Page 17

S IR S EBASTIAN LIFTED HIS HAND to her, assisting her from the coach.

She clutched her skirt and stepped down onto the limestone gravel drive.

The manor was situated before the River Avon and proved to be a stunning estate, far more vast than she had imagined.

Vines crawled up the two-story manor house of checkerboard limestone and knapped flint, a lovely pattern that fit perfectly into the hillside that nestled it beyond the walled gardens with avenues of trees that would lend to a shaded walkway along the river.

Roses abounded, sprawling on all sides of the manor, giving a romantic air to the estate.

“What an enchanting place to live.”

“My grandmother has made it her home since her marriage to my grandfather, who passed many years ago. He planted the roses for her. He said that every bloom was a kiss from him to her for all eternity.”

She pressed a hand to heart. “How romantic. I’ve never heard of a gentleman doing so for his lady.”

A butler, four footmen, and two maids appeared at the door, lining the path to the house, hands held stiffly at their sides as they smiled at Vivienne.

She nodded at the servants, offering them all smiles as she strode to the grand hall boasting a wide staircase.

She cast a glance about, catching sight of the lovely furnishings and rooms that promised comfort and elegance. She itched to explore.

Sebastian paused at the threshold by the butler. “How is she, Ladd?”

“She’s holding on for you and the lady.” He bowed to Vivienne. “It is an honor to welcome you to Lark Manor, Lady Larkby.”

“Thank you, Ladd.” Her cheeks warmed at the kind gazes. Charlotte grasped her elbow, silently telling her to be strong.

“My lady.” Sebastian offered her his arm.

She placed her trembling hand through it and allowed him to lead her up the wide stairs to the first floor. The hall was carpeted in emerald, which was splendid against the gold frames that lined the walls. She would have to find Sebastian’s painting in the gallery.

He led her down the hall, pausing outside the first door on their left. “Grandmother Larkby will be somewhat disoriented, but smile and say how happy you will make her grandson.”

“Make her a grandson?” Vivienne’s voice squeaked at the expectation.

“No! How happy you will make me .” He ran a hand over his jaw, as if to block a laugh. “Obviously, I am her grandson.”

“Oh, of course.” She swallowed, the guilt gnawing at her belly with the act to come. But wasn’t this an act of the greatest charity? To send a dying woman to meet her Maker with a light heart over her grandson’s happiness? “Sir Sebastian, are we doing the right thing by her?”

He gritted his teeth. “I know. I have been having second thoughts as well, but it is too late, my lady. Before my grandmother you must call me Sebastian as a sign of your affection.”

“Yes, Sir Sebastian.”

He sighed, giving her a pointed look.

“I mean, sir .” She pressed her hand to her forehead, groaning. “Sebastian! I’m sorry. I am just so nervous, and I am not very skilled at telling a falsehood with ease.”

“It speaks well of your character.” He gently grasped her elbow, smiling down at her. “How about if you called me ‘my darling’ to avoid confusion?”

She blinked.

“It would be easier to remember than not adding my title before my name. It does not flow from your tongue, but it will save you from stumbling.”

“I suppose that would be acceptable.” She straightened her shoulders and followed him into the dimly lit room, where a frail woman lay in a four-poster bed propped up on a silk pillow, her frilly mobcap fairly swallowing her head.

Even though her eyes were sunken and her skin pale, her lovely smile brightened the room and set Vivienne’s racing nerves at ease.

“Sebastian, my dearest one. You’ve brought her.” She held her hand out to Vivienne, tears swimming in her eyes. “My, what a lovely bride you have found. Please, both of you kiss my cheek.”

Vivienne did so, catching the scents of strong medicine and sweet lavender. “It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Larkby. M-my darling has told me so much about you.”

Her smile deepened. “He is darling indeed. What a relief to know that my Sebastian will be taken care of and loved by a woman who sees his worth.” She patted Vivienne’s cheek, her coloring heightened and her eyes brighter than only moments before.

“Sebastian tells me you are an authoress. My eyes have not been as strong in recent years, or I’m certain I would’ve read your works before now.

My lady’s maid does not read, and I did not wish to burden a companion with my company.

If you would be so kind as to read to me, I would like to hear your stories, for it might help me get to know you better before I’m called home. ”

Vivienne’s eyes filled. “I would be happy to.” Seeing Mrs. Larkby sparked within her a glimmer of a memory from her father’s last days.

