CHAPTER TEN
PACKING WAS a dismal activity.
The maids insisted on helping, but Vivienne refused, needing something to occupy her hands, her attention, other than her broken heart.
She’d been reckless, and now she was paying the price. She would have a dreary husband twice her age, spending every waking moment as his wife while she loved another. It wasn’t fair to the duke. It wasn’t fair to herself.
But no other choice remained.
She carefully placed her blue gown into the portmanteau, thinking about how not even that could draw the viscount’s attention. And with shaking hands, she untied the pinecone necklace from around her neck and set it on top.
It was time to say goodbye to her hopes and dreams and fancies. To the love in her heart. The duke would rule her with an iron thumb, restricting her adventures and curbing her playfulness.
Her chest ached as she recalled reading with Edward beneath the sheets in playful voices. Racing through the forest hand in hand. Laughing together until the break of dawn. She’d loved every moment spent with him, because their souls were one of the same. Meant for each other.
If only he could feel it, too.
A knock sounded on the door. She jumped and swiped a hand across her cheeks before composing herself and opening the door.
A maid curtsied on the opposite side, handing her a package wrapped in brown paper tied with a cream-colored ribbon. “For her ladyship.”
Before Vivienne found the mind to inquire further, the maid disappeared and left her by her lonesome.
Closing the door behind her, she took a seat on the window bench, the chill from the glass seeping inside the room. She found nothing on the outside of the package to indicate its sender, and for one disappointing moment, she thought it might be another gift from the duke.
But as she pinched the ribbon and pulled, the paper fell away to reveal a large volume. Not just any book, but the very one Edward had read to her beneath the flickering lantern light days ago.
Her heart caught in her throat as she reverently stroked the weathered leather spine and ran a finger along the worn edges. Carefully, she opened the book to where the ribbon bookmark had been placed, giving a start when an envelope fell out of its pages.
A shudder of anticipation worked its way through her limbs as she broke the wax seal on the brown envelope, and then she slipped out a long page filled with messy script.
Dearest Vivienne,
All the glittering jewels could never surpass your beauty…
Ha! I’m jesting, though you are certainly a beautiful woman. I know I should not make such jests, but I simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity.
She laughed, tears trailing from her eyes as she read Edward’s words. He had always been able to coax a laugh out of her no matter the circumstance. Even during one of her darkest moments, he was still there, making her smile.
All jesting aside, I’m gifting you my most prized possession because now it’s your turn to enjoy what stories are written within the pages. I’ve hoarded it for far too long now. Perhaps you will love it as much as I have. I should be most disappointed if every single page isn’t hanging by a thread years from now.
Vivi, you must know that these past few months have been the best of my life. Thank you for making me feel alive, for giving me so much joy. I will treasure the days spent with you for the rest of my life.
Your Greatest Admirer,
Adoringly, Edward
Vivienne hugged the book to her chest, feeling each and every one of his words like a warm embrace. Perhaps not all was lost after all.
But even as hope blossomed within her, she quickly squashed it as she recalled last night and the way he had rejected her love. There was no hope for them.
She just didn’t quite know how to accept it.
“Everything will be all right, little one,” she murmured as she rubbed her belly. If only she believed the words herself.
Her mother strode into the room at that moment, pausing as her attention lingered on her belly. Quickly, Vivienne dropped her hand, her cheeks flaming as she stared at the ground.
“No more of that until you are married.” She gestured to all of her with her fan. “Duke Hastings is to call on us at the palace in two days’ time. Should he propose, I expect you to accept.”
Holding back the emotions threatening to capsize her, she nodded dutifully. To protect her family from her mistakes, she would do what she must.
“Then let us depart. We’ve been away from home long enough.”
But as they climbed in their carriage and left the estate, Vivienne couldn’t help thinking as the property grew smaller and smaller from the window…
She was leaving the only place that had truly felt like home.
And she may never see it nor the man who held her heart again.
“How is he doing?” a voice asked from outside his bedroom door.
Edward’s attention shifted blearily from the book in his lap and toward the door closed between himself and whomever resided in the stairwell. He could hardly read the words, anyway, when they kept blurring, making reading difficult.
“Not well,” Clara answered quietly as if the two of them didn’t think he could hear them.
He turned his head toward Cedric, who sat in a nearby chair reading his own book, which rested atop a bouncing knee. “Who’s here?”
“I believe your uncle had planned to visit today,” his servant replied quietly.
Although Edward’s attention returned to the door, he couldn’t bring himself to stand. He couldn’t even lift his head from where it rested against the back of his chair. The outing with Vivienne had taken an enormous toll on his body.
A frown pulled on his mouth, his heart aching as he recalled her tears, the way she’d fled, and how he hadn’t been able to find the strength to climb back up his tower. He’d stumbled into the servants’ quarters to find Cedric, and he’d helped him climb the set of stairs leading to his room.
