She couldn’t argue with that. “I must eat.” She’d never been so hungry. “After which I’ll speak to my cousin. I am certain she will be able to keep my father at bay until I can escape.”
“That she will, and you never know what other help will show up.” On that cryptic remark, Punt disappeared into the dressing room.
After breaking her fast and dressing, Vivian found her cousin on the terrace outside of the morning room at the back of the house. “I received a letter from Mama . . .”
Clara’s brows lowered as she narrowed her eyes. “I think it best if you stay close to the house to-day. In the event your father arrives, I shall have him turned away until you can sort out what you wish to do.”
That was easy: Vivian would flee. “Whatever happens, I shall not agree to marry Lord Twiddlededum.”
“I agree, it does not sound like a good match at all.” Her cousin patted her hand. “You will come about. I place great faith in Fate.”
Barnes tapped on the open door. “Lady Beresford, Lord Stanstead is here to see you.”
Vivian couldn’t see him now, not when she was so distraught. She would do or say something that would ruin everything. “Please tell him I am not—”
“Vivian, my dear, he can be very helpful. Stanstead has a good head on his shoulders. I’ll fetch him.” Clara gave Vivian a stern look. “Do not run away.”
She wrung her hands. She wished more than anything that he could help her. If only he could take her away, but he wanted Cleo.
Vivian rose as Clara, followed closely by Rupert, strode onto the terrace. He took Vivian’s fingers in his. “Let us speak alone.”
“I think that is a wonderful idea.” Clara beamed, closing the French window to the terrace. “I shall be right here.”
Vivian led Rupert to a rose arbor in the back of the garden. “I will miss our outings.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “I gathered from what Lady Telford said there is some sort of problem. However, that does not change my reason for being here.”
It was too early for Rupert to have come for the carriage ride he had proposed. So . . . “Oh, did you come to say you could not go this afternoon?”
“I came for this.” He dropped to one knee. “Vivian, would you do me the great honor of being my wife?”
She stepped back, covering her lips with her hand.
It is happening all over again!How could Rupert betray her in this way? “I cannot. You don’t love me. You love Cleo.”
As Rupert rose, he stared at Vivian as if she was mad. Perhaps she was. After all, ladies did not mentionchères amies, and since he was unaware of her deception, she should not know about Cleo even if they were one and the same. Still, it didn’t feel that way. Cleo was loved in a way Vivian never would be. She blinked back the tears threatening to fall. “I went through one marriage with a man who loved another woman. I cannot do it again.” She turned her back to him, and stared through blurred eyes out at the garden. “Please go, just go away and leave me alone!”
Yet instead of stomping off in anger, Rupert’s warm breath tickled the back of her neck. “Vivian, you are the only woman I love.” She took a breath, preparing to argue with him, when he forestalled her. “Did you think I did not know to whom I was making love?” The tip of his finger traced her ear down to her cheek. “That I could not recognize the delicate shape of your ear beneath the wig, or I could forget the gentle line of your jaw? From the first moment we met, your scent filled me. It was as if you were my home. I knew when you sent the letter it was you. The paper and ink could not hide the perfume of fresh meadows and wild flowers; your fragrance.”
She couldn’t believe what he was telling her. How could he have known? Cleo was everything Vivian was not. Dark, bold, and adventurous. “But with the cosmetics and the wig . . .”
Rupert turned her so she faced him. “They could not hide your eyes when they smiled at me, or your voice when you cried out in pleasure, or the soft tinkling of your laughter, or most of all, your spirit.” He nibbled the corner of her lips as his hands held her waist. “Marry me, Vivian. Be my lover and my wife forever.” His palms cupped her breasts, and his voice was low and gravelly as it washed over her. “You are the most enticing woman I’ve ever known, and I want no other.”
She was becoming lost in Rupert as he continued to caress her, but could she trust him with her life? Clara’s words came back to her.He will marry someone like Miss Banks. “You might want another woman, a younger one.”
“Vivian, how old are you?” he asked as one hand left her breasts.
“I am four and twenty.”
“And I’m twenty-two. Hardly any difference at all. As a matter of fact, just last month a woman from the village near my estate wed a man my age; she was forty.” Vivian sucked in a breath, as his clever fingers began to stroke her back. “Think of it as ensuring that you will be pleasured for a long time.” His lips curved into a smile against her neck. “Many years more than if you married someone older.”
“I wish I could say yes.” She pleaded with him to understand. “I want to, but there is something wrong with me.” Unable to look at him, she hung her head. “My body is deformed.”
“Deformed?” His tone was incredulous, then his form went rigid, and he growled, “Did someone scar you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” She almost wished it was. “I do not know what it is. My husband said . . . he could not even look at me.” Rupert put his finger under her chin, raising it so that she had to look up to meet his gaze. “I couldn’t bear for you to be repelled as well.”
Rupert watched as Vivian’s eyes swam with tears. There must be a special place in hell for people like Edgar Beresford, who would take a beautiful woman and make her feel ugly. “We’re going to Hill Street.”
