CHAPTER SEVEN
“FORGIVE MY TARDINESS,” Clara said as she entered the room in a swoosh of skirts, a bright smile on her face. “I was seeing to my brother. The poor thing must have contracted something at the party last night, as he’s feeling under the weather.”
A frown pulled on Vivienne’s lips as her gaze darted toward the door as if she might find Edward entering the room at any moment. But he didn’t. Instead, a servant entered with tea and light refreshments.
“He seemed fine during the carriage ride,” she replied distractedly, rising from her chair and wandering across the room until she stared out into the hallway. Edward was nowhere within sight.
“He’s asleep.” Clara lifted a teapot and poured two cups of tea. “Out like a light when I went to check on him.” She smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure he’ll feel well enough to join us tomorrow.”
Are you avoiding me? she wondered silently. Of course, she’d taken him off guard by staying the night in his home. But…
She forced herself to keep her hand by her side rather than stray to her belly. The outside of her lower stomach felt harder now. She could feel the baby growing inside her, not to mention the constant nausea plaguing her relentlessly.
Panic nipped at her pulse, causing it to thrum faster in her veins. Charming Edward was proving more difficult than she thought. She liked him. By the kingdom’s waters, she liked him a lot. And her feelings terrified her. Because she might have to marry the duke instead.
The thought churned her stomach until bile climbed her throat. She didn’t know what to do. If their child was forced to live without its father?
“Lady Vivienne,” Clara said, pulling her back to the present. “Might I suggest we find a relaxing activity to occupy our time?”
Finally, she tore her attention away from the hallway and forced a smile to her face. “Of course.”
The next hours were filled with games, embroidery, and music, and each moment spent in the quiet stillness spiraled her farther and farther down her hole of worry. She perked up at every sound within the estate, hoping to hear Edward’s voice or eavesdrop on a servant speaking about him in hushed whispers.
But there was nothing. It was as if he suddenly didn’t exist.
After supper, she excused herself and tried her hardest not to flee from Clara’s constant presence and toward the safety of her room. But rather than disappearing behind her door, she knocked abruptly on her mother’s door and slipped inside.
A lantern lit up her mother’s bored expression from where she lay in her bed with her embroidery in her lap. Although her eyes lit up as if she were silently relieved for her company, she maintained the proper poise of a woman of good breeding.
Realizing they were alone, Vivienne moodily kicked off her shoes and loosened her corset. The lack of pressure against her belly gave her some measure of relief. At least until she could no longer hold herself back and ran for the chamber pot, making it just in time to vomit inside.
“Oh, Vivienne,” her mother murmured sympathetically, and when she climbed onto the bed and rested her head on her mother’s lap, her mother stroked her hair in a comforting manner. “I remember my first pregnancy. It was misery. I can’t imagine having to hide it.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, her voice muffled by the bedspread. “I imagined you to be angrier.”
“I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, too. I only wish my mother had been kind enough to help me through the worst of them. I could not fathom spurning you for being human.” And then her mother sighed. “Feigning illness is far more dreadful at someone else’s home than my own.” She chuckled and shook her head. “How did things go with Lord Beaumont today?”
“Terribly! I know he is attracted to me. I can see it in his eyes. He likes it when I touch him. But something is holding him back. He wants nothing to do with me.”
“You mustn’t give up.” Her mother continued to gently stroke her hair. “Men are not so complicated that a pretty face can’t hold them captive.”
Silent, angry sobs wracked her frame. “All this time, he has not bothered to search for me. He literally lives down the street!” Well, thirty minutes down the street by carriage was close enough.
Despite her outburst, her mother continued her calm administration. “Some men are harder to catch than others. You must keep trying. It’s not always easy.”
“What more can I do?”
“Well…” Her mother released a long breath, which managed to rattle the flame of her lantern sitting at her bedside. “You either try harder or find an easier man to catch. The duke—”
“Try harder?” she squeaked. “I have been trying my hardest to catch the man’s eye. Clara keeps ruining it.”
She got the distinct impression Clara was interfering on purpose, though she couldn’t fathom why.
Her mother took a deep breath and tried again. “The duke has asked for your hand, Vivienne.”
The breath whooshed from her lungs, and she shot up to a sitting position to stare at her mother. “Pardon?”
