Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“How can you be asleep at a time like this?” Lady Brookes’ voice was firm as she flung open the curtains in Vivian’s room.
Sunlight streamed into the room, and Vivian raised a hand to shield her eyes, blinking blearily as she tried to make sense of what was going on around her. Her head spun as she sat up too fast, and she took a moment to steady herself.
Her mother was pacing at the foot of Vivian’s bed, muttering so furiously that Vivian struggled to make out anything she was saying. She glanced at the clock; it was just before eight.
It is too early for this.
“What is going on, Mama? You make it seem like the house is burning down. Are we in some sort of danger?” Vivian pulled on her dressing gown and glanced around the room.
“Do not play games with me, Vivian. I have no wish to deal with that on top of everything else.” Her mother sniffed.
Vivan massaged her head. “I just want to understand what brought you to my bedroom in such a state.”
“I was rather hoping you would be able to tell me.” Her mother shook her head.
“Once more, your name is in the scandal sheets, and this time reporting the wildest tale. And of course, you did not see fit to so much as warn me. Oh no, why would you tell your mother anything like this? Why not just let her read it in the papers?”
“The papers? What are you talking about?” Vivian’s mind felt as though it was slowly slipping into place as she tried to follow the frantic path of her mother’s thoughts.
“What could have possessed you to do it? This is the maddest thing you could have done!” Her mother threw up her hands in frustration, her voice rising in pitch and speed as she continued to pace.
“And of all the men you could have chosen—why would you choose the Dowager Duchess of Caverton’s grandson to make such a claim about?
She will be furious! And it is so unbelievable.
A marquess! Another viscount or perhaps even an earl would seem plausible, but a marquess? ”
‘You should set your sights higher, Lady Vivian.’
Understanding dawned on Vivian, and her eyes widened. “Are you talking about my engagement to Lord Elington?”
Is he the Dowager Duchess of Caverton’s grandson? That would explain his surprise at my not knowing who he was. Her cheeks flushed scarlet at the memory.
Her mother looked at her as though she were a particularly slow child who had just learned that water was wet. “Do not tell me the same lie you have told the press. This will be a nightmare for us to sort out, how you could have let them get hold of such—”
“I had nothing to do with the scandal sheets finding out about the engagement.”
Did he do this? How do they know? Vivian made a soothing motion with her hands as she tried to remember the events of the night before.
“I planned on telling you when I had returned home with my chaperone, but the servants told me you had retired for the evening with a headache, and I did not want to disturb you.”
“And as always, you have an excuse prepared!” her mother sighed.
“It is the truth. I know how bad your headaches can be. I thought I would be able to tell you in the morning over breakfast.”
That would give me time to prepare after the madness of last night. Vivian tapped a finger against her lips. “I have no idea how the press got a hold of this—Lord Elington wanted to speak to Father before announcing it publicly. After all, that is the proper thing to do.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, and Vivian could tell she still did not believe her. She could not blame her, after all; it seemed just as far-fetched to her.
At that moment, Vivian’s lady’s maid, Henrietta, rushed into the room. Her face was red, and she was panting and clutching her side.
“The Marquess of Elington has just sent word that he will be calling upon us within the hour.” Henrietta blurted. “To discuss wedding arrangements and seek his lordship’s consent.”
“Then it is true!” Her mother clasped a hand to her chest. “Oh, thank goodness.”
The relief on her mother’s face was at odds with the wild panic that filled Vivian’s chest. Her heart raced wildly, her blood pounded in her ears. Her future husband would be arriving within the hour, and she had only just woken up.
“Perhaps we can delay him?” Vivian ventured. “It is a rather early time to—”
“Do not be ridiculous. We must capitalize on this!” Her mother gestured to Henrietta. “Get the green dress—no, not that one—the one with the short sleeves. And gloves, she can then remove them, which will draw his attention.”
“What?” Vivian gaped. “But the bodice—”
“Is low enough to be enticing but not so low as to seem tawdry.” Her mother interrupted before Vivian could finish. “I have heard rumors about the Marquess and his family, and if they are to be believed, we have precious little time.”
“You cannot really believe that he is cursed?” Vivian gaped at her mother.
