She settled the cat next to her, then blew out the candles. “I will enjoy the Season and find a house to call home. That is all I really want, in any event.”
If she continued to repeat it over and over and over again, she was bound to start believing it.
The cat chirped.
“Yes, there will be a garden and terrace. Perhaps in Kent. That is sufficiently far away from Beresford.” Yet instead of falling asleep, Vivian gazed at the window overlooking the park. If she rose, would she see Lord Stanstead? She glanced at the clock. It was after three in the morning. Not likely. She turned her pillow, careful not to disturb her cat.
Six hours later, her eyes popped open and she groaned. Lord Stanstead had taken root in her mind. She’d dreamed of dancing with him and walking through gardens. Her nocturnal meanderings had stopped short of kissing, though. That was something to be grateful for. Or was it?
This foolishness had to cease. Simply because he was the first gentleman in a very long time to show her any consideration, did not mean he was interested in her.
Vivian tugged the bell-pull. It was time to get on with her life, which did not include Lord Stanstead.
An hour later, after dressing and breaking her fast, Vivian found her cousin’s secretary, Mr. Septimius Trevor, at his desk in his small office. She knocked on the open door, entering a bit nervously. After all, it wasn’t every day a lady of her age, even a widow, sought to set up her own household. “Good morning, Mr. Trevor.”
He pushed his spectacles up and blinked as if surprised to see her, then rose hastily. “Good morning, my lady. How may I help you?”
She slipped into a chair in front of his desk. “I wish to begin my search for a property on which to live.”
She’d expected questions, or at least a modicum of shock, but the young man merely returned to his seat and picked up a pen. “If you will give me an idea of what you are looking for, I shall contact a land agent I have dealt with before when Lady Telford wished to visit Bath or Brighton. He once found a house for her in Scotland. When do you desire to take possession?”
“Sometime in late October would be ideal.” Her cousin would allow her to remain until a suitable house was found, and an older companion arranged.
“Plenty of time then.” He pulled out a piece of paper. “Shall we begin?”
Vivian began with the bare bones, after which Mr. Trevor questioned and prodded until a much more detailed picture of what her house should look like began to appear. In her mind a fair-sized manor house emerged, situated on a large enough property to support the maintenance, and a home farm as well as a garden. Any doubts she had experienced earlier dissolved as the scheme grew and became more of a reality. “This is wonderful, but do you think I’ll be able to find such a place?”
“Indeed I do.” He set down his pen. “The question is what condition will it be in, and what will you accept?”
She’d known this was going too well. “I must view the property first. I am not prepared to make extensive renovations.” Sitting a little straighter, she smiled. “There is not much for me to do in any event. I shall be able to travel out to any houses that are close to Town fairly easily. Any others may take some doing.” Such as convincing her friend and cousin she was perfectly capable of traveling with only her maid and footman. She could not allow Clara or Silvia to leave Town and miss their entertainments.
Rising, Vivian held out her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Trevor. You’ve been quite competent and very kind.”
“Competence is what I do best.” He shook her hand. “It was my pleasure to assist you. I’ll send this to the land agent immediately.”
Vivian made her way back to her apartment and found Punt in the dressing room. “I’ve done it. Mr. Trevor is going to assist me in my search for a small estate.”
The maid turned slowly. “I know you say that’s what you want. Just remember, things will always turn out like they should, my lady.”
“I do wish you would be happy for me.” Vivian wondered if anyone else had these types of problems with old retainers.
“Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but I’m happy you’re out of a marriage with a man who didn’t deserve you.” Punt shook out a gown with a snap. “I think you need to give yourself a chance at more happiness before you bury yourself in the country. After all, that’s where you’ve been for several years now and it hasn’t done you much good that I can see.”
“I do not intend to secrete myself. I have it in my mind to be active in any community in the area.” Vivian resisted the urge to fiddle with the curls framing her face. “And I am unlikely to meet a gentleman who will change my mind about having my own household.”
“Harrumph.”
The only gentleman who had caught her attention at all was Lord Stanstead. Still, it was impossible. She could not place herself in that position again. If only things . . . if only she were different. Maybe then Lord Stanstead would be interested, and she could trust a man with her heart. Then again, he had only asked to take her to the museum. There was really nothing in that.
Outside of one of the committee rooms in Whitehall, which was being used for meetings to discuss legislation, Rupert saw Lord Banks hail him. “My lord, good morning.”
“That remains to be seen. Stanstead”—the older man’s voice was low and slightly gruff—“I am to invite you to dine at my house on Wednesday.” He drew his brows down so low they almost touched his nose. “If you are not otherwise engaged, that is.”
Lord Banks’s fierce expression was obviously meant to intimidate. It did not accomplish that, but it was a damned good thing Rupert had no interest in the man’s daughter. The question was whether to tell him or not. Although Banks clearly didn’t want him for a son-in-law, he most likely didn’t want his child rejected either. “I’m very sorry, but I have a previous engagement that evening.”
Banks gave a curt nod and said in an under voice, “Thank you.”
It was then that a thought occurred to Rupert. “I gather you have another gentleman in mind?”
