Sara Bennett (25 page)

Vivianna did not know what she needed. She had found her mother, but it had not made her life complete. For a moment a memory of Oliver flitted into her mind, his lazy smile and the gleam in his dark blue eyes as he looked at her. Her heart squeezed and the pain was enough to make her stop remembering.

T
he following morning, Vivianna met the Beatty sisters at the former lodging house at Bethnal Green; it was not at all as Miss Greta remembered it. The three women gazed about in surprise at the newly painted walls and the repairs that had turned a sagging, soggy dwelling into a place pleasantly smelling of sawdust. There was even a small garden at the back, the soil already tilled and waiting.

Oliver had warned her he had made repairs, but she had not appreciated how much he had done. She could hardly believe it. All this, for the children?
Or was it for you?
teased a mocking little voice in her head.

“Of course not!” she muttered, and then bit her lip. Luckily the two sisters were as flabbergasted as she and did not hear her talking to herself.

“Well!” Miss Susan’s eyes were brighter than they had been for weeks. “I still don’t want to leave Candlewood, but I think we can have no qualms about moving the children here.”

Miss Greta had a little smile on her mouth. “Lord
Montegomery has certainly taken some time and trouble to please us.” Her glance to Vivianna was quizzical, “Or to please someone.”

Vivianna sniffed. “We must have pricked his conscience enough for him to feel obliged to make the place habitable.”

“I think we can safely begin to move our belongings from Candlewood,” Miss Greta said, practically.

“Yes.” Miss Susan smiled. “Oh, the children will be pleased.”

When Vivianna returned to Queen’s Square, she found that Aphrodite had sent Dobson with a message that her father had been told and wanted to meet her. It was as if a new phase in her life was opening, and Vivianna welcomed it.

And once more determined to put Oliver behind her.

Angus Fraser lived in Grosvenor Square. The house was certainly imposing; it spoke of opulence and wealth and grandeur. But Fraser was no aristocrat, he was a self-made man. Aphrodite had told Vivianna that by living in such a house Fraser was showing off to the nobility who had mocked and snubbed him all his life. “He is rubbing their noses in it,” Aphrodite had explained with a wry smile, “and that is very Fraser.”

Inside the house it was more like a museum. Cold and empty and full of beautiful things. A little dusty, too. Vivianna only saw two servants on her way up the sweeping grand staircase to her father’s bedchamber.

“Is he all alone in the house?” she asked Aphrodite.

“It is how he wants it to be,” Aphrodite said with one of her shrugs.

Vivianna wished she could accept such things as
matter-of-factly as her mother, but the echoing house saddened and disturbed her. And the thought that in just a moment she would be face-to-face with her father frightened and yet elated her at the same time.

Despite everything, her treacherous heart longed for Oliver’s arms about her. Instead, she slipped her fingers into Aphrodite’s, and was grateful for her comforting squeeze.

“I know I promised not to tell my sisters about you,” she said quietly, “but I have told my mother…Lady Greentree. I am sorry, but she knew something was wrong, and I have lied to her enough lately. Did I do the wrong thing?”

Aphrodite turned toward her with a suddenly still and pale face. She then looked away and chewed on her lip. “I…maybe not. Maybe it is for the best that you did so, Vivianna. Yes, I think you did the right thing. Anyway”—with a forced smile—“it is done now.”

They reached an arched doorway with double doors; the way into Fraser’s bedchamber. Aphrodite halted.

“I have told you that Fraser is dying,” she said. “He has no legitimate heirs. You are his only child, Vivianna. I do not know what he plans to say to you; Fraser does not show his feelings to me. He has asked to speak to you alone.”

“But—”

“Do not be afraid. His bark is worse than his bite. You will see.”

Vivianna moved to open one of the doors. Aphrodite had told her a little about her father in the coach on the way here. Fraser was very rich, but he was not a gentleman. Most of his wealth came from breweries in London and elsewhere about the country. He could be blunt and rude.

Growing up, Vivianna had imagined her father to be a kind and generous man. The sort of father a young girl would adore and an older girl would look up to. Somehow, despite what Aphrodite had told her, she could not rid herself of that image.

Fraser was dying, and she was the only part of him left.

Surely that would make a difference to him? Surely he would love her and she would love him, simply because of that?

