“I plan to embrace life

...not a husband.”

Vivian Darius intends to waltz, attend soirées and put the last years of serious illness behind her. She’s been in the shadows, although since Lord Everleigh’s entrancing kiss she’s started living again. The troubled lone wolf is believed to have no heart, so why is she finding resisting him so hard? But when their secret tryst in a carriage is discovered, for the sake of her reputation they must wed!

LIZ TYNER lives with her husband on an Oklahoma acreage she imagines is similar to the ones in the children’s book Where the Wild Things Are. Her lifestyle is a blend of old and new, and is sometimes comparable to the way people lived long ago. Liz is a member of various writing groups and has been writing since childhood. For more about her, visit liztyner.com.

Also by Liz Tyner

The Notorious Countess

The Runaway Governess

The Wallflower Duchess

Redeeming the Roguish Rake

Saying I Do to the Scoundrel

To Win a Wallflower

It’s Marriage or Ruin

English Rogues and Grecian Goddesses miniseries

Safe in the Earl’s Arms

A Captain and a Rogue

Forbidden to the Duke

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Compromised into Marriage

Liz Tyner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90136-3

COMPROMISED INTO MARRIAGE

© 2020 Elizabeth Tyner

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

She ached to stay alive.

Vivian put one foot in front of the other, her arm linked in her older companion’s for support. The morning’s rain still lingered in puddles and Vivian knew she would mark her half-boots with mud. She’d not left her home in three months and she was going to take a stroll with Mavis, or else.

She wished to be wearing her new dancing slippers, but that had been a frivolous purchase. Another pair to wear when she was alone, then hide away so no one would know how much she wished to attend soirées.

Her former governess gave her a sideways glance and Vivian smiled. They could do it. She could do it.

They walked down Park Lane, then turned so they could stroll past the town houses and return to their own home.

Vivian’s heart pounded. Perhaps the words the physician had told her mother had been correct. Perhaps she should accept that she would not live to see another birthday.

She didn’t really notice the town coach slowing at the side of the street. Two liveried men guided the horses to a stop. Drivers and horses were routinely going about their work. One of the coachmen dismounted as Vivian and Mavis walked alongside the carriage.

Mavis stepped close to the vehicle, avoiding a deposit from a horse.

The door swung open—there were no steps beneath it. Before Vivian could react, the door crashed into Mavis’s head.

Thwack.

Mavis’s bonnet bounced from her head as silver hair splayed out and she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Life blasted through Vivian’s limbs. She called out her companion’s name.

Mavis stirred.

‘My pardon.’ The man who’d opened the carriage door rushed the words, while his clasp on both of Vivian’s arms lifted her aside as effortlessly as a chess piece.

He knelt over Mavis, assessing her injuries. Mavis moaned.

Fear clutched at Vivian, freezing her movements.

‘Jasper. Go for the physician,’ he shouted to the coachman. Then he lifted the older woman up, his movements swift, minimal and controlled. The shoulders of his coat tightened, but no strain showed on his face.

The servant slapped the ribands and the horses galloped away.

The stranger carried Mavis and, in only a few long strides, he was over the threshold of one of the town houses.

Vivian stood, still grasping what had just happened. She clasped her bonnet strings, staring after the man who’d dashed away with her dearest friend in his arms.

She’d not thought someone with such long legs could have changed direction, crouched, stopped, then raced into action again. She’d watched, confusion flittering through her mind at what was happening in front of her.

She pulled her thoughts together and gathered all her resources. Then she rushed as fast as she could to the doorway without having any idea whose house it was. Nothing mattered but that she help Mavis.

Once inside the entrance, she noticed everything about the home gleamed, which somehow eased her fears.

A butler, mouth open, stared at her as she stopped in the entry. He didn’t seem to know whether to run after his employer, or attend to her.

‘Where’s Mavis?’ she asked.

He pointed to the stairway. ‘Door on the right.’

She grasped her skirt in both hands and ignored all the things Mavis had taught her about being a proper lady. She ran up the stairs, her breaths coming quickly from the effort, reticule bouncing.

At the top, she shot through the open door, the butler following in her wake.

Mavis was on a sofa. The tall man stood over her, knees bent, and his shoulders obscuring Mavis.

Vivian moved to the left, reassured to see her companion awake.

‘Just a bump. A bump.’ Mavis reached up, her gloved hand touching her nose. When she pulled back her hand, she saw the blood, wavered, and slumped against the cushions.

The black-coated man whirled to the butler. ‘Waincott. Fetch Mrs Rush.’

The servant retreated, following the order.

The man saw Vivian. He moved forward, his touch skimming Vivian’s arm, reassuring her. ‘My housekeeper will help. She’ll know what to do until the physician gets here.’

His attention returned to Mavis as she stirred again.

Moments later, an older female rushed past Vivian. ‘Let me see to her.’ She carried a bowl of water. ‘Stand back, Everleigh.’

She put the container on a table and bent over Mavis, who was mumbling about the pain.

‘What day is it?’ The housekeeper sloshed the cloth in the basin.

‘The day I got whacked on the head.’

‘Yes.’ The housekeeper touched Mavis’s chin, moving it a bit so she could examine her closely. ‘Your nose has already stopped bleeding. You’re going to have the biggest black shiner I ever saw. Let me wipe away the blood to see the damage. Next, we’ll work on a good tale for you to tell about getting thumped by a jealous debutante.’

Mavis laughed.

The housekeeper directed a comment to Vivian. ‘Leave it to me. She’s got a drop of blood on her clothes. I want to get it out before it sets.’

‘Will she be fine?’ Vivian asked, her clasp tight at her chest.

‘Most certainly I will,’ Mavis answered, her voice gaining strength. ‘Give me an instant to catch my breath, Vivian, and we’ll take our leave.’

The man in the black frock coat fixed his ice-blue gaze on Vivian. In seconds, she felt he’d beheld her so closely that she could have left the room and, had he been an artist, he could have sketched a complete likeness of her.

Then he spoke to Mavis. ‘You’ll not be leaving until the carriage is back, the physician has seen you and my coachmen can escort you home. And only then if the physician is convinced it is safe.’

The lady who’d rushed to Mavis’s side wrung out a rag, splashing water in the bowl. ‘I’ll be the judge of when she’s able to move.’ She stretched the cloth wide. ‘Us vixens got to stick together.’

Mavis chuckled.

When she realised her friend could laugh, Vivian’s strength waned as quickly as a marionette with its strings removed.

‘I need to sit, sir.’ She gazed up at him.

She felt his fingers clamp on both her arms again as he pulled her to him, keeping her aloft by the power in his hands and his gaze. ‘Were you injured?’

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Not until you grasped my arms.’

She almost stumbled he released her so fast. Her breathing took all her strength.

She saw a force in front of her that she’d never bet against and her knees weakened again. Then his eyes warmed, consoling her.

His arm caught her waist and his broad shoulders were no longer imposing, but bolstering. He guided her into a library smelling faintly of tobacco. Leading her to a chair big enough for her to curl up and sleep in, he released her, moving slowly so he would be ready should she fall. She could feel his touch in a different way than she’d felt anyone else’s.

‘You’re shaken from seeing your companion’s blood,’ he stated.

She shook her head, and let herself slide into the chair. ‘No. I’m just...’ She smiled and shrugged. ‘I’m dying. I saw the letter my mother wrote my aunt before she sealed it. It’s a secret. Mustn’t let anyone find out.’ She settled and held an extended index finger to her lips in a mock command to shush him. ‘There’s no hope. Nothing can be done.’

For all the weakness she felt in her bones, she could see the opposite in him.

He stood solid—a man who could make Almack’s patronesses fluster. He had more strength in his voice than she could ever remember having in her whole body. But at this moment, his gaze told her he would use all his resources for her comfort and the knowledge rushed through her with intensity.

‘I overtired myself.’ She sat straighter. ‘We would be pleased to allow your carriage to see us home later. We’d much appreciate it.’ She emphasised, ‘I would much appreciate it.’

‘Would you like water or...’ he observed her expression ‘...or brandy?’

She waved away the drink. ‘I’m worried about my companion.’

‘She is in good care. My housekeeper, Mrs Rush—well...’ he shrugged, smiling ‘...you’d have to know her. And I much regret the accident.’

‘As long as Mavis recovers, I’ll forgive you.’ She met his deep blue examination. She saw his knowledge that he’d already been forgiven.

‘Then we must see she recovers.’ He walked to a decanter, touched the stopper, then looked over his shoulder at her. ‘You’re sure?’

She nodded. ‘I need to rest. Being ill is tiresome.’

‘What illness do you have?’

She reached to pull up the shoulder of her gown. Her clothes all seemed to fall from her body.

‘I had an accident involving a horse where my sides were bruised and I’ve never got over it. I take more and more medicines and I get weaker and weaker. The physician said my bile is building. He claims my humours are in severe disorder... Hope is diminished. He doesn’t expect me to recover.’ She forced a smile. ‘That is what my mother wrote my aunt. The doctor tells me, “These things take time. We’ll have you dancing soon.”’

‘I can have my physician speak with you after he sees to your friend.’

The idea tempted her. A chance. ‘Who is the physician?’

‘Gavin Hamilton.’

She waved the idea away, trying not to show emotion. ‘I’ve seen him already. Not long after Mother’s doctor became concerned. Hamilton could find nothing wrong with me. He said I should recover completely. My mother’s physician was furious that we had consulted someone else. He said the man was insensible to not see the obvious. He increased the dosage of my medicinals and hot plasters. I have enough Fowler’s solution to begin my own apothecary shop.’

‘You must speak with Hamilton again. He’s the best physician in London. It should hurt nothing. Give the man something pleasant to do, to have a patient as charming as you.’

