Foxing the Geese

by Janet Woods

  Her head slanted to one side and she seemed almost alarmed by the thought. ‘You’ve been to see my uncle. Did he say anything about me?’

  ‘Should he have?’

  ‘No … of course not … your pardon, My Lord.’

  ‘Actually, he did mention you … he spoke very highly of you in fact. He said you were intelligent and a credit to your father.’

  ‘He’s my uncle. I imagine he was indulging in a little exaggeration.’

  Alex chuckled. ‘More likely he was telling the truth, since he doesn’t strike me as a man who is less than totally honest.’

  She picked up her sketching block. ‘Will you excuse me, My Lord.’

  ‘Not yet, since I’ve only just found you.’

  ‘You were looking for me … why?’

  How straightforward she was. He was equally straight in his answer. ‘I wanted to apologize for my behaviour at the church. It was unforgivable of me, and I know your feelings were hurt.’

  ‘I recovered easily enough. Old grudges are best forgotten and I reminded you of it unfairly. We were children, after all.’

  ‘You were. I was a young man who should have known better.’

  ‘You’re still a young man, but you are not quite so brash.’ She laughed. ‘Every time I see a pig I remember how awful I smelled.’

  ‘And every time I pass the duck pond, the ducks tell me off.’

  ‘You must have very old ducks.’

  ‘I imagine they pass the story down from mother duck to her ducklings. The cautionary tale of the princess with the pitchfork.’

  A giggle rippled from her.

  The cool breath of a breeze slid from the surface of the sea and surrounded them. He watched goose pimples run up her arms, and picking up her shawl, she drew it around her shoulders.

  The smell of honeysuckle drifted from her. ‘You’ve changed, Vivienne Fox. You’re quite the graceful young lady now. With your permission I’d like to call on you when we’re in London. You’ll be the only person I know there.’

  ‘Will you be there for the season?’

  ‘I can only afford to stay a few weeks, so if you know any wealthy young ladies looking for a titled gentleman to wed, please put a word in for me. You’ll be the only person I know there, and as we are both as poor as church mice, we could possibly be of use to one another.’

  Their eyes met. She didn’t look entirely enamoured by the prospect since her lip curled – and a very nice curl it was. Then she nodded. ‘I suppose I can fit you in somewhere. It’s not as if I’m in great demand, except at the beck and call of my aunt and cousin.’

  Alex was not used to being treated in such an off-hand manner. Vivienne Fox deserved to have her arse smacked. He thought of a better plan, reminding her, ‘A penny for a kiss?’

  Before her mind had time to assimilate his words he closed the gap between them. For a moment her expression was one of surprise, then indignation, and then surprisingly, she yielded. His mouth settled on hers like a fish catching a dragonfly for its supper.

  This time it was worth more than a penny. Her mouth was soft, tender and compliant … and there was a moment when he felt the passion come awake inside her.

  So did she, for her body stiffened and she took a hasty step back. ‘What must you think of me?’

  ‘That you have a sweet mouth and I’d like to kiss you again.’

  ‘Oh! How dare you be so familiar, My Lord.’ She turned and ran, her hair flying.

  Alex began to laugh. Poor or not, she amused him, and he intended to continue this interesting relationship in London.

  Four

  London

  After being frugal all her life Vivienne felt a twinge of guilt at spending so much money on her appearance.

  She’d tried to keep her acquisition of wealth private but word had gone before her and rumour had won the day. Establishments in which she’d once been obliged to queue for a length of ribbon now invited her into the private cubicles, the assistants offering her fawning smiles. Or a consultant came to the house and expertly milked her for information. Vivienne avoided answering while she was being respectfully measured and advised about fabrics and colours.

  She would neither confirm nor deny any mention of fortune, knowing that the gossipmongers would eventually find some other hapless victim to prattle about. And she didn’t need much advice. Her own sense of style and modesty drew her towards unfussy, elegant gowns that didn’t expose her to unwanted stares. Jane Bessant had advised her on accessories such as lace collars and dancing slippers.

