Page 25

V IVIENNE TAPPED HER NIB TO the inkwell, watching the ink dribble back into the bottle. Anything was preferable to allowing her thoughts to run away … even if it was part of her writing process. It had become too dangerous to do so after Sebastian’s impressive climb out of the Avon.

Another week at Grandmother Larkby’s side saw vast improvements in her complexion and in their blossoming friendship.

Vivienne almost wished her union with Sebastian were true, if only to please the dear lady.

Then, there was the pile of invitations on her desk, distracting her from her writing, as they were addressed to the knight and his bride.

The lying had to end. Vivienne flipped the invitations over, hiding the address, and allowed the next scene in her story to take her away until her head hurt and fingers ached.

It was better than dwelling on the upcoming heartbreaking conversation with Grandmother Larkby, but if she did not speak the truth this very day, her heart might burst from the weight of the deceit—well intended though it may have been.

Perhaps it had become so painful because Vivienne wished the union to be true for her own sake as well.

She pressed her hand to her lips. The knight had almost kissed her a second time.

What would it be like to have one so honorable to call her own?

To have someone who was always for her, shielding her from the cruel arrows of her stepbrother and his wife?

To have Sebastian Larkby at her side for the rest of her days would be a prize indeed. Her cheeks heated at her weakness.

But he is not yours. And never will be. She leapt up from her chair as if the truth were burning her petticoats.

A stroll in the garden to pick some roses for Grandmother Larkby would be just the thing to clear her mind before the confession.

She hurried down the hall, keeping her head down lest she catch sight of him in the library.

She snatched up the pocketknife that Sebastian had begun leaving in the foyer for her use, reached the garden undetected, and sliced long stems to aid in arranging the blooms, smiling over the kind husband who’d planted them for his wife so many years ago.

Her thoughts once more turned to how kind a husband Sebastian would make.

Stop this madness! He is not yours. Besides, what about the plan to remain in control of her future?

If she allowed herself to fall in love with the knight, that control was in danger.

But Sebastian was nothing like Sir Josiah Montgomery.

To be loved by a knight so true could change everything.

Disgusted with herself, she gripped the roses too sharply and hissed against the bite of thorns as barking shifted her attention to the stables and the kennel attached to its side.

Sebastian squatted down, peering through the rail of the fenced paddock with a treat in hand, speaking to the dog inside.

The dog nipped at the wire separating the two.

She approached quietly so as not to catch Sebastian’s attention.

The dog focused on the treat and leapt, nearly snapping Sebastian’s fingers.

“Good boy, Cerberus.” He tossed a treat.

“You are training him yourself?”

He whipped about and grinned when he saw her, rising and brushing his hands on his biscuit-colored pantaloons. “I told you I was good with animals. The kennel keeper used to have me help him train the hunting hounds that we sold.”

“Lark Manor sells hunting hounds?”

“We used to.” He dug his hands into his pockets and lifted another treat. “Cerberus is reluctant to trust me, but I hope to win him over.”

Vivienne shook her head. “If that is the case, you might want to reconsider naming him after a three-headed hellhound.”

“He deserved it after chasing us into the river, and it will warn off anyone who tries to pet him in the future.” He whistled to the dog and called him back to the fence, tossing him the treat when he did not immediately start growling.

“When did Lark Manor cease training dogs?”

“When I moved to London to serve the Crown, I sold off the prized sires and mothers. Grandmother did not care for the kennel but had allowed me my pastime as it helped aid the estate.” He tapped his finger against the fence, speaking softly to the dog as he finished his treat.

“Speaking of Grandmother Larkby …”

He reached for her hand, his touch feeling almost familiar. “It’s time we discuss what to do. I have an idea—”

“Lady Larkby?” Grandmother Larkby’s maid, Helen, paused behind them, hands folded before her skirts. “Mrs. Larkby is asking to see you.”

“We will continue this conversation tonight?” She smiled her apologies to Sebastian.

He nodded. “It cannot wait any longer.”

“I agree.” Relieved to know he had a plan, she followed the maid to the first floor and knocked lightly on the ajar door, bouquet in hand.

“Enter,” answered a crackling voice.