She laughed and let her eyelids fall while shaking her head. ‘Mother’s doctor has been treating the family since before she was born. She trusts him.’

He crossed to her.

‘You will let Hamilton be the judge of that,’ his words commanded softly.

‘He cannot help me.’

He reached up, brushing back a lock of her hair and she knew he felt dampness on her skin.

His touch soothed her.

‘This chair is so comfortable.’ She grasped the leather. ‘It has the scent of a new pair of riding boots. I could fall asleep here.’

‘I don’t know about the scent of a chair.’ She noticed his hand brushing her forehead again. ‘But the lady sitting in it smells of roses and is quite lovely enough to be the entire garden.’

She let her lips turn up in acknowledgment of his compliment. ‘I do not mind being ill so much.’ Biting her lip, she hid her expression from him. ‘I just wish I had more time to live. I’m never allowed to attend any soirées now, as my mother fears the exertion will make me worse and refuses all invitations.’

He reached behind him and pulled up a foot rest, sitting on it.

He clasped her hand. Even through her doeskin gloves, his touch transferred strength into her body.

‘You should dance. You should live each second,’ he spoke, the same timbre in his words a father might use in speaking with a favoured child.

‘After the accident, my mother has seen me guarded and fussed over more than any newborn infant. She cries if she sees me dancing, afraid I am overtiring myself and preventing my recovery. Mother is napping now, or I would not have been allowed to leave the house.’

‘She loves you dearly. I have not had an occasion where I could be treated so.’

‘Oh, you wouldn’t like it.’ She shuddered. ‘Although it’s easy to fall into the trap of having lemonade brought to you before you raise your arm, or a shawl before the air has a chill. After my accident, Mother hired two maids more for me.’ Vivian laughed.

‘Can you imagine, trying to rest while having a maid staring at your every movement so she might give you a handkerchief or anything you want? One day, I said I must have a pair of new gloves. I sent one servant to Bond Street and I sent the other to purchase confectioneries.’ She let out a satisfied breath. ‘I had an afternoon to myself. Then when they returned, we admired the gloves and ate the treats.’

‘Your mother wants the best for you.’ His voice rumbled and she relaxed, wishing she could sit and listen to the roughened softness for hours.

He still held her hand and she realised she felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to another person—even Mavis. This was the first time being ill had had a benefit.

Vivian decided she had earned some licence because of the accident and her trials. She stowed propriety away. He sat much too near, she supposed, for only just meeting her. And she was ill. And he did have an interesting appearance, although not precisely handsome. His chin, maybe it was a bit too wide, or maybe his hair fell too straight, but, no—it suited him. She liked what she saw, especially since she’d seen him dash Mavis up in his arms.

She could not even let herself think about his legs—she’d not seen oak timbers that lean and strong.

‘I wish... I just wish I could be like the others who go to soirées and waltz and flirt with kind gentlemen.’ She heard the wistfulness in her voice.

‘How do you feel,’ he whispered to her, leaning so near she could smell ambergris, ‘about flirting with an unkind gentleman?’

He moved close, closer than she’d ever been to a male other than her father.

‘I suppose if that is what’s available, I will take what I can get.’ She savoured his proximity. ‘Do you know any such men?’

‘Only one present,’ he whispered, standing and grasping her hands. He pulled her upright. ‘May I have this waltz?’

He lifted her right hand high and his flattened at her back.

‘I fear I’m too tired to dance.’ She let an apology sound in her words and she drew away, but he didn’t release her.

‘I’m heartbroken.’ His sincerity gave the words truth, whether they were true or not.

She reached to his shoulder, planning to push him back, but rested her fingers instead, feeling the firmness beneath. ‘So am I. To have such a partner, and not be able to enjoy a waltz. But I—’ His compassion touched her. ‘I don’t feel I am missing it so much now. To have been asked is as good as the dance, I believe.’

He stood, holding her as if he might whisk her into the steps. ‘I’m pleased to assist you.’

The room was silent, even though she could hear street callers from outside the window.

‘I realise we’ve had no introduction.’

‘Maybe it is best.’ She touched the lapel of his coat. ‘Then we can pretend this didn’t happen.’

She felt his hands slide to her waist. She didn’t wear a firm corset—she had so little to be pulled tight. She could feel his touch pulse into her whole body. Strength blasted into her limbs.

‘I won’t pretend this didn’t happen, although I see no reason to mention it to anyone.’ He kept her close. ‘A memory such as this is to be savoured.’

‘I will enjoy the recollection as well.’ She brushed at his chest, amazed at how solid he felt and that he didn’t step away. She knew she could run her palm the full length or breadth of his waistcoat and he wouldn’t move, or complain. But she stilled. She’d transgressed on his good nature too far already.

‘I suppose you’ve decided I must escort you to your chaperon. Wise of you, I admit.’

Yes, it was wise of her. But she didn’t want to be wise. She wanted to live life like the other women. She missed the soirées and the music, and the sight of something other than the walls of her house.

This was an opportunity, much like seeing a rainbow. When rain clouds disappeared and the colours suddenly appeared in the sky, she wanted to keep them in her sight for ever. But, they only lingered in the memory after fading away. Vivid colours strengthening in the sky, then vanishing. A memory to clasp before she slept.

A prospect that might never arrive again.

Like the man in front of her.

It was as if the same good fortune that created the rainbows now worked to give her one last chance for something she had missed out on. She’d matured expecting that she would some day have a beloved and they would spend long evenings together, holding hands, whispering and, perhaps, sharing a kiss. That he would be the one she’d waited for.

But the time to wait had expired. She had to count the minutes left, not the days.

Sympathy flourished in his expression and nothing else in the world seemed to matter to him but her.

She gathered her courage, but she didn’t really need it when she considered his expression. His gaze told her she could say anything in the world to him. Anything, and he would not have censured her or disapproved.

‘You know I’ve never been kissed.’ She gazed at him, knowing that this would be her last opportunity. She’d never been so bold with her former sweetheart and she’d regretted it after he’d left.

Particularly after she’d discovered she might never again have another prospect.

‘Never?’ His brows rose.

‘Well, my gloves. But it wasn’t impressive. I once saw a maid creep away with the stable boy and he kissed her, and she didn’t appear to mind at all. They seemed amazed.’

He stepped back and moved to the door, still holding her hand. At the door, he shut it, then twirled her around so that her back rested against it. An arm’s width separated them. He softly grasped her waist and his gaze made her feel cherished.

‘But something for you to consider.’ Seriousness tinged his words. ‘To wonder about a kiss is to wonder. But if you have one and like it, and can’t have another, you might not be as happy as before. I’m certain of that.’

‘You have a point.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I must do the proper thing. As I have always done what is proper, I shouldn’t change now.’

‘Always?’

She tilted her head. ‘Until just now. Then, I guess I felt a little sorry for myself and decided I might not have many more chances to be improper.’

She debated asking for a kiss again. Instead of speaking, she watched him move minutely, taking his time, and he pulled her into his arms. His body blended against hers and his hands secured her. Warm sensations rushed so fast she couldn’t decipher them. She’d entered a dream of fairy dust.

‘I might feel a little guilt,’ he said as he watched her. ‘But I can handle it. Can you?’

‘I’d like to find out.’

His lips feathered hers, the briefest instant, the tiniest twinkling.

Her body warmed and new strength flourished.

When he released her, it almost felt as if she had stepped into a different world. He studied her.

Now she knew what a kiss was, and she could be satisfied, step away and be happy with the memory. Her heart fluttered. She didn’t really want to step away. She wanted another kiss.

Disappointment overpowered her. Only one kiss. It had been rather like that first glimmer of a rainbow fading away before the colours brightened.

Her throat choked on all the words she could use to describe it.

She could not tell him how wonderful it was. How much it had meant to her and how she would carry it inside her the rest of her life. Words would never tell him the truth of it and she could not put it into sentences. He had answered her question. But if she told him how it felt, it would seem as if she were asking for more and being truly improper. She must maintain what dignity she had left. ‘It was adequate.’

‘Adequate?’ he asked, chin lowered as both brows rose.

She caught herself frowning, at a loss. How could she tell him he’d been correct when he’d said that she would want more?

‘Thank you. That was kind of you.’ She patted his upper arm and smiled her appreciation.

He deliberated. Then he took her cheeks in his hands and his eyelids lowered. He moved forward and his lips found hers, and this time they brought the promise of the full rainbow with them.

His fingertips slid down, down, until he clasped her waist and held her. The intensity behind his lips fused itself into her body. She sparkled into starlight.

His mouth kept touching, exploring and feeling her with a bursting sweetness, but also with the charge of a sip of brandy she shouldn’t have taken. If not for his arms around her and the door at her back, she would have toppled to the floor.

To be held upright, aloft, by this man tingled her to her toes.

He backed away, still holding her upright. ‘So, your first true kiss? Adequate?’

She found her voice. ‘Exceedingly so. You taste of what I would think gunpowder should taste like if a female created it. All smoky and sparkly and a few more things for good measure.’

His lips curved and he brushed a kiss on her nose.

He ducked again, his lips taking her back to the place they’d been, only this time going deeper, further into the feelings. Further against her.

His mouth, tongue and body pressed, igniting and stealing breath.

He moved away from the kiss, his gaze darkened in a way she’d never seen.

After a few heartbeats, he said, ‘I suppose we should see how your friend is faring.’

She put a palm on his coat, unable to feel him for the thickness of the fabric. ‘We should.’

He rested his forehead against hers and still captured her. His voice spoke gentler than any man’s she’d ever heard. ‘Sweet, I tell you true when I say I would savour letting you learn all you wish to know about kisses, about a man’s body, a man’s desires and your own feelings. It would be a wonder.’