Of course, Cedric had taken the bedsheet rope away from him to “wash it,” but he knew he wasn’t going to see it again in his lifetime.
It was just as well. He wouldn’t be seeing Vivienne again, either.
His hand moved to his breast pocket where her lock of hair resided within a folded handkerchief. He needed to let her go.
He just didn’t know how.
Finally, he recognized Uncle Maxwell’s voice. “What can we do?” he asked in a distressed tone. “Should we try a new medicine? We can’t lose him, Clara.”
“We’ve tried everything possible. What more can we do?”
After a few moments of silence, someone knocked on the door. When his voice refused to cooperate when he tried to call out for them to enter, Cedric stepped in for him.
“Come.”
Uncle Maxwell entered the room with Clara at his heels, a worried look in her eyes. Maxwell adopted a cheery expression as if wanting to believe Edward would make it through this.
But they all knew he wouldn’t.
Cedric abandoned his chair and made himself scarce on the opposite side of the room while his uncle replaced him. It created a physical ache in Edward’s chest at just how alike his uncle and late father looked to one another. Similar black hair. The same hazel eyes. They’d had such a good friendship between brothers, and Edward had looked up to him all his life because of it.
“How are you faring today?” his uncle asked as if he had not just asked his sister the same question a minute earlier.
“As well as I can be.”
The other man leaned forward on his knees and smiled reassuringly. “I’ve been in contact with a physician from across the sea. He can be here in a month from now. Many of his methods are more extreme. But they are tried and proven, and I’m hoping they can help.”
“I’m not sure if he would arrive soon enough.”
“It’s worth a try.”
Edward didn’t refute him nor agree with him. Short of performing a heart surgery no one thought was possible, one that would more likely kill him than allow him to live, nothing would help.
“Let’s play a game.” Maxwell crossed the room and opened the cupboard filled with games and books, pulling out one of Edward’s favorites. But then he paused before picking up Vivienne’s blue and white lacy fan he’d forgotten to give back to her all this time.
“Put that down.”
But instead, his uncle unfurled it, laughing as he fanned his face. He read the initials carved into the wood. “‘V.W.’ I think my little nephew has a paramour.”
“I said put it down.”
Finally, his uncle held up his hands as if to show he meant no harm before setting it back where it belonged. “For both of your sakes, I hope the new doctor arrives sooner rather than later.”
Uncle Maxwell sat down, forgetting to close the cupboard behind him. For a long few moments, Edward stared at Vivienne’s fan resting on top of one of his books. For the remainder of his life, he would treasure the time he’d had with her, however short, keeping the memory of her locked within his weak heart.
He loved her.
And he hadn’t realized just how much until she was gone.
“He can’t bother to come see me himself?” Vivienne scoffed as she set down a bottle of imported perfume on the table in the family suite. It smelled awful. Like heartbreak and defeat.
“Duke Hastings is visiting tomorrow,” her mother reminded her.
“If he really were competing for my hand, he would show up at my door like a thoughtful gentleman.”
Her sister, Sophia, raised an eyebrow from where she sat beside the hearth while embroidering flowers on the bodice of one of her dresses. “Competing with whom?”
Another sister, Marcella, elbowed the other in the ribs. “Don’t be rude. She captured the duke’s attention. She needs no other serious suitors.”
The look her mother gave warned her not to speak of Edward. But rather than finding gratitude deep within herself for the duke’s special attention, she only uncovered anger. Anger at her stupidity, at her selfishness, at losing her freedom and the man she loved.
By tomorrow, she needed to come to terms with becoming the wife of a duke. But today?
She preferred to feel red, hot anger.
Without another glance at the vast amounts of gifts atop the table, she strode out of the room, stomped down the staircase, and snatched her cloak from a waiting servant before slumping onto a bench in the entryway, sitting by her lonesome while glaring at the wall on the opposite side of the room.
Anger was unbecoming of a woman of good breeding, her mother had told her countless times. But Vivienne felt things too deeply. It was no easy task to hide the rage and devastation billowing inside of her.
“Thank you very much,” a voice said, floating down the nearby hallway and reaching her ears. “I will send for the documents next week.”
The earl, Lord Barnaby Mavis, also one of Edward’s close friends, appeared around the corner with a coat draped over one arm. He paused in his tracks the moment he caught her eye.
“Lady Vivienne,” he greeted as he brushed his blond hair out of his face. But a hesitancy rested in his vivid blue eyes, a quiet word lurking behind his tongue.
“Lord Mavis.” She pulled off her slippers and reached for her boots. A bit of fresh air to sting her cheeks was exactly what she hoped would calm the fire in her spirit.
But the man continued to stand in the middle of the room, clearly wanting to say something.
“How was your stay at the Beaumont residence?” he finally asked, taking another step closer.
“Splendid,” she replied sarcastically. “Just peachy.”