  So it was a well-equipped young lady who was delivered to the house that her Aunt Edwina had rented in London for the season. Although small, the residence was situated in a smart part of town and came complete with servants.

  Her cousin Adelaide pounced on her like an enthusiastic puppy, her eyes wide and shining with excitement. ‘I’ve been dying for you to arrive, Vivienne. You’ll never guess. Mother has hired us a personal maid for the month we are here, and you shall share her. We must get her to do something with your hair. I’ve heard that a vinegar rinse makes it shine.’ Her glance travelled past her to where the coach driver was bringing in her second trunk. ‘Goodness, you have two trunks this year. I’d heard that you’d been the recipient of a legacy? I’ve been seething with curiosity ever since. You must tell me all about it.’

  Vivienne shrugged. ‘It’s true. I was remembered in a relative’s will. On the strength of it I was able to buy myself a decent wardrobe. Papa has consulted with my uncle on the best way to invest what’s left for my future.’

  Adelaide’s laughter was off-hand but relieved. ‘Oh, is that all. I heard it was a fortune. I had visions of every aristocrat in town knocking at the door with the intention of wedding and bedding you for your sack of sovereigns. Poor Vivienne, without a decent dowry there will be nobody to love you.’

  Forgetting that she’d condemned all men in a previous outburst to her father, and giving only a fleeting thought of how it would feel to be wed and bedded to a stranger, Vivienne said, ‘Pray do not judge all men by the actions of a few. Men, even those wealthy and titled, are capable of loving a pauper.’

  Adelaide shrugged. ‘But they rarely marry them. It would be unfortunate if both of us were attracted to the same man and he had to choose the one with the biggest dowry.’

  ‘Yes … I suppose it would.’ And especially if he ignored what his heart told him and offered for her cousin, Vivienne thought, rather unexpectedly making herself the heroine of the situation. For the first time she confronted the fact that having a fortune might indeed give her an advantage. But talking about a man in the abstract and then facing the reality of becoming his wife, with all the intimacies of the marriage bed, brought a tremor of fright to salt her throat. ‘It would be even more unfortunate if one of us fell in love with such a mercenary creature.’

  ‘Oh, I shan’t do that,’ Adelaide said. ‘Love has nothing to do with marriage, which is a business arrangement.’ She lowered her voice and giggled. ‘I shall save that for my lovers once I’m married.’

  Feeling slightly shocked, Vivienne said, ‘Have you ever been in love, Adelaide?’

  ‘Loving one’s husband would be the same as loving your parents, I imagine. And when I have babies I shall love them, no doubt, though I don’t really like children much. They are horrible, dribbly little creatures that kick up a din for the smallest of reasons. I shall have nursemaids for mine.’

  Must it be like that? Vivienne wondered. When she thought of being in love the tumultuous yearnings stirred up in her were nothing like the love and respect she felt towards her father. As for children, she was sure she would love being an aunt to her sisters’ infants, even if they did dribble.

  ‘We must make sure not to fall for the same man then. At least you won’t be obliged to wear your shabby gowns this year. We already have several invitations. Viscount Statham has just arrived from his estate in Scotland and is considering taking a wife – even one without
a dowry. He’s as rich as Midas and is a widower in his forties. Apparently he’s looking for a woman young enough to bear him children, and old enough to be sensible. He might suit you, though I have heard that he resembles a goat.’

  Vivienne removed her bonnet, while the footmen, who were part of the lease contract of the house, carried her trunks upstairs.

  Poor Viscount Statham to have to stoop so low because he resembled a goat. Was love no longer part of the equation of family? Was it all bricks and mortar and the production of children one by one, like eggs being hatched by so many clucking hens into an expensive nest.

  Adelaide was nineteen, and on her mother’s advice had already turned down two offers of marriage to much older men, one when she was barely sixteen. She didn’t seem to have gained much sense in the three years since.

  ‘Come and say hello to Mama. She has a headache and is resting, but asked me to tell her when you arrived.’

  Her Aunt Edwina offered her a wan smile. ‘Ah … Vivienne, my dear. How lovely to see you again. Was the journey tedious?’

