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It's always so exciting to start a new series, and I'm so glad you finally get to meet Kit Somerset, the Viscount Greenwood.
So, let me explain with the background of this new series is going to be. I do want to say that I wrote this before Bridgertons went on Netflix, though this series is contemporary romance, which means it takes place now. Not pandemic-now, just the general modern day-now.
So, the background is that there is a scandalous British tabloid called The London Weekly Chat, and there is a truly tawdry gossip column in it. Over the preceding year, in this truly scandalous gossip column, the unnamed reporter has dated and slept with many of the most eligible, single noblemen in the United Kingdom. As a result, she selected ten of them to be on the Ten Most Eligible Lords List, in which she snarkily evaluates each one of them, including intimate details.
Wouldn't you just love to know who would do such a thing?
The first British Lord thus skewered is the right Honorable Christopher “Kit” Somerset, the Viscount Greenwood.
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Ten Most Eligible Lords List
The London Weekly Chat, Gossip Column
The Right Honorable Christopher “Kit” Somerset, the Viscount Greenwood, is perhaps the most elusive aristocrat on our list of the Ten Most Eligible Lords in England, as he seems to be the most upright and responsible one of the dirty bunch. He is incessantly working at his family’s trust. Doesn’t he know that posh people hire commoners to manage boring twaddle like that?
During the Social Season, one can often find this green-eyed, natural ash-blond, buff hottie at the usual smart haunts, especially the sporting events like the Badminton Horse Trials and Wimbledon. Always impeccably dressed in a fashionable suit or debonair formalwear, Kit Somerset cuts a dashing figure in the boardroom and at parties.
Underneath his smart sartorial choices, however, Kit has a rock-hard body that should be criminal to cover up, the broadest of shoulders, and a truly spectacular arse so you may enjoy the view when he’s coming and going. When this reporter put Kit Somerset to the ultimate test, those smart fashion choices were indicative of an attention to detail and dedication to craft that left this reporter weak in the knees just remembering our encounter for weeks afterward, which was how long I was sore from this enormous member of the House of Lords.
In his wake, Kit Somerset leaves a trail of broken hearts, including several of our noblest English roses plucked and discarded on the garden path of his massive country estate, Greenwood Manor. If you find yourself talking to this naughty lord at the high-society parties he frequents, be aware that we’ve named Kit Somerset “Most Likely to Remain on the Most Eligible Lords List.”
Highly enjoyable for an evening, but don’t expect to become Lady Greenwood.
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Christopher “Kit” Somerset, Viscount Greenwood caught a flight from London to New York City and crashed his cousin’s New Year’s Eve party at fifteen minutes before midnight. A friend had texted him a wild rumor, and he had to know whether it was true.
A dense crowd packed the voluminous drawing room of the Fifth Avenue penthouse. Enormous windowpanes, four stories high, overlooked the twinkling lights of Manhattan, and the cold night sky mirrored the glitter with stars. Much of the crowd was of the smart set like Kit and his cousin Maud St. Leger, but Maud had many friends from the wealthy and powerful elite who were in attendance that night.
Kit found Maud in the center of a knot of people over by the piano, sipping brandy and talking to the heir to the defunct throne of Greece and a tech billionaire who made her money patenting medical devices that reduced damage from strokes and spinal injuries. He called over the din, “Maud, cousin! And Nikolaos and Ebony! How are you?”
“Oh, here’s one of our Most Eligible Lords,” Maud smirked.
“Maud, please,” Kit said, refusing to shrink from her teasing. Four months before, a sordid tabloid article had ranked Kit and nine of his friends and peers as “England’s Most Eligible Lords” and described their lordships in excruciating detail for readers. They’d brought it on themselves for even speaking to that reporter, not to mention other indiscretions that had occurred.
Maud kissed Kit on the cheek and called a waiter over to make sure he was supplied with champagne. “Kit, darling, Ebony is releasing a new product in a few months and assures us that her stock is a strong buy. Other than that, I didn’t understand a word she’s said. Ebbs, dearest, could you back up and take a run at that again?”
Ebony flipped her long braids behind her shoulder. Her scarlet and ivory manicure flashed against her midnight skin and hair. “It’s okay. I know you won’t get it this time, either. Let’s just say that I’m going to keep a million people from dying next year from a heart attack.”
Nikolaos laughed. “Next time, lead with saving a million lives.” Nikolaos was in marketing and gave everyone promotion advice, whether they needed it or not.
Maud turned back to Kit. “I’m so glad to see you. I thought you were going to stay in London for New Year’s Eve this year.”
Kit grinned at his cousin. “I heard Simone Maina is going to be here.”
Maud kept smiling at him, but her eyebrows flinched toward the middle of her forehead as much as she was able to move them. “She’s over by the fireplace, but I should warn you that Cordelia Cochrane is upstairs at the bar.”
He shrugged. “Cordy and I broke up three months ago.”
“Yes, Aunt Hildy isn’t pleased about that and is telling anyone who will listen about how Cordy is ‘perfect for the family.’”
“Mummy is never pleased about anything I do. I heard Simone got a divorce,” Kit said.
“Yes, it was final three weeks ago.”
Kit smirked. “So, it’s final.”
Maud lifted one eyebrow a quarter of an inch. “When your father is the governor of a province and your uncle is the judge, divorces tend to happen quickly. You aren’t going to pick her up and dump that poor woman, too, are you? She’s been through quite a lot.”
“Me? Never.” Kit squeezed Maud’s arm and wedged himself between two people, starting to make his way over to the fireplace.
She yelled after him, “I say, Kit, you should know—”
But Kit was already wedging himself between groups of people and skirting the edges of clusters, drawing closer to Simone Maina.
