Page 9

T HE INCESSANT RINGING IN HER ears would not end.

Vivienne snapped her head up from the desk, wincing at the scrawled diagonal line across the page that she must have scratched as she fell asleep.

Paired with the drying puddle of drool, she would have to copy the entire page again.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and collected the pages into a neat stack, keeping the spoiled page out.

The ringing was back. A visitor? Where are the servants?

She groaned at the realization that she was the servant for now.

She checked the clock above the mantel that, of course, was not working.

It was, no doubt, calling hours, but she had been in Bath for nearly a week and had no visitors to show for it …

Of course, the home hardly seemed in use, as she was alone.

It was only because of Muriel’s thoughtfulness in stocking the larder that Vivienne had not had to venture out to market alone yet—something she felt wholly unprepared for but that was inevitable.

She trotted down the stairs, her hair flowing to her waist after she’d relieved all the pins from her chignon early this morning while writing a particularly trying scene.

She flung open the door to find a footman in the navy-and-gold livery of Draycott Castle, holding an overlarge hamper as he stood beside the carriage. Turning from an unmarked carriage with a basket on her arm was Muriel’s abigail and friend.

“Charlotte Vale?” Vivienne gasped in delight, clasping her hands before her skirts. “How wonderful to see you! What on earth are you doing here?” She peered over the woman’s shoulder, searching for Muriel.

Charlotte laughed and cast a glance to either side.

Finding no neighbors or servants nearby, she answered, “The duchess knew you would never agree to her supplying a little help for your townhouse, but she insisted, as it would be helping me out also to come to you in Bath, as well as Brexton.” She nodded to the footman, still balancing the hamper.

“Oh?” Vivienne was no duchess, this was no castle, and there was nothing she could offer this sweet maid that Muriel could not. “Is Muriel making a cake out of mud pie and being overly kind in what I can offer?”

Charlotte smiled. “Not this time. I’m to be your companion. If you agree?”

“If I agree?” she echoed. She grasped Charlotte’s hand.

Having Charlotte as a companion would be a pleasure, and it would indeed improve the former maid’s position.

She would find some way to pay Charlotte and Brexton—perhaps she should finally agree to write that serialized story for the Bath Chronicle .

She would send a note at once to accept.

“I would be most honored to have you as my companion in my new home, dear Charlotte.”

“Thank you, Miss Poppy.” Charlotte motioned for the footman to come closer.

“And, Brexton, what did our duchess offer you to entice you to come to Bath?” Vivienne nodded her greeting.

He grinned. “My sweetheart is in Bath. I was happy to join your household to be near her, if you are in agreement?”

“Most heartily. Anything I can do for young love.”

He nodded his thanks and, at her gesture, disappeared into the house as the driver unloaded the trunks attached at the rear of the carriage.

“I will also see to dressing your hair should you have need.” She eyed Vivienne’s wild mane and sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Which I believe you do. Are those bits of branches in your hair?”

Vivienne gritted her teeth. “I thought I got them all out. Honestly, my hair has been impossible to manage for the past week, so I’ve been wearing it in a bun most of the time.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask how it came to pass that you have nature in your hair, but seeing as you are the duchess’s closest friend, I shouldn’t be surprised to see you follow her grace’s tendency for mischief.

” Charlotte giggled. “Let’s get you inside before word spreads that Lady Larkby prefers to wear her hair down and wrinkled gowns while sporting ink on her fingers. ”

“I wasn’t able to do much on my own, but give me time and Lady Larkby shall make her first appearance at the pump rooms.” Vivienne glanced down at her poplin.

It was a sight, but it was far better than her spoiled traveling gown of blue and the once-darling pink pelisse that now wasn’t fit enough for the charity basket.

It was still in a heap in the basin in the kitchen, where she had been soaking it …

for days. The mud would not be scrubbed away.

She worried her bottom lip thinking of her spotted poplin cream gown.

It was fashionable enough for a Chilham maiden, but the country ball gowns she had in her dressing room would hardly be worth notice.

