Everleigh held the small miniature of his grandfather, staring at the picture, but not seeing it. Waiting. He’d told his butler to get Mrs Rush and he’d see that she communicated to Vivian’s companion that she might need the physician again.
He must keep away from her. She was too distracting.
He’d thought them in agreement.
Then she had appeared asking him for a list and a temporary courtship.
The illness had addled poor Vivian. He had inspected her, searching her eyes for a difference. But she appeared perfect.
Vivian had blossomed. He would have had to have been insensible not to have noticed how she’d changed. Her dress had probably weighed more than she had at their first meeting.
She’d reminded him of a bird he’d once found fallen from a nest—mostly skin and feathers. But she’d looked at him as if he could vanquish all the evil of the world. Innocence. She had no idea of the mare’s nest the world was in.
He’d kissed her. The kiss had been his most virtuous—in a sense. He’d concentrated strongly on bringing a response from her. He’d wanted nothing but her pleasure in it. A lady’s first kiss, and maybe her last, should be memorable. He’d tried. He’d put more effort into it than he’d put into a whole term at Oxford.
And from Vivian’s reaction, he’d not failed. No. Not failed.
The effort to please her had set off something in him. Something different from any kiss he’d felt before.
He didn’t want to think of it and he couldn’t risk repeating it.
She’d some day find a proper man and settle into a proper life, and have proper children and a proper governess.
She would become like every other wife. The thought thickened the air and made it harder to pull breath into his lungs. Vivian would be in some man’s bed.
Any man in the market for a wife would see her now and the trim shape of her dress, with the hint of bosom peeping from the top and the creamy skin shouting of innocence, and would be ready to promise whatever it took to get a ring on her finger.
He pulled himself tighter when he heard a rap at the door.
The rap sounded again. ‘You sent for me?’ Mrs Rush spoke, entering.
‘Yes.’ He would have to choose his words carefully. He didn’t want to hurt Vivian’s reputation.
‘Miss Darius... Is she well?’
Then Mrs Rush took a deep breath—too deep, too long and full of portent. She could have shouted and Everleigh’s attention would not have focused on her more.
‘I thought you and Miss Vivian’s housekeeper might have discussed Miss Vivian’s health,’ he said.
‘We have.’
‘She is recovered?’
‘Most certainly.’
‘Today, she seemed jittery. Are you certain?’
‘There is the little matter of the curse concerning you.’
Everleigh scrutinised Mrs Rush’s expression. ‘Curse?’
Mrs Rush’s nod was brief. ‘I am correct in this disclosure. It is a curse directed at Miss Vivian. It seems she must marry you or die.’
Everleigh scratched his jaw. A certain vagabond had once told him how easy it was to gammon people. She’d explained it almost in the same terms Grandfather had used when he taught Everleigh how to handle business transactions and how to bluff.
‘I sent Miss Vivian for a medicinal. Ella Etta charged her much more than I ever expected.’ Mrs Rush wrung her hands. ‘I never thought the vagrant would do such a thing.’
‘Ella Etta?’ Dread entered his body. He wouldn’t have suspected she would mislead Vivian.
‘Yes. Miss Vivian has to marry you in order to be given more medicine. If she doesn’t, she will die.’
‘What a choice.’
‘I fear it would flummox me.’
Everleigh raised a brow and waved the servant away.
Then Everleigh left the room, taking the longest strides of his life, his hands in balled fists at his sides. Memories flooded his thoughts, pushing his feet forward and his mind into the past.
He could toss Ella Etta from the land.
But she’d fed him and Daniel and let them sit by the fire on cold days while she told them tales of boys’ bravery. Chased them with a broken stick when they’d hidden inside the woods and jumped out at her. Made their time together an adventure and a respite from the severity of his father and the loss of his mother. She’d not instructed him constantly as his grandfather had, gathering promises of how Everleigh would continue the responsibility of using the influence he had been born with. She’d provided a haven.
And now she’d told Vivian she had to marry him.
He shook his head.
Then, he felt his pride deflate. It would have been nice if Vivian had wanted to court him of her own accord. Not only because she needed him in order to continue living.
* * *
After he remembered to watch for people standing too near the carriage, Everleigh jumped from his vehicle when it arrived at Vivian’s house.
Her father wasn’t at home, which didn’t distress Everleigh.
Vivian arrived in the drawing room, her hair swept up, with loosely flowing waves escaping the knot. She appeared elegant and proud, except for the wariness of her footsteps.
‘I think you threw me out of your house.’ She stared forward. ‘I received the impression you never wished me to be near you again.’
‘I did not throw you out.’
‘Figuratively speaking, you did.’ Her lips formed a line.
‘My heartfelt apologies.’
‘I would prefer not to accept them, but I fear I must.’
‘I’ve been told you have a dilemma. Does the reason you would court me have to do with Ella Etta’s words?’
‘Why would you think otherwise?’ She moved to a chair, sitting down. ‘Of course I would consider you an interesting prospect for a suitor under regular circumstances...possibly. Before I got to know you. But...’
She indicated the chair near her, but when he declined, she rose.