The room was lit by a lamp, but it was still dark. The curtains were drawn and the colors were muted. An enormous tabby cat sat upon a chair and watched her with calm yellow eyes. Vivianna edged closer to the figure beneath the bedcovers in the ornate four-poster bed.

Fraser had been a big man. His length still made an impression, but now he was so thin his body barely lifted the bedding. His face, upon the pillows, was gaunt, and his hair red as fire. His eyes, hazel like Vivianna’s, were open and watching her approach.

“Mr. Fraser?”

He crooked a finger impatiently. “Come here, lass! Ah, that’s better. I can see ye now. Plain, aren’t ye? Pity. Not that it matters. Not for what I have in mind.”

Vivianna crept closer, knowing she was a coward but unable to help herself.
Plain.
The dismissive manner in which he had said it hurt. Oliver had called her beautiful, but then she could no longer believe anything Oliver said to her. Perhaps it was better to believe herself plain than to be lied to.

“What is your name, lass?”

Vivianna met those hazel eyes, so like her own. “Vivianna.”

Fraser’s lip curled. “That’s no’ a name for my
daughter. I’ll call ye Annie. I suppose she told ye I was a rich man.”

He sounded gruff, but at the same time rather proud of the fact that he was rich.

“If you mean Aphrodite, then yes, she did.”

“And is that why ye’re here? To get yer hands on it?”

Vivianna glared, forgetting to be nervous. “No, it is not! I have money of my own, Mr. Fraser. I am content as I am.”

“Oh, are ye!” He beckoned her again. “Come closer, lass. I canna see ye. That’s better. Now sit yoursel’ down. I have a proposal to put to ye.”

She sat down on a stool beside the bed. Aphrodite had warned her that Fraser was blunt and rude.
He’s dying, I am his daughter.
She must remember those two things. Perhaps they may yet find common ground….

“I want to name ye as my heir. I want ye to have it all.”

“I had not intended to—”

“Yes, yes, but if ye don’t have it, it’ll go into the government coffers, and I dinna want that.”

Vivianna did not want his money, but Fraser did not seem able to accept that. Maybe because it was the only thing he had left to leave, he did not want to believe she was not as attached to his fortune as he was.

“I know there will be a scandal,” he said now with relish, and his ravaged face twisted into a chuckle. “It’ll give them something to talk about, won’t it? Fraser’s last
faux pas
. They’ll be whispering about Old Fraser’s bastard daughter for years to come. They mocked me in life; I was ne’er good enough for them. I’d like to give them a wee shock before I go, aye.

“I made my money from the breweries,” he went on, his eyes on her. He blinked slowly, and moved his head as if his neck hurt.

Vivianna rose and leaned over him, adjusting the pillows. He did not thank her, but the creases in his face smoothed out, and he sighed.

“And there are the lodging houses. People will live in anything, aye they will, ye look surprised, lass! A house with only four small rooms in it will fit at least twenty people, each paying rent. Thirty, at a pinch. Such folk are used to dirt and the like, and they dinna complain too much ’cause they know they’re lucky to have a roof over their heads at all.”

Vivianna said nothing. She had seen the places he spoke of. Those who made money from such suffering without seeking in some way to alleviate it were beyond her understanding. There were good landlords and masters, of course there were, but Fraser was not among them.

Her own father was not among them.

“I cannot take your money,” she said coldly.

“What, what?” He peered at her. “Canna take it? Oh yes, ye can, girlie! My fortune will buy ye more bonny gowns and baubles than ye’ll know what to do with. Ye’re my heir. This is why I bought that woman out there to breed with. For this very day. Now I have ye, and I want my money’s worth.”

Vivianna managed not to press one of the pillows over his face and hold it there, although she was sorely tempted. She knew she could refuse to take his money, of course she could, but now her mind was beginning to work in other ways.

Why not take it? Take his money.

Not for herself, never that, but for the good she could do with it. She would be able to set up homes for the poor all over the country. The Fraser Memorial Homes. That had a nice ring to it. Homes built specifically for those who could not afford decent accom
modation. And then there would be hospitals and schools.

Vivianna smiled. Why not?

“Ah, like the sound of that, do ye?” Fraser had been watching her, and evidently thought the mention of baubles had won her over. Well, let him! Vivianna would be his heir, if that was what he wanted, and then she would spend his money making recompense for the harm he had done.

