue an interest in science. A shame the only scientist willing to assist her is the one man she had once hoped to wed.

Frederick, Viscount Worthington, Worth to his friends, has been betrayed once too often. How can he believe Lydia’s intentions are true and not designed to entrap him? With the help of Miss Thorn and her beloved cat Fortune, a determined young lady and a jaded lord might just discover that only together do they make the perfect chemistry.

And without further ado, here is the lovely Lydia on the cover

Never Vie for a Viscount by Regina Scott


Worth turned off the spirit lamp and sat back. It was no use. He’d tried all morning to focus on his studies, and he could not seem to forget that Lydia Villers was working just downstairs.

He’d been attracted to her from the moment they’d met. Her brother Beau had made something of a nuisance of himself the last few years. It was a joke among the gentlemen of the ton that if he hadn’t thrown his sister at you, you must have no title or no wealth or the expectation of neither. Blessed with both, it had only been a matter of time before Worth came to Villers’s notice.

But unlike his peers, who had run from the idea of marrying the sister of such a grasping fellow, Worth had found himself captivated. Lydia threw herself with such enthusiasm into whatever she attempted, from dancing at a ball to listening to his explanations of what he was pursuing. Used to those who, at best, tolerated his foibles, her ready acceptance had been a balm.

Until he’d learned it was all a lie.

He shoved back from his work table. Those big green eyes, that winsome smile, had once convinced him she cared. He was proof against her wiles now. Charlotte had urged him to have her help with the chemical experiments, but he refused to trust her with anything that critical. If he gave her the worst of the work, he’d reasoned, she would turn tail and leave him alone again.

It seemed a logical plan. If she was sincere, which he doubted, she would persevere. If not, he saw no reason to keep her on staff. Everyone was working too hard.

Perhaps he should check on her. From time to time he visited each of his team members, discussed their progress. He would make the rounds, see how Lydia fared. It was all completely aboveboard.

So why did he feel as if he were indulging himself?

The work side of the house was Spartan by design—unpolished hardwood floors, no paintings on the walls. In part, this was for safety—less fabric to collect spills or vapors, less fuel for a fire. In part it proved one less distraction. He was too easily distracted some days. Yet here he was, going to meet the biggest distraction of his life.

His footsteps sounded unreasonably loud. His heart seemed to be beating in time. He clasped his hands behind his back as he approached the door to the room in which Lydia was to be working. It had been the butler’s pantry, a tiny space more like a cell than a room. Functional, at best. Far less than she was used to. The door was open. Swallowing, he dared a glance inside.

She was the picture of domesticity. Scarlet fabric flowed across her lap to pool on the floor on either side of spindle-backed chair. Head bowed so the glow from the lamp on the table beside her glinted on pale curls, she took careful, even stitches. Something inside him unfurled, warmed, as if he’d come to the hearth after a long time in the snow.

She inserted her needle in the pin cushion on the table, smoothed her hands over the fabric, picked it up, and …


He took a step back, and she must have noticed the movement, for she glanced up with her usual sweet smile.

“Experiment number twelve,” she said.

He ventured into the room, feeling as if the walls leaned too near on either side. Now that he looked closer, he could see any number of holes in the fabric, thread hanging.

“Unsuccessful?” he asked.

“I suspect it depends on your measure of success,” she said, voice cheerful. “I have attempted several lengths of stitches and now width, as in rows set side by side. So far, none has prevented the fabric from tearing on a good tug.”

“Perhaps you should test the strength of your thread,” he suggested.

She held up the spool. “I was only given one strength. Perhaps you could remedy that.”

“I’ll speak to Charlotte.”

She nodded. “Nothing coarse, I think. Silk, three-ply at least, undyed.”

Here less than a day and already she was dictating. “Rather specific. Your reasoning?”

“A hypothesis, if you will.” The world sounded strange on those rosy lips. “Miss Pankhurst reports that the more tightly woven fabric best meets the criteria you provided her, which she is, apparently, not at liberty to tell me. The combing and dying process must provide some stress on the thread. Therefore, tightly woven, undyed thread might also meet your criteria.”

Flawless. He bowed to her. “Madam, you impress me.”

She picked up her needle and drove it into the fabric. “I also hypothesize that you are too easily impressed.”

Worth straightened. “Based on what evidence?”

She began sewing again. “You must have accepted Beau’s word before pursuing me, though I’m certain you could have found evidence to suggest it wasn’t your best course. You accepted my word initially, with insufficient evidence in the end to sustain it. You obviously accepted someone else’s word against mine. I can vouch for my brother’s insincerity, and my own sincerity. Of course, I don’t know who commented against me or perhaps you simply realized your mistake.”

His heart was pounding again, as if each thrust of her needle pierced it. “Lydia, I …”


She sighed. “Thirteen. I really could use that thread. Perhaps you could find some.”

As soon as he found his dignity again.

Stay tuned and I will let you know when this book releases. The scheduled date is November 30, 2018. While you’re waiting for this one, make sure you read the previous books in the series. And when you are done with those, peruse the blog to find more great books to read!

About Regina Scott

Regina Scott started writing novels in the third grade. Thankfully for literature as we know it, she didn’t actually sell her first novel until she had learned a bit more about writing. Since her first Regency romance was published in 1998, her stories have traveled the globe, with translations in many languages including Dutch, German, Italian, and Portuguese. She and her husband of 30 years reside in Washington State on the way to Mt. Rainier. Regina Scott is a decent fencer; owns a historical costume collection that takes up over a third of her large closet; and has driven four in hand, learned to fence, sailed on a tall ship, and dressed as a Regency dandy, all in the name of research, of course.


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