His lips almost touched hers. ‘But it’s not my place to teach you such things and I don’t wish to think of you lying awake, alone, regretting our time together, or regretting that we cannot still be exploring each other.’

He stepped away. ‘I could not be happy having a little of you and watching you go. I fear you are someone I might stay awake thinking of and not be satisfied because I couldn’t hold you. You should return to your companion. If for no other reason, then for the sake of my sleep and my dreams.’

‘I think I picked well for my first kiss.’ She brushed the gloved tip of her finger across his chin and heard a quiet chuckle.

She didn’t want to leave, but knew she must. Turning her head, she reached for the doorknob, but his hand was on it, reaching between her and the opening. He immediately moved aside, ushering her into the hallway.

The open door to the room where Mavis rested loomed in front of her.

‘The carriage is at your disposal for as long as you need it,’ he said. His footsteps sounded as he left, moving deeper into the house.

He didn’t follow her and the disappointment gouged, but she knew he mustn’t remain.

Vivian didn’t interrupt the conversation between Mrs Rush and Mavis.

Inside the room, Mavis sat, her arms crossed and her mouth grim. ‘I don’t need a physician.’

‘I’ll send someone to tell him we don’t need him,’ the housekeeper said.

Mavis agreed.

‘You’ve got a bump on the back of your head and some nice bruises. And a scratch on your nose.’ The housekeeper inspected Mavis. ‘You don’t need being poked at. When my Jimmy was a lad, he had worse bumps and could still get two switchings by the end of the day.’

‘I’m feeling much better,’ Mavis said.

‘A lady’s ills are best treated by us.’ The housekeeper dropped the cloth in the bowl of water. ‘When I was young, we didn’t go runnin’ to physicians when we had a nose bleed. We learned quick how to manage for ourselves.’

‘I have never needed a physician in my life.’ Mavis straightened her shoulders. ‘And that’s why I’m so healthy.’

‘Are you ready to return home?’ Vivian asked Mavis, concerned they might be missed.

Mavis shook her head. ‘Soon, dear. I’m really dashed, right now.’ She perused the housekeeper. ‘The tea you’ve sent the maid for—did you say lemon balm with chamomile?’

The housekeeper nodded. ‘A secret blend I learned from my aunt.’

Vivian saw another of the big chairs—she supposed an advantage of a household with a man such as she’d seen. She couldn’t help herself. She moved to the chair, curled into it and relaxed.

‘And I know the absolute best mixture for youthful skin, too,’ the housekeeper whispered.

‘Oh.’ Mavis raised herself up. ‘You must share. You must.’

‘Well...’ The housekeeper pushed at an errant curl slipping from her mob cap. ‘I really do not tell just anyone, but the master did bump you about.’

Vivian felt herself droop and leaned back into the chair, dozing, dreaming of butterflies with attractive shoulders. Fluttering long eyelashes on them as well. And beautifully soft lips covering a masculine firmness. And they inspected her, their eyes so clear and so blue and so deep they were like staring into softly tinted glass that she could fall into and be surrounded by the shades, enveloping her into an azure-tinted world of sparkling sunshine.

She slid from her dream, surprised to discover butterflies could be so attractive. Then she tensed, realising she was being stared at.

Both women—Mavis, bedraggled, and the housekeeper—stood over her, staring down.

‘You think it will work?’ Mavis asked the housekeeper.

‘Nothing to lose,’ the other woman said, observing Vivian.

‘What?’ Vivian asked, body tensing.

‘Now, dear, have I ever let you down?’ Mavis purred, a black and yellowish cast above her cheeks.

Chapter Two

Five days later, Vivian sat in a hackney carriage with her arms crossed. She inspected the profane word carved into the side of the equipage near her elbow.

‘If Mother finds out about this, she will lock me in my room.’ Vivian brushed a strand of hair back into place.

Mavis slumped in the seat across from her, her bonnet sliding down over her ear. ‘I assure you I’m not enjoying this either. If we’d not convinced your mother you were a bit better, she would never have gone with your father to visit her sister.’ Mavis shook her head. ‘Your mother trusts me.’

Vivian saw a cluster of briars and gorse beyond the window. ‘We’re going away from London. Down a country track, clouds in the sky—dark ones—and if it rains, we could be stuck here for days.’

‘If we get stuck...’ Mavis moved forward in her seat. ‘Both your parents will find out and toss me into the street.’

‘Convincing Mother I was feeling better was difficult. Without your help, I couldn’t have managed.’

‘We had no choice.’ Mavis tapped her reticule against Vivian’s knee. ‘You’re trembling even more, and weaker, I can tell. Maybe this woman can help. That housekeeper swears she can. Says she travels all about, studying remedies others use.’

‘That doesn’t mean they’ll work.’

‘Doesn’t mean they won’t. We had to leave while your mother is visiting your aunt because you know as well as I, she’d refuse to let you take such a journey. If you weren’t so ill, I’d never let the vagrant near you. She claims to be a woman of remedies and fortunes, and will likely state she can cobble a pair of boots should she think she can get a coin from it. But the housekeeper said she trusts her like no other. It seems she works without charge for the poorest and claims to let the rich pay her double.’

‘I cannot imagine how she will make me pay. My father is rich enough, but if he found out what I’m doing he would most likely send the magistrate for her.’

‘The housekeeper affirms the woman, Ella Etta, saved her son once.’ Mavis ducked her head, and her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Vivian, we have to try. The physician hasn’t helped you and it’s been years. They’ve had their chance. Chances.’

‘All my pin money went to hire this carriage.’

Mavis tapped her again with the reticule. ‘And the silver vase in your room. I’m not sure how I’ll explain that to your mother.’

‘Oh, Lady Darius,’ Vivian spoke in a mock-sweet voice, ‘the vase? We hardly ever use it and I needed some coin to take your daughter deep into the woods and toss her to a vagabond who lives there. Your daughter...um... Vivian. No, haven’t seen her since.’

Vivian dusted her gloves together and continued in the false tone. ‘Fussy little thing. She wore holes in my ears with all her complaining when the carriage went over a bump, as if I had anything to do with putting the road there.’

Mavis opened her reticule and took out a handkerchief, then dotted her forehead. ‘You are bearing up well. Just keep thinking things will work out for the best. Don’t imagine us disappearing into the woods and never being seen of again. Our carcases turning to weathered bones,’ she muttered to herself. ‘My bones will be weathered. They’re already halfway there.’

Vivian let herself slide sideways in the seat and propped herself in the corner. ‘Mavis. Mavis. Mavis. You’ve led me astray.’ She brushed a glove over the window pane. ‘Miles astray.’

The carriage listed to its side and lumbered along.

‘We are slowing,’ Mavis spoke, her voice toneless. ‘I hope we are at our destination. Otherwise...’

Vivian couldn’t keep herself from turning to the window. She saw two wagons, a donkey cart and a hut which might have been patched together from debris.

‘The housekeeper said they would be here.’ Mavis had a gloved hand at the window.

The door opened and the carriage steps were pulled down.

‘Out,’ Mavis commanded.

Vivian grimaced. ‘You pretend to be the rich, ill daughter of the baron. I’ll watch and see what happens.’

Mavis slapped at Vivian’s leg. ‘Out. Act like a diamond of the first water. These are common folk. They will expect it.’

Vivian stepped to the ground, thankful her legs held her upright.

The driver appeared ready to leave them without a backward glance. She hoped he remembered how upset she’d told him her father would be if anything happened to his precious, and only, daughter. She’d neglected to tell the driver her father might be so far in his cups he wouldn’t remember having a child.

She examined the encampment.

A man walked around the wagon parked under a sycamore tree and gave a brief nod to them before he retraced his steps. She heard a shout and he called out to someone, but Vivian couldn’t understand the name.

The man, hair streaked with white, remained far enough away he could hear them if they spoke, but not close enough to invite conversation. He sat on the ground, propping his back against a tree, his knees up to rest his arms, and watched them.

Mavis kept her voice low and barely moved her lips. ‘He acts as though he thinks we might steal something.’

Then Ella Etta appeared, wearing what might have been a man’s coat and boots, with a torn yellow skirt hem hanging over the footwear. The red scarf around her hair fluttered in the wind.

Vivian held herself firm and took a few steps forward, nervous to be walking under the canopy of dark trees, concerned about the forest closing in around her and the sentry who studied the ground in front of him, but knew their every move.

The tramp had nearly swaddled herself in clothes and her fingers reminded Vivian of dried-chicken leg bones, covered in rings.

‘I hear...’ Vivian quaked inside, but she stared down the old woman and ignored the curious scrutiny that circled her ‘...tales of your skills.’

Ella Etta smirked, showing teeth so healthy they could put a bear to shame.

Vivian’s strength all but disappeared. If not for Mavis, she would have pretended to be lost, asked directions to the nearest village and fled.

The hag’s countenance—every day of her life was shown there—held a confidence that Vivian preferred to back away from. But she’d nowhere to go for safety. The accident had changed that.

Ella Etta touched the loop dangling from her ear, partially hidden by the scarf. ‘It’s said stars ask my permission before they change places. Idle talk.’ She sniffed. ‘People should speak of the bigger things I do. Last morning, I wanted to rise before the sun, but also wanted to sleep more, so I delayed the sunrise until I wanted it. Naught is said of it.’

Vivian gave a soft click of her tongue and tilted her head. ‘That was you? Well, I cannot complain as I wished to rest longer as well. My thanks.’

Ella Etta gave a nod. ‘The first gift I give you. The second will cost more. And who might you be?’

