One Grand Season

by Sarita Leone

  “No, you goose. I do not want you to sew for me. I want you to teach me to sew better than I do. I admit, I am all thumbs with a needle, and Miranda is only marginally better than I. Do you think you might help us?”

  “I would love to teach you sewing skills. What a wonderful idea.”

  Miranda had been holding something back. With a glance at Vivian, and then one to Lucie, she said, “Our dear Vivian went riding with Stuart Bailey yesterday. She…ah, she put him in a position where he could not politely refuse her, so when she said she wanted to ride about in his sporty curricle he took her for a spin about the grounds.”

  “It is good we are getting to our lessons straight away.” Lucie did not try to hide her amusement. She laughed openly, the sound bringing matching laughter from the other two. How could anyone not join in when the sound was as inviting as the dainty tinkle of chimes being kissed by a summer breeze?

  “I am hopeless, I fear.”

  “No, you are not hopeless. You have not had the opportunities Miranda and I have had, that is all. We will show people you are a diamond of the first water rather than a woman destined to become an ape leader. Oh yes, cousin, we have some work ahead of us but do not despair. Between us, we shall polish you until your glow positively outshines every other female wishing to make a successful Season for herself. Isn’t that right, Miranda?”

  “You will win everyone over in no time, Vivian. I am sure of it,” Miranda nodded briskly. “No time at all!”

  She looked from one to the other, wanting to believe them but knowing, in the deepest part of her heart, that she was further from being a London lady than either of them knew.

  Work has never scared me before, Vivian thought. Why should it now?

  Chapter 6

  Oliver had expected Vivian to be surprised by his invitation to accompany him to Town. Frankly, he might have been flabbergasted by the matter as well, had he not been the one making the offer. If he had had more time to consider the options, and weigh her motivations as well as his own, the idea might have seemed less outlandish. But he did not have time to spare; catching a scurrilous thief was a priority.

  How could he possibly measure the woman’s character and motivations if he did not get to know her better? It was unfeasible. The only solution was to bring her into his company, make her feel comfortable and hope she might divulge something incriminating.

  It was unfortunate to suspect Vivian of the break-in at all but the list of suspects was a short one. It was so brief that hers was the only name on the list. He had to find out if she was responsible for the theft, even if it meant squiring her around London.

  People will talk, he thought grimly. Let them talk, then! It cannot be helped and if they believe I am keeping company with this distant relation, then let them gossip. At least it will keep every other would-be duchess from fluttering her eyelashes at me.

  He was an eligible bachelor. That did not mean he had to like being chased like a rabbit running before a pack of wild dogs. It was not his fault he stood to inherit a title and wealth when his father passed. He would have much rather been someone with less responsibility and more leeway regarding every decision before him—including the choice of a mate.

  Many women had tried—unsuccessfully thus far—to court him into a corner but none had seemed more than a passing fancy. They were all so giggly, with their coy smiles and fawning—and feigned, he was certain—interest in anything he said. He could have spoken rubbish and he was sure it would be greeted by a chorus of agreeable nonsense.

  They had been riding in silence but Oliver stole a glance at the woman seated beside him. This was the first opportunity to get a close view of her . Every other time they were together there were others about and it hardly seemed mannerly to stare where others would notice.

  Vivian Fox was attractive in a way that was so wholly dissimilar to what he was used to seeing that it took a moment to figure out what was different about her beauty. Then, he had it. She took no particular care to enhance the fine features she possessed, unlike the women with whom he regularly came in contact. Her nose, with its slight upturn at the tip, was not dusted with powder. There was no rouge on her rosy pink lips; the dewy shade, so like raspberries after a light rain, was all her own. Nothing enhanced her smooth cheeks; the creamy complexion and sun-kissed cheekbones need no window dressing. And nothing—no cosmetic, trick of the light or artist’s palette—could improve upon her stunning violet eyes.

