by Sarita Leone
****
Vivian did not expect William Fulbright to be waiting for her when she went down the manor’s wide front staircase before Lady Winter’s fete. She did not expect anyone, except perhaps the butler, Hastings. But, as she stepped onto the landing she looked up and saw that Oliver’s assistant was, in fact, waiting. He stood when she came into sight, bowing ever-so slightly and smiling up at her.
A jittery sensation skipped through her midsection. She laid a quieting hand across her center, hoping to calm the butterflies that danced beneath her clothing. As she stared down into Will’s eyes, she saw unrestrained admiration, and felt lovelier than she ever had.
Beneath Lady Drabble’s masterful attention her hair had climbed to heights she did not think it capable of achieving. Intricate twists and curls, all held in place by hidden hair pins, had turned her ordinary hair truly spectacular. One discreet thread of amethyst beads ran through the hairstyle, perfectly matching the color of her dress as well as complementing her violet eyes.
First impressions had been false where the hairstylist had been concerned. Her vision and proficiency were unrivaled. All three women had emerged from her humble parlor with beautifully coiled locks and, more importantly perhaps, each looked unique.
Vivian descended the staircase, deep breaths accompanying her every step. She did not know why she suddenly felt wobbly-kneed, only that she did. When she reached the bottom, she took one last deep breath before she met Will Fulbright’s gaze.
He swept a magnificent leg, and then straightened. “You look lovely, Miss Fox.”
Such pomp. And for her, someone whose pedigree was less impressive than that of almost any household staff member!
It took a moment to respond. She could not think past the butterflies once again waltzing in her tummy.
“Thank you. That is very kind of you to say, Mister Fulbright.”
She swallowed hard, and hoped that neither Hastings, who stood a discreet distance from them, beside the front door, nor the man who flattered her so could hear the hammering of her heart. On her side, it felt like the organ in question was actually trying to pound its way out of her chest. Surely something that forceful must be audible to ears other than hers!
When neither man gave any hint that they could, in fact, perceive the sound of her thudding heart, Vivian grew bolder. She curtsied, careful not to catch the hem of her gown beneath the toe of a dainty kidskin slipper.
She smiled as she rose, the expression needing no conscious effort.
“I assure you, I was not merely being kind. I…” He stared into her eyes so deeply and for so long Vivian felt connected to him in a way that was both startling and exhilarating. His examination was neither rude nor probing, but she felt he saw past the trappings of society—even her royalty-inspired hairdo—to the woman beneath the frills.
His pause lengthened, and since he did not seem put off by what stood before him, she leaned closer and asked, “You were about to say something?”
Clearing his throat, he broke their connection. “I…ah, yes. I was just going to say that my compliment was not a bit of Spanish coin; it is the truth—you are exquisite this afternoon, Miss Fox. I am certain you will shine down every other lady at the fete, including Lady Winter herself.” He grinned boyishly, waggling his eyebrows up and down dramatically. “But I shall deny that statement if you tattle on me. Lady Winter is notoriously conscious of her appearance, you know.”
“Aren’t we all?”
He cocked his head, taking his time replying. Just when Vivian began to wonder what was on his mind, he said, “Are you? Why, you don’t seem at all the type to be preoccupied by looks or any of the other ‘usual’ societal trappings.”
How had he pegged her so neatly? Was she that transparent?
“Are you this bold with every woman you meet, or am I someone who does not inspire propriety? Because, it seems even to me, someone with limited social schooling, that your observation and question are wholly improper, Mister Fulbright.” Her hackles rose of their own accord, and her mouth had not given warning that it was about to erupt. When the words tumbled out, Vivian was appalled. Clapping a hand over her lips, she stared at her escort in abject horror.
A quick glance at Hastings confirmed her suspicions that her response had not been any more proper than the man’s probing. The butler’s lips twitched, but he did not smile. She turned her attention back to the man standing before her.
Now I have done it! There will be the devil to pay for my reckless remarks!