‘Vivian Darius.’

The hag’s head jolted forward and she examined Vivian. ‘A baron’s daughter. Lord Darius.’

Vivian nodded. ‘I’m impressed.’

Ella Etta placed her booted feet flat on the ground and gave a shrug. ‘I may not read The Times, but I read palms. All the same.’ She frowned.

‘I need your medicine,’ Vivian spoke.

The older woman shrugged. ‘You were hurt in a...’ she waved an arm and the people watching lost interest, turning to resume their day ‘...by a horse.’

‘Yes. I was knocked about by one. Years ago. I’ve not recovered no matter how many remedies I take. They’ve given me enough treatments to make me well a thousand times over, but none of them has worked.’

Ella Etta gave a bare nod to the camp and stepped towards a fire pit. ‘Treatments,’ she said. ‘Little bottles?’

‘All sizes.’

The air briefly fanned the flames, stirring embers, then a stillness returned. ‘Come with me,’ she said.

Around the cooking area, several stumps had been turned into seats.

The woman led Vivian and Mavis to the fire pit.

Three poles joined to hold a chain and a bubbling pot over the embers. Vivian smelled stewing meat, as tempting as any from Cook’s kitchen.

Vivian absently pulled at her skirt so she could sit without wrinkling it.

‘No,’ Ella Etta rasped, pointing a finger to a seat near her. Vivian moved where instructed, so close their hems touched.

‘It’s warm sitting near the coals.’ Ella Etta used the end of the scarf to give herself a fan. ‘But the breeze is cool and the cooking rabbit smells good.’

Vivian heard Mavis settle almost behind her.

‘I’ve heard you may have medicine which can cure me,’ Vivian spoke, trying to keep the hope from sounding in her words.

Ella Etta held out a hand. ‘Give me your palm.’

Vivian slipped her glove away, dropped the doeskin in her lap and forced herself to remain unmoved when she felt the roughened skin touch her hand, pulling her fingers closer.

Ella Etta peered at the palm. Then she examined Vivian’s fingernails before she pressed at the skin over Vivian’s cheeks, causing her to clamp her teeth together.

‘You’re supposed to be examining my palm,’ Vivian muttered. ‘I thought you were part-fortune teller, part-matchmaker and part a mixer of herbs for treatments.’

‘I fix problems.’ A gleam appeared in her eye and she again pinched near Vivian’s jaw.

Vivian pulled away. ‘I am not a horse.’

She inspected Vivian’s skin. ‘I treat them also. They never complain.’

Ella Etta leaned forward. She smelled the same as Cook, but with more spice.

‘The price is high.’ She laughed, more to herself than anyone else. ‘But I may save you and, if I don’t, you will not return for your funds back.’

Vivian recoiled. ‘You are evil.’

‘No, I’m Ella Etta. Evil Etta was my mother.’

‘This is nonsense and I am tired.’ Vivian rose.

The old woman shook her head. ‘I cannot let you go without my medicinal.’ She waved a hand. A man stepped from the woods, holding what appeared to be a bundle of thorns that he gave to Ella Etta.

She held the bramble nest with both hands and moved the bundle forward so Vivian could examine it.

A stopper rested at the top. The thorns surrounded a bottle.

‘You follow my words without fail if you wish to live.’

‘First I must hear what you say, then decide,’ Vivian answered, keeping her words firm.

The woman chortled, her teeth showing, then glowered. ‘You bargain. But I do not change price.’

Vivian put all her haughtiness into one tilt of her head. ‘Well, tell me. I don’t wish to keep you from your business any longer.’

Ella Etta nodded. ‘Your cost is marriage to the son of the Earl who lives in the big house you just passed on your journey here.’

Vivian searched her mind. She’d been unaware of a mansion. And to marry the son of the house? Rot.

‘Thank you. No.’ Vivian stood and her glove tumbled from her lap to the ground. She swooped, picking up the doeskin. ‘I’ll not marry some man I’ve not met, or even say I would, just to get a parcel of thorns.’

‘You’ve met him.’ Mavis’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Vivian veered towards her friend. ‘I can’t have. I’ve not been here before and I don’t get out much, even in London.’

‘Lord Everleigh. His housekeeper sent us here,’ Mavis whispered. She touched the spot above her cheekbones.

Vivian didn’t move. Images of him. Memories of his lips returned to her mind. ‘Him?’ She barely let out the word.

Ella Etta cackled. ‘I say he sticks in a woman’s memory. Even an old widow like me notices. Legs like a steed. Shoulders like a draught horse.’ She grinned. ‘I’m sure the rest of him’s as strong as a stallion.’

Vivian dropped to the stump again, jarring her bottom. ‘Well, you might be able to get me to toss in some gold as well.’ She leaned forward. ‘Does he know you talk of him like this?’

‘No. I’ve watched him grow since he learned to escape his governess.’ She sighed. ‘He came here, on the day his mother died, and said his father and grandfather were fighting over what dress she was to wear last. I told him it didn’t matter to her, so it shouldn’t matter to them.’

Ella Etta patted Vivian’s knee. ‘He was... What is it said? All knees and elbows?’ She lowered her voice. ‘And feet. Wagon big. He grew to fit them.’

‘Assuming I agree,’ Vivian lowered her voice, muttering, ‘though it is hard to believe I should... Assuming I agree,’ she continued, ‘just what does he have to say of such a thing?’

Ella Etta groaned. ‘You expect me to do everything?’ She thrust out her arm, waving in the air. ‘I save your life—you take care of getting the marriage promise.’

Vivian laughed. ‘I dare say he has no wish to marry me.’

Ella Etta held her palms out flat, her hands and sneer mocking Vivian’s words. ‘He does not. He has no wish to tie himself to a wife or he would have married long ago. It’s not difficult for a man to find a mate when a lady’s vision cannot ignore him.’ She shrugged. ‘You aren’t able to birth a strong babe now, but with my medicine, you will be. Do not complain that I send you to a man without love.’ She said the word as if it poisoned her lips. ‘Nonsense. His heart was destroyed long ago.’ Her rings shone as she waved them about. ‘But it left behind a good casing.’

The words lodged in Vivian’s mind. She wouldn’t have said Everleigh had no heart. He had treated Mavis with consideration and Vivian had no issue with how he’d treated her. Ella Etta was daft, but still...

‘How would I convince him of his marriage?’ Vivian tried to read the answer in Ella Etta’s expression.

The hag gaped at Vivian. ‘Not my worry. That would be your cost. I give you the healing potion. Tell you the way it must be administered. If you agree. Fine. Or, you don’t agree and we part.’ She leaned forward again and her voice rumbled from inside her ribs. ‘We are about to part, either way.’

Vivian felt the first bubble of laughter inside herself that she’d experienced in a long time.

Sure, she could be betrothed, if that was what the woman wanted to hear. Vivian could convince the hag of a secret imaginary betrothal to please her. No one would even need to tell Everleigh. And if Vivian didn’t get well she could spend her last days smiling, thinking of the imaginary bond she had with Everleigh and pretending it real.

‘Very well. I agree.’

Mavis’s sputtering cough caused both to turn her direction.

‘Smoke in her eyes,’ the vagabond muttered. ‘Happens to many of my visitors.’

‘I will marry him.’ Vivian held out her hands for the thorns. ‘But it will be a quiet wedding. Few guests. You can read about it in the visitors’ palms.’

‘Not so rushed.’ The woman put her nose almost to Vivian’s. She gasped in a breath while the hag commanded, ‘There are rules and you must not fail. You must stop any other curatives. Take my mixture with theirs—you may die before you’ve time to spit. Not a soft, sweet death. One like clawing demons tearing your entrails from your body.’ She sneered, ‘Saw it once. Purple lips. Drooling. He pulled out his own tongue. Gave it to me for a memento. Ugly tongue, but cooked up well.’

‘We’re leaving.’ Mavis jumped to her feet, forcing out the words, and grabbed Vivian’s arm.

The vagabond put a hand to her chest and whimpered. ‘I merely say truth because I don’t want the young one to suffer.’

‘Wait,’ Vivian said, holding back. ‘It’s my only chance.’

‘What have you got to lose?’ Ella Etta asked. ‘Take a small amount of my potion each day. No more than you might cup in something no bigger than a small fingernail. Just don’t forget that you must also convince the Earl’s son to marry you. He’s at his father’s house now.’

‘I must take my medicinals.’ Letting her hands drop, Vivian backed away. ‘I must.’

‘No.’ A drop flew out of Ella Etta’s mouth. Vivian wasn’t sure if it was spit or venom.

‘My observations tell me when mixtures work—and it’s not those other potions. Pay attention to yourself, Child. What you are taking now is not helping you. You were injured years ago.’

Vivian pulled at the shoulder of her gown. ‘Well, the physician has given me his verdict.’ Vivian held out both hands for the bundle. ‘I accept it and a bundle of thorns would make a good tale to tell to...’ she almost laughed ‘...mine and Everleigh’s children.’

Ella Etta moved to her feet with a tiny huff, still holding the thorns, and her voice flowed around them with the thickness of a wetted cloth. ‘You will be well. But you must not forget the bargain.’

‘What if I get well and Everleigh has no wish to marry me?’

‘You must make him wish.’ She waved her arm. ‘But what do I know? I’m just an old traveller who lives in a hut some days and some days I live nowhere. People travel far for me to help them. And I do.’ She scowled. ‘Now, go away.’

One of the thorns pricked her when Vivian tightened her grasp on the parcel. She put the injured finger to her lips and she remembered Everleigh’s kiss.

Chapter Three

The carriage rolled from the camp and Vivian felt the brambles when the wheels jolted. She held the potion with both hands. ‘Shouldn’t you congratulate me on my forthcoming betrothal, Mavis?’

