Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“Istill cannot believe that the papers are full of stories about your illness just because you had a cold.” Vivian let out a disgusted noise and threw the scandal sheet onto the table. “You would think they had better things to report.”
She was sitting at the dining table at Elington Manor. Thomas sat across from her, a furrow in his brow as he picked up the paper. They had been in London for several days, and Vivian had been surprised to find herself quite busy.
She watched as his eyes skimmed across the paper, his mouth tightening until it was little more than a thin line. Yet there was something else there that she could not quite place.
“It is the usual rubbish about you being cursed.” Vivian rolled her eyes. “I do not even know how they found out about your illness.”
Thomas took a large bite of toast, his eyes fixed on the paper. “I suspect someone has let something slip. Perhaps a servant or family member.”
“I shall speak to Mrs. Bird. If it was anyone in our household, I will make sure it never happens again. I have no wish to have the ton know every detail of our lives.” Vivian frowned at the paper.
She did not like the thought that someone in her employ had shared private details with the press. It was doubly infuriating given how much work they had put into squashing the silly rumors.
“I doubt it was one of our staff. They have all been chosen for their discretion.” Thomas took a swig of his coffee and shrugged.
“It is more likely that someone with a penchant for gossip read a message. Given you did not leave my side the entire time, I assume you wrote to Grandmama asking for the tonic?”
Vivian clapped a hand over her mouth. “I did not even think of that. Oh, Thomas! I am so sorry!”
“You have nothing to apologize for—well, except perhaps for making me drink the damned stuff.” He grinned at her and winced.
“I am not going to apologize for that. Not when it worked. I shall have to be more careful in the future; perhaps I can work out a code and share it with her.” Vivian tapped her finger against her lips, only realizing what she had said after she had said it.
Future? What future? She swallowed, expecting Thomas to ask just that. After all, there was less than a fortnight left before they were due to part ways. She felt her chest tighten and took a deep breath.
“Very cloak and dagger of you.” He smiled at her, and Vivian’s heart swooped in circles around her chest.
“It only seems sensible. After all, you married me to try to address these rumors; the least I can do is not add fuel to the fire. No matter how unwittingly.” She tapped her fingers on the table, her mind working furiously.
“You may be brilliant, Vivian, but even you cannot think of everything.” He reached across, and for a moment, she thought he would take her hand in his, but he did not. “This is just a scandal sheet printing a story. It will not change all the good you have already done.”
Vivian’s fingers continued their tapping, each movement nearly but not quite brushing against the tips of Thomas’s own fingers. “But it could make things more complicated.”
“Perhaps.” Thomas shrugged.
“Clearly, we need to show them that you are perfectly healthy.” Vivian nodded to herself. “Perhaps we could go for a walk? Or we could go to a play? Cecily mentioned that there is a troupe performing A Midsummer Night’s Dream. We might be able to catch a matinee.”
“I am afraid I cannot today.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “I have had some rather urgent business in town that I must tend to this morning, and I am not sure how long it will take.”
“Oh.” Vivian tried to hide her disappointment. “Yes, of course.”
“We can go another day. Or you could go with Cecily or Andrea if they are free? I would not want you to miss it because of my schedule.” Thomas stood and inclined his head toward her. “I should still be home for dinner, but I will send word if not. I know you do not like to eat alone.”
Vivian nodded and stood as well. She took a half step toward him and then stopped herself. “I will see you this evening. I have some business of my own to attend to anyway.”
“More hobbies?” he asked.
Vivian nodded. “I thought I might try archery. Andrea says it is tremendous fun.”
Thomas laughed, the sound sending shivers through her body. “And here was I thinking it might be something like flower arranging.”
“That is tomorrow’s experiment,” Vivian quipped back.
Thomas opened his mouth and shook his head, his laughter still echoing around them. Vivian watched him leave, then sank back into her seat.
She had hoped he might join her for archery. “Though he would probably spend the entire time teasing me.”
The thought was not altogether unpleasant. A knock sounded at the front door, and Vivian sighed. “He has probably forgotten something again.”
She strode toward the door as the butler opened it. “Back so soon—did you miss me so much?”
The words died in her throat as she saw just who was standing in front of her. It was not the tall, striking figure of her husband. It was a short, balding man twirling his hat and smiling a familiar insipid smile.
“Good to see you, Lady Elington.” Lord Brixten stepped into the room. “Is your husband in?”
Vivian shook her head. “You have just missed him.”
“Shame.” Lord Brixten, though the look on his face suggested he was anything but displeased. “Well, it seems silly to waste the opportunity. And it is such a lovely day, perhaps you would wish to join me for some tea.”
“I was actually just leaving. I am meeting a friend at the British Museum,” Vivian lied, hoping it would get rid of the man.
Lord Brixten’s face brightened. “That is perfect. I am, in fact, just heading there myself. We can walk together.”
Vivian cursed internally, but kept the smile plastered on her face. She slipped on a coat and stepped into the busy street with Lord Brixten at her side.
“I heard a rather interesting rumor,” Lord Brixten said as he gave her a sidelong glance. “Concerning your husband.”
Vivian just managed not to roll her eyes. You and every other fool in the ton. “If you are talking about that silly story in the scandal sheets, you should know that he is perfectly healthy.”
“Yes, of course, perfectly healthy.” Lord Brixten gave her a conspiratorial wink. “You do not have to lie to me; we are old friends after all.”
“Are we?” Vivian asked before she could stop herself.
His eyes widened, but his smile did not slip. “I like to think so. Besides, when one receives a sign such as this, one must act.”
