I must admit you were right. My aunts are not awful. They are in fact quite lovely. Aunt Grace is kind, generous with her time, and well, featherbrained. She can never remember anything at present that needs to be done, but has a perfect memory of all things past. She regales me with stories about my mother from when they were younger. Aunt Grace’s husband, Lord Waverly, died five years ago. She still mourns him as theirs was a love match extraordinaire.
Aunt Evelyn is brash and stunning. She is terribly practical and quite a snob. She has been married three times. Her last husband, Lord Garrison, died just last year. Now the two sisters reside together in London at Dunmore House, which is the house the earl left for them when he died eight years ago. Aunt Grace has been living here several years as her husband’s heir is a third cousin. He is “beastly,” and she refuses to live in the Dower House on the same property as him and his “shrew of a wife.” Lord Garrison’s estate is in Kent, but Aunt Evelyn was lonely after he passed and came back to London to live with her sister.
Aunt Evelyn is quite formidable and has taken charge of my acclimation to polite society. They are both scandalized by my cursing. I am trying my best to keep my blasted mouth under control. I have an etiquette tutor, a dance tutor, and a new lady’s maid who is tasked with taming my unruly hair and helping me dress each day. My only redeeming quality is my artistic talent, which apparently is an appropriate way for a proper young lady to spend her time. Thank heavens!
Gabrielle is, of course, a paragon of good behavior and adored by my aunts. Mr. Davis has been around quite a bit to visit when he can get away from his residency at the hospital. Sorry, we stole him right out from under you, but alas, what can you do about love?
Yours, Vivi
Jack laughed aloud. He had indeed been upset when Davis abandoned ship to stay on in London. The doctor accepted a fellowship at London Hospital, with a focus on rounding out the knowledge he had gleaned as a naval physician. He hoped to settle down somewhere outside of London and open his practice.
Davis apologized for leaving him without a replacement. Then he winked, said he had a woman to pursue, and that wouldn’t happen if he were at sea. Jack wished his friend good luck and paid him a handsome severance to make sure he got set up in decent lodgings and didn’t starve during his fellowship.
He glanced back down at the letter, glad Vivian had written. He missed her irreverent banter and her colorful cursing. He pulled out paper and a fresh quill, trying to think of what interesting news he could write back to her about.
****
Vivian sat alone in her aunt’s tastefully decorated drawing room. The elegant teak desk in front of her smelled of lemon oil; its freshly polished surface gleamed. She had excused herself from the breakfast table with the pretext of needing to take care of her correspondence. The disapproving stares of her aunts had been too much to take. She’d blundered again last night at the Fitzwilliam’s ball.
Absently rearranging the items on the desk, she reflected on the events of the night before. She and Gabrielle had been chatting near one of the open doors that led out to the gardens, hoping to catch some fresh air. The room had been stifling hot, full of guests dancing and standing in groups gossiping.
Glancing around, she caught the eye of a very handsome man across the room. Quickly, she looked back at Gabi, fanning herself vigorously. A moment later, she dared to look in his direction again over the top of her fan and found him smiling at her. She grabbed Gabrielle’s arm as the gentleman began to cross the room toward them.
“Gabi, do you see the gentleman with the blond hair, the one in the blue waistcoat?” As Gabi turned to glance at him, she squeezed her arm. “No, don’t look now.”
Gabi frowned at her. “How shall I see whom you are talking about if I don’t turn to look?”
“Never mind. I’m sure he is coming our way. What if he asks me to dance?” Vivian worried her lower lip.
“Then you will accompany him onto the dance floor. You’ll be fine. You’ve been practicing.”
The gentleman approached and introduced himself as Lord Grendel. He asked her to dance. While they stepped in time to the reel, he made polite small talk, but his eyes raked down her person, making her feel self-conscious.
At the end of the dance he leaned in close, “Shall we take a stroll in the gardens?” His tongue darted out to lick his lips.
She recoiled. “Sir, I barely know you. That would be entirely inappropriate.”
His eyes narrowed, “So you are just another little tease, then.”
“What are you talking about?” She placed her hands on her hips.
“All that flirting with your fan from across the room? Your come-hither glances?” He let out a short bark of laughter that had the people around them glancing their way. “I’ll give you a pass this time, you little tart,” he hissed. “But you better be careful who you entice next time.”
She slapped Lord Grendel across the face. How dare he call her a tart? He stumbled back a few steps. Everyone around them gasped. Suddenly, Aunt Evelyn was at her elbow, Gabrielle right behind her. They twittered an apology to the beast and whisked her away.
A dog barked from outside the open window, bringing Vivian’s thoughts back to the present.
She sighed. Just now at breakfast when she tried to explain how he had insulted her, she had been told she should have had the decorum to politely walk away. She rolled her eyes. Nice young ladies never slapped a peer of the realm. Nice young ladies never used their fans to flirt with men they don’t know.
When she tried to tell them she hadn’t done it on purpose, she received a terrible look of disapproval from Aunt Evelyn and an equally awful look of pity from Aunt Grace. Hell and damnation, she was already ruining her reputation.
Vivian knew about the gossip that swirled around at social gatherings concerning her parentage. It had been quite the scandal when her mother eloped with a sea captain and fled England. Her aunts explained to her their considerable social standing would be a buffer, but she would need to aspire to be the perfect lady if she wanted her season to be successful.
The trouble was she didn’t care about the damn season. She did care, however, how her behavior reflected on Mama. She would show all those snobs she was just as good as any of them.
Vivian propped her chin in her hand and stared blindly through the window at the gray drizzle outside, blinking back tears. She missed the warm weather. She missed her cove where she swam every day, and most of all she missed her father.
An image of his weather-lined face, his blue eyes twinkling with good humor rose in her mind, and a lump formed in her throat.
