CHAPTER EIGHT
VIVIENNE WAS UP to her neck in hot water.
Which could be a good thing, considering her circumstances, but it was also terribly bad. Because she did not want to cause her family scandal. And nothing could be more scandalous than waking up in a man’s arms. In his house. In his room . Wearing nothing more than her nightgown to provide her modesty.
But at the same time, she enjoyed how Edward’s pleasant heat seeped into her back. How his long, steady breaths caressed her ear with each exhale. How his strong arm lay draped over her waist, giving her a sense of safety and protection.
At least, she enjoyed it until her stomach heaved violently. This time, she could not keep it down as she launched to her feet, sprinted across the room, and threw the windows open before she retched over the sill.
When she finished, embarrassment climbed into her cheeks in the form of a heated blush as she turned to face Edward, a hand over her mouth.
He stumbled to his feet, his hair splayed in all directions, and a crease of worry between his eyebrows. “Are you all right?” he mumbled. “Shall I fetch a doctor?”
“In your room, Edward?”
After a sweeping glance around himself, he swore. “This is not good. We were not supposed to fall asleep.” But then his worry returned, momentarily replacing the panic. “Are you ill?”
For a long moment, she stared back at him, wanting to tell him the truth. He deserved to know. It was only fair. It was only right. Surely, he would understand just how dire her situation was.
But her mother’s counsel echoed in her mind. “No one, and I repeat no one, is to hear of what you just told me. Not even the father of this child.”
Edward had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t mean to pursue a relationship with her despite her hopes to sway his mind. If she told him of the child, she would be forcing his hand. To either marry her when he didn’t want to or to abandon her and destroy their friendship.
Admittedly, she was scared. Terrified, even. His rejection of her and their child might break her.
So, she lied. Because she was too frightened to tell the truth.
“I must have caught what my mother has.” She made a show of looking around the room to shift the attention away from herself, her gaze landing on the sky outside, becoming lighter with each passing minute. “I apologize. I did not mean to stay the night. Where is the rope? I must return to my chambers at once.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with you climbing back down the tower.” He lowered his voice. “What if you fall?”
“What other way is there?” She placed her hands on her hips. “You never explained why you are locked in here yourself. You have conveniently avoided the topic. Edward, you can tell me anything. Are you in trouble?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what?”
But before he could answer, the lock on the door jiggled. She inhaled sharply as Edward grabbed her around the waist and spun her until she found herself within the corner of the door just as it opened, concealing her from whomever resided on the other side.
Peering through the crack behind the door, she barely made out the silhouette of another man. A servant.
“You’re awake!” the servant cried. “I was so worried. It’s been three days, Eddie. Clara has been beside herself. She thought you wouldn’t make it.”
Edward lowered his voice. “What is going on, Cedric? I’ve been asleep. Nothing more. But to think me dying?”
“It happened again,” Cedric replied hesitantly. “But no one could wake you.”
When Edward didn’t answer, the servant entered more fully into the room. Vivienne knew she should round the door quickly before someone caught her. But she needed answers, too.
“What in the nine kingdoms happened here?” Cedric asked as he picked up the comforter and blankets from the ground. “Where are your sheets?”
“I got cold,” Edward lied, and she noticed him kicking a piece of firewood beneath the bed and dropping a pillow over the sheet-rope to hide them from his servant while his back was turned. “So…I burned them.”
Cedric’s mouth slowly fell open with blatant disbelief. “You…burned them.”
“Yes.”
“All of them.”
“Yeeeeah.” He shuffled his feet. “Sorry.”
“You could have rang for me, despite the late hour. I would have brought more firewood.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
Despite wanting to overhear more of the conversation, her reputation was at stake. When Cedric’s attention was occupied with folding up the blankets, she slipped around the door and into the stairwell, trying to keep as silent as possible as she descended the stairs to the ground level of the estate.
Hushed whispers and clanging silverware reached her ears from around the corner. She fled in the opposite direction, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one spotted her.
