CHAPTER TWELVE
The following morning, Vivian was donning her gloves when Lord Stanstead was announced. She attempted to tamp down the increasing sense of pleasure being in his company gave her. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”
She took one last look in the mirror. Her cherry-colored carriage gown was dramatically different than the shades of light blue she normally wore. The color brought out the pink of her cheeks, and it was time for a change. No longer would she allow her life to be ruled by men to whom she was nothing but a method to gain what they wanted, without concern for her.
One more day, that was all she would allow herself to have with Lord Stanstead, then she would start finding reasons she should avoid him.
Taking a breath, she blinked back the tears threatening to form. Now she was being silly. After all, one must live with oneself as God made one.
As Vivian made her way down the stairs, Lord Stanstead turned and gazed up at her. “My lady, forgive my being forward, but you look even lovelier than when last I saw you.”
A thrill of happiness caused her heart to flutter like the wings of a small bird. “Thank you. A lady always likes to be appreciated.”
“Shall we be off?” He held out his arm. “We should be able to avoid most of the crowds.”
It was much earlier than the fashionable were usually abroad. Even Silvia had not yet come down. Vivian tried not to give in to her disappointment that he did not wish to be seen with her. Dancing was one thing, but this . . . “Yes, let’s.”
His phaeton was waiting with a small boy in livery holding the horses. Once he had helped her up and taken his place, he gave the order to release the pair. The tiger hopped onto the back of the carriage. She’d heard of tigers, but was dubious about allowing young children to be in charge of blood cattle. “Is it safe to let a young lad take care of your horses?”
“I know there are those who think they should not be allowed to do so, but quite frankly, Stuie will get into trouble if not gainfully employed. I require him to attend classes with the other servants’ children. He is extremely bright, but inevitably finishes before the rest and requires occupation. As he loves horses, this seemed to be the best place for him. This pair is as gentle as they come. Now, I would not allow him near my grays.”
She felt like an idiot. Lord Stanstead was nothing if not thorough, a fact she should not forget. “Forgive me—”
“There is no need.” He waved one hand, keeping ahold of the reins with the other. “It’s a valid concern.” He flashed another of his smiles that made her catch her breath. “Especially from one who worries so much about the well-being of others.”
Her cheeks warmed and she knew she was blushing. “Thank you.”
“Were you able to speak with Phoebe?”
“I was. She and Anna have several projects that I am interested in.” Endeavors Vivian would have liked to institute at Beresford, had she been allowed to do so.
“Do you enjoy gardening?”
“Very much. My mother has a lovely old garden that she refused to allow to be destroyed for a lawn.”
“When I went on my Grand Tour, I brought back dozens of plants . . .” Lord Stanstead regaled her with stories of his old gardener, who appropriated the flowers and vegetables he took to his estate. “Now he acts as if they belong exclusively to him.” He slowed his horses. “Here we are.”
The drive to the museum was much shorter than she’d thought it would be. “Already?”
“Yes, normally it takes much longer.” He set the brake, threw the ribbons to his tiger, then came around to her. Rather than pull down the steps, Lord Stanstead lifted her as if she were as light as a feather. Having both of his hands around her waist sent pleasurable tingles through her torso and did nothing at all for her composure. This was not good. She’d never been breathless with a gentleman before. Perhaps now was the time to begin putting distance between them.
He set her carefully on her feet, placing her hand on his arm. “I think you’ll like the Elgin Marbles. They are all everyone has been talking about.”
“So I have heard. One is made to appear provincial if one has not visited them at least once.” She rested her fingers lightly on his arm, even though she would have preferred to hold on with both hands.
He paid the small fee at the entrance before guiding her unerringly to the famous artifacts. “I never thought there were so many!”
“Yes, it’s as if Lord Elgin shipped back most of the artifacts in Europe. The Greeks are already asking that those belonging to their country be returned.”
Vivian studied the sculptures and other pieces that clearly came off buildings. “Do you think they will be sent back?”
“Not after the price our government paid for them.”
“I have to say, some of my enjoyment in seeing them is lost. It’s as if I’m looking at stolen goods.”
Lord Stanstead leaned closer to her and now her stomach behaved like butterflies had taken up permanent residence. “I agree, but we mustn’t say anything. It would be considered not the thing. They are here to be admired, not criticized.”
Vivian swallowed as the warmth of his body sank into her. “I understand. Perhaps we could leave now.”
“If you wish. Or we may visit other parts of the museum. There are some magnificent paintings.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
They spent the next hour or so touring the other collections, and discovered their taste in art was the same. Vivian had rarely enjoyed herself more. Gradually, other visitors began to arrive, most of them children with governesses and tutors, and she understood the reason Lord Stanstead had wanted to arrive early. It was much nicer to have the museum to themselves.
Once they regained the pavement, his horses could be seen being led by the tiger. “He is not driving them.”
“No. He’s only allowed to walk them.”
Lord Stanstead lifted her up into the phaeton. Vivian thought she would be able to ignore his touch if she knew it was coming, yet the anticipation made it much worse. A sense of longing she’d never experienced before invaded her senses. They were half-way back to Mount Street before she had control of herself again.