  ‘It was a little tiring, Aunt, but I travelled with Mr and Mrs Parker, who are Papa’s parishioners, so I had interesting company. Despite having to stop and change the horses the weather was clement and we made good time. After all, Maidstone is only thirty or so miles away.’

  ‘How is your dear papa?’

  ‘He sends his best wishes and said he is looking forward to some peace and quiet while I’m away. He said you must send a messenger if he is needed.’

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t mean it for you are as quiet as a mouse, and you’re such a sensible young lady … not like Adelaide, who is full of bounce. I’m hoping she will find someone suitable this year and settle down. Would you go and ask the cook to provide some refreshment in the drawing room in half-an-hour, my dear? I should be better by then and we can talk and make plans.’

  Vivienne ignored the niggle of resentment she experienced. The notion that she was there to fetch and carry for her aunt and her cousin was plainly still embedded in them.

  What would they do if she refused? After all, she was wallowing in wealth now and could have a house filled with servants at her beck and call, if that was what she wanted. She reminded herself that she’d rather make herself useful than sit and gossip about fashions or men all day. However, her aunt meant well and had taken her under her wing for the occasion of husband-hunting on several occasions. If Vivienne hadn’t resisted strongly she might have been married to one of several men by now.

  She would make her own choice in her own time.

  Adelaide kissed her mother. ‘In the meantime I’ll go and supervise the maid and help her to unpack Vivienne’s trunks. I’m dying to see her new wardrobe. And Mama, there is no truth in the rumour that Vivienne has acquired great wealth. She only inherited enough to buy herself a new wardrobe.’

  Aunt Edwina’s eyes flew open and Vivienne wondered if her aunt would swallow the lie as easily as it had slid off her tongue … though she hadn’t actually lied, just evaded the truth a little. Perhaps her father had already sent a message and informed her of the legacy.

  ‘Never mind, my dear. More’s the pity since wealth attracts wealth. People shouldn’t start these unkind rumours when they encourage falsehood. We will just have to work harder at attracting a man who is worthy of you and suitable to your station in life. I’m sure you’d be happy as the wife of a country doctor, or a cleric like your father. You’ve had plenty of experience helping out in your father’s parish so you would be an asset to any clergyman.’

  ‘Yes, I would be happy with that, as long as I loved him.’

  It was as though she’d never spoken. ‘I’ll ask around.’

  He aunt seemed determined to marry her off this year. A little desperately, Vivienne said, ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

  ‘Nonsense dear, it will be my pleasure.’

  Adelaide said, ‘Perhaps Viscount Statham would suit her.’

  ‘There’s him, of course. He lives rather a long way away, and Scotland is so cold in the winter. Also, the Scottish dialect is quite unintelligible, and the men wear skirts, or so I’ve been told.’

  ‘A goat in a skirt, how priceless,’ Adelaide whispered, and giggled.

  ‘Then again … he’s twenty years older than you and not in robust health, I believe, so he would reasonably be expected to die before you, leaving you a fortune – which would be a blessing.’

  ‘Vivienne is waiting for true love to come her way, not widowhood. Perhaps you should marry the Scottish viscount yourself, Mama. You’re still young enough to give him a child.’

  Abandoning her headache, Edwina aimed a frown at her daughter. ‘Which is not so far-fetched as you seem to think because I have heard that the viscount is a very nice man. You really must get out of the habit of giggling and making silly remarks, Adelaide. You’re no longer sixteen and it’s irritating. Try and be sensible and level-headed, like Vivienne.’

  Adelaide’s face flushed from the reprimand, ‘It hasn’t got her very far.’

  ‘But it will. Some men are impressed by a woman’s ability to converse on any subject, and this year we’ll be successful in finding her a husband. I feel it in my bones. Off you go now, you two. I shall see you in half an hour and we will go through the engagement book.’

  Adelaide turned to leave the room first, her mouth in a sullen pout. To cheer her cousin up Vivienne handed her the keys to her trunk. ‘Your mother didn’t mean it; her headache is troubling her. Go and open my trunks while I talk to the cook. I’ve bought you a gift.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Wait and see.’