Will chuckled, the sound deep and rich and entirely unexpected. He gave her a tiny bow, placing a hand over his heart. “You have me there. I did speak without thinking, and I apologize. Please do not hold my brashness against me. It is just that you are so completely unlike any other woman we have had stay at the manor, so wonderfully unaffected and seemingly unfettered by so many of society’s stupid rules that I cannot help but be taken by your refreshing qualities. Again, I am speaking without leave. I have no right to be ‘taken’ by you at all but there is no help for it. You are enchanting, and certain to catch every eye at the fete.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded her acceptance of his apology and ventured to give him a small smile. “By all means, Mister Fulbright, be as ‘taken’ as you care to be.”
****
The landau offered a smooth, pleasant ride. Its wide facing seats provided the ideal arrangement. Vivian was near enough her escort to feel comfortable but not so near his proximity put her off. Occasionally their knees bumped, and once they had hit a particularly deep rut that had sent her jostling forward which necessitated his catching her by the shoulders to steady her but there had been no untoward contact.
The touch—ever-so fleeting—of his hands on her shoulders had heated her skin more than the bright orb shining down on them did but Vivian was careful not to show the fact. She could not afford to bring more gossip down on her head. Already the manor must be buzzing with stories of how she and her escort had behaved before heading to the party. Giving more material for the servants’ wagging tongues was not something she was prepared to do, so she was supremely mindful that their driver had ears, and was most likely listening to every spoken word.
At first she had been surprised to hear that Oliver had sent his assistant to accompany her to the party. She had thought to go on her own, but now realized that would have been scandalous. So many rules to keep straight—they nearly gave her a headache when she tried to keep the ‘must’ list separate from the ‘must-not’ column in her head.
Lady Winter’s London home was not far, but the driver seemed in no hurry to convey them so the horses clip-clopped at a sedate speed. Now and then a breeze lifted a curl from Vivian’s neck but she did not worry her style would come undone. There were far too many hairpins in her tresses for that to happen, so she sat back against the white leather seat and enjoyed the ride.
“Do you miss Stropshire? Or your family?”
His questions were like a slap on her cheek. They pulled her attention from the passing scenery, bringing a fresh wave of homesickness. Vivian had not let on that she yearned for her mother and brother, not wishing to seem ungrateful for the Gregory’s gracious hospitality.
The eyes boring into hers did not seem capable of hurting anyone, so she did not dissemble.
“I do not miss Stropshire all that much, or our little flat, either. They are all good and well as far as being somewhere decent to live, but now that I have seen a bit of Town I am more of a mind to think I would prefer to live near London. And of course our tiny walk-up is nothing by comparison to the grandeur of Willowbrook Manor.” She paused, watching a pair of sparrows light in the low branch of a passing oak. Even the birds in this part of England seemed content. Meeting the gaze of the man seated across from her, Vivian shrugged. “I know I will never live anywhere nearly as impressive as Lord and Lady Gregory’s estate again, but I would like to end up somewhere that is quiet, peaceful and is near enough to the city that I
might take part in some of the cultural activities.”
“Such as?”
Chagrined, Vivian lifted her shoulders again, tightening her grip on the parasol she held above her head. “I am not sure, exactly, which activities I would enjoy most. Certainly I have no aspirations to attend balls, fetes or lush lawn parties. In moderation, or for special occasions, they are beguiling but I do not believe I could stand a steady diet of them.”
His laughter was so genuine it did not make her feel she had put her foot in it again. Telling the truth to the man came naturally, and she had spoken without thinking but there was no censure in his merriment so she smiled.
“You are charming, Miss Fox.”
“Thank you, Mister Fulbright.”
A tilt of his head, and a thoughtful look inspired her to ask, “What are you thinking?”
“It is just that I feel closeness between us, an openness that makes hearing the formal form of address seem incongruous. I know, it is a necessary societal evil but still, I would much prefer you might call me by my given name.” He lifted one eyebrow in question.