‘I suppose,’ Mavis grumbled. ‘I cannot believe Mrs Rush sent me here. I cannot believe that bedraggled swindler spoke so. And then to say the Everleigh lad has no heart. Though I don’t know if it matters much. If he’s going to be missing something, might as well be something a man doesn’t use.’ She counted on her fingers. ‘He could be missing a heart and a brain, and I wouldn’t hold it against him.’

‘Mavis,’ Vivian chastised her, sitting the potion at the corner of the seat across from her. ‘I’m sure he is kind. He was caring of you when your head was knocked.’ Vivian peered out of the window, searching for Earl Rothwilde’s estate.

Mavis put her handkerchief away. ‘Ought to have been. He nearly put my nose on the back of my head.’ She prodded the yellowish skin around her cheeks. ‘It’s still tender.’

‘I am going to tell the driver we need respite. I’ll promise him extra payment to take us home in the morning if we are offered a chance to stay the night.’

‘You aren’t serious?’ Mavis frowned.

Vivian took a coin from inside her bag. ‘We will see if the mansion ahead can help poor travellers, particularly one who is ill.’

Mavis shook her head and grabbed for the coin. ‘No. I forbid it. Absolutely forbid.’

Vivian quickly moved aside, keeping the funds from her friend. ‘I must, Mavis. I must.’

‘Fine,’ Mavis said, reaching out a palm for the money. ‘Do what you wish. Best let me speak with the driver. I’ll be able to convince him to stay until tomorrow if needed. But you’re going to be in dire straits if your parents return from their visit a few days early. And so will I. We’ll likely both be looking for employment.’

After Vivian gave her the money, Mavis settled into her seat, pointing to the window. A copse of trees hugged the road, one limb so close it brushed the side of the vehicle. Mavis jerked away as if the limb could grab her. ‘That mansion appeared perfect for a body snatcher to reside in. A snatcher would feel he could just sit around waiting for business to come his way.’

Vivian forced a smile. ‘No matter. I can meet his family. Might as well begin the courtship by cosying up to his relations.’

How foolish, she decided, to entertain any hope of recovery based on the words of a vagrant in the forest who peddled nonsense and notions. Then to stick the vial in a nest of brambles? She had to be daft.

And to accept such a potion? Vivian cringed at what she’d done. She’d sunk to putting her hope in a jumble of balderdash.

She wanted to rip it apart, but she couldn’t without hurting herself.

Suddenly, she didn’t feel she could wait any longer. She reached for the stopper, tugged it out, touched the golden liquid to her fingertip and tasted. ‘Mavis. This is much sweeter than the physician’s remedies. It tastes like honey.’

‘Don’t let yourself get fooled by sweetness. You’re about to open a box you can’t close.’ She put her hand to her head. ‘It is all my fault.’

‘I’ve had my fill of illness. I can hardly remember what it feels like to be well. If I’m going to die, I should live now.’

‘Apparently, you wish to take me with you.’

Vivian thumped the carriage top, opened the small window and gave the driver instructions. When he stopped at the mansion, Mavis gave him the coin as Vivian walked forward, examining the house while Mavis followed behind.

When the butler let them into the house, Vivian took Mavis’s arm for support. The carriage ride, the illness, the dropping temperature—all had taken her strength. She wasn’t certain she could have made it back to London.

Vivian felt Mavis’s nudge. They both inspected the vaulted ceiling and even though the stairway went upwards, the landing above closed in around it, the dark, ornate wood of the walls arching over. An entrance to intimidate rather than impress.

The butler viewed their hesitation, a superior glimmer of humour in his face. ‘Please go forward,’ he said.

He led them to a drawing room decorated with the same dark panelling as the hallway. Even the thick rug in the drawing room—she couldn’t tell if it was Aubusson, although she knew the flower design woven around the edge must have cost dearly—had faded roses on it clustered among brown leaves.

An older man, cane in hand, stepped in later, head held high by a stiff collar. As he got closer, Vivian realised the clothing he wore, while elegant, had faded into hints of the black it had once been. His bearing suggested privilege, but his dress said he would not attend a tailor until he felt like it and his expression said praise from him would cost more than the rug.

‘My butler says you’re seeking refuge as you fear the roads may become impassable if the rain arrives. Clouds are gathering and the sky is ominous.’ The older man lifted the cane from the floor, pointing the tip to the outdoors. ‘You are welcome to stay the night. I have business to see to with the tenants and you can have shelter here.’

Vivian nodded, feeling the thump as her reticule bounced against her. The potion made the bag too portly to close. She didn’t have to act to show her frailty. ‘The journey today has worn me out. I have a wasting disease, contracted after an accident.’ Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘I was told nearby would be an old woman with medicinals to cure me. I’ve just been to see her. But the weather is threatening and I fear travelling as the night is closing in.’

The man waved his hand. ‘My dear lady, that old beggar often makes a nuisance of herself and, I can assure you, she will only take your funds and give you nothing more than false hopes in return. I let her live on my property out of foolish generosity. Besides, she was once the mistress of my gamekeeper and she lived with him at the edge of my property. I’ve never complained when she returns to visit as she is penniless and had nowhere else to go when he died. I built a new home for the next gamekeeper closer to the estate.’

‘It was very kind of you to let her stay on.’

‘Her family has been near here for centuries, if the tales are to be believed. I could not give her a job inside the house. She’d likely end up hanged for theft if I did so. At least now she earns a few coins with her mixtures and her foolish fortune telling. She’s the only person some of the servants trust for their ills, so I don’t have the notion to send her away. Besides, she never stays long. She goes to the Bartholomew Fair, tells fortunes, sells herbs and makes her way. My wife believed in her nonsense and those curatives Ella Etta mixes, but nothing could save the Countess. She took ill so quickly. I assure you, Ella Etta is like a spider spinning webs of lies to catch people. Beware of her. She would likely poison you as not. And charge for it.’

Vivian took in a halted breath. Ella Etta was her last hope.

Her legs gave way and she fell into Mavis. The older woman stumbled to hold her and, for an instant, Vivian thought they’d both land in a heap. Then the fear faded and determination took its place. Vivian’s strength returned, but she didn’t let it show. She didn’t want to go back into that conveyance until she’d rested. The ruts mixed with the lack of good springs, and the seats with the flattened padding, were brutal.

The man stepped beside them and clamped his fingers around Vivian’s arm, causing pain.

‘Burton. Burton...’ he shouted. ‘Help us.’

‘I have her,’ Mavis said, shaking his grasp loose and holding Vivian. ‘She’s better now. We don’t need help. Just a place for her to rest.’

Mavis half-lifted her up the stairs, her voice guiding Vivian.

‘The light chamber,’ the older man called out.

Vivian knew she could hardly walk a few steps more, but she didn’t care. At least if she died here, it would be a change of scenery.

Once they got to the room, Mavis took Vivian’s pelisse and reticule, and helped her get comfortable in a chair. Then, she pinched Vivian.

Vivian jerked away. ‘Mavis, if you pinch me one more time, I’m going to cut the ties off all your bonnets.’

‘Fine, Miss Vivian. You’ve got us shelter in the last place I’d want to shelter. This’ll take some coin to keep the servants quiet to your mother when she returns. If your father discovers this, he will toss me out on my ear and no one will be able to stop him. We should never stay overnight.’ She crossed her arms. ‘You must take a deep breath, gather your last vestiges of strength and we must go.’

Vivian pulled her arm back. ‘So, I am not even to choose where I am to die.’

‘Not unless you choose your family home.’ Mavis tapped her arm. ‘Don’t speak nonsense about dying. I will not hear of it. You heard the Earl—that man must have been the Earl. He said the servants trust the hag’s treatments. But then, so did his wife and she is no longer with us.’

Vivian drew in a deep breath. ‘I can imagine whispers of this getting about. You know I would not be here if I weren’t ill. Besides, you should be able to convince the other servants to keep silent about this trip. Give them a bottle of Father’s wine. He’ll not notice it because he’ll think he drank it.’

‘He’s trying to keep himself from the wine. That is the reason he agreed to go with your mother. To get a fresh start. He knows he tipples too much.’

Vivian surveyed her reticule. Her father had never been foxed so much until she became ill. Then, the drink seemed to take over.

Her illness wasn’t just destroying her. It had captured her family.

She scrambled for the reticule ties, jerking them open, and removed the thorns, unable to feel the pricks on her skin now.

‘Vivian...’ Mavis’s voice was hesitant, but when she saw what Vivian was doing, she lurched forward, trying to pull the thorns from Vivian’s grasp. ‘I didn’t realise how tattered Ella Etta would appear. I cannot trust her.’

Vivian stepped back. ‘She surely felt sorry for my frailty and planned to soothe my mind, trying to give me a pleasant tale to think of before I slept—a handsome man to marry. Hope is a pleasant thing to give someone. Better than a curse.’

‘That could be poison.’

‘Then I will die quicker and the question of whether I will recover will be solved.’

‘That is nonsense.’ Mavis reached for the thorns again, but Vivian kept them from her reach.

‘It is my last chance for life. I will take it.’ Vivian retained the bundle.

Mavis backed away. ‘I am pleased you still wish to live. After the accident, when you were struggling, I feared you didn’t want to get well.’

Vivian didn’t hide the wistfulness in her voice. ‘I do want to dance a waltz at a ball and wear a silk gown. I do want to live. I am tired of waiting until I am better, or of waiting until I die. I am tired of waiting.’

Mavis sniffled. ‘You cannot talk of death, Vivian. You are your parents’ life. It will kill us all if anything happens to you.’

