CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“IS THIS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY?”
Edward held a wooden cane in his hands, staring down at the thing with a disgruntled frown.
Vivienne smoothed her hands over her fiancé’s chest to remove a couple wrinkles from his vest that had managed to sneak past her careful screening. She wanted the surprise to go perfectly. Mostly because she wanted to give Edward every happiness possible. But also because it was an important day.
“The Mother Goddess knows I can try to catch you if you fall, but I’m quite certain we’ll both end up sprawled on the floor.” She patted his hand resetting atop the cane and smiled. “Besides, your body is still healing.” Once again, she nodded her head toward the wooden wheelchair resting against the wall. “Of course, I’d prefer you in the chair—”
“I will not lower myself to wheeling about like a cripple. I can walk just fine.”
She tsked, shaking her head. “A bit testy today, aren’t we?”
“I’m nervous.”
“For what?” She laughed as they walked side by side out of the infirmary and into the quiet hallway, Cedric trailing several paces behind. “You don’t know what we’re doing yet.”
His frown remained as he hobbled at her side, clearly needing the cane more than he cared to admit. She wanted to kiss the frown away, as adorable as she found it. “I assume we’re on a jaunt to meet with the parents . I’m still waiting for your father to impale me.”
“At this point, you are a beloved member of court,” she teased, gently elbowing him in the ribs. “He wouldn’t dare.”
He glanced at her, his gaze trailing over the beaded and embroidered scarf she wore.
“Is that the one?” he asked, his worries momentarily distracted by her clothing ensemble. “The scarf you said you never wore because you didn’t want to ruin it.”
She smiled as she lifted both ends of the beautiful item to admire the careful stitches and the skillful craftsmanship. “How can I say it’s well-loved if I hide it away? You inspired me, Edward. After seeing how much you loved your book…”
His mouth turned up at the corners as he trailed the scarf between his fingers. “I can see why you love it so much. It’s unique. Just like the woman who wears it.”
“Oh,” she gently swatted his arm, a bashful smile on her face, “you certainly know how to make a grown woman feel special.”
But then she stopped short in the hallway, her eyes flashing open with fear as she realized something she hadn’t considered before. “How will your heart react to a surprise?”
“I’ll be fine, Vivi.” This time, he turned his head and smiled. The sight of it weakened her knees and nearly made her feel like the one who might collapse. “I’m not quite as fragile as you are led to believe.”
“I love you,” she breathed. But then her hand flew to her heated cheek as his grin widened, and the smug look that simultaneously challenged her and brought out her playful side emerged.
“My, my, Vivienne Winfield. You sure do know how to make a grown man feel rather special.”
She chuckled nervously, the heat in her face refusing to abate. “This feels surreal. Everything about this is surreal. It’s almost like if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and nothing will be the same.”
“I believe you are thinking of tomorrow.” He teasingly pinched her side. “When you will wake up, and it will be our wedding day.”
They stopped in front of a set of large double doors with a servant standing on each side. Although she was usually a confident person, she needed the reassurance of his contentedness with his lot, especially when she’d so forcefully shoved it onto his shoulders.
“Are you happy?” she whispered to prevent the servants from overhearing.
He reached out to her but seemed to think better of it when the movement caused him to wobble on his legs. In an equal whisper, he said, “Remember in my letter when I said these past few months have been the best of my life?” She nodded, and he continued. “I think the past few days, even being bedridden, has topped it all. I am very happy.”
A relieved breath escaped on her exhale. “I’m so glad.” And then she laughed, saying in a louder voice, “Now, I hope that doesn’t change in ten seconds from now.”
With a gesture of her hand, she motioned for the guards to open the doors leading into the smaller ballroom within the palace. And then a chorus of clapping and congratulations slammed into them, effectively taking Edward off guard enough to stun him with silence.
When his feet froze to the floor, she slipped her arm into his and guided him into the room where nearly every member of court had shown up to congratulate them on their engagement, including the king and queen of Edilann.