“Edward was that bad, huh? He’s usually a good host.”
“Usually?” she scoffed. “Well, I’m sure you’ve seen him more recently than I have.” She angrily clasped her cloak around her shoulders. “He hadn’t even the decency to say goodbye.” She furiously shoved her feet into her boots. “He’ll turn twenty-four soon and find the wife he’s always wanted, and then live happily ever after like in his storybooks.”
Barnaby turned dangerously quiet, and she lifted her head to find him covering his mouth with his hand. “You don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
He lowered himself on a chair near her so they were eye level. But his characteristic smile had long since disappeared in favor of a devastated frown. “The doctor gave Edward less than three months more to live. He likely won’t survive long enough to see his twenty-fourth birthday.”
“Pardon?” she breathed, reaching out to the wall to steady herself when his words rushed over her head, too quickly for her to make sense of. “You must be mistaken. He’s in the prime of his health.”
But then she recalled all the times Edward had been gasping for breath after physical exercise, struggling with even the simplest of tasks.
“He’s had a severe heart condition all his life. He keeps it a secret, as it threatens his title and position as viscount should others learn of it. Only his closest family and friends know of it.” He ran a hand through his golden locks. “It’s only gotten worse in the last year.”
Shock washed over her, filling her blood with a numbing cold. “He told me he was sick for two weeks after the masquerade.”
Barnaby nodded. “His heart can only handle so much. It’s why Clara locks him in the tower. Someone needs to know where he is at all times. It keeps him safe, as much as he hates it. The episodes can be dangerous if he’s alone without help.”
Vivienne scrubbed a hand down her face as the information finally sank in enough for the breath to flee her lungs entirely. “They locked him in his room as he slept for three days when I was there.”
“Like I said, his condition is worsening. I think it was his body’s way of trying to recuperate—by shutting down for a few days.”
She buried her face in her hands as she tried to recall every conversation, every interaction with him. Was this why he wouldn’t entertain a relationship between them? Because he knew he was going to die?
“Why would he keep this from me? I bore my heart and soul to him and he rejected me.”
She felt silly revealing this to a near-stranger, as she and Barnaby were acquaintances at best. But he understood the situation. He was all she had.
A soft chuckle escaped him, but the amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “He went to great lengths to figure out who you were, his masquerading dame. I assure you that if he felt confident that he could pursue you, he would.”
“He does not care for me.”
He shook his head. “No, Vivienne. He cares so much that he’s letting you go. What more can he do? He’s dying.”
Her numbing shock slowly melted until paralyzing fear overcame her. All this time, Edward had been dying?
Now she truly understood why he had wanted to escape by attending the masquerade. Now she truly understood why he’d snuck out and allowed her to sneak in. He wanted to live life before he couldn’t anymore.
Each heartbeat pounded painfully slow as she imagined life without Edward in it. Oh, how he must have been suffering! To keep this from her while pasting a smile on his face.
“I thought he was avoiding me because…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t know how . Although it had been a stupid choice to make love to Edward, she could never regret it.
“I am denying any knowledge of the events of the masquerade.” He inspected his nails. “I know nothing.”
Oh, but he certainly did know. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who else has Edward told?” she said in a hissing whisper.
“Ah, well, a few of us know. But we’d die before revealing his secret. I promise you.”
Devastation filled her at the thought of losing Edward, especially to sickness. She could not marry the duke knowing Edward might be giving her up because he wasn’t going to last much longer in this life.
She could not do it. Not anymore.
“What do I do, Barnaby?” she asked miserably, scrubbing her hands down her face. She felt lost and confused and terrified for so many different reasons.
“Do about what?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding.
Lowering her voice, she couldn’t help the tremor in her words as she placed a hand over her belly to silently convey her meaning. “What do I do?”
“Dear heavens.” Barnaby ran a hand through his hair, glancing back and forth across the entry room as if to make sure they were alone. “Vivienne, this is serious.”
“I know,” she replied despairingly. “I have been trying to attract Edward’s attention, to get him to propose at least somewhat willingly. But I’m running out of time. And it seems he is, too.”
A sinking pit in her stomach grew increasingly larger at the reminder.
“He doesn’t know.”
She shook her head. “I’m too scared he will abandon us.”
Barnaby patted her hand, offering her solace when the darkness of confusion and heartache swirled around her. “He cannot help you if he doesn’t know. He will not abandon you. I promise you this.”
When she likely didn’t appear convinced, he patted her hand again and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “ I will help you, Vivienne. That is the first step. And the next will be Edward.”
“Thank you,” she sobbed, her hand flying to her mouth. Suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so alone. Her mother had told her to tell no one, to trust no one. But she felt safe telling Edward’s friend of her situation. He wouldn’t abandon her. And she must believe Edward wouldn’t, either.
“Now…” he said as he handed her a handkerchief from his pocket to dab her eyes. “Here’s what we will do.”