“At the ball last night. Your father arrived near the end. And the duke asked for your hand in marriage.”
Vivienne covered her face with her hand, a shuddering breath escaping her lungs. Denying a duke simply wasn’t done. She’d feared this would happen. And like she’d expected, her heart began to shatter piece by piece.
“What day can I expect to be married off to the oaf?” She bit her tongue until it bled, keeping herself from saying anything more. The duke was a kind man, she knew that. But he was also old enough to be her father.
After a moment’s silence, she felt her mother’s soft hand on the top of her head. Her reassuring touch was enough for her to lift her head to view her mother’s concerned gaze through blurry, tear-filled eyes.
“Your father has left the matchmaking to me.” The stroke of her fingers helped calm her melancholy heart. “I told the duke that you are still young. That he must first woo you until you accept his hand. It gives you more time to charm your viscount while still keeping the duke’s offer on the table.”
Emotion crashed into her as she threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “Thank you. I will try my hardest.”
Her mother scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I can hardly believe you’ve had to try so hard with Lord Beaumont to begin with. Does he not have eyes?”
She laugh-sobbed as she dried her tears with a swipe of her sleeve. “I will try harder. How long can you pretend illness?”
“A few days more at most. I’m the sickest I’ve ever been, remember?”
Again, she laughed, grateful for her mother’s support. “What would I do without you?”
“Just don’t cause a scandal,” her mother warned. “It’s hard enough to cover up this mess as it is.”
“I promise I won’t.” Or at least she planned to not get caught where she wasn’t supposed to be. Tomorrow, she would succeed at reeling Edward in.
But as tomorrow came and went, her distress only continued to grow as she paced her room, paced the drawing room, and paced the hallways in search of any sign of Edward. After inquiring of his absence, one of the servants confirmed he had been terribly sick and was sequestered in his room.
Not only sick…
But after laying her charms on the flustered servant, she learned Edward had not yet woken from the day before. And when two days became three, her distress transitioned from fear for herself and her condition to fear for him . The servant once more said he still had not woken. But three days?
Was he truly asleep? Or still avoiding her?
Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she lit a lantern and snuck through the darkened house when everyone was asleep, wearing a green cloak on top of her nightgown and thin slippers over her stockinged feet.
She placed one foot on the stone staircase leading to Edward’s tower, and hearing nothing coming from either direction, she began her silent climb up the stairs.
The chilly stone seeped through her slippers. A frosty breath escaped her mouth. But she shoved away the mild discomfort and replaced it with raw determination to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
She slowed her steps at the top of the dark stairwell, her eyes widening to find his door closed. Alarm slammed into her chest when she spotted a lock keeping his door shut from the outside.
With hurried steps, she raced up the remaining stairs, grabbed the lock, and pulled. It didn’t give in the slightest, locking Edward inside.
Glancing down the stairs to find herself alone, she rapped softly on his door, but no sound came from within. Could he truly be inside? Would someone be so cruel as to keep someone so important in society as a prisoner in his own home?
“I must be mistaken,” she whispered to placate herself. “This isn’t the correct door. It must be a broom closet.”
But then something dropped to the floor on the opposite side of the door. Panic clawed at her heart as she rapped louder on the worn wood, wincing when the soft bangs echoed down the stairwell.
No answer.
Vivienne picked up her skirts and dashed down the stairs. Despite her thin clothing and even thinner slippers, she gave no thought for herself as she threw open the front doors of the estate and escaped outside. A chill wind from a late-autumn night seeped into her bones. Snowflakes fell on her hair and eyelashes. But despite the bite of the air, she glanced around her to make sure she was alone before rushing along the estate at a brisk pace. Only when she reached the base of the tower did she halt in her steps, breathing heavily.
The tower window was dark, not a single flicker of candlelight or a silhouette to draw her attention. Her panic consumed her, worry for her friend driving her into sifting through the light powder of snow at her feet with her hands.
Her numb fingers closed around a rock. And taking aim, she lobbed it toward the window.
Plink!
Edward sluggishly pulled himself out of sleep, blinking in confusion as he stared up at the darkness of his ceiling. When had he fallen asleep? He remembered going on a carriage ride through the countryside. Vivienne’s warm laughter. Her knee resting against his.
