A Little Bit Wicked (12 page)

“I want to make absolutely certain,” Vivian said. “You’ve just said yourself that the rumors are still alive.” But Aunt Rose’s words tickled at her mind. If Clarissa’s situation had been managed, what
was
she still doing with the Kincaid family? She desired Marcus, she knew that much, but that was her own weakness. And it seemed unlikely it was only he, but rather that he had been the first man to kiss her since Frederick. Certainly, it could have happened much sooner had another man been brazen enough to attempt to seduce her. The truth was quite clear—she was destined to be a fallen woman, and being near Marcus threatened everything she’d worked for these last nine years. She couldn’t allow him to destroy that, especially with just the whisper of tender words. She challenged him. What did that even mean?

“Do you care for him?” Aunt Rose asked gently.

Vivian bristled and wanted to scream against the question. It was ridiculous, but her reaction gave her pause. Why so defensive about the matter? “Perhaps. I don’t know. He confuses me. Reminds me of things I used to want, things I used to believe I could have.” She turned her head away lest she show her aunt the traitorous tears in her eyes. She pretended to stare out the windows that lined the dining room, overlooking the back garden. “I am not a girl any longer.”

“No, you are not, but you are not an old woman either.” Suddenly her aunt was by her side, placing a warm hand on Vivian’s shoulder. “Don’t ignore life when it stands at your door and beckons, my sweet girl.” She gave Vivian a reassuring squeeze. “I did that, more than I care to admit, while I waited for something, some perfect scenario that never came to be. And I ended up with nothing,” Rose said wistfully.

She wanted to turn and comfort her aunt, tell her that her words weren’t true, but by the time she’d mustered up the courage and the right words, her aunt had left the room.

She’d never before heard Rose speak of her past in such terms. As far as Vivian had ever known, both of her aunts had been maiden—or spinsters, as everyone was wont to call them—by choice. Evidently, that had not been the case, at least for Rose. But this situation with Marcus was quite different, Vivian felt certain of that. Her aunt would most assuredly not encourage her niece to have an illicit affair with a man simply because his kisses made her forget her name.

Vivian couldn’t afford to care about Marcus Kincaid. She’d had her heart broken by a man once, a man with charming words and sweet seduction, and it had nearly destroyed her. She had vowed she’d never be that weak again. If she wanted a relationship with Marcus, if she decided she could manage the carnal side of herself, then she would do so on her terms. But in the meantime, it seemed he would not behave himself here in London.

She’d already called in a favor. The Dowager Duchess of Pendrake was hosting a country house party and inviting all the lovely young women Vivian had selected for Marcus. They’d have his complete attention. And, of course, Vivian could watch nearby whilst she sat with the older women and supervised the entire affair.

There was nothing that could go wrong. It was a perfect plan.

Chapter Twelve

Marcus had received the invitation and had gone immediately to Vivian’s house to see what was what. She had confirmed that yes, there was to be a country house party and wouldn’t it be so lovely to be able to get to know those women a little better in a quieter setting.

“You are coming, though, yes?” Marcus asked.

“Yes, of course. The dowager duchess is a dear friend of mine,” Vivian said. “We went to school together, though only a year as she’s older than me. Still we became dear friends in that short amount of time and have always kept in touch…”

Marcus laid himself back on the settee, stacking his boots on the sloping arm of the furniture. “I do not need to know them. They are all silly, foolish girls and I’m not interested in saddling myself with them for all eternity.”

“Well, I am not of the opinion that you should marry all of them. I believe that is illegal in Great Britain,” she said with a grin.

He turned his head and looked at her. “You are hilarious. That’s not what I want, marrying one or all of them, in case my wants matter at all to you.”

Vivian smiled at him. “Of course your wants matter. What is it that you would like to have in a wife? If you tell me, I can most assuredly find the appropriate girl for you. I’m adept at this sort of thing.”

He sat up, braced his elbows on his knees, and eyed her. He had a mind to tease her, to flirt with her and toy with her, but at the end of the day that would solve nothing. It had become abundantly clear that he would, in fact, need to marry at some point. He was an earl now, the head of his family, and he would need to provide an heir lest their family fall to ruin. He couldn’t allow that to happen to Clarissa or his aunt Maureen. “I haven’t ever given it much thought, in all truthfulness,” he said.

“You’ve never considered what you’d want in a partner?” she asked.

“Well, evidently you have. Why don’t you tell me what you envision, and then I’ll go,” he said.

She waved her hand. “I am not getting married. I am a spinster.”

“That’s not what I asked you. You’ve obviously spent some time thinking about what you’d want in a husband. I’d like to know what those qualities are.” He shrugged. If he knew one thing about Vivian, it was that she truly desired to help people. “It might help me get a clearer picture of what I’m looking for,” he said.

She paused a moment before answering. “When I was a girl I thought of these things, but reality and fantasy are quite different.” She smiled wistfully. “I always wanted a kind husband, a man who loved me dearly, someone with whom I had a great many things in common. Someone I could stay up with talking about all of life’s many wonders, someone who would make me laugh, who would know how I liked my tea, someone who would buy me warm woolen stockings in the cold winter months and who would read to me from my favorite novels.” She tilted her head.

