The Third Duke's the Charm (7 page)

He was so smooth, so polished, and she was not a lady. She was the daughter of a country vicar but she refused to worry over it any longer. Not when Charles was looking at her with indulgent tenderness in his eyes and her fatigue was overwhelming.

“I would,” she said and went into his arms, her body nestled immediately against his rangy form, her head settling naturally into the contours of his body, her eyes drifting shut almost immediately. She was safe, protected
,
loved
.

Whatever happened next, she thought as she drifted off, was simply not important.

Chapter Seven

The card in
her hand was bewildering, but then again, enough confusing happenings in her life had occurred lately that she shouldn’t really be surprised.

Her mother said with a flutter in her voice, “Why would the Duchess of Eddington call?”

Vivian had no idea. However, she
was
good friends with Lily and knew the duchess had taken a terrifying interest in her romance with Damien Northfield before they had married. “I can’t imagine.”

It wasn’t as if she needed guidance to find a husband. Apparently thanks to Charles and his defection she was going to marry Lord Stockton, even if it hadn’t necessarily been her choice. So whatever was going to happen surely the duchess wasn’t interested in
her
. She was a matchmaker and the match had already been made.

How wrong an assumption.

The woman in question sat upright in all her imperious grandeur on the best chair in their drawing room, her back straight and gaze piercing. “What I wish is to take as much burden as possible off of you as you prepare for the wedding. I understand it is going be in less than three weeks.”

The direct approach was effective, Vivian had to admit. Her mother was flustered, and appeared speechless, and it was Vivian who spoke up and asked, “I am not sure what it is you have in mind, Your Grace.”

“Stockton is supplying you a new wardrobe, which is generous of him, and we have a busy social schedule. Your mother can plan the wedding, of course, but she will have more than enough on her hands with that considering the short time period, while we can attend to other small matters.”

Small matters
? Vivian blinked. Besides, there was something about the idea of Lucien Caverleigh providing her with clothing that made her uncomfortable. Though she supposed if she was going to be his wife, he would support her, so it wasn’t too extraordinary, but still . . .

The entire situation still had her off balance and the arrival of the duchess didn’t help a bit. The woman in question was looking at her as if she wanted an answer.

Then she pictured the gowns her mother had always insisted upon and straightened her spine. “Perhaps I could use a few new gowns. Married ladies dress differently than spinsters, don’t they? How delightful of you to offer to help, Your Grace.”

There. Hopefully that was a tactful way of not criticizing her mother’s sometimes questionable taste while emphasizing her upcoming independence. As she was rarely passionate about anything but botany, she knew she was sometimes thought to be easily cowed, but it really wasn’t the case. It was more that she chose battles where her genuine emotions were invested, and quite truthfully, so far, choosing a husband had never been one of them.

The duchess actually seemed to understand for she could have sworn there was a gleam of humor in her eyes. “Yes, well, one does want to help when one can. As you know, Lady Lillian was a challenge but also a delight.”

Lillian probably was not easiest spinster to marry off. The stubborn, disgraced sister of an infamous half-breed earl, Lily was controversial in more than one way, but Vivian had always cherished their friendship. And while the duchess may not have instigated the romance between Lily and her new husband, Vivian knew the dowager had provided a great deal of social support.

“Indeed she is a delight,” Vivian murmured, concealing a smile. “I think she feels the same about you.”

Well, more or less. A direct quote might be more like:
That interfering old bat
. But remarked upon with a certain fondness. Lily was very happy with her retired spy.

“Humph.” The duchess sent her a calculating look, but then decided apparently to let the remark pass. “I’ve already made a few appointments. When Lord Stockton said the wedding was so soon, I didn’t have much choice. I shall call tomorrow with my carriage, Miss Lacrosse.”

“I will be ready also,” her mother hastened to say.

“Not at all. You have other details to attend to.” The duchess rose, her diminutive stature a contrast to her impressive presence. “We will do quite well on our own, and after all, my purpose is simply to aid you.”

Once she left, Vivian hastened to say into the awkward silence, “That was certainly unexpected.”

“You didn’t know she was coming?” There was a hint of accusation in her mother’s eyes.