  When she returned, Adelaide exclaimed over the blue paisley stole that Vivienne had paid a fortune for, then threw it on a chair and watched as the maid unpacked her cousin’s gowns. She couldn’t help but criticize. ‘How plain your gowns are; you should have bought something with frills on.’

  ‘Frills don’t suit me.’

  ‘Is that one of your ballgowns?’

  The maid shook it out and the silvery white diaphanous overskirt drifted down over a petticoat of embroidered roses. ‘Such an elegant gown, Miss Fox,’ she said.

  Adelaide sniffed. ‘I think it’s disappointing. The neckline is too high to be fashionable. Have you brought stays? You didn’t bring them last year. Not that it mattered because you had nothing to show off. I fancy you’ve gained a little flesh at the top since.’ Looking in the long mirror Adelaide cupped her breasts in her hands and lifted them. ‘See … if you have an asset you should draw attention to it, not hide it. I’ve heard that men find a lady’s bosom attractive.’

  Vivienne wasn’t about to cater to a man’s like or dislike of her bosom. There was a fichu in the same diaphanous material for the gown in question, one with pleats to conceal as well as tease while leaving much to the imagination – if the designer of the gown was to be believed. A corsage of silk roses for her wrist matched the double band for her hair.

  ‘Leave them, Maria. I can unpack the trunks myself,’ Vivienne said when the bell rang to summon the maid to attend her aunt.

  Vivienne pushed the trunks to the end of the bed. There they could serve as a repository for her shoes and accessories. The gowns were spread on trays in an old-fashioned wardrobe that smelled fragrantly of the bags of pot pourri hidden here and there.

  Adelaide prowled around the room looking discontented while Vivienne changed from her travelling clothes into a pale green day gown. ‘I’ll be glad when the weekend comes. We have been invited to a ball given by the parents of Miss Elizabeth Beauchamp, who has recently made her debut. Her father is a baron, and her brother is a navy man. He looks handsome in his uniform, I’m told, and will inherit the title.’

  The maid knocked at the door. ‘Madam has gone down to the drawing room and requests your presence. Would you like me to tidy your hair, Miss Fox? It will only take a minute.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  A few minutes later she was in t
he drawing room and her aunt was scrutinizing her. ‘Ah, there you are, how nice you look. Is that a new gown, it looks expensive?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt.’ Vivienne handed over the gift for her aunt, a shawl similar to the one she’d bought for Adelaide except it was the colour of claret.

  ‘How sweet of you to think of me … and what’s this? More invitations, where did they come from?’

  ‘They were delivered to my home before I left.’

  ‘So I see. The gossips have been busy. Well, we shall sift through the invitations together by and by. Pour the tea, would you, Vivienne dear.’ Her eyes went to the invitations and she said, ‘Lord LéSayres wishes to call on us. Have you met him before?’

  Her face heated at the sound of his name. ‘On a couple of occasions. He is a neighbour of John Howard, who is my uncle. Lord LéSayres is an earl, and I think his Christian name is Alexander. Apparently he has no fortune and he’ll be in London to see if he can attract a wealthy wife; in that aim he wishes to take advantage of our acquaintance.’

  ‘Hmmm … I shall make enquiries first, though I don’t recognize his crest. I must ask the housekeeper if they have a copy of Debrett’s in the library. If he proves genuine, and suitable, I shall then invite him to tea. But an earl – that sounds most promising and will be a feather in my cap, since if he has no acquaintances in town he will be available to escort us around. You shall wear your best gown for our titled gentleman, Adelaide, the one that makes the most of your figure.’

  Our titled gentleman? Lord LéSayres was coming to see her, not her aunt and her cousin. He was her titled gentleman and Vivienne felt a fierce sense of possession.

  What the devil was the matter with her? Previously, she’d found the season yawningly boring. Now she was in competition with someone six years younger, and over an earl neither had the pedigree to attract. The whole thing was ridiculous. She wouldn’t bow and scrape to any man, and would treat the blue-blooded creature as if he were ordinary … only a bit more respectfully perhaps, in case his highness pouted. And if he kissed her again she would bite his roving tongue off!