Vivian frowned at him, too bewildered to attempt being polite. Is he mad?
“A sign? What are you talking about?”
“Your husband’s illness, of course. You are returning to London.
Clearly, it is the Lord above saying that we are meant to be together.
That we should be with one another.” His eyes roved across her body, making Vivian feel as though she were covered in a viscous slime.
“Just look at you; you have never looked so well.”
“I am married, Lord Brixten.” She took a step away from him, sure she had misheard him.
This cannot be happening.
He reached for her hand, but she jerked it out of his grip. “That hardly matters now; we can run away together. Finally, have the happiness we both crave.”
“Are you mad? What about your wife? You know, the one you claim to be so in love with that you broke off our own engagement?” Fury boiled within her chest. The nerve.
“It was not love. Not real love. Simply lust.” He made a dismissive motion, as though swatting a gnat.
“Does she know this? After all, if rumors are to be believed, she is with child.” Vivian prayed that the rumors were false; surely they must be false. The man could not be that spineless.
His following words shattered that feeble hope.
“She is, and it has made her terribly moody. When she is not vomiting, she is complaining. When she is not complaining, she is melancholic. Not to mention what it has done to her appearance.” He shuddered, apparently unaware of the disgust Vivian was sure was etched on her face.
“While you have bloomed into a true beauty, she seems to have shriveled. Well, no, it is more like she has ballooned. Truth be told, I can barely stand to look at her. She is so needy, constantly wanting this thing or that. No, I need a real woman. Someone like you. Run away with me, Vivia—ah!”
Vivian slapped him harder than she had ever slapped anyone in her life. “How dare you speak like that! That is your wife! You have a duty to her, to your child!”
Her hand stung with the force of it, but she did not care. She drew it back again, watching as he cringed away from her. His lip trembled; his eyes were wild.
“But you do not understand how hard it is. You are not a man, so how could you? There is so much pressure on me. It is so difficult to sit in a seat of power when everything is changing. It is more than I can bear. At least not without some comfort. We are meant to be together. We could elope, leave all of this behind us, and escape the tyranny of duty and responsibility.”
“You disgust me.” Vivian’s lip curled, and she jerked away as the man tried to reach for her.
“You are a coward, Lord Brixten. No, you are worse than that. You are weak. A pathetic little man who would not know decency if it spat in his face. I feel sorry for your wife, married to a cretin like you.”
“Keep your voice down,” Lord Brixten hissed. “You are making a scene.”
Vivian drew herself up to her full height, her entire body shaking with barely suppressed fury. “I do not care that I am causing a scene. You have just asked me to be your mistress, told me that you find your pregnant wife repulsive, and that you find your duty too much to bear.”
“I think you have got the wrong end of the stick.” Lord Brixten smiled at her, looking nervously around. “It is a compliment, do you not see? I want to be with you so badly that I would risk it all.”
“Do not insult my intelligence,” Vivian spat.
“You should be at home with your wife, supporting her, caring for her. She is carrying your child, perhaps even your heir, and where are you? Trying to bed another woman. You are risking nothing, simply running from your obligations. You do not want me; you want an escape, and I will not give it to you.”
“But she is so large, she is practically an elepha—AH!” He grasped his face as Vivian slapped him again, so hard that it forced him to stumble several steps backward.
“She is pregnant, and even if she were the size of a house, she would still be fairer than you deserve. That girl is beautiful; it is you, sir, who are hideous on the inside and the out!” Vivian clenched her fists and turned away from the man and the red hand mark on his cheek.
“Think of what you are throwing away, and for what? To go back to a dying man? And when he is dead and gone, you will come crawling back to me. But it will be too late. Do you understand? Too late!” He grabbed her wrist, and all reason left Vivian.
“I would not come crawling to you if you were the last man on Earth.” She rounded on him, towering over him as she peered down her nose at him as though he was little more than dirt beneath her feet.
“There is no future with him, I am your only hope. Have you not heard the rumors? The papers are full of the details of it. And when they report on the copious tonics he consumes, what then?” Lord Brixten’s lips curled, his eyes flashing with triumph.
Understanding hit Vivian like a bullet. “You! You are the reason for these rumors.”
“I may have let slip to a few fellows at the gentleman’s club that your husband had a bout of ill health recently.
That I feared what it might mean for you – my servant overheard the dowager duchess’s man placing an order at the apothecary.
It hardly takes a genius to know what that means.
” Lord Brixten shrugged. “It is not rumor, Vivian, but the truth. The man is a dead man. He is cursed.”
Vivian drew herself up to her full height, towering over Lord Brixten. “My husband is not cursed. And even if he were, I would rather spend one minute with him than a lifetime with you. He is three times the man you could ever hope to be. He is a man who understands honor and duty.”
He would never do this to me. Thomas would never court a married woman, let alone abandon his own pregnant wife.
‘What do you actually want to do?’
His words echoed around her head. She might not have known what she wanted, but she knew what she did not.
“I am the only one who would have you. You are mine, Vivian. Not his. You will never be his.” Lord Brixten’s face was blotchy, and spittle flew from his lips.
“I was never yours, Lord Brixten. And I have no wish to be. I cannot believe I ever wasted my time trying to get you to see what you had let slip through your fingers.” She turned away from him and called over her shoulder.
“And it is Lady Elington to you, Lord Brixten. You would do well to remember it.”
Ignoring the stares of the crowd around her, Vivian put her shoulders back and strode back to her home. Blood thundered in her ears, her hand stung, and she was sure the fight would be in the papers.
She could not bring herself to care. In fact, she wished she had slapped him harder.