A knock sounded at the door. Vivian called out, ‘Enter.’

A servant marched in, mob cap crisp on her head while her silver hair hung limp. Her apron covered her dark dress and lingering smells of the kitchen surrounded her. ‘I see to the house for the Earl. Tonight, would you prefer a tray or to eat...’ her voice lowered and she rushed her words ‘...in the dining room?’

‘My companion and I would prefer the dining room, of course.’ Vivian knew her chin tilted up as well as any royal’s.

The housekeeper ignored the movement. ‘I heard the Earl’s voice when you arrived. Be glad he warned you away from that thieving, scrabbling vagrant and her family which scuffles around the countryside like vultures, but without the same goodness in ’em. Rothwilde has the kindness of the saints to let them live on his property.’

‘I can’t believe they’re murderous,’ Vivian said. ‘They’d be hanged.’

‘Who’s to say a few haven’t been led to the gallows from time to time? You’ll stay far away from ’em if you know what’s good.’ The housekeeper got caught up in her tale. ‘It’s said Ella Etta even gets mixtures from the apothecary and stirs them into something else. I think she plans to poison us all. I know the other servants trust her, but I don’t. Whenever her troop is in the area, half the fruit from the orchard disappears. Sometimes even the root crops go missing and not because of a rabbit.’

‘Why isn’t she brought to a Court of Petty Sessions by the Earl, or held for the Assizes?’ Vivian asked.

The housekeeper nodded. ‘If the Earl runs them vagabonds away or brings one to justice, they’d probably burn the house while we sleep or curse us all. They’re like a nest of bees and we don’t stir ’em up.’

‘Makes me long for London and the friendly cutpurses,’ Vivian said.

The housekeeper nodded. ‘The city’s far safer, I’d expect.’ She moved to the mirror, took out a cloth and wiped the glass as if wiping away the reflection of anyone she might not wish to see.

Then she went to the door, still holding the cleaning cloth, and put her empty hand on the wood. She paused and with no subservience in her gaze, said, ‘Then it will be the three of you for dinner. The Earl’s estate work will be keeping him busy tonight and he won’t be joining you.’

‘Three?’

‘The eldest son is here.’ She watched Vivian. ‘I suppose he returned because it gets tiresome being unmarried, happy in that state, and finding oneself the object of pursuit.’

‘Goodness...’ Vivian widened her eyes. ‘How fortunate for me to be able to meet an unmarried son of an earl. I am indeed blessed.’

The housekeeper gave a swift perusal of Vivian, then snapped her cloth before she tucked it back in her apron. ‘I’ll send someone to fetch you when it’s time to eat.’

The housekeeper walked out and Mavis lowered her voice, muttering to Vivian, ‘She believes you’re in pursuit of a husband, not health.’ She gave a nod to the door after the housekeeper closed it. ‘I don’t like her. She’s above herself. Acts like the lady of the house.’

‘She is uppity and not in a nice way as you are.’

‘I might have stretched the truth to get my job as your governess. I realised my good fortune at landing such a post and did the best I could to please your mother and do right by you.’

Mavis absently straightened the tablecloth. ‘It touched my heart when your mother wanted me to stay on as your companion when you’d blossomed into a young woman and I wasn’t needed as a governess. Best home I’ve ever been in and I’m not only referring to the quality of the wall coverings. I don’t want to talk to you about all I’ve seen before I joined your family. Let you stay innocent. Life is hard enough. Those references your mother saw for me... She didn’t check them as close as she should have.’

Vivian studied her companion.

‘That old beggar...there but for the grace of forgery go I.’

‘You could be sacked, Mavis.’

‘I likely will be by your father—if he finds out about this. I shouldn’t have listened to Mrs Rush.’ She saw Vivian’s expression and Mavis softened her tone. ‘But, it’s said the old drifter is as good as any physician. Mrs Rush told me the old woman’s fee would be based on what she thought we could afford.’

‘Ella Etta didn’t ask for funds...’

‘No. Just a marriage to an earl’s son.’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘Ella Etta likely has more tricks in her head than she has brains, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know her remedies.’

Vivian studied the thorns. ‘That potion is my last hope.’

But if Everleigh kissed her a few more times, she wouldn’t mind so badly if the potion was worthless.

Chapter Four

When she walked into the dining room, the first thing Vivian saw was Everleigh. He rose when she and Mavis entered.

Candles were set on a table which would seat ten people.

The aroma of baked lamb wafting in the air didn’t dispel the darkness created by the heavy curtains, and the walls were bare except for unlit sconces.

His lips stopped before he formed his first word of greeting, then he gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘I believe we have met before, ladies,’ he said as Mavis walked in behind Vivian.

‘I didn’t realise the travellers might be dear friends.’ He bowed briefly, giving both a kiss of the hand as greeting.

Mavis laughed. ‘Keep your distance, Lord Everleigh. I’ve just recovered from our first meeting.’

‘Please, both of you, my friends call me Everleigh,’ he said. ‘The day we first spoke was too eventful for us to remain formal.’

Everleigh touched Vivian’s elbow and he guided her to the first chair to the right of the head of the table. ‘My father has asked me to be host tonight. He’s at a meeting with his tenants. They’re discussing agricultural changes to increase crop yields and he wanted to get their views.’

He helped her sit and she felt the brush of his knuckles as he slid the chair forward. Even if the medicinal didn’t make her better, being close to Everleigh made her feel stronger.

Then he helped Mavis to her chair, and next he summoned a servant.

He left the host’s position empty and sat beside Mavis.

Vivian assessed him and he caught the question in her perusal. He answered, softly. ‘I never sit in his chair, at this house. He is Rothwilde and that is where he sits.’

Vivian nodded, accepting his words.

Everleigh’s lips had a tiny bracket on each side.

‘To what act of good fortune might I owe your presence?’ His voice, perfect, soft warmness and, underneath, strength.

‘Your housekeeper told us about the medicinals of the woman who lives nearby.’ Vivian moved slightly as a footman placed a large, filled platter on the table. ‘I’d hoped her herbs could provide some assistance in my illness.’ She placed her hand at the side of her plate. ‘What trust do you put in her?’

He lifted his glass, and took a sip before answering. ‘As a child, I used to anticipate her returning to the property with excitement. I have no difficulty with her. The tenants trust her mixtures and stay in her good graces. To me, she has been almost like an aunt, but not an aunt my family would ever accept into the household. It’s not possible for her to keep from speaking her mind.’

‘Might she put a curse on someone?’

A glimmer of humour passed across his face, but fell away. ‘She would claim to.’ He shrugged. ‘She has her own set of rules...like most people I assume. A capable, travelling sort, who would get a young boy to steal fruit for her and enjoy it as an adventure. The servants, for the most part, have no problem with her presence. She provides them with herbals, teas, advice and fortune telling for no charge but a blind eye to the rabbits and birds she and her group take. My father tolerates the clan. They don’t pilfer anything but food. If some extra hands are needed for a short time, the men and women at the camp are quick to accept the work.’

Then he regarded Mavis and said, ‘In case you are wondering, my driver is careful now not to pull up near anyone on the street.’

Mavis laughed and they began to discuss the confusion they’d experienced after the vehicle door crashed open.

While the conversation continued around her, Vivian’s thoughts kept returning to the kiss. He hardly seemed the same person, but he still drew her contemplation.

She’d kissed him and all thoughts of any part of him but his lips fled. Just thinking of it caused a warmth in her chest. She examined the food in front of her so he could not observe her face—just in case her feelings showed.

She’d not known how much she would dwell on the kiss. Yet he seemed unaffected by it and unaware of how much it had touched her. She supposed she should be thankful for that—but she wasn’t.

Everleigh stood when the meal ended. He offered his arm to Vivian. ‘I should show you the library, although it’s picked over. You might find a book you’d like.’

When they got to the room, she noticed it didn’t have a comforting old book smell, but an aroma of tobacco. An open box sat on a table and several cheroots lay inside it.

A large portrait of the most arresting beauty Vivian had ever seen hung over the fireplace. She had Everleigh’s blue eyes, although they didn’t seem to fit her somehow. Something about them almost jarred her. His mother had a stare exactly like Everleigh’s and it showed in the painting. On him, the expression blended into who he was and added to his attraction. On her, it overpowered her loveliness.

‘My mother,’ he said, almost making two sentences from the words.

‘She’s lovely.’ The perfection couldn’t have all been the work of a complimentary brush stroke.

Everleigh swept his view past Vivian. ‘I believe she was only seventeen—or somewhere around that age—when the portrait was painted. It was finished a week before her wedding.’

‘She does appear angelic.’

‘I’ve heard several say they’ve never seen anyone before or since who had her beauty. My grandfather adored her. His beloved daughter. She could do nothing wrong as far as he was concerned. He was a broken man when she died. She contracted a cough and, within hours, she was gone. We didn’t have time to find a physician or the herbalist. It was that quick.’

Everleigh returned to a discussion of the artwork. ‘But to her child—I suppose a mother could be unattractive and still a goddess. She died when she was still young. I’m pleased to have the painting as a reminder. Now, I’m a decade older than she was when she sat for the artist.’

‘A tragedy.’ Vivian examined the portrait. ‘When you observe the painting, you almost feel you know her.’

Everleigh had some similarity in his other features to the painting, but not a great deal. His mother’s were feminine and, if the portrait had been closer, an observer might have reached out to touch it, to see if it were real, or to see if her loveliness could be absorbed from the canvas.

Then Everleigh changed the subject, asking about the condition of the roads on the way, showing concern that Vivian’s family might worry and offering to send a rider to let them know she was well.