  There was no pretense about her. Even the way she sat, with her hands clasped in her lap and her spine arrow-straight, left no room for deception.

  How could a woman so completely at home in her own skin be deceitful enough to steal from them? Suddenly the morning’s outing seemed a waste of time. There was nothing to learn from her. How could she be hiding anything?

  The high-perch phaeton was a particularly dashing vehicle, and their elevated position afforded a stellar view of the passing scenery. He was surprised she had not asked any questions about the sights as they rode by. It occurred to him then that had he been a better host he would have told her about points of interest as they passed them.

  “I should have thought to be a more attentive tour guide.” He caught the way her eyes grew wide in surprise when he broke the silence. Was she startled by his speaking, or did she have something to hide? It was hard—no, impossible—to tell so he pretended he did not notice the expression. “I keep forgetting this is your first trip to Town. I should be showing you all the points of interest. You must think me completely rag-mannered.”

  He realized his gaffe the instant the words left his mouth. Of all the stupid things to say.

  Vivian’s eyes narrowed. Her lips, so inviting and tender-looking just a moment ago, formed a tight line. Then, sarcasm dripping from every word, she said, “I think no such thing. As you well know, I am quite familiar with the manners of the lower classes.”

  “I did not mean—”

  Her gloved had went up like a barrier between them. She did not give him the courtesy of looking at him when she spoke, which made the tiny hairs at the nape of his neck stand straight up. It was an entirely unpleasant sensation, but he could not protest since he had brought her annoyance upon himself.

  With a voice chilly enough to drip icicles, “No need to try to explain yourself. I know exactly what you meant.”

  The effort was futile so he snapped his mouth shut. Why heap more wood on the fire? Her temper already smoldered, so it seemed best to leave her to her own thoughts for a while.

  I wish I still took snuff, Oliver thought with a snort of disgust. When he had given up all vices he had included the scented powdered tobacco, something he had wished more than once he had not done. Foolish thing, giving it up. He could use a pinch right about now…a pinch, or mayhap two, to blow the stinging feel of her dressing down right out of his head.

  He tugged his top hat to be sure it was angled correctly, and then sat back against the buttery soft leather seat. No expense had been spared when the phaeton had been purchased, so the ride over rutted and cobbled streets was as comfortable as sitting in an armchair beside a blazing hearth.

  “Vivian?” Perhaps a safe topic might smooth her ruffled feathers.

  To his relief, she did not seem angry when she turned to him. They shared one long seat so when she moved her shoulder brushed his. A whiff of something sweet—lavender, perhaps—filled the air. Now Oliver was grateful his nostrils had not been touched by snuff so he could take full pleasure from the charming scent.

  “Yes?” She smiled. It was the teeniest of expressions, but, still, it was something.

  “I wondered if you are familiar with the Greek character Phaeton and the myth that surrounds his existence.”

  Her eyes flashed. She gave him an enormous smile, one that looked almost wide enough to swallow him whole.

  Oliver knew how a canary sitting eye-to-eye with a Tabby cat must feel.

  In that moment, he realized he had done it again,
underestimated her.

  He wished he were riding beneath the carriage instead of inside it as he waited for Vivian to speak. Hers was certain to be a scathing retort, one designed to put him firmly in his place and show her superior mind.

  If anyone deserved a dressing down, he did. Again.

  He almost tumbled from his seat when she smiled sweetly and said, “I confess I am not as well-read in the field of mythology as I would like to be. Greek is particularly unfamiliar to me. It is a situation I hope to remedy in the not-too-distant future but for now I am, to my chagrin, not entirely certain who Phaeton was. Do you mind giving a lesson?”

  He thought it a trick designed to lull him into a false sense of superiority. So Miss Fox was not as dissimilar to London ladies as she would have him believe.