A sea of colorful skirts surrounded them. Ladies with fans. Gentleman with cravats to match. And at the front of the ensemble stood her mother and father, each of them beaming with smiles to reflect her own.
“What is this?” Edward finally stammered beside her.
She squeezed his bicep. “It’s our engagement party.”
One by one, guests approached to offer their congratulations, and when Edward finally recovered from the shock, he conversed with them excitedly as if he’d been locked in a tower for most of his life, and he’d only recently escaped for a breath of fresh air.
Oh wait…
Vivienne remained close, often touching his arm or hand, shoulder or waist, reflecting the truthful appearance of how happy she was. Nothing could take away her joy of the moment. Absolutely nothing.
At least until Duke Hastings approached. No mask or polite decorum could hide the fiery glint of anger in the man’s eyes. His fists clenched. His nostrils flared.
“This was supposed to be my engagement party,” the man hissed, pointing a menacing finger in Edward’s face.
The entire room quieted. Tension thickened in the air until it became difficult to breathe.
She caught onto Edward’s hand and gripped his fingers when she feared a fight breaking out in the middle of the ballroom. He couldn’t possibly win a brawl. Especially not in his condition.
But to his credit, he remained calm as he gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Duke Hastings, leave some engagement parties for the rest of us.” He then dipped his head. “Your Grace.”
The entire room burst into nervous laughter as if unable to hold back their amusement at Edward’s ribbing jest. The duke had been married two other times, and relief washed over her at the thought of narrowly avoiding being his third.
“I will never forget this, Beaumont,” he seethed. And just when Vivienne feared he might strike Edward, he turned abruptly on his heel and strode out of the room.
Silence ensued the moment the doors slammed closed.
“Well,” Mother cut in with a bright smile, effectively slicing through the thick tension in the room. “Let’s enjoy the music and refreshments, shall we?”
As the quartet struck up soft background music from the corner, everyone crowded closer around the two of them, gossipping whispers already circling through the crowd.
“Lord Beaumont!” Lady Whitaker called. “Why would you race the duke to propose first?”
Everyone within the immediate vicinity leaned closer as if to hear his response.
“I had no idea he was going to propose,” he likely answered honestly. “I’ve been planning to propose to Vivienne for weeks.”
“Then why have you waited until now?”
“Because I was waiting for the right moment.” He smiled in a self-deprecating manner as he glanced down at her. “I don’t think I quite pulled off the execution.”
Another rumble of laughter flitted through the crowd. And oh, how she wanted to steal him away to the balcony and kiss him tenderly, away from watching eyes.
One of the next people to approach was Edward’s uncle Maxwell. The man smiled and heartily shook Edward’s hand and gently cupped hers. “V.W.,” he said, chuckling as he shook his head. “Vivienne Winfield. I should have known.”
She glanced at Edward from the corner of his eye but he only shrugged sheepishly.
The man continued, “I am so happy my nephew has found someone. You make him happy. So very happy.”
Her father approached next and handed Edward a red and blue jewel-encrusted dagger within a golden sheath. Her eyes smarted at the meaning behind the gift. It was an heirloom, staying within the family for many generations.
“Your parents were good friends of ours,” her father said with a suspicious croak to his words. “There is no one I would rather give her to than you.”
Edward’s tense shoulders visibly relaxed, though his hand shook as if he found the task of holding onto his cane difficult. “I will take care of her. I promise you.” And then his eyebrows shot up as he patted his breast pockets, until finally, a glint of something small caught onto the candlelight in the room.
“I remembered the ring,” he called out as he held up a small black ring with red rubies that looked like roses surrounded by black, metal leaves. A chorus of laughter echoed through the audience while her hand flew to her heart. It looked just like…
Her wonderful fiancé slipped it onto her finger, and she could have wept at how perfectly it fit, as if it were made just for her.