Some would consider the time too hard to dwell upon, what with him being so weak, but she cherished those days when she had spent every waking moment at her father’s side, gleaning his wisdom in his faith.

When her father had first taken ill, her own faith had been rattled, but seeing him praise the Lord despite his circumstances had sent the sputtering spark of her faith into an inferno.

She bowed her head. Lord, let me bless Mrs. Larkby in her final days as my father blessed me in his.

“I-I do have one question.” Mrs. Larkby beckoned Vivienne closer with a flick of her gnarled finger. “Do you have any grandbabies on the way?”

Sebastian coughed, and Vivienne’s cheeks burned at the loud whisper. “Such a question, Mrs. Larkby.”

“ Grandmother ,” she corrected Vivienne with a smile. “Well, with two people as handsome and lovely as you, beautiful babies will soon be on the way, if they are not already. It’s only natural.”

Vivienne looked about for Charlotte, who had been in the doorway only moments before. “I best find my room and help guide my companion as she unpacks my trunks for me. Excuse me, Grandmother Larkby. I shall return with a book for us to read together.”

She fled, pushing aside thoughts of having beautiful babies with a beautiful man like Sebastian. That was not her future—unfortunately.

Charlotte came around the corner with a stack of Vivienne’s books in hand. “I heard Mrs. Larkby ask for your books, so I took the liberty of retrieving your five titles from your trunk.”

“Thank you, Charlotte. I’ll store these in the library.”

“There’s a library?”

Vivienne gestured to the manor. “How could an ancient place such as this not possess one? I’ll find it, one way or another, and hide there until I’m ready to face Mrs. Larkby again.”

“It grew more awkward after I left?” Charlotte guessed, stacking them in Vivienne’s arms.

“There was talk of beautiful babies on the way and a handsome husband.”

“La, my lady.” Charlotte’s cheeks paled. “Such questions are far too intimate.”

“I know.” She nodded to the stack of books.

“I shall be in the library for an hour if you have need of me. I intend to visit with Grandmother Larkby after I set my emotions to right.” She needed to find a stack of paper and an inkwell to lose herself in her new tale, along with the painful, uncomfortable present.

The familiar scent of leather-bound books enveloped Bash.

In the far corner of the library, the billiard table from his youth still stood, the cues racked and waiting.

He needed time to think, and what better way to do it than to play a game?

He lifted his favorite stick and moved to the table, removing the rack from the balls on the green fabric.

Vivienne popped up from the floor behind the settee, blinking in the afternoon light spilling through the curtain’s opening.

“Oh! I must have fallen asleep writing.” She smoothed back her hair, which was spilling from her coiffure in an appealing manner.

She rose and shook out her skirts. “Pardon my appearance. I am told that I am quite the wild sleeper, which gives my hair too much freedom.”

His chest bubbled in laughter at the memory of Evie sleeping in the gig.

He could attest to her fitful sleeping. “You look lovely as always, Vivienne, but I must ask why on earth you would be writing on the floor when a desk stands in the corner?” It was strange to call her so, but if he wasn’t careful, he would be calling her Evie and risk being found out.

“Unlike many believe, writing is not always done at a desk or in one spot. I prefer to move to different places about a room to keep my mind sharp, and every now and again, I need to act out a certain scene to be sure I have it written in the best form.” She shoved back a lock of hair, leaving an ink smudge on her forehead.

“I was working out a scene of a fight in an alley.” She motioned to the settee.

“It provided an alley of a sort. After I worked out the scene whilst on the floor, I must have fallen asleep.”

An alley? He grinned. She was capturing the entirety of their adventure on paper. “Sounds exciting.”

“It is.” Her smile dimmed as she stretched her neck from side to side. “I fear I’m neglecting my duties though.” She snatched up a book from a small stack on the writing desk and hurried past him toward the doorway.

“I came to play billiards while Grandmother slept. You are neglecting no one.” He set his stick down and caught her creamy wrist, gently staying her as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief.

He pressed it to her forehead, wiping at the mark, but it held fast. “It seems the ink on your forehead doesn’t want to depart. ”

Her cheeks bloomed as she stepped back from him, and he released her wrist. “Thank you. I’ll see to it. I often forget that I have ink on my fingers after writing.”