“Yes, my lord.”
My dear Lord Stanstead,
I have the support you require to bring the bill to the Lords, and I have arranged for a committee vote to be held at ten in the morning.
Yr. Servant,
Banks
“Is it bad news, my lord?”
“No, quite the opposite.” Rupert glanced at the clock. By the time he got John Milford down here it would be too late. The missives must go out immediately. “I’ll need three or four footmen immediately.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“They will have to wait for answers, or, in a few cases, hunt the gentlemen down.”
“I understand, my lord.”
Rupert sat down at his desk and began writing letters to all his fellow peers who had already promised support for his bill. Once the notes had been sent, he wrote a message to Vivian explaining to her the situation and that he might be slightly late picking her up for their outing. Not exactly how he wished to begin courting her, but he prayed she would understand.
Vivian lay in bed listening to Punt hum as she went about her work. When the tune grew louder, Vivian knew it was time to get up, even though she would rather pull the covers over her head and hide. Some way or another she would have to survive the museum visit with Lord Stanstead without letting him know how much she was coming to like him.
She should have known how it would be after her first meeting with him. She had expected him to be a bit callow, like other young men his age. Yet he was not. Rather, men much older than he, listened when he spoke. His ideas were well thought out, and he knew to a nicety how far he could push a point without making himself appear foolish or too eager. At the same time, he had managed to keep her attention. He would make whichever lady he married a wonderful husband.
“My lady”—Punt stood next to the bed—“a letter was delivered for you, and I have your tea.”
Vivian pushed herself up against the pillows, took the missive, and opened it.
My dear Lady Beresford,
Please forgive me, but I have an important meeting to attend this morning at Westminster if I wish my bill regarding the war veterans to be heard in the Lords.
I shall try not to be late for our appointment, but count on your generous nature if I should be.
Yr grateful servant,
R. Stanstead
Laying the note down, she took a sip of tea. “When was this delivered?”
“I’m not sure. Sometime last night, I think. It was on the tray when I went down to the laundry at six.”
“Thank you.” Vivian wouldn’t be at all surprised if he had to cancel their trip. And she could not blame him; the bill was extremely important to him and to the poor returning soldiers.
She glanced at Punt and a tall vase with blue delphiniums caught her eye. “Where did the flowers come from?”
Punt picked up the card that had been set amongst the blooms. “Since I haven’t started reading your mail, you’d better see for yourself.”
Vivian opened it.Stanstead.They were beautiful and in her favorite color.
Oh dear, how was she to stop herself from caring about him when he was so . . . so wonderful? If only her body was not so horrible to look at. If it was as pretty as she’d been told her face was, everything would be fine, but it wasn’t, and she would not be rejected again. Spending her life alone was a preferable option.
She must get on with finding her own place to live, and resettle as soon as possible. “Please send a message to Mr. Trevor that I wish to meet with him after I break my fast.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Hopefully, the land agent had found some possibilities. If she was quick, she could find out what was available and be free when Lord Stanstead came to fetch her.