“Oh, Edward, it’s lovely,” she said as she held out her hand to admire the ring. And then more quietly, she said, “It greatly resembles the dress I wore to the masquerade…”
“How could I forget?”
She lifted her gaze, the audience chattering excitedly to lend them a small measure of privacy in their conversation. “You couldn’t possibly have acquired this within the space of a few days.”
He leaned more heavily on his cane as if he struggled to stand, speaking close to her ear. “The night of the masquerade, you were everything I never knew I wanted. I had the ring commissioned long before today.” He chuckled before adding, “Even if I wasn’t sure I would ever marry with my condition.”
Her eyes smarted. “I could kiss you right now.”
“Don’t do it,” he warned playfully. “You’ll cause a scandal.” But then he shrugged. “Or do it. What’s one more?”
Temptation burned with the passion staring back at her through his eyes. She might have kissed him if Cedric hadn’t approached with a soft armchair the moment Edward’s legs collapsed on him.
The servant made the collapse look natural, as if Edward had planned to sit right then. No one seemed to notice, and she tried not to make a big deal of it as she also took the chair another servant offered to remain by Edward’s side.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he continued to converse with members of court, worry knotting her stomach. Fatigue rested heavy beneath his eyes. But the beaming smile on his face spoke volumes at how much he enjoyed being out and about in society.
When they married, she would make sure he had plenty of opportunities to leave the house and attend social functions. Clara would no longer rule him with an iron fist.
She inhaled sharply, her eyes snapping wide open when she realized Clara was not in attendance, even though Edward’s uncle had shown his face, giving them gifts and one of the heartiest congratulations of them all.
Could Clara…
No, it couldn’t possibly be true. She would never have harmed her own brother, right?
But then she realized just how much she could gain by Edward’s death. She would be the lady of the house, and her son would become the new viscount.
“Edward,” she murmured, but her voice was quickly drowned out by the festivities. She tapped on his arm, drawing his attention for mere moments before someone swooped in and commandeered her attention instead. Therefore, she pasted a smile on her face and decided to wait until after the party to bring up the worries churning through her stomach.
As long as Edward’s attempted murderer was out there, he wasn’t safe. And she didn’t think she could close her eyes at night knowing he could still be a target at any moment.
However, after the party ended, her friends and sisters whisked her away for a small get-together of their own in their family suite, not giving her the chance to speak to Edward privately like she wished. His friends also stole him away, effectively separating them for the remainder of the night.
Instead of expressing her frustration at the setback, she snatched a piece of parchment and a quill from the table to write him a letter.
My Sweet Edward,
Time has passed quickly, but not quickly enough. Our wedding is only one more day away, but it also seems like ages. I believe fate has brought us together, and I know with a certainty it can never tear us apart.
You gifted me your most prized possession, and I have been reading it every night before bed. I read it to you in the infirmary for hours each day, hoping that the sound of my voice could help you heal.
One of my favorite stories is The Singing Bone. I ask that you read it to remember me in our short time apart.
I’m looking forward to standing beside you at the altar.
Truly Yours,
Vivi
And then she tucked the letter inside the tale of The Singing Bone and gave it to a servant to deliver to Edward. The tale was about a jealous brother who killed his younger brother to take credit for the boor the younger one had killed. By doing so, he was given the princess’s hand in marriage, receiving recognition and renown. At least until the horn made of the dead boor’s bones sang the truth of what happened to the boy.
If Edward heeded her warning about her suspicions, then he would be on his guard.
Yet, she couldn’t help but pace about the room and wring her hands, even as her sisters fussed over the planning for her hair and wardrobe for the upcoming wedding.
Tomorrow. They would be married tomorrow.
It was only one more night apart. Edward was safe. She needn’t worry.
Surely.
But as she pulled back the drapes to gaze at the darkened world outside, the half moon glittering in the night sky, her heart steadily sank to her toes.
If Clara didn’t want this wedding to happen…
She’d find a way to stop it.