Vivian shook her head, telling Everleigh that neither her mother nor her father were at home. It would not go well if a servant contacted her father and informed him that she was gone.

She and Mavis had given the maids their leisure for the evening. Since Vivian had expected to be late, she’d told the servants not to attend to them in the morning unless they were summoned.

‘The time has flown,’ Everleigh said. ‘Please let me send someone to the stables to tell your driver that you will be staying the night. In darkness, it’s hard for a carriage driver to see the road as well and the horses will be better for the rest.’

‘That sounds wonderful,’ Vivian said.

Mavis squinted at her. ‘Such a surprising offer. We should hate to impose on you so much.’

‘No imposition at all.’

‘Vivian is still tired from the trip,’ Mavis said, standing near one of the large overstuffed chairs.

‘Nonsense. I’m refreshed.’ Vivian stood nearer the portrait, but turned her back to it. ‘I want to continue my good fortune of having the most interesting day I’ve had in some time.’

‘You’ve not had any days of note recently?’ Everleigh asked and Vivian saw the imp in him as he appraised her, giving a small challenge.

Mavis spoke quickly, her voice stern, and lips in a straight line. ‘I would say the day of my fall was eventful. You have mused over that more than once.’

‘That is exactly the day I was referring to as well.’ Laughter hid behind Everleigh’s words. His brows rose in silent comment and innocence flashed.

Vivian refused to think of the incident, because she knew if she did, her cheeks would truly ignite. Instead, she nodded. ‘I’m so thankful it was not worse.’

Everleigh put a hand to his chest and, with the slightest movement, acted as if an arrow had pierced him. ‘Mrs Mavis and Miss Darius, for both of you, I’m certainly pleased it was not...’ he appraised Vivian ‘...worse.’

‘I suppose I should stay as your chaperon, but this day has been a thorny one.’ Mavis patted back the strand of hair that had escaped from her bun. ‘I am too old to stay awake much longer, but you two can sit and read.’

‘Mavis,’ Vivian cautioned.

Everleigh understood Vivian’s view. Propriety demanded a chaperon.

Mavis stared at the Earl’s son. ‘You leave the door open, Everleigh.’ She tipped her head back.

Vivian watched Mavis. ‘If you’re concerned—stay. You are my companion.’

Mavis gave a long blink. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. If I were a sensible companion, I would never have let you stop here on the way home.’ She fixed a glower on Everleigh. ‘You will mind your behaviour with Vivian, Everleigh, or I will put a curse of my own on you.’ She waved a finger. ‘That concept is beyond frightening.’

‘You have my word that I will be a gentleman,’ Everleigh reassured her.

‘You have my word that I will be sleeping softly, listening,’ Mavis said, leaving.

Everleigh had kissed Vivian when they were alone before and that was a request he’d been honoured to fulfil. But he would take pains not to do anything that would give her the impression there would be more between them.

Besides, an evening with Vivian would make the solitude of the estate less stifling and she’d be on her way in the morning.

He wouldn’t have returned to his father’s house, except he’d broken up with Alexandria, and she’d not taken it well. She’d seen herself as a future countess and becoming a true member of the peerage. He’d had trouble convincing her it wasn’t to be. He’d distanced himself from her for months, but she didn’t want to let him go.

She’d taken to searching him out and he’d been polite to her, but insisted that they were not more than friends.

Her father hadn’t dissuaded her and Everleigh knew he’d wanted his daughter to be a countess, the same as his grandfather had wanted.

Everleigh had overlooked that at first, but then he’d realised that wasn’t the problem. The difficulty had been his lack of feelings.

The kiss with Vivian had sealed the end of his relationship with Alexandria. What had begun as a perfunctory moment with Vivian had instantly blossomed into something deeper.

He’d realised how superficial he’d been with Alexandria and she with him.

It made him ill at ease to see how he’d made the motions of courting, yet neither he nor Alexandria had much of a rapport.

He’d still considered marriage, but something inside him had rebelled at the notion, infusing a reluctance so deep he could not propose. When he’d realised that, he’d been firm in his final goodbye to Alexandria, even as she’d asked him to reconsider. He’d insisted it was not a possibility and said it would not be fair for either of them to entertain the notion.

Now, he understood his reluctance better.

Vivian was altogether different from Alexandria. He liked having Vivian close. It seemed to take away the suffocating feel of the estate. The only pleasant memories he had of the house were with his brother, Daniel, and his grandfather. When one of them hadn’t been available, he’d often visited Ella Etta if she were on the estate.

All had been well, until after university. His grandfather had died of an apoplexy. The tension had momentarily lessened between him and his father, although he’d sensed his father was dancing on the inside to have the older man gone. The peace had been brief.

He’d never stayed long at the estate after that.

Vivian paused when Everleigh touched her arm.

‘I will call a maid if you wish,’ he said. ‘But I promise you I will act as if your companion is still sitting in the room.’

Vivian hid her disappointment.

‘Why don’t I read to you?’ he suggested, lighting the branch of candles.

She raised her brows. ‘This library only has about ten books in it. I would assume you’re not overly fond of reading.’

‘My father’s absconded with most of the volumes. If you were to see his chambers, you’d see the library. No servant is allowed to move a book and he has them stacked along the walls. Though most of them are truly mine—passed to me from my mother’s father. He considered this his home.’

He held out his arm, letting Vivian precede him to the books. ‘Grandfather had a way of showing up unannounced, with baggage, for all my school holidays.’

‘It is good that he could be close to you.’

‘Father would usually leave or stay out of the main rooms, which overjoyed my grandfather.’ He shrugged. ‘Grandfather had other grandchildren, but Daniel and I were his favourites and he and I got along best of all.’

‘Perhaps he saw his daughter in you and that kept you close.’

‘Doubtful.’ The word dismissed her suggestion as a blatant miscalculation. ‘He saw himself in me, if anyone. I looked up to him, even though I could see his overbearing nature. He regarded me differently from everyone else. He valued the title I’m expected to inherit, even though it wasn’t from his lineage.’

Vivian understood. Her father was a baron and the title, even though it wasn’t as elevated as an earl’s, meant something to him, her mother and her. Some day it would go to her father’s nephew, but that couldn’t be helped.

She noticed the books in front of her. ‘Please choose whichever book you’ve been reading. I am curious to see what you might select from those, oh, ten books.’

He laughed when he moved to them, touching one of his long fingers to the spines as he peered at the titles. ‘I assure you these are not the best, but the opposite.’ He took a book from the widest shelf, grasping it with both hands. ‘The Book of Martyrs by John Foxe. This is the last thing I’d choose for the fairer sex to read. Grim tales.’

She examined him. The weighty book would work as well as a chaperon, she supposed. For just a second longer their eyes held. She wondered if he tested her.

She sat, relaxing into the large chair. She would show him her mettle. ‘Well, I’ve never read it. Have always been fascinated by martyrs. Don’t worry about reading around the most unpleasant parts.’ Although she supposed his voice could make even a tale of being drawn and quartered less hideous.

‘Are you certain?’ he asked.

‘I’ll stop you if it is beyond me.’ She would not complain at even the ghastliest section that he could choose.

She heard his movements as he sat on the plump sofa and thumbed through the book, and a few words as he read.

But when she blinked, things blurred softly around her, and she dozed.

Awakening, she was aware the candles had burned down considerably. She’d fallen asleep for some time.

His head rested, propped by his arms. The book at his side, forgotten.

He switched his attention away from her, grasping the volume he’d placed on the chair. ‘You don’t wake quietly.’

‘What?’

‘You wriggle and make small animal noises.’

She stared across at him, letting her affront show with a touch of hurt in her words. ‘I do not. Mavis would have told me, I’m sure.’

‘You squeaked.’

‘I did not.’

He made a mouse sound and challenged her a tiny peep.

‘I was dreaming of a particularly gruesome martyr. And butterflies.’ She sat up, still pulling her mind back from the fog.

‘I never finished the first page before you were slumbering away.’

‘I can’t help it. I get so sleepy since I’ve been ill. I never seem to get enough rest.’

‘Do you feel refreshed now?’ he asked.

‘Yes. It is an adventure for me to be out of my room and even the jostling carriage ride was a treat. If my mother and father hadn’t been visiting my aunt, I would never have been able to steal away.’

‘I suspected that your parents wouldn’t let you journey so far without them.’

‘My mother might have if I were well. My father would have forbidden it.’

‘You should follow your father’s instructions.’

She could tell by his expression that he was pleased she hadn’t.

Sitting across from her, in his father’s house, made the room feel like a home—which it rarely did. The waves of bitterness and anger and grief that had kept the house afloat now seemed to have receded like flood waters when the rains stopped.

He hoped she wouldn’t rise and decide to go to her room, but she didn’t seem inclined to move. He settled back in his chair, more relaxed than he could remember being in a long time.

She moved back into her chair and tucked her hands at her side, palms flat.

‘You’re watching me rather intently...’ She let her words flow away.

‘I’m just waiting to see if you’d ask for another kiss.’

‘I’m not sure about that because you said you’d act as if a chaperon were in the room. I’d hate it if you refused me a kiss.’ She slanted her head. ‘Didn’t you already tell me no? Once? At the time of the kiss, I seem to remember you saying I should return to Mavis.’

‘Entanglements can be difficult. They can cause too much upheaval.’

‘I would think...a female who is not likely to live much longer would be a perfect companion for a male who doesn’t like entanglements.’

‘Don’t spout such nonsense, Vivian. The physicians don’t know everything. You must live as if you are going to remain among us for ever.’

‘When you kissed me, it was the first time I had any good fortune because of my sickness. I rather liked that.’ Her lips curved up at the memory.