  “Of course.” They were nearing the turn to the Tattersall Market so the conversation would have to be very brief. “Phaeton was a character in Greek mythology, and is, as I am sure you must have surmised by now, the one after whom a conveyance such as we are riding in is named. Phaeton is remembered most vividly for what might be called an unfortunate decision.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he attempted to drive his father’s chariot into the sun. The ensuing chaos nearly destroyed the world.”

  The way her eyebrows shot up at his explanation showed clear surprise. If she was pretending to know less than she did, she was a stellar actress.

  Perhaps a career on the stage would suit, Oliver thought. Although…could it be that she is not playacting?

  “Not a very good way to leave one’s mark on history,” Vivian said.

  “No, it isn’t. While Phaeton is remembered, it is not with fondness.”

  “I should say not!”

  The phaeton turned into Tattersall’s drive, joining several others in a queue toward the market’s front entrance. Apparently he was not the only one with a mind to purchasing horses on the warm day.

  The sweet scent of hay reached them as they inched closer to the place where they would leave the carriage and proceed on foot.

  Oliver heard his companion gasp, and when he turned and saw what she had spied he knew why she reacted thusly. A lovely gray mare was being led about by a stable hand in the grassy area adjacent to the marketplace. The animal was easily sixteen hands high but looked gentle enough for a child to ride. With its head held high, mane dancing in the slight breeze pushed up by the passing carriages, the horse did not seem at all put out by the attention she drew.

  “Oh…isn’t she beautiful?” Her words came in a whisper but the feeling from her heart was so forceful that he did not need to lean close to hear her.

  He dropped his gaze from the horse to his guest, and thought that she was by far the prettiest sight he had witnessed in a long time.

  Silently shaking himself, Oliver pulled his opinions onto a more suitable area. Horses. He was here to purchase spare horses for the upcoming fox hunt. That was the only thing that need concern him. Horses, and the manor thief.

  Still, she deserved a reply so he swallowed hard. He had not expected her presence to affect him in any way other than by giving credence to his suspicions. Now that they had ridden and chatted, he was less confident than before that he had the right person under his eye.

  He admonished himself not to be fooled by a woman’s charm. Thieves earned their way in the world by being deceitful.

  “Do you see her? Isn’t she magnificent?” Vivian placed a hand on his wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her excitement sent a thrill to his core, almost as if she had infused some of her energy into his flesh.

  “I do.” Her delight brought a chuckle, and he was glad he had asked her along. Even if she did turn out to be a thief, the outing was proving to be a pleasurable one. “And she is magnificent. You have a keen eye for horses. A very keen eye.”

  ****

  Vivian could not wait for the carriage—the phaeton, as her annoying host had made the point—to arrive at their destination. She could have gladly dropped Oliver off at the front door and instructed the driver to keep on going. Where? It hardly mattered, as long as it was miles from the insufferable man who sat stonily by her side.

  The day had begun on such a high note.

  I should have known better than to fall for his ruse, she thought. A spark of anger in response to having been lulled into a false sense of camaraderie with the man, sent heat spiraling through her. How could she have been so stupid? He cared for no one save himself.

  She took a deep, steadying breath. They had just turned in the entrance to the estate. The long, winding cobbled stone lane would take a while to cover. Perhaps there was some way for them to find middle ground yet.

  Vivian counted to ten. Then, she counted ten more. When she was sufficiently certain she would not lose her temper again she turned slightly on the bench seat and faced Oliver.

  He looked as unperturbed by their recent disagreement as if it had never taken place. Their harsh words and twin fits of temper seemed not to have disturbed his day one whit.

  Oliver’s complacency annoyed Vivian once more. Inhaling, and holding the breath, she gave the ten-count a third attempt.

  She had never been called stubborn to her face but she knew she had an obstinate streak as wide as the lane they now travelled down her spine. It was, her mother was never shy to remind her, an unladylike trait. Furthermore, it was not an attractive attribute, to posses such a headstrong personality. Vivian endeavored to better herself at all opportunities, as her recent arrangement with Lucie and Miranda surely underscored. The obdurate streak, however, was almost impossible to control.