It was unthinkable, and would surely set tongues on fire so she gave her head a vehement shake. Opening her mouth to refuse, but not knowing precisely how to do so made her feel foolish so she snapped her lips together and shook her head again.
Chuckling, he nodded. “I thought that would be your answer but you cannot shoot a man for attempting to form an association, can you?”
“Of course not, Mister Fulbright.”
“That, at least, is something.” He pointed to the street sign on the corner as they came abreast of it. “Gorham Square. We are nearly there, and you have not yet answered my question. Do you miss your family, Miss Fox?”
“Very much, I am afraid. It is the only gray spot on this trip, my missing Mother and Liam the way I do.” A sheen of unshed tears clouded her vision. “We are a small family, but we are close. I have been treated as a member of the Gregory family from the moment of my arrival but…”
“It is not the same, is it?” His tone was gentle.
“No,” she whispered. “It is not the same at all.” It would not do to arrive at Lady Winter’s with tear-stained cheeks, so Vivian forced herself to smile. She looked up, into the dark brown eyes that gazed at her so kind and caring they warmed her heart. “What about you? Do you miss your family?”
Mister Fulbright shook his head. “No, I don’t. I am fortunate enough to see them often—every week, in fact. I have a small cottage near Oliver’s—ah, near Lord Gregory’s cottage—and I have two Sundays and several afternoons a month free so I either have my family to visit or I take one of the carriages and go to Town to visit them. It is a suitable arrangement for all, one that I know I am fortunate to have.”
“Do you have a large family?” Her interest was genuine. She imagined him surrounded by brothers and sisters, with doting parents and scads of aunts, uncles and cousins. The way he fitted effortlessly into any situation gave her the impression that his adaptability had been a trait learned early on.
“I do, actually. Three brothers, two sisters and so many cousins that I cannot count them all.”
“I knew it.”
“You did? How could you possibly know?” He held one hand, palm up and open to the brilliant blue sky, and asked, “Do you read minds, Miss Fox?”
She brushed aside the notion with a giggle. How lovely it was to feel so light-hearted!
“Hardly. It was purely a guess, one I based on your demeanor. You are so easy-going; it is not hard to imagine you surrounded by a big, loving family.” They were passing a hedge of white lilacs, and when she sighed, pulling air deeply into her lungs, she became almost intoxicated by the sweetness of the blooms. “It is…”
“It is what?”
What harm could there be in telling the secrets of her heart, especially to a man who seemed so capable of keeping them?
“A big family…it is just what I have wished for all my life.” Lifting her gaze to his, she added, “It is what I hope to find someday for myself—a home filled with children…and with love.”
He reached for her free hand where it lay on her skirt, covering it with one of his own. His touch was electric, a sizzling sensation that traveled from his fingers to hers, then up to the point in her chest where her heart once again thrummed madly.
The touch was too forward by far but Vivian was much too surprised to pull away. Moreover, the feelings his fingertips inspired were too lovely by far to needlessly curtail.
His voice was low, too low for the carriage driver to hear. Gazing into the kind eyes that held her gaze, Vivian knew the words he spoke were meant only for her ears.
“You are so sweet, Vivian, that I have no doubt you shall someday find your home filled with laughing children, and your heart taken by one very lucky man.”
She was stunned, but managed a reply. “And you …you shall find someone suitable as well. I, ah, imagine it is fortuitous that your position is so high—ah…brotherly, even, in connection with Oliver.” She shook her head and struggled to find the correct words. He had just offered a grand compliment, and here she was, stammering like fool.
“That is so. It is unusual, I know, to be elevated from hired help to stand-in-brother, but it is not the first time it has happened.” He ran a palm across his cheek. “The life of a peer is unique, and affords one substantial leeway in many areas—despite the rules of convention. It is my good fortune to find myself in this position, thanks to your relation’s brotherly affection for me, as well as his family’s prominence which brooks no dispute among his peers. Without that, I would be unable to accompany a beautiful woman on such a lovely outing.”