“Perhaps we should do a bit of shopping on Cheap Street and breathe some fresh pieces into my wanting wardrobe?” Her stomach twisted at the thought of how much she would need to spend for a wardrobe befitting a noblewoman.

She should have considered that when selecting her nom de plume.

At the time, she’d thought the title lent her an air of mystery and romance.

“Actually, the duchess saw to that.” Charlotte grinned as Brexton slid past them.

She gestured to the trunks the footman began toting into the house, lining them along the wall near the stairs.

“The two larger trunks I brought with me are for you.” Charlotte nudged her into the foyer.

“Did you not suspect when we brought four? The medium is mine, and the small is Brexton’s. ”

Vivienne laughed. “I thought they were yours. Muriel is too generous.”

“She’s always been so.” Charlotte lifted a lock of Vivienne’s hair. “Shall I see to your hair while you have something to eat and a cup of tea? I’ve been thinking of hot tea and scones for the whole of the journey.”

“I have no one to ring for food in the kitchen and was not able to find the tea leaves.”

She lifted the basket on her arm. “The duchess baked your favorite just before I left, and I’ve brought a tin of my favorite tea leaves.

As for the making of the tea, we shall take care of it.

” Charlotte laughed and passed along the need to the footman before following Vivienne upstairs and seating her at the dressing table.

She then removed a napkin piled with scones.

Vivienne inhaled the vanilla treats. “Our baker duchess is a saint. How are she and her new husband faring?”

“That is partly why she sent me.” Charlotte pushed half of Vivienne’s hair to the side, dipped the comb into the basin of water, and then began to work with the less tangled section.

“She and his grace are going on a holiday in his ship, but he did not say where as it was a surprise. She thought that, as I do not enjoy sailing, I might look after you in her absence and obtain some experience as a companion, as she has long known that secret desire of my heart.”

Vivienne shook her head. “Our mischievous Muriel looking after us both in the kindest way possible.”

Charlotte’s gaze fluttered to a crumpled note on the floor beside Vivienne’s untouched bed. “Are your characters eluding you again?”

“That’s the missive from my stepbrother in Chilham. After a particularly trying journey to Bath and arriving to an empty house, I needed to read it yet again to refresh my memory. The state of the note is due to my memory having been sufficiently refreshed.”

“And the state of the bed?”

“My memory being refreshed allowed me to realize that I need to work harder to earn my living. I cannot afford to let a single day pass without writing—besides Sunday, of course.” She shook her head.

“But I must confess that during the most trying of services, my mind does tend to wander to storylines.”

Charlotte finished combing both sections and then pulled the back half of Vivienne’s hair into a top knot.

“The duchess said your stepbrother promised your hand to that blackguard Sir Josiah Montgomery.” She grimaced.

She knew full well of the duchess’s former fiancé’s inclinations toward ladybirds.

“Does your stepbrother care so little for your happiness that he would have the banns read in church on Sunday against your will?”

Vivienne gritted her teeth at the news, fighting back her rising anxiety. She was thankful she had not suffered an attack of anxiety during her ordeal, but his name was worse than any highwayman.

Charlotte clasped her hand. “Did you not know?”

She shook her head and squeezed Charlotte’s hand as she drew in a bracing breath, counting to ten.

Lord, help me to trust You to keep me safe.

“I-I do not know why Lucius dislikes me. Perhaps it was because his mother remarried. But if it hadn’t been my father, the widow Hart would have married someone else.

She was not meant to be alone. But it seems that all my stepbrother cares about is putting me in my place and reminding me that I am the unwanted stepsister he inherited by his mother’s demeaning marriage.

So yes, he is determined to see me unhappy, which is why he had the banns read without even asking me. ”

Charlotte expertly plaited the front of Vivienne’s hair, taking time to weave in a gold cord to make her hair shimmer before she looped the braids back and tucked them neatly into the bun.

Brexton knocked on the open door, keeping his gaze firmly on the tray of tea he gripped.

Charlotte took the tray with a nod of thanks and Brexton shut the door.

She made quick work of pouring them each a cup.

“What if we find another match for you while you are here in Bath and, therefore, cut all ties with your stepbrother?”