The instant the carriage slowed, one of her cousin’s footmen let down the steps, but just as Vivian was about to allow the servant to help her, Lord Stanstead lifted her down again.
She couldn’t take much more of that and maintain her composure. All she wanted to do was throw her arms around him. “Thank you for taking me. It was lovely.”
“The pleasure, my lady, was all mine.” His voice was low, warm, and seductive.
Her body prickled with awareness. She did not dare look up, but she knew Lord Stanstead was gazing at her. If only she could allow herself to want him, but it was no use. Once he saw her unclothed, he would not desire her.
“Thank you once more for the lovely outing.” She started to turn, but he took her hand. Oh Lord, what was she going to do if he continued to touch her?
Fighting the urge to peel off Vivian’s gloves and kiss each finger one at a time, Rupert brought her hand to his lips, touching it lightly. Until now, he’d never understood why Robert had felt it necessary to attempt to compromise Serena into marriage, yet his actions were increasingly comprehensible.
From Rupert’s perspective, the day had been a disaster. Vivian had been amiable but not willing to be charmed. Her smiles had at times appeared forced, and when he had placed her hand on his arm, her touch was different than before, cooler. What exactly had occurred between last night and this morning, he didn’t know, but he would damn sure find out.
He drove to his house, giving the horses over to his tiger. “Take them to the stables, and tell Harlock I’ll be back before dinner.”
No more than thirty minutes later, he was at Jackson’s Salon, stripping.
“Is there anyone interesting here?” he asked one of the great Jackson’s assistants, hoping to find an opponent he hadn’t fought before.
“Lord Hawksworth brought a friend. Looks like he’ll show to advantage, if I do say so meself.”
“Good. I need a challenge.” Surprising how one recalcitrant lady could bring on the need for violent physical activity.
“I’ll ask the gentleman if he’d like a sparring partner.”
“Thank you.” A short while later Rupert strode out of the changing room into the boxing area, inclined his head to Hawksworth, and stopped.
Next to him was the man whom Vivian had been avoiding. Rupert’s day had just taken a turn for the better. He could vent his spleen on someone who deserved to be pounded into the ground. His soon-to-be challenger was almost equal to him in weight and reach, although Rupert thought he had a slight advantage in height and age. “Hawksworth.”
The other man turned. “Stanstead, here for a round or two?”
“Indeed.”
“Allow me to introduce you to the Earl of Beresford. Beresford, the Earl of Stanstead. I recommend each of you to the other.” Hawksworth moved aside and murmured, “I shall keep track of the betting.”
Rupert and Beresford entered the ring and waited until the attendants had affixed boxing gloves to their hands. Several other gentlemen and some of Jackson’s assistants gathered round. Hawksworth said something, and slips of paper were handed to him. The wagering had begun.
Having taken notice, Jackson himself came over and stood between Rupert and Beresford. “You may begin, my lords.”
As soon as the great man stepped aside, Beresford lunged, feinting as though he meant to attack from the left, but Rupert was wise to that trick and landed a hard strike to the other man’s jaw.
Beresford shook it off and advanced again. “You’re good.”
“So are you,” Rupert replied, refusing to be distracted.
They danced around for a bit, sizing each other up, before he managed a punch to Beresford’s gut. A whoosh of air burst out of him, and he charged, catching Rupert on the shoulder as he once more attempted a flush hit to the other man’s jaw.
“I hear,” Beresford panted, “that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Lady Beresford.”
Rupert leapt out of reach. “What does it matter to you?”
“I asked her to marry me.” Beresford closed the distance between them.
“I plan to do the same.”
Beresford stopped, and his brows came together in a puzzled expression. “Do you care for her?”
“That is really none of your business.” Rupert swung, knocking Beresford off balance. “But if you must know, yes, I do, a great deal. Do you?”
“No. I did it for duty.”
God damn the cur. Vivian deserved to be loved, not seen as a burden. Anger surged through Rupert, but that wouldn’t help him win this fight. Suddenly the bout became all about Vivian, protecting her and making her his. This match was for her. Doubling up on his punches, he aimed for his opponent’s head and stomach.
No more than thirty seconds later Beresford collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. “She says she’ll never wed again.”
The reason for that was what Rupert wanted to know. The attendant took off one of Rupert’s gloves and Rupert held out his hand, grasping Beresford’s. “I know a pub where the ale is the best you’ll find in London.”
Beresford climbed to his feet and nodded. “Excellent idea. You’re bloody good, by the way. I’ve never been taken down before.”
“It’s all in the technique and concentration.” Two things Beresford lacked. “I never allow myself to be distracted from the task at hand.” Nor would Rupert now. Winning Vivian was his main focus, and if he could convince Beresford he need not wed Vivian, the man might be the key to accomplishing Rupert’s nuptials to the lady.
Less than a quarter hour later, they strode out of the boxing saloon, down Bond Street, through the labyrinth of small streets making up Soho, to the Dog and Duck. Rupert kept the conversation to a minimum until they entered the pub, found a table in the back, and called the bar-maid over.
A girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen swung her hips provocatively as she greeted them. “What you hav’n, me lord?”
“Two pints, if you would, Meg.”
She speared a young man behind the bar with a look. “I just loves the guv’nor. He’s a real gent.”
“Ah, Meggie, give a chap a break.” The young man screwed his face up. “We can’t all be like his lordship here.”
“Harrumph.” Tossing her head, she flounced off.
Rupert glanced over to her father, who rolled his eyes as the man watched Meg drive her betrothed mad.
Once the ale was served, Rupert took a long drink, wanting to carefully form his questions. What he learned about Vivian’s prior life might be crucial to convincing her to marry him.
As before, Beresford jumped in. “Look, call me Nick, if you like, or Beresford if you don’t want to be so informal. I can see you don’t like that I proposed to Vivian, er, Lady Beresford. If you think you can give her a better life, I’ll stand aside.”
That was unexpected, but fitted into Rupert’s plan. “You said she would never wed again. Why is that?”
“She was married to my cousin Edgar. The union was less than desirable for both of them. Although Vivian tried to be a good wife. My cousin had been and was until he died, in love with another woman. She was the exact opposite of Vivian in every way, from birth to appearance.”
Rupert leaned back against his seat and listened.
Beresford took a long draw of his ale. “Edgar and Vivian’s marriage was arranged by their fathers. I honestly think Edgar did his best for the week or so after the ceremony. I do know that Vivian fancied herself in love with him, but that didn’t last long. Their honeymoon was cut short by my uncle’s death, and Edgar was furious that he was stuck with Vivian. He became involved with his mistress, Mrs. Raeford, again, and convinced himself that if he’d waited, he would have been able to find a way to marry her. Which was rubbish. The earl had her married off to an older gentleman farmer as soon as he saw which way the wind was blowing. The old man didn’t mind Edgar keeping her on the side, and paid her husband to turn his head, but he’d be damned if he let his son wed the chit.”
No matter the reason, Rupert couldn’t countenance any man purposely hurting a woman, particularly one he was duty-bound to protect, but he wasn’t an innocent and knew it happened. “Was he cruel to her?”
“He didn’t beat her.” Nick drained the rest of his glass, and Rupert signaled for another. “But he became so angry that he couldn’t be with the woman he wanted, I expect he said things he should not have, and he always compared her to his mistress. I don’t have to tell you that Vivian did not fare well.”
No, she would not have, yet this type of abuse was not what Rupert had expected. Still, it made sense. When he’d complimented her today, she had pulled back. She might be afraid of the same pattern occurring again. “Did he flaunt his mistress?”
“I was gone much of the time”—Nick shook his head thoughtfully—“but I don’t think she knew until close to the end.”
That meant she had been denigrated and had no clue of the reason. Not that knowing would have made it better. “You said you asked her to marry you out of duty. What did you mean?”
“My cousin asked me to. I arrived on the heels of his fall. Edgar knew he’d treated Vivian badly and wanted to make amends.” Nick’s lips formed a grim line. “I told myself I’d ask her twice. The problem is that I’m in love with someone else, as well.” He stared into his empty glass. “For reasons I don’t know, she hates me, but there you have it.”
Rupert stared out the grimy window, watching the passersby. “When did Lady Beresford tell you she would not marry again?”
“When I proposed.” Nick raked his hand through his hair. “I’m a military man. Plain speaking is what I do best. I was always in line after Edgar, but never expected to inherit. If he had done his duty by Vivian, they would have had children. God knows he had several by the other woman. I didn’t know what else to promise her, so I told her I’d give her children.”
Rupert had never heard of a worse proposal in his life. Even Robert’s to Serena had been better than that. Thank God Vivian had had enough pride left to refuse.
For the first time, Rupert wanted to laugh and did, long and hard enough that Beresford started to flush with anger.
“I don’t think it’s that funny,” he groused. His lips began to twitch. “It wasn’t at the time. Although, it probably saved me from a wife I didn’t want.”
“No wonder she turned you down.” Rupert chuckled again. “Not to mention how awkward she would have felt remaining Lady Beresford.”
“There is that.” Nick grimaced. “Looking at it from your point of view, it almost seems as if Edgar used me to insult her from the grave.”
It was time to stop the man from offering for Vivian again. “I think you can leave her ladyship to me.” Rupert drained the rest of his ale. “Now that I know what I’m up against, I’ll figure out a way to deal with it.”
Nick stared as if he couldn’t believe what he had heard. “You really do care deeply about her?”
“More than I ever thought possible.” And Rupert was sure she was beginning to feel affection for him as well.
His heart ached for her and what she must have suffered. His mother had been ignored by her husband, but that was exactly the way she had wanted it. He could not imagine the pain Vivian must have suffered being compared to a woman her husband considered the love of his life.
Rupert knew, not from experience but from watching other married men, that once they fell in love, their wives were beautiful to them, no matter what others thought.
His grandmother had told him everyone had their match. He just had to prove to Vivian he was hers.