“His grandfather and his father both died young. Perfectly healthy men who dropped dead unexpectedly.” Her mother waved her hand in the air for emphasis. “Even if it is not a curse, there is every chance he will suffer the same fate. You must wed and sire an heir as quickly as possible.”
“Sire an heir?” Vivian squeaked, sure she must have misheard.
She could feel even her ears reddening with embarrassment.
Her mother arched an eyebrow at her. “Yes. If you wish to bind him to you, you must give him an heir. In such situations, it is best to try to give him more than one child, but with his curse, that may not be possible. An heir will mean you will be the Dowager Marchioness and have the right to remain at your estate.”
Henrietta nodded, brushing Vivian’s hair and pulling it into an elaborate bun. “Your mother is right, my lady. Men’s interest fades as women age, but children will secure your future and keep the marriage alive.”
“I have heard rumors of men leaving their wives for a mistress simply because she could provide what the wife could not.” Her mother shook her head. “And from what I have heard of the Marquess, he is a man whose interest is not easily held.”
“He is wealthy, Lady Vivian. He is used to things being easy for him, so you must ensure that he is given a challenge,” Henrietta added as Vivian’s mother nodded her agreement.
“But not too much of a challenge—he must believe he can overcome any obstacle you set him,” her mother added. “For him to desire you, you must seem desirable. But not attainable.”
“What? How am I supposed to do that?” Vivian felt as though her head might explode. “And what does this have to do with siring an heir?”
“Everything!” her mother chided.
Vivian had asked countless governesses about the siring of heirs and how one went about it, but all of them had refused to give her a straight answer.
She had tried to find books on the matter, but her efforts had been fruitless. Either the books were deemed too tawdry for her, or they were so vague that they were little more than a reference to wifely duties without directly naming how one might fulfill them.
She clenched and unclenched her fingers, fighting the urge to fling herself back into bed and hide beneath the covers.
“It is about…” Henrietta swallowed and looked between her mother and Vivian. “You must encourage his familiarity with you, my lady.”
“I do not understand.”
“A kiss, Vivian. That is essential for this to work.” Her mother snapped, and Vivian wished that she could vanish into the floor. “If you can get him to kiss you, that will be for the best.”
Henrietta added, her own cheeks a deep shade of scarlet. “Men like him appreciate such boldness.”
“You have to make him want you.” Her mother gave her a meaningful look. “To make him think he cannot have you.”
“But you just said I should kiss him?” Vivian’s voice was high-pitched, and she wrestled it back under control. “I have to make him want me, but think he cannot have me?”
“Exactly.” Lady Brookes nodded. “Make it obvious that you want what he wants. That you are open to giving it to him.”
“You should laugh at what he says. If he makes a joke, laugh as though it were the funniest thing.” Henrietta demonstrated, laughing at an imagined joke in a way that made Vivian’s insides squirm.
Her mother shook her head. “No, giggle. That will make you seem younger, more na?ve.”
“But you just said I should not seem na?ve,” Vivian pointed out.
“In some things, naivety is good and proper.” Her mother massaged her temples with her fingertips. “In others, it is not.”
The clock struck ten, making all of them jump. Vivian’s heart leaped into her throat, and she clutched at her stomach. Her head swam, and she felt a vice around her chest that had nothing to do with the tightness of her corset.
“Henrietta, instruct the butler to bring the Marquess to the drawing room.” Lady Brookes gestured to the maid, who curtsied and rushed from the room.
Vivian swallowed, wishing her mouth were less dry. Her mother linked an arm through hers and pulled her from the room, whispering incessantly as they made their way toward the room where her betrothed would be waiting.
“Talk about the things that interest him. Listen to his stories. Make him feel important,” her mother muttered. “Touch him. Not too much, just a gentle brush of your fingers.”
She demonstrated, and Vivian felt her cheeks flush such a deep shade of scarlet at the thought of doing such a thing to the Marquess that she was sure she would burst into flames.
“Smile. No, not like that. Like you have a secret that is only for you to know and for him to find out.” Her mother looked at Vivian’s attempt and sighed. “I suppose that will have to do.”
They were nearly at the door. Vivian could barely hear the sound of their footsteps above the steady thundering of her heart.
“I will ensure that you and the Marquess are given some time alone.”
“Alone?” Vivian’s eyes widened. “But we are not yet married—”