Sure, she shouldn’t have stayed the night with Edward. But his voice had been so soothing. It brought back memories of some of the happiest times of her life. She’d felt safe with him, and she hadn’t wanted to leave his side for a single moment.
But she’d also been careless. It wouldn’t happen again.
The banging silverware and voices became more frantic behind her. Curiosity urged her to return the way she’d come. But self-preservation won out, telling her to continue forward.
She rounded the corner, only to gasp as she ran into Clara.
“Forgive me,” Vivienne said, wrapping her cloak more securely around her shoulders. “I am so embarrassed about my state of undress. I went out for air and lost track of time.” But when Clara’s lips thinned, she hurried to change the subject. “Why are you up at such an early hour?”
Clara’s attention turned toward the hallway. “I heard my brother is awake. I wanted to see for myself.” The woman’s careful expression crumbled, and she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “I am so afraid of losing him. I thought for sure he was leaving us and suffering me to manage the estate without him. Whatever would we do?”
Vivienne patted the other woman’s shoulder, trying to offer some measure of comfort. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing at all. Edward was well. She’d seen him herself only minutes prior.
“I’m sure he’s just fine,” she reassured. “Perhaps checking on him will help relieve your worries.”
With a nod, Clara continued on her way.
Her pulse calming a fraction, Vivienne picked up her pace until she reached her chambers, slamming the door behind her. Her breaths quickened as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the cool stone wall.
That had been close.
She never wanted to force Edward’s hand, and ruining her reputation and threatening his was a quick way for him to resent her.
Her eyes flashed open, and with determined strides, she crossed the room and threw her wardrobe open to reveal several dresses her own servants had dropped by days earlier. She sifted through fabrics consisting of green, blue, and yellow hues until her fingers brushed against a light blue gown that complimented her complexion and hugged her in all the right places.
She’d always felt lovely and feminine in this dress.
If it didn’t help her catch Edward’s eye, then she didn’t know what would.
“Stick out your tongue,” Doctor Greaves instructed, and Edward nearly gagged on the stick he placed at the back of his throat.
The man’s mouth pinched, his eyes hardening as he finished the examination by checking his pulse. “I won’t lie to you,” he said, finally sitting straight in his chair and lifting his gaze. “Your condition has worsened. I cannot guarantee you will last the remainder of the year.”
A cold disbelief washed through Edward’s veins as he stared back at the man. “There are less than three months left of the year.”
“Precisely.” Greaves frowned as he returned his medical equipment to his bag. “I do not like to be the bearer of bad news, Lord Beaumont. But it would be wise to create a will, if you haven’t already.”
Slowly, a numbness crawled up Edward’s legs, his torso, and settled as ice in his chest. He barely heard Clara arguing with the doctor, saying he must be mistaken. He could hardly pay attention when his sister began sobbing, when she yelled and screamed, several servants having to hold her back from hitting the doctor.
All he managed was to stare into his lap as shock coursed through him, unable to bring himself to move a single muscle, even as Greaves packed up and left the estate.
This couldn’t be the truth. Only months left to live? How could his life get cut short so suddenly? It couldn’t possibly be real.
Before anyone managed to lock him back in his room, he floated numbly down the stairs, grabbed his coat from a hook in the entryway, and placed his hand on the smooth door handle of the exit.
“Edward!” Clara shouted after him, rushing into the room. He couldn’t bother himself to lift his gaze when his attention remained fixed on the marble floors. “Don’t you dare set foot outside. It’s snowing heavily. You’ll catch a chill.”
“If you want to be included in the will,” Edward hissed, “then you will allow me a few minutes to myself.”
She didn’t stop him as he flung the door open, bracing himself against a bitter, snowy wind before stalking out of the house and into the gardens around the estate. The haze of white clung to his hair, eyelashes, and clothing. It obscured his vision of the path ahead. But still, he continued forward with one foot in front of the other until he could go no farther when his heart threatened to collapse him.
He slumped onto a bench covered in white powder, uncaring about the chill nor about getting his clothing wet. His heart flipped and flopped inside his chest, the rhythm disjointed and disorienting. His head spun. His pulse raced.