  How could he be so pig-headed?

  Again her mother’s words filled her mind, and she was reminded that bees were more attracted to honey than vinegar so she pasted a smile on her face. Idly she wondered if donkeys or swine favored honey, as well, but she rapidly squashed the idea. It would not do to laugh in the man’s face, even if he did not seem to be bothered by their disagreement.

  It did not make sense to care so much about his feelings when it was apparent he did not give a fig about hers.

  Still…

  The bee. Honey. Vinegar. All right, she had it. She thought. Perhaps.

  “I do believe we started this excursion on the right foot. And, I must add, I appreciate your inviting me along. As I said, I think we began the day brilliantly.” She waited for his reply but one did not come. A gentle push, then, toward reconciliation. “Oliver? Don’t you think we got off to a good start?”

  In a voice designed, she was sure, to calm rather than provoke, he said, “We did, at that. I am…” Inhaling as deeply as she had just a moment before, he paused. Then, “I am pleased you accepted my invitation. I hope it was received in the manner it was intended. That is, I trust you wished to get to know me better. For my part, I wanted us to become more closely acquainted. We are, as you well know, destined to be thrown together at parties, sporting events and other social engagements all Season long.”

  “Moreover, we live in the same house,” Vivian pointed out with a smile. They were getting somewhere. Perhaps he was not as calloused as his earlier behavior indicated. A softer core to the hardened exterior?

  “Good point. I suppose we will be seeing an awful lot of each other for the next few months.”

  She had never been one to use feminine wiles to turn a man’s head. There had never been any heads to turn, since she was by far too busy working and caring for Liam to have time for suitors. Besides, Vivian was not at all certain she had any wiles to employ.

  But now that she was as a foreigner in a strange land she had to use every tool at her disposal. With that in mind, she gave a tiny laugh and said, “Oh, I hope the months won’t be too awful.”

  Her joke did not pass without comment. Chuckling, Oliver added, “As do I.”

  They shared a quiet moment, the horses’ hooves the only accompaniment to their private musings. Then, feeling like she had gained some ground with him, she pr
essed forward.

  “Our splendid beginning gave way to a less-than-ideal ending, didn’t it?”

  A sigh. He spread his hands wide, palms toward the canopy of drooping elm limbs hanging above them. “I am afraid it did. It was not the way I planned our excursion to turn out. I had thought to take you for a persimmon ice at the sweet shop but by the time we left Tattersall’s I knew you were in no mood for it so I did not ask.”

  Sadness pierced her heart. So many opportunities had been out of her reach that to miss even one brought a smattering of melancholy.

  “I would have liked persimmon ice, I think.” It was the truth, even though she was not completely sure she knew exactly what a persimmon ice consisted of. Still, it sounded wonderful.

  Oliver straightened, and reached an arm out toward the driver’s back. “I do not wish to deprive you of the pleasure, especially if it brings you one minute of sorrow to miss the treat. Would you like me to tell Bradshaw to turn around? We can go back, and I will gladly purchase all the persimmon ices you care to consume. Would you like that?”

  She was touched by his solicitude. Impulsively she leaned over and put her hand on his arm, stilling him. Oliver’s jacket was sun-warmed, and her palm felt instantly hotter. It was not a searing heat, and would have felt comfortable had they not been arguing almost the entire way home. Still, the hope of peace hovered over them, so she ran her hand down his arm and boldly took his hand.

  Neither Lucie nor Miranda would call this proper, but they are not here to see. Besides, if I have to use an extra bit of honey to have him see reason, so be it.

  Oliver’s gaze dropped to their linked hands. He held hers loosely at first, then more boldly after she gave his fingers a tiny squeeze.

  “I am overwhelmed by your kindness. It is lovely of you to offer to turn the carriage around but I do not think now is the proper time. We may be missed if we are gone too long, and I do not wish to worry your mother.”