Outside in the gallery, Aphrodite anxiously searched her face. “What did he say?”

“I am to be his heir. That is why he paid for you to have me all those years ago.”

Aphrodite closed her eyes. “
Mon dieu.
” After a moment she pulled herself together enough to remind them both, “He is dying—”

“I know.” Vivianna said it bleakly. “I’m sorry, Aphrodite, but I do not like him. I wish I could. He’s my father! But I do not. I have said I will be his heir, but when he is dead I will use his money for good works.”

A slow smile spread over Aphrodite’s face. “Did you tell him this?”

“Not yet.”

“Then don’t, Vivianna. Let him enjoy his last weeks, it cannot hurt.”

Vivianna looked at her in surprise. “You are fond of him, aren’t you?”

Aphrodite’s smile turned sad. “I had a child with him. It makes a difference.”

Oliver was still asleep late the next morning when Hodge woke him. “Lady Marsh is awaiting you in the sitting room, my lord.”

Oliver opened one blurry eye. “You let her in?”

“I could not prevent her, my lord.”

“What does she want?”

“She wants to see you, my lord.”

Oliver groaned and sat up. “I will be half an hour, Hodge. I can’t be any faster. I haven’t long retired.”

“I know, my lord. I will see her ladyship has some refreshment while she waits.”

Oliver rested his head carefully into his hands, wincing as Hodge closed the door. He had drunk far too much and slept far too little. Last night at White’s replayed in his mind. Lawson, his breath hot against Oliver’s ear, murmuring, “Where is this secret chamber, Oliver? Your grandfather’s secret chamber?”

Oliver had swayed dangerously, almost losing his balance. “Just a story,” he’d muttered drunkenly. “Nothing to it. Why? Why do you want to know?”

Lawson had smiled, but his eyes were lethal. “You need to tell me soon, Oliver,” he had said, not drunk at all. He had only been pretending. “You need to consider your future very carefully, or the fact that you may not have a future….”

“Like Anthony, you mean?” he had asked levelly.

And suddenly the game was over. They had stood facing each other, wearing their true skins.

Lawson had observed him as if he were an interesting specimen of insect. “Yes,” he had said softly. “Just like Anthony.”

“You’re finished,” Oliver retorted, and the rage in him threatened to boil over. “I’ll see to it.”

Lawson smiled. “Your brother said that, too. And look what happened to him.” And then he’d simply turned and walked away.

In his bedroom, with the sunlight creeping through the curtained windows, Oliver contemplated the dan
ger he was in. He wasn’t afraid. He was only the more determined to find the letters and see Lawson punished. But he was vastly relieved Vivianna was out of it—whatever happened to him now, she would be safe.

It was the only thing that kept him from going to her house and begging her forgiveness.

A pain stabbed at his chest at the thought of her, but he ignored it. Surely all he had to do was remember how she used to lecture him and argue with him to be glad he never had to spend time with her again? But somehow it just didn’t seem to be working….

Exactly thirty minutes later, immaculately dressed, Oliver made his way to the sitting room. Lady Marsh set her cup down with a clatter and gave him a stern look.

“Oliver, have you heard? I have never been more shocked.”

“Shocked?”

“You mean you haven’t heard?”

Oliver knew his head was fuzzy, but surely his aunt couldn’t mean the Anchor Inn? No, she couldn’t. If she’d heard of that she would be tearing strips off him.

“Oliver! Are you asleep?”

“No, Aunt, I’m not asleep. You put a stop to that.” He settled himself on the chair opposite and she proceeded to pour him some tea.

“Miss Greentree is not the daughter of Lady Greentree after all,” she began with relish. “Angus Fraser, the brewery millionaire, has named her as his heir! She is his daughter by some drab or other, and she became lost when she was a child. Baby farmers or some such thing. Now they are reunited, Fraser is on his deathbed, and she is his heir.”

Oliver tried to take it in. “I thought you always rather liked Fraser,” he heard himself say.

“I did. He says what he thinks, and that is rare enough in our world. But that’s not the point! The point is, I rather thought
you
liked
Miss Greentree
.”

“I did.” He blinked at her, rubbed a hand across his freshly shaven face. “I do.”

“And you did not know?”

“I knew she was abandoned as a child, but I did not know her parentage.”