He stood, walked to the fireplace and picked up a small figurine, rubbing a thumb over it as if it were a talisman.

‘Are you fond of a particular lady?’ she asked.

He challenged her curiosity with a frown.

‘I’m sure you shouldn’t tell me, then.’ She dipped her chin. ‘But I’m all ears.’

He reached to the branch of candles and let his finger flit and flirt with the flames. ‘I had a friend. A lovely woman. A darling of society. Well entrenched in the ton, through her mother’s relatives among the peerage. You could not ignore her. On the surface, her loveliness is everything, but nothing attractive is inside her. We have talked. She wishes to marry and believes we should. I considered it, but I noticed a side of her that made me uneasy. I’ve told her that we wouldn’t suit, but she still sees herself as my bride.’

‘She’s brave to be so bold.’ Vivian almost felt scandalised herself.

Everleigh pulled his finger from the flame and his lips turned up. ‘You’re a fine one to talk. You had no trouble asking for a kiss. A kiss is simple enough...as long as it stops there.’

‘So your heart is taken by her, but you find her unsuitable?’

He shook his head. ‘This friend and I—we had spent hours together.’ He kept his attention on her. ‘Talked very frankly. I’d considered her for a wife, but then I realised it would never do. I told her I would never marry. She seemed fine with it, but—’

Ella Etta’s words bounced back into her consciousness. ‘Why do you think never to marry?’

‘You certainly ask what you wish.’

Vivian’s chin went out. ‘I see no reason to waste time with demure fishing for what I would like to know.’

‘You are of definite opinions.’

‘As are you.’

His lips firmed and his sharp nod was a statement of confirmation. ‘I’m staying here because I am hoping to give Alexandria a chance to find someone else and forget me.’

In a fluid movement, he tapped his finger to one of the candle flames, drowning it in its own wax. ‘I felt that she passed the bounds of friendship by refusing to understand my reluctance to go further with our courtship.’

‘I am certainly glad you didn’t think I passed the bounds of just meeting someone by suggesting a kiss.’

In little more time than it would have taken her to count to five, he extinguished all but one candle, using his fingers. ‘That kiss.’ He leaned back now into his chair, lost in memories. His face was towards the ceiling and his arms were lax, and his legs sprawled. If she’d just entered the room, she might have thought him dozing. ‘It was a perfect kiss to me. Sweetness. You. I knew then that I had been correct in ending the courtship with Alexandria. I had seen the gaiety in Alexandria and thought it enough. That’s not fair to her.’

The azure glimpse took in all of her, evaluating. ‘I cared for Alexandria. But love?’ He shook his head.

‘Have you loved anyone at all. Ever?’ The dim light in the room, the circumstances of her health, the tiredness gave her freedom to ask. And the wine at dinner hadn’t hurt.

‘Is there no question you won’t ask?’

‘You have the freedom not to answer.’

‘And I have the strength not to answer. Sometimes, ignoring gives one the appearance of responding. If I refuse to answer, it’s as if I’m agreeing. I don’t appreciate that.’ He pulled at the cravat tied at his throat, loosening it, then stood. With one stride, he closed the distance between them. ‘But, no. I’ve not been in love, nor do I believe in it. It is a fleeting lie people tell themselves and others for various reasons. Much like the tales Ella Etta told me over the years.’

He leaned his upper body towards her. ‘More questions, Miss Vivian?’

‘Everleigh, I have been ill two years.’ She had to look up at him and she raised her fingers to emphasise her words. ‘Two years of reading, embroidery and trying to get the strength to read more and embroider more.’ She dropped her hand. ‘I have had some time to think and found I have little to think about. You are a man with much more experience in life than I have and you’ve all sorts of answers to questions I don’t even have enough awareness to know what to ask.’

‘Ask me,’ he offered and let the silence build.

She waited. ‘Ask what?’

‘Whatever thought is burning into you with such intensity that you cannot let the subject drop.’ He moved closer, lessening the air between them. ‘I know what you want to know.’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know... I... I don’t really have a question, other than what I asked.’

His chin tilted down. ‘Don’t be a coward.’

‘If I asked for another kiss, would you give it?’ She asked the question, not as an offer, but curious.

He reached out, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. His fingers warmed her hand, but slid up her arms to hold her shoulders. The sensation of her skin touched him, but he ignored it, reminded of how easily a female could capture a male’s attention.

Vivian could just do so more easily than others, but it didn’t matter. He spoke carefully, not wanting to hurt her, aware of the tenderness and innocence she held. ‘No, Vivian. That was a fleeting instant. We both had just seen Mavis injured and our emotions were high. You probably wanted to be distracted.’

He looked into the distance. ‘Vivian, you should have been married long ago. You have too much curiosity for your own good. And now it is time we both said goodnight.’

‘I’m most curious to know what is behind the curtain of your thoughts. I want to know more of you than I ever expected.’

Now he moved closer, so near he could not breathe without taking in the warmth of her.

‘Vivian.’ He took her chin, and she couldn’t move. He’d made her motionless with his touch, but he’d not been able to stop himself. ‘There is little to interest you in my thoughts. I put them from myself.’

‘You cannot.’

‘Yes.’ He shook his head, moving away. Standing within arm’s reach could lead to another kiss and she probably would not refuse him. And he would have stepped past a layer of caution that they needed between them. He had been around long enough to know when the warnings sounded in his body. Long enough to listen.

He took a step closer to the bookshelves.

Vivian watched him. A sheltered, naive innocent. Unaware of the catastrophic consequences that could be unleashed by simple kisses, soft touches and too much trust and naivety. He couldn’t bring her into his world of solitude.

‘You really shouldn’t have stopped at the estate. Have you never heard tales of princesses wandering deep into the woods and needing to be rescued? There are no knights to rescue you if your heart should get involved.’

‘My heart?’ she asked. ‘I doubt that I have any strength in it. My strength is used to simply stay alive. I feel stronger around you. That’s all it is and I like it.’

‘That is so very dangerous. Because then when I leave, you will have used your health and have even less than you had before.’

He returned to his chair again and lowered himself into it.

He’d never expected to find a visitor at the estate.

When he’d returned, he’d searched out Ella Etta and told her about Alexandria. He’d even told her about Vivian’s unexpected visit in town—but not the kiss—and how he’d felt concern for the innocent woman, asking Ella Etta to search out Vivian to see if she could help her.

Ella Etta had told him that Alexandria was not in his heart. Not in his mind. Nor even in his words. She’d claimed his voice sounded dead when he talked of Alexandria and that it would destroy both of them to be married to each other. She’d grimaced, claiming the sad part was that their children might have forked tails.

Now he had Vivian sitting in front of him—the opposite of Alexandria.

Vivian’s sweetness surrounded him and he realised the trap of falling into another friendship and hurting Vivian. That, he could not risk.

Standing now, he turned away. He could not observe her reaction to what he was about to say.

His words were low, harsh, designed to send Vivian out of the room. ‘I thought I needed a wife. But I don’t. I have a housekeeper. I have clubs for entertainment. Solitude suits me. I gave you a kiss and I enjoyed it. But it was not anything to remember. Just an interlude to satisfy a question you had when I thought I would never see you again.’

She stood. The lighting in the room increased and he knew she’d taken the single candle, using it to light a fresh brace of candles. Her footsteps were hesitant.

‘I think I should beg your pardon as well.’ She spoke from behind him. ‘I asked for what you thought and you told me. If it upsets me, I shouldn’t blame you.’

Heartbeats passed between them, then he turned and studied her. ‘Vivian. If I see you when others are present, I assure you, I will say all the proper words. We will never again be able to speak so plainly. And, if our words have offended the other, so be it. At least we spoke as we thought. I bear you no ill will at all for your questions and I appreciate your honesty. Please accept mine.’

She moved to the door, then hesitated. ‘You’ve given me moments of peace. Almost of seeing into the future and what I could have. I will thank you for that for ever.’

She studied him, but he didn’t want to dwell on what she found. He might feel something for her, and it would do neither of them any good. Then he took the relaxed knot of his cravat, releasing it more. Taking the length of it, he pulled the fabric through his hands, then he repeated the movement, sliding the cloth back and forth.

‘I also came here, to sort out why I cannot love. Why I would consider marrying someone who did not even particularly appeal to me.’

‘Did you work it out?’

‘Yes. I had no capability to care for Alexandria. I told her. Yet she still wished to marry me and I thought she had accepted the solitude I offered. But I realised she wanted more and I could never give it to her. She would be happy at first, but it would be the novelty of marriage and the situation. In time she would grow to hate me and I would likely do the same with her.’

‘Mutual hatred would be a good reason to reconsider marriage.’

‘Yes. I suppose, I have loved my mother, grandfather, my brother and my father...and the first two are gone and my father and I can’t particularly agree. My brother and I do not even write to each other.’

‘What of your mother?’

‘I accepted that she died and I didn’t grieve overmuch. I suppose I spent more time with everyone else around me than I spent with her. Each time I saw my grandfather, the man I cared most for, he reminded me that I was the keeper of the legacy. I keep the finances for my brother and my father, and my brother is sure to marry. I may marry as well, but it will be to someone who understands that my time must be spent working. I have an ability few are trusted with. London needs me. It is my lot in life and I can’t let down those less fortunate than myself.’

He stood, rotated and tossed the cravat into the chair. ‘It was so easy to kiss you, Vivian. A kiss that reached deeper into me than I could have imagined. A kiss that seared my soul. Too bad it could not touch my heart.’

‘Ella Etta said you had no heart. I may have made a mistake in wanting to know your thoughts.’ She took one step back, pausing before she left.

‘You did. At this moment, all my thoughts centre around you. All of them. It is just that that is not enough.’

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