‘I did promise Ella Etta I would marry you,’ she said. ‘I was ill at the time. Near death. Could barely sit, hardly think and was getting smoke in my eyes.’
‘I understand.’
‘I’d seen you. You’d been gracious enough to kiss me.’ Her brows furrowed. ‘I had no preference in the matter since I was expected to die. My intended might as well be a man of kindness, instead of someone I’d never met.’
‘So, you thought I might be gracious enough to throw in a marriage along with a kiss.’ He had an urge to rail at her. Why had she not told him?
‘I’d not truly met you. Nor yet been tossed from your sight.’ She said the words as an accusation and her voice increased a notch. ‘I consider myself someone a man should joyously accept as a wife.’
‘If he was of a mind to marry.’
‘I would think,’ she grumbled, ‘if he realised he might have the opportunity of a wife as fine as I am, he might become inclined to wed even if the idea hadn’t occurred to him before. The opportunity to acquire a treasure should never be missed.’ Her chin moved up.
‘A treasure is a fine thing, but some men are best left in poverty.’ He noted Mavis silently at the door and a glower sent her scurrying.
‘I realise my recent illness might put some suitors off—but I am of good family. A baron’s daughter. Who has a respectable dowry, is pleasant-natured—’
‘You do not have to write me a journal,’ he assured her. ‘I can see enough of your attributes myself.’
‘It is not obvious you do.’ A twinge of hurt passed behind her expression. ‘You could have pretended chagrin when sending me from your house.’
‘I have not found that to work in the past. And I thought you appreciated honest speech.’
‘Very well.’ She paced between the chairs. ‘I would have appreciated some feeling of regret from you. I had, after all...’ she lowered her voice ‘...done the unthinkable. I had kissed you and mentioned marriage to you. Two crimes, apparently.’
‘No. Not the kiss. Yours was not the first such offer I have received of late. Alexandria had also done the same. It is not such an unthinkable topic for women as you might imagine.’
‘We both know she is daft,’ she said. ‘All this attention has made you high on the matrimonial instep.’
‘While I admit you are of suitable appearance and agreeable conversation—’ he said, then rapidly stopped. ‘I am not high on any instep. I don’t wish to marry. End of discussion.’
He stepped so close he could have kissed her again.
‘Please sit. You’re towering over me. I don’t like it.’ She had her arms folded over her chest and regarded a space behind him.
‘Nor do I.’ He lowered himself into the chair.
‘That’s better.’
‘You’re welcome. Miss Darius, please sit. I will be able to solve your problem. Painlessly.’
‘I will accept my fate. Mavis and I have talked. She said it is utter nonsense. But, if there are any repercussions, I will make sure the old woman knows they are to fall on me.’
He stood, walking towards her.
‘I shouldn’t have taken the first kiss from you. It was wrong of me. I know how much it can mean. How it awakens something within a person. I do ask forgiveness.’
‘No. We are—were—friends. A friend doesn’t apologise for doing a kindness.’
His shook his head the merest bit. He could see her lips in front of him and it would be no crime to kiss her again. Except it would. He could not be in her thoughts. But he was already there and would remain there, until someone else kissed her.
‘Vivian. You must attend those soirées you wished for.’
Her jaw tensed.
Holding her shoulders, he touched too much thinness, but he absorbed warmth, too, and smelled her flowery scent, which reminded him of springtime fields. He commanded her attention by slightly pulling her towards him.
‘Dance and laugh and find a gentle sort. You would have your pick of all the unmarried men interested in marriage.’ He smiled, speaking just above a whisper. ‘After all, you are worthy of love and sonnets every time the sun rises. I am not able to provide that.’
She put her hand to his chest, but didn’t push. Her words burst from her. ‘I don’t want to die. And I don’t want my mother to be under any curse.’
He stepped back, taking her hand and lifting it. Her fingers curled softly, but she opened them when he kissed her palm.
Lowering her hand, he said, ‘Ella Etta will release you from the curse. She won’t dare not.’
Vivian made him feel bigger somehow. His anger at her for trying to manipulate him disappeared. His old friend had tricked Vivian.
For Ella Etta to take food from the estate was one thing, but she’d overstepped her bounds.
He no longer felt angry at anyone but Ella Etta. He would discuss this with her.
He saw Vivian, imagining her through a different viewpoint. And, he could almost hear Ella Etta’s mind humming. She would see nothing wrong in picking out a wife for him. She would think as other people who saw Vivian. Vivian would be a wonderful wife for the right man and the crone viewed it as her duty to tell the sun how to rise and the moon when to set.
‘Let us go visit Ella Etta.’ He felt himself tense at the words. He would make her tell Vivian the curse wasn’t real. Vivian had been ill. She didn’t need such nonsense hanging over her head.
‘We’ll rid you of the hag’s threat,’ he said. He had to be careful. If he spent more time with Vivian, he knew that when he rid Vivian of the problem with the trickster, he would be adding another one for himself.
‘I doubt my father would agree easily for me to go anywhere with you. But I will be at your house on Sunday morning. If we could travel then, it will be less likely to be noticed.’
‘This curse nonsense will stop,’ he reassured her. But before leaving, he took one last look at Vivian.