The terrible sensations had often been his constant companion. But he hadn’t always been prone to collapsing and sleeping days at a time. However, lately, he experienced more bad days than good.
He buried his face in his hand as emotion pricked at his eyes. There was still so much he wanted to do. So much he wanted to see and experience. He wanted to travel the kingdom. See the world. Sail distant waters. Experience life.
But he’d been locked in the blasted tower for most of his life to “keep him safe.” Well, what if he didn’t want to be safe? What more did it matter when he only had months left to live?
The soft crunch of snow gave away another presence. Rather than sadness, anger crashed into him. He dropped his hand and snarled at the newcomer, “I said leave me alone, Clara!”
“Edward…” a voice murmured, one definitely not belonging to his sister.
He inhaled sharply and swiped at his eyes, clearing his vision enough to view a beautiful brunette wearing a blue dress peeking out from beneath a green cloak. Vivienne stopped hesitantly several paces away, almost as if not knowing whether to approach or give him space.
“It’s best if you go home,” he said quietly, trying to rein his emotions back.
She gestured to the ever-growing white landscape. “In this weather? I don’t think it’s an option.”
“Then it’s best if you go inside.”
“Who do you think I am, Edward?”
“The niece of a king?” he answered feebly. It was all he could do. He was so tired. Sick and tired and absolutely exhausted. His body was failing him, and there was nothing more he could do.
But she shook her head as she sat beside him on the bench, completely disregarding the masses of snow accumulated there. Her gentle hand cupped his cheek and turned his head so he stared at her distorted image through tear-filled eyes. “I am your friend . If you are hurting, so am I.”
“We were reacquainted only recently.”
“And?” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “Our friendship has not broken its stride. I’m here if you want to talk about whatever is ailing you. Or if you prefer not to talk…” A smile lifted on her lips, sad and heartbroken as if reflecting his sorrow. “I am told I give rather marvelous hugs.”
He swallowed, trying to rein back his emotions but failing. “Vivi… In another life…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t know how. Because he longed for more than just friendship. But life was cruel. And he had no right to ask for anything more when he knew he didn’t have enough time to speak vows at an altar.
Who reached for whom first? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was they came together for a tight embrace. She held him as his shoulders shook silently, as tears cascaded down his face, as his heart broke for the life he would never have.
In another life, they could have been happy. But he didn’t have another life. He only had this one.
When his hysterics died down, he didn’t want to release her, not even at the expense that someone might peek out a window and find them in the garden together. But it was more likely the storm would obscure them anyway, providing at least a little privacy from prying eyes.
“Will you get locked in your room again tonight?” she asked as she stroked his hair, likely wet now from all the snow.
Of course, he didn’t want to answer the question, especially when she was correct. She seemed to take his silence as an affirmation.
“Well, then. You can expect me to visit each day that this storm lasts, and we’ll read and play games and pass the time with happy thoughts.”
“Clara and other servants come up during the day.”
“Then I will not be challenged by coming up during the night.”
“Well… I don't know about…that.” His words slowly trailed off as she turned her head and kissed his cheek. The place where her lips touched his skin warmed him from the inside out until, rather than a chill in his bones, his blood flushed with heat. He didn’t often receive any form of physical affection, and he didn’t realize he was touch-starved until now.
More than anything, he wanted to turn his head, to capture her lips with his. But he held himself back. It wasn’t fair. To either of them. For him to mislead her into thinking they could be anything more than what they were.
“I don’t want you climbing the wall,” he rasped, finally finding his words.
“I won’t climb it unless the storm abates. But I will visit every night.”
He shook his head, staring at her in wonder. “Why would you do that for me?”
She shrugged, drawing patterns in the snow on the bench with her bare finger. “You must be awfully lonely up there. I would be, and I know you’d do the same for me.” Before he could reply, she said, “My mother is feeling better today.” Her change of subject threw him off guard as if she’d blindfolded him and spun him around until he didn’t know what direction was where. “But I fear the storm may keep us here longer than expected.” She batted her snow-frosted eyelashes at him. “Of course, if the lord of the house permits our continued occupancy.”