At least she could honestly shake her head. “No.”

“Stockton didn’t mention it?”

“Can you really imagine him approaching the Duchess of Eddington on purpose?”

Even her mother, obviously not sure whether to be flattered or outraged by the visit, couldn’t deny that point. “No,” she admitted, adjusting the flounce on her bodice with an idle hand. “I really can’t think of anyone he would avoid more. She’s a notorious matchmaker, and everyone knows he’s not, well . . . not—”

“Interested in marriage,” Vivian finished for her in a dry tone. “Yes, everyone knows.”

Even though she was often oblivious of the feelings of others, her mother did flush slightly. “Except to you apparently. With unseemly haste at that. I do not mean to be accusatory but you aren’t a young debutante and I have to wonder at the sudden interest from a man who is known for his lack of interest in a fashionable marriage. Just how well did you know the marquess previous to his fortuitous proposal?”

The implied suggestion of improper behavior took her aback, Vivian had to admit. Without thinking, she said sharply, “It appears he still doesn’t have an interest in a fashionable marriage, does he? Not if he selected me.”

“I wasn’t implying . . .” her mother trailed off, the argument not valid, because yes, that was exactly what she was implying and they both knew it.

At this point she could argue that she and Lucien hadn’t truly crossed paths as more than acquaintances and almost always she’d been with Charles, but already she could tell it was fruitless. And if her own mother had drawn such a scandalized opinion of their engagement and rapid marriage, how would the rest of the world view it?

Taking in a breath and doing her best to tamp down her resentment, she said quietly, “We spoke now and again, naturally. That is the extent of it. You know our families have been neighbors and friends ever since I can remember, Mother. Look at Father and the duke.”

Not a lie in that explanation anywhere.

“Well, Lucien wasn’t often home and you are considerably younger. I didn’t think he had as much as noticed you.”

Luckily, Vivian was past the point when she winced at those sorts of remarks. Instead, she merely said, “Apparently he has.”

“Yes.” Her mother looked at her speculatively. “I think you must brace yourself for this evening, Vivian; the Ryan’s ball is always a horrible crush anyway, and I can promise you that everyone will be agog over the news of the engagement and to see you on Lord Stockton’s arm. Nothing is as titillating as an eligible bachelor succumbing to marriage, and rarely does one choose a young lady with four unsuccessful seasons behind her. You must be a veritable model of decorum or everyone will think the worst.”

Heaven forbid anyone think she could actually attract a man, she thought with a twinge of humor.

“Have I ever not been?” she asked mildly.

“I don’t know. He rather hinted that . . . well . . .”

When her mother stopped, Vivian just waited with a lifted brow.

In the end, her mother abandoned the unasked question and said crisply, “A quick wedding is usually a source for whispers.”

That was unfortunately no doubt true, and the idea of being the focus of all eyes daunting. Only in her case it would hardly be because of a need to satisfy his honor, as he hadn’t done more than politely touch her hand.

Her mother added, “You’ll have to waltz with him at least once.”

Damn, the dancing issue. Vivian rose abruptly. “You are worrying needlessly. As for the haste, I think he is the sort of man who when he makes up his mind, isn’t inclined to wait. I know for certain he doesn’t want a grand production of the wedding because he did share that sentiment with me, and on that we are in complete accord. Now then, if you will excuse me, I believe he is going to call this afternoon and we might take a stroll if the weather is pleasant. Since the sun is shining, I am going to go select a hat that matches my gown, which should make you happy, but doesn’t interest me very much. Do we have a truce?”

***

Lucien couldn’t decide if he was allowed to be openly amused or not, and since a multitude of varying experiences with female angst made him wary, he chose to not say anything.

Perhaps he could mention that he found her bonnet quaint, but as usual beribboned to the point the brim drooped, and the lavender color really was not flattering. Nevertheless, Vivian looked quite adorable in his opinion, especially with a hint of pink in her cheeks. She said haltingly, “Before this evening . . . the ball . . . I have something to tell you.”

Since they’d chosen to walk, her hand was on his sleeve and he felt her fingers tighten with betraying agitation. Since he couldn’t possibly imagine what she had to confess that might cause such tension, he was a bit puzzled. “Please do.”