As per Vivienne’s instructions, the maids had flung the curtains back and left the windows wide open, allowing fresh air into the chamber that had been so dingy. Fresh blooms always graced the desk, the mantel, and the bedside table, brightening the room a good deal.

“What an angel you are. My grandson has fortune indeed to have found you.”

Vivienne dipped her head. “It is I who am blessed by having you in my life.” And she meant it.

It would crush her to lose their friendship, but with the elderly woman’s obvious recovery, there was no way out of their lie that had been so well intended.

Would the truth send Grandmother Larkby back to death’s door?

The idea made Vivienne’s stomach turn. She could not allow this woman to suffer.

Lord, I’m sorry I got myself into this situation by not trusting in Your provision, but, Lord, what am I to do?

I cannot hurt this dear woman. How do we amend this situation of our own making?

Should I wait for Sebastian’s plan, or is it Your will I speak the truth with only the greatest love for this dear woman?

At this moment, only truth seemed right.

She emptied the second vase of the roses dipping their heads and began arranging the fresh ones.

“Grandmother Larkby, I have something to confess, and it will not be easy to—”

“I thought you were away from my rooms because you were bathing!”

“Pardon me, Mrs. Larkby?”

“Don’t you have a ball to attend this night at the Sydney Hotel?” Grandmother Larkby interjected.

Vivienne turned from fiddling with the blooms. “Yes, but it is of little consequence.”

“Little consequence? You mentioned Lady Jennings invited you ages ago. It would be horribly rude to refuse to attend after accepting so long ago. And I well know the temptation of dancing. I lived for balls when I was in my youth. No, you cannot spend all your time by my side. You are a bride, and Sebastian needs to show you off for me.” She huffed, straightening her cuff.

“If I were not imprisoned by this failing body and shackled to this beautiful estate by the orders of the good doctor, I would be dancing the night away with said doctor and boasting to anyone near that my granddaughter-in-law is a rare beauty and accomplished.”

Vivienne adjusted the rose at the center of the vase, and after turning the vase just right, she dusted off her hands and sat beside the woman. “I hardly think it is proper to leave your side at this time.”

She snorted and patted Vivienne’s hand. “I was merely tired from our adventure and have since recovered. It is highly proper. You cannot stay beside me forever, and I would not wish it of you. The best medicine you can give me is to attend the ball and be merry on my behalf, while wearing this.” Grandmother lifted a wooden box, lifting the lid to reveal a lovely set of diamond hair pins.

Viviene traced the pins with her fingertip. “I’ve never worn anything so splendid in my hair.”

“With locks such as yours, they should be adorned. These were from my darling husband. Wear them for me tonight and when you return, bring me some forbidden sweet, along with all the details. And being a writer, I have no doubt in your ability to account for the evening to me in style.”

How could she refuse this last request? Sebastian had said he had an idea.

Maybe it was wise to wait to hear it from him before blurting out the painful truth.

One more evening parading as his bride—she would do this for Grandmother Larkby.

“Thank you. It will be an honor to wear something your husband gave you. But, upon my return, we have much to discuss.”

She waved her away, impatiently. “Yes. Yes. Our grave discussion can wait until then. You need to get dressed for the evening ahead. Parties at the Sydney Hotel usually begin at five of the clock. You do not wish to miss having dinner in the gardens. The invitation mentioned a hot-air balloon for guests to ride inside. Imagine. When I saw the first one take flight over a decade ago, I about fainted, but they continued to practice to the point where I quite enjoyed seeing the balloons above, adding to the lovely tapestry of the sunset. Who knows—maybe I will recover enough to ride one this season?” She motioned Vivienne out the door.

“Before you depart, be sure to stop by and show me how lovely you look, my dear.”

With a kiss to the woman’s cheek, Vivienne joined Charlotte in their suite and began the process of dressing for the ball.

Having selected the gown and inspected it for wrinkles, they laid it on the bed while Charlotte saw to Vivienne’s hair, sewing tiny pearls that had been taken from an old necklace Mrs. Hart had given Vivienne long ago into her coiffure to make her locks shimmer.

It would take a long time to remove each pearl, but the effect was splendid.