But he only gestured to the snow billowing from the heavens and clinging to every available surface. “There is not much choice, is there?”
“Don’t want our carriage to get stuck.”
“You would most certainly strand yourself long before you reached home.”
She tipped her head to the side. “Are you afraid of a bit of cold?”
He only lifted an eyebrow as his gaze swept across their snowy surroundings. “I’m sitting in a pile of snow. Do I look like it scares me?”
A laugh escaped her, and her hand trailed from his shoulder, down his arm, until it rested lightly over his forearm. The chill burned away entirely when her touch left heat in its wake.
“I’ll come again tonight. And wear something warm just in case the storm settles.”
“Why?”
“It’s a surprise.” Now it was her turn to lift an eyebrow. “Are you capable of climbing down a wall? Or shall I search the grounds for a ladder?”
Fatigue sat heavy on his chest, and the thought of even the smallest physical exertion exhausted him. But he didn’t want her to know. If anything, he wanted the remaining few months of his life to be filled with excitement and adventure. He didn’t want Vivienne to look at him with pity in her eyes.
“I’m sure I can manage a rope.”
Actually, he wasn’t sure at all. But he was determined to spend every moment possible with her until she had to leave…
…and he never saw her again in this life.
“Vivi…” he murmured, taking her hand in his. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to find the words, as he tried to express what her friendship meant to him. But in the end, he only dropped her hand and released a long sigh. “Tonight then.”
“Tonight. Don’t be late.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
Sure enough, true to her word, Vivienne showed up that night piled to the brim in layers of warm clothes and furs to protect her from the raging snow storm. But no matter how relentless the chill, her smile never ceased as she stood at the bottom of the tower and he at the top. They talked for hours upon hours about books and stars, about adventures and traveling, about everything and nothing.
For three nights, she came to him, lighting up his world with happiness from her conversation and her presence. Yes, he’d been touch-starved. But he’d also been starved of a good, deep friendship unlike any he’d had before. Only with Vivienne did he feel like he could be his true self, and to his delight, she seemed to like him as he was, even the parts of him Clara often claimed were boring and unnoteworthy.
His heart fell for Vivienne a little more each time she showed up after everyone had gone to bed. They were so similar with interests and dreams of the future. Someday, she wanted to travel across the kingdoms. And playfully, he promised to take her when the snow thawed.
They flirted and bantered. Laughed and smiled. All with a tower between them.
On the fourth day, the storm finally ceased, though it left a deep, untraversable build-up of snow, continuing to strand Vivienne and her mother at the estate. However, it would likely melt by tomorrow. And a part of him dreaded Vivienne leaving him and taking the colors of her world with her.
As he worked in his office, Cedric entered with a rap on the door, handing him a vial of medicine.
“What good will it do now?” He pushed it away and continued writing on the piece of parchment in front of him, a correspondence from one of his tenants asking for another month to pay their rent.
“Give you more time, perhaps?”
Edward paused his writing as he stared at the yellow contents of the vial. Whether he died in two months or six didn’t make much difference in the outcome of his life. Besides, the medicine often made him sleepy. He would rather stick his hand in the fire than miss out on a single night with Vivienne.
He reached for the vial, gripping it tightly in his hand. “Will you add another log to the hearth, Cedric?”
As his servant complied, Edward uncorked the vial and quickly dumped it into the nearby potted plant before making a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand right as Cedric turned around.
This wasn’t something he needed to hide from his friend. He knew Cedric would support him with whatever he decided. But he couldn’t risk his unwillingness to consume the medicine reaching his sister’s ears.
What has become of me? he silently scoffed as he pushed the empty vial to the end of the table. I must sneak around in my own house.
Another servant knocked on the doorframe and curtsied. “Your Lordship. The duke has just sent gifts.”
“Gifts?” He pushed himself to his feet. “Where are they?”
“Well…” The woman’s face blanched as she curtsied again. “They are not for you, Lord Beaumont.”
“Then who are they for?”
“For Lady Vivienne.”