An hour later, after rushing through her toilet and having breakfast brought to her room, Vivian sat with her cousin’s secretary.
“I wrote Mr. Jones as soon as I received word you wanted news as to the progress.” Mr. Trevor tapped his pen on the desk, in a thoughtful manner. “I trust it will not be too soon to expect results.”
“I hope you are correct. The more I think of it, the more I wish to be settled in a house of my own. It will give me something useful to do.”
As well as get her out of London and away from Lord Stanstead.
“Indeed, you cannot be comfortable situated the way you are. Lady Telford is extremely kind, but every lady should have an abode of her own.”
Vivian twisted her handkerchief in her hands. She detested waiting. “Precisely. I’m so glad you see my point.”
A footman entered with a good-sized packet. “For you, Mr. Trevor.”
“Thank you, Corey.”
As Vivian sat as still as she could, Mr. Trevor cut the strings and smoothed out the sheets of paper. “We have some possibilities.” He frowned. “What is this? Obviously not for you.” He set aside two pieces of paper from the stack. “Now then. They are arranged by county. Shall we go through them together, or would you rather look at them by yourself?”
“By myself. I shall bring back the ones that appear most promising, so that you can arrange a viewing.” She rose and bent over the desk. From her angle she could read the information on the house he had rejected and saw the land agent’s name. Jones and Son. Not difficult to remember. “Thank you.”
Mr. Trevor had risen as well. “Not at all, my lady. It is always a pleasure to be able to assist you.”
For reasons she would consider later, Vivian took the information about the house Mr. Trevor had rejected and pushed it under her stack of papers, picked up the pile, and left the room.
Twenty minutes later as she perused the estate offerings in her parlor, a light knock came on the door. “Enter.”
“Vivian?”
“Silvia.” Vivian placed the documents upside down on the elegant cherry desk. Once her plans were firm, she would tell her friend. “I didn’t expect to see you up so early. Would you like some tea?”
Silvia sank onto the small sofa next to the desk. “No, thank you, I’ve had hot chocolate.” For a few moments she fiddled with the silk belt of her robe. “I have a question for you.”
Vivian raised a brow. “Go on.”
“I know you were . . . unhappy in your marriage,” Silvia said haltingly, “but was there ever a time when you thought all would be wonderful?”
It was hard to remember, but... “Yes, before we wed and for a few weeks at the beginning.” If Vivian had known before she had married her husband what she’d learned later, she would have attempted to stop the match. Yet she had been so young and naïve, so full of hope. She’d known she wasn’t really pretty, even her father had told her that, but she had tried so hard for so many years to be a good wife. Until she walked in on her husband and his mistress during a fête at the estate.
Vivian had been looking for him to hand out some prizes when she’d heard noises coming from a parlor. She had opened the door. Her husband and Mrs. Raeford were half-dressed on the sofa. The woman’s chemise was tucked around her waist, and Vivian’s husband was on top, plunging into her. She should have left but her feet refused to move, as if they were stuck in deep mud. Finally they finished, but not before they had declared their love over and over again. And suddenly so many things she not understood made sense. Bile rose in her throat, and she thought she would be sick right there in front of them.
“My love,” Mrs. Raeford had said as she smiled smugly at Vivian. “We have an audience.”
Her husband had glanced over his shoulder. “So you finally know. It’s about time. I dropped enough hints, but you were too stupid to figure it out.”
She wished she had been able to make a retort. Instead she fled to her chamber and wept until she had no more tears left. She had wanted to leave, but her parents would not have taken her back. She had wanted to die, and if her husband had not had the accident, she might have taken her life. It might make her a horrible person, but she was glad he was dead.
“Before you married, did you have any feelings that you should not join with his lordship?”
“That is an interesting question. I’m not sure that I did. I think I was too young and excited to be betrothed, and my parents were so in favor of the match my wishes were likely to have been overridden. What I remember most was the shopping and wedding arrangements. Why?”
“I have a feeling Lord Oliver will propose, and I do not think I should marry him. He is all that is witty and engaging, but something is not quite right.”
Vivian reached over, taking her friend’s hands in hers. “Then my advice is to follow your instincts. You are wise beyond your years and have much more knowledge of mankind than I did when I wed.”
“Thank you.” A small smile trembled on Silvia’s lips. “I needed to hear someone else confirm my beliefs.”
Punt entered Vivian’s parlor. “Lord Beresford is downstairs waiting to see you, my lady.”
“Just who I do not need to see right now. I wish he would give up this mad idea. I’ve already rejected him once.” Vivian rubbed her hands over her face. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