He vaguely recalled Clara acting kindly toward him, but then…
Scratching his chin, he struggled to recall anything after his sister had visited his chambers. He must have fallen asleep.
Plink!
The sound startled him upright, and his gaze darted back and forth across his room. Reaching for the tinderbox on his bedside table, he struck it with the flint and lit his lantern, frowning when he found himself in looser and more comfortable clothing than what he’d worn earlier.
Plink!
Finally, he located the sound coming from something small hitting the glass of his window. Setting his lantern down on his desk, he opened his windows and flinched when a cold draft entered the room.
“Edward!” someone hissed.
He squinted against his sleepy confusion and located a white and green speck down below. He blinked several times until the image came together to form the silhouette of a woman wearing a nightgown, her feet in threadbare slippers and a green cloak over her shoulders.
Alertness flooded through him when he recognized Vivienne. He quickly smoothed down his hair and clothing before peering farther over the side of the stone ledge.
“Vivi!” he hissed as he glanced back and forth across the yard. His tower wasn’t within the vantage point of the rest of the estate, and no one else lingered outside. “What are you doing? What hour is it?”
She held a hand to her heart and visibly took a deep breath. “I thought you were dead up there!” she squeaked. “I was so worried.”
He frowned. “Why in heaven’s name would you think me dead?”
“You’ve been in there for several days.”
The blood rushed out of his face, and his body took on a chill unrelated to the cold night. The sudden hunger and thirst running rampant through him gave away the fact that he likely hadn’t eaten anything substantial in a long while.
“Why is your bedroom door locked from the outside?” she asked in a watery tone, snapping his attention back to her. “Are you in trouble, Edward?”
He blinked several times to try to make sense of the situation through his still-foggy mind. Was this due to his condition? True, it had become worse in the past year alone. But never this bad.
“I’m coming up,” she declared as she grabbed stone after stone, somehow finding a foothold in the towering structure.
“Stop!” he gasped. “You will injure yourself.”
Thankfully, she lowered herself back to the ground, only to stare up at him with hands resting over her hips. “Edward!” she hissed in the darkness. “Let down a rope!”
“Are you daft?” he hissed right back. “You’re not climbing the wall. Besides, you can’t possibly be strong enough.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “I’m plenty strong enough. I wasn’t built daintily like the rest of the females at court, my father always says.” Shaking her head, she gave him a pointed stare. “I can either do this with a rope or without. The choice is yours.”
“I don’t have a rope.”
Her teasing smile quirked to the side. “Let down your hair?”
He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “It’s not that long. Besides, you quite liked the length all those weeks ago.”
His ears burned with fluster after mentioning the one thing he swore he would put behind him. But it was difficult when that night together was seared into his brain in the most pleasant way.
“Mmhmm,” she confirmed in a sing-song voice. But then she moved as if to climb the wall again.
“Wait!”
He rushed back into his room, his gaze darting about as he tried to find something to use for her to climb. When he found no such rope like he thought he wouldn’t, he quickly stripped the sheets from his bed and tied two of them together, testing the knot before throwing it over the window sill and down as far as it would reach. It dangled near the top of her head, but she still managed to grab a hold of it.
Using all the strength he possessed, he held onto the other end and prayed to the Mother Goddess that it wouldn’t rip. He even braced one of his legs against the wall to prevent his own weight from slipping.
“What am I doing?” he chastised himself. Allowing a woman to climb a wall into his bedroom in the dead of night? She could injure herself for one. For two, it was vastly inappropriate.
Just when he felt the urge to glance over the side of the sill, Vivienne’s head crested the top of the ledge. He rushed forward to help by grabbing her securely around the waist and heaving her over.
He misjudged his strength, or perhaps her weight, as he stumbled backward with her in his arms until they crashed to the ground, sprawled out in a tangle of limbs. He hadn’t the strength to do anything other than lie with his arms on either side of him, staring at the ceiling as the world spun.
His condition truly was getting worse. What was he to do? The doctor had said there was no cure for this save for a risky operation.
“Edward?” Vivienne gasped, scrambling into a sitting position with her legs straddling his waist as she cradled his face in her hands.
“I’m well, just dazed,” he grunted as he pushed himself to sitting, only to find himself far too close to her for comfort, the two of them nearly nose to nose. This was…dangerous. This could not happen again. He would accept her friendship but nothing more. Not this time.
