I do not want to embarrass him.Vivian had quizzed not only Thomas but also Andrea and Charlotte relentlessly on the Dowager Duchess and had been feeling reasonably confident about the encounter. She knew her tea preference, favorite color, and hobbies by heart.
Unfortunately, Vivian had not anticipated the woman asking her questions about herself.
“I have never been hawking,” Vivian admitted, forcing herself not to look at Thomas, who was standing with his cousin Cecily a little way away from them.
Mother did not think it a suitable interest for a lady.
“Never? My understanding was that Lord Brookes had a rather wonderful aviary on his northern estate.” The Dowager Duchess’s eyes narrowed.
And perhaps if they had deigned to take me up north, I would know this.Vivian swallowed, sensing that sharing this would not endear her to the Dowager Duchess.
“My father and mother were often busy, and felt it more important that I focus my attention on what would be needed to be a good wife. Things like embroidery, painting, managing the household finances.”
The Dowager Duchess’s smile thinned just a little more. “And yet you must have other interests, other desires outside of that. What about wine? What kind of wine do you enjoy?”
“I have not given it a great deal of thought.” Vivian nearly shrugged but remembered how much her mother had hated the motion and could almost hear her voice chastising her.
I suspect she would be furious about this entire interaction.
“Perhaps red? No, maybe white. I… It depends on my mood.”
“You do not sound convinced.” The Dowager Duchess pursed her lips. “Though I suppose one’s taste in wine is not the most important thing. I myself, prefer whisky.”
“I have never had it.” Vivian had not thought it possible to feel more awkward, but apparently it was.
It took all of her effort to keep smiling as her mind desperately searched for a way to use all she had learned in this conversation.
The Dowager Duchess tapped a finger against her lips. “What about riding? Thomas is a very skilled rider, you know, and there is some lovely countryside near Elington castle.”
“I have ridden before, but not often. I did not have access to a horse.” Vivian bit her lip. “I enjoyed what little I did of it.”
“Hardly a passionate answer.” Thomas’s grandmother nodded to herself. “What does ignite your passions?”
“My passions, your Grace?” Panic swelled within Vivian.
“Yes, surely you must have something which stirs your heart. Something you wish for above all else?” She canted her head toward Vivian, her blue eyes pinning her to the spot.
“I enjoy poetry. And the theater.” They were the first things she could think of, but neither felt like a true passion, and from thelook on the Dowager Duchess’s face, it was clear the woman did not believe her answer.
“I see.” The Dowager Duchess did not even have a ghost of a smile on her face, and Vivian felt her stomach twist itself into a knot. “Very well. Perhaps you might discover something while you are here.”
Her tone made it clear she was not convinced such a thing would occur. Vivian tried to think of something to say, to draw on some of the information she had gathered, but her mind was unhelpfully blank.
By the time she thought of something, the Dowager Duchess had walked off, leaving Vivian standing alone.
The only way that could have gone worse would have been if I had stamped on her foot.
She forced herself to stand up straight and moved back toward Thomas, who was still talking to his cousin.
“I know you are only saying that to wind me up, but really, Tommy, you need not be disingenuous.” Cecily shook her head, pursing her lips. “You are quite as bad as Grandmama sometimes.”
How is it that all the women in Thomas’s life are so effortlessly beautiful?Cecily even managed to make her frown somehow inviting, and she seemed so sure of who she was and what shewanted.If I could be more like her, perhaps that conversation would not have been such a disaster.
“I am being no such thing, Cece. I am speaking the truth, plain and simple.” Thomas made an emphatic gesture with his hand before looking to Vivian.
As he opened his mouth, she could tell he was about to ask her how it had gone with his grandmother, and not wishing to relive her embarrassment quite so soon, she said, “And what has Thomas done to provoke you?”
“He insists that poetry is the most transformative art form. That it is the only thing that can capture the complexities of human emotions, of our experience, our wants, and our desires.” Cecily gave Thomas an exasperated look. “Never mind that novels and paintings also do such things.”