“I do not dance.”

They were walking along a fairly deserted path, though the fair weather had brought out both pedestrians and riders. The sunshine slanted along the ground through the leaves of the trees, the slight breeze refreshing, but he had a feeling that she’d chosen this exact moment to say the words because they were relatively alone.

“I see.”

There didn’t seem to be much of a response beyond that, and in any case, she rushed on with endearing sincerity. “I just have never gotten the knack of it. I’m awkward and clumsy, have no sense of rhythm or natural grace, and in truth, it is easier to sit out than tread all over my partner’s toes.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Not the most painful secret in the world, at a guess, but there you have it. In short, I’d prefer if you did not ask me tonight. This seemed like a good time to tell you I would just refuse, but to also explain why.”

Ah, now he understood the source of the note asking if he had a moment to speak on a matter of some importance. He wasn’t sure if her disinclination to waltz qualified as all that important, but thought he did understand that she was uncomfortable with too much attention.

They both had some adjusting to do, for the sophisticated ladies he usually entertained wanted nothing more than to draw the avid notice of the
haut ton
and now he was the one concerned with appearances. Having to protect an innocent young lady was not in the realm of his experience. “I have no objection to skipping a crowded dance floor, but I could swear I’ve seen you dance with Charles,” he said neutrally.

Her smile was just a touch tremulous. “An illusion we’ve practiced. He would lead me out onto the floor and then we would leave after the first few strains. We had an agreement.”

It could be true when he thought about it. “Vivian, I know you to be intelligent enough to realize that if you turn down every offer to dance, gentlemen become discouraged.”

He probably deserved the withering glance he got. “Please, my lord, not you as well. My mother and Charles have scoffed at me enough. The truth is I do not
like
to dance. I doubt I ever will, and I am not good at it.”

“Duly noted.” He liked the way the sunlight touched her dark hair. There was a hint of ruby in it, like fine wine. “What other revelations do you have for me?”

“What?” She looked confused.

“Aren’t we at this moment sharing secrets? I, for one, am glad you decided we should. It would be nice if we knew as much as possible about each other before we wed.”

“I never said—”

“Yet you started it.”

“Did I?” Their eyes locked and she dropped her hand from his arm. “As of yet I don’t notice
you’ve
shared a single revelation.”

Since he sensed it had cost her to tell him about her lack of ability to dance, he decided to be equally as honest but in a lighthearted way. “I’m quite terrified of bees. I have no idea why because no other insects bother me, but I truly do not like them at all buzzing around me. Rather shameful for a grown man, but there it is. I flail at them, which I am told is exactly not what a person is supposed to do.”

“
You
are surely not terrified of anything.”

“Make it small, a golden color, with tiny wings and a stinger, and I’m afraid I have to disagree.”

“But bees are so important.” Vivian gazed at him with endearing sincerity. “It has been determined that they are part of the process that allows plants to bloom and bear fruit, and—”

“And dancing seems to be part of the courting ritual between men and women, yet you don’t like that any more than I like a bee buzzing about my head.”

“A sound point,” she conceded a moment later with a small nod.

He stifled a laugh. “So now it is your turn again. Tell me something else.”

“As in?”

Deliberately, he lowered his voice. “Something secret.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have many deep, dark secrets to keep, my lord. I am quite boring.”

Boring? No. Intriguing fit much, much better.

He gazed theatrically at the sky, which was turning from azure to indigo. “Well, there is how you helped my brother break your engagement by encouraging him to elope. Then, the reason you have put off every interested gentlemen since your debut—the lack of willingness to dance—so there are at least two secrets. Surely there are more.”

“I confessed those two to you already freely. It actually is your turn if we are keeping some sort of running tally.”

There was nothing flirtatious in the way she said it, which might be one of the traits she possessed he liked most.

And if he kept her engaged in conversation, she would not notice that almost every single person they passed openly stared at the two of them walking together so companionably. She was far less comfortable with public scrutiny than he was. “I have too many to count.” He did his best to look bland. “Where should I start and how scandalous can I be? I suspect you are too young to hear most of it.”

“I’m two and twenty.” Her tone was primly reproving.