No matter how much he longed for something more.
He stood, facing his back to her as he retrieved the lantern and set it on the center of the floor to illuminate more of their surroundings.
“Care to answer my questions?” she asked, hands on her hips again.
He tried to hide his grin at her idea of a confrontation. It was so like Vivienne to make it as extreme as possible. “I don’t have all the answers. But I assume since you went through all the effort… You’re here to play?”
Even in the darkness, he noticed the color rising to her cheeks.
“Play?” she asked breathlessly.
Happiness bloomed in his chest by simply being in her presence as he crossed his room and threw open the doors of a floor-to-ceiling cabinet stuffed to the brim with rows of books, games, and a variety of musical instruments. More books were hidden beneath his bed, but he decided not to overwhelm her too much.
“Name your pick.”
He watched as she approached the cabinet with a curious expression, her strong but feminine fingers trailing over the spines of his books, almost reverently.
“Read me a story.” She glanced up from her perusing and met his eye in the dim light. “Just like when we were children.”
A smile lifted on his lips as he threw aside one of his pillows to grab the very same fairy tale book they’d read countless times as children. The spine hung by a thread, and numerous pages had come loose from the binding, only kept in place by pure determination and a little bit of luck.
“According to you…” She laid out a blanket on the ground and set the lantern directly in the middle. “That is an extremely well-loved book.”
“Oh, it is. I read it often.”
“Why?”
But he didn’t answer her question as he snatched the comforter from atop his bed and threw it over the both of them, trapping them inside a dark tent illuminated by a single lantern. The candle cast shadows across Vivienne’s face and flickered as it threatened to give out. But there was just enough air to give it life. Just enough to keep it burning.
Vivienne giggled as she scooted closer until her foot rested against his leg. He should have pulled away, to place distance between them. But he was so lonely. And even the small touch made him feel not quite so alone anymore.
It was pathetic. He already knew that. But for just a short time, he could enjoy her company.
If they didn’t take it too far like last time.
Edward cleared his throat, giving her a serious stare as he opened to a well-worn page in the book. But then he broke out a silly voice as he read the first line.
Vivienne fell over in stitches, laughter erupting from her mouth. And when he read the next few lines, her laughter only grew louder.
“Shh!” he hissed, a grin spread across his face as he pressed his finger to her lips. “Someone will hear you, and your climb up the wall will all be for naught.”
“All right, all right.” She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. “You make me laugh too much. I will read it.”
But as she carefully took the book from him, she deepened her voice and made a hilariously comical face. The moment she read the next line, he broke into laughter, holding his stomach when he could not keep his amusement contained.
“Hush!” she hissed right back, now placing a finger against his lips. But it didn’t quite have the same effect. Because his stomach fluttered, and his heart skipped, and her beautiful brown gaze held him captive. They were not the same people as they had been years ago. No longer children. No longer innocent of the world. Yet at the same time, their friendship remained. Playful. Optimistic. Easy. But with an underlying emotion tying their souls tightly together.
“This is a bad idea,” he voiced out loud, not for the first time. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“And what is so wrong with my company?” she huffed, dropping her hand and giving him an adorable pout. “Am I so unbearable to be around?”
“It’s not your company I’m concerned about.” He threw his arms up as much as he could when confined beneath the sheet. “Your father is going to murder me. You have to go.”
“I knew you were scared of my father. Is that all it is?”
He pressed his lips together, saying no more. He felt torn in every direction between what he wanted, his fear of others, and the certainty that she would never choose him if she learned the truth about him.
Her voice cracked. “I need to know you are all right. I am concerned about you. I’m terrified that if I leave this tower, I won’t see you again.”
“Vivi…” he murmured. The declaration of her concern warmed his heart in ways he didn’t know he could experience. The selfish part of him refused to let go. At least for now. Tomorrow, he would fight against his unrealistic dreams again. But tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to raise the sword.
Without another word of argument, he took the book of fairy tales back and settled it over his lap. “No more giggling,” he warned, pointing a finger at her.
She locked her lips closed. “I will be quiet as a mouse.”
He began reading from the book once more, this time keeping his silly voices at a minimum. Until the candle flickered out, and the two of them drifted off to sleep side by side on the floor as if they were children again.
And for a single moment, he was happier than he’d been in a very long time.