Vivian was too stunned for words.
The driver called over his shoulder, “We have arrived at Winterdale.”
Chapter 10
After the stimulating—and incredible—ride, the fete itself seemed dull by comparison. An assortment of faces, some recognizable from the last party as well as the few trips to Town and St. George’s Church for Sunday services, popped into view as Vivian made her way through the crowd. She did not speak to anyone, choosing instead to smile, nod or, when absolutely necessary, bob a fast curtsey.
Each time a servant brought a tray filled with sweets or punch to her attention, she declined with a small shake of her head. Studiously avoiding the banquet tables like they were covered with rodents instead of refreshments insured she would not make the scandalous mistake of eating in public a second time.
A voice at her ear caught her attention. Vivian whirled around and found herself nearly nose-to-nose with Miranda. She grinned, relief at seeing a friendly face almost compelling her to act—yet again!—more like a Haymarket ware than a lady. She was neither, of course, but fortunately more aligned with the second example than the first so she settled for grasping one of Miranda’s hands.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am, although I have not seen anyone I am nearly friendly with since I arrived. That is, until you showed up.”
Miranda looked stunning, her hair done up in countless miniscule ringlets piled all over her head. A few dangled beside her left cheek, a deep blue satin ribbon tied just above the cascade of fiery red curls. She looked like an Irish princess, and would have looked even more so had her dress been green instead of blue.
It occurred to Vivian that she had never seen her new friend wear anything but blue.
“Do you wear anything else?” The absurdity of her question made her giggle. “Oh, that sounds completely half-witted, doesn’t it?”
Miranda nodded, a smile making her look even prettier. “It does sound silly but don’t worry. I know just what you are trying to ask.”
“You are not offended?” The line between propriety and insult was fuzzy, even after the lessons Miranda and Lucie had given her.
“Pish posh! Of course I am not put out in the least. It takes much more than a little query to ruffle these feathers.” Emphasizing
her words with a flutter of the teal blue fan she held near the lace ruffled on her bodice, she said, “You want to know if I wear any color other than blue. I know that is your question, and the answer is no, I do not. Blue is my signature color, you see. I have always worn it, almost since I was in leading strings. It sets me apart from everyone else, I think.”
The notion amused Vivian but she refused to let her feelings show. Miranda looked so earnest that even the tiniest smirk might hurt her feelings, and that was something she was not going to risk. She shook her head solemnly, as if in complete agreement.
Miranda swept a hand down the front of her skirt. “I need a signature color, you see. It keeps me one step removed from the rest of the pack, if you will. But you, of course, need no such artifice. You, dear Vivian, are an original—and wholly on your own.”
Almost afraid to ask what made her so unique but unable to resist finding out, she leaned close so no one else would hear. “Ah…would you—I mean, could you please tell me what exactly sets me apart? I have tried so desperately, as you are aware, to fit in that if there is something I am missing I would like to be apprised of my foible, if only so I may fix myself.”
Miranda shook her head, a huge smile lighting her face. “You cannot fix what is not broken. Why, I did not mean there is anything about you that needs to be changed. I am sorry if I gave you that impression.”
Botheration! How can anyone tell what these people are thinking when they do not speak plainly?
“What then?” She forced her features to remain bland even though her pulse raced. Confusion was not one of her favorite emotions, but it was one she felt often as of late. “What is it that sets me apart—and can I do anything about it?”
Miranda rubbed a fingertip across Vivian’s gloved knuckles, the gesture as soothing as one given to calm a nervous child. “You cannot change the attribute I refer to no matter how hard you try. And I cannot believe you are so naïve that you do not realize your own beauty…why, your eyes—their color unlike any I have ever seen on anyone in my entire life—sets you apart so distinctly that no woman can come close to your beauty in that area. Your violet eyes are unrivaled, and put you head-and-shoulders above the rest of us ordinary females in that yours are the first eyes any man will notice.”