She fell quiet and it was as if she had forgotten he was in the room, as if she, for a moment, had fallen into her own fantasy. She met his gaze and her eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, she had said more than she’d intended.

“Yes, well, that is why I do not spend time on such thoughts. Silly nonsense, that is,” she said, the starch returning to her voice. “People don’t marry for reasons such as those. Marriage is often nothing more than a business transaction, and if you’re lucky, you end up with someone who might make you happy.”

He’d asked to remove the pressure from himself, to jest with her a little, but in a moment of unflinching honesty, she’d made herself feel vulnerable. Now Marcus realized with great clarity that simply because he’d never before considered such things, it did not mean they wouldn’t be nice to have. Her description sounded spot on. Case in point, he would have loved to have had someone to share his routing plans with when he’d been mapping out the Around the World trip. He’d worked tirelessly to come up with every element of that tour and he would wager that Vivian would have found the entire process interesting.

“I’m certainly not one who necessarily believes you must marry for love, but I have seen such unions,” he said. “My brother had one. The problem isn’t so much finding a love match, but keeping one. Losing his wife nearly killed Charles, he adored Rebecca so much.” Marcus shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. “You know, I asked him once, if it had all been worth it, if he’d do it again knowing he’d lose her anyway.” He shook his head with the memory of that conversation, as fresh as if they’d had it yesterday instead of ten years before. “And Charles had responded that loving Rebecca had made him a better man and that receiving her love had been his greatest gift.” Charles had gone on to say that life always came with moments of darkness and if you did not have love in your life, the darkness could swallow you whole.

And suddenly it was Marcus who had revealed too much. He’d only meant to comment on what she’d said about a love match.

Marcus eyed Vivian, trying to think of something to say, but words failed him. He grabbed her hand. “Vivian, I—” He wanted to tell her that she could still have those things, that wanting them wasn’t at all foolish. The parlor door opened, saving Marcus from saying anything that would make him a greater fool than he already was.

“Miss March, you have guests,” the butler said as he entered the parlor.

She pulled her hands from his and came to her feet. “Who?”

“Lord Pettyfield and his family. They said it’s an emergency,” the butler said.

“Very well.” Vivian nodded. “Send them in.”

“Do you want me to go?” Marcus asked.

“No, actually, I do not. Lady Pettyfield is not a woman I trust greatly, so I would feel more comfortable if you would stay.” She’d barely said the words when the family entered. Lord Pettyfield was a large fellow, tall and beefy. In his hands he carried his gloves all knotted up in a ball. Behind him came a woman, Marcus presumed the aforementioned Lady Pettyfield, and he could see immediately why Vivian had her reservations. She was also tall, but unlike her hefty husband, she was reed thin and for all intents and purposes rather ugly. But she wore their money proudly—he didn’t think he’d ever seen a hat full of so many ostrich plumes, and he was fairly certain one of her hat pins was encrusted with actual jewels rather than the paste ones that most women wore.

She turned and looked into the corridor and her nose wrinkled unpleasantly. “Come, child,” she said sharply.

Their daughter entered the room, trying her best to keep her tears at bay, but it was evident from her red and swollen eyes that she’d been crying for quite a while. She looked downward, her previous sobbing causing her to suck in short breaths of air.

Was this the usual scenario that Vivian faced when families approached her for assistance? Marcus was pleased she’d asked him to stay. He might not be able to help with solutions to the problems they presented her with, but he could offer her some measure of protection.

“My lord,” Vivian said with a slight curtsey. “What is this emergency?”

“Thank you for seeing us, especially at this hour.” It was then that the man’s eyes landed on Marcus. “I didn’t realize you were already entertaining.”

Vivian smiled reassuringly. “No, this is Lord Ashford, a close family friend. Anything you have to say to me will be safe with him as well, I can assure you. He is to be trusted.”

Marcus eyed her, looking for any signs that what she’d just said was true. Did she feel she could trust him? Vivian was nothing if not discreet, so it seemed as though she did; otherwise, she would have asked him to leave regardless of her feelings about Lady Pettyfield. She must trust him if she allowed him to stay while another family divulged a scandalous secret.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Lady Pettyfield said sharply. She turned her narrow eyes toward Marcus. Her pointed, beak-like nose did nothing to improve her features.

Lord Pettyfield made a sharp cut through the air with his hand. “Enough, Elaine. Miss March is the only one who can help us with this mess,” he said. “If she deems Lord Ashford trustworthy, then so shall we.”

Vivian rang for a tea tray and had everyone sit so they could discuss things more comfortably. She was so at ease with people. Nothing rattled her, nothing save his words and advances. She remained in control, calm and steady. Once the tea was served, Vivian waited a handful of minutes to allow the family to begin talking.

“I’ll need to know every detail,” Vivian said when it became clear that the Pettyfields were unsure of how to begin. “I can guess from Elizabeth’s tears that this emergency has something to do with her.”

“Indeed. The foolish girl has gotten herself compromised,” Lady Pettyfield said. “With a duke!” And then she continued to mutter terse words about her daughter, never leaving
foolish
,
stupid
, or
idiot
out of her descriptions.

“I believe I’ve got an understanding of the situation, Lady Pettyfield. Thank you.” Vivian nodded. “I’m certain we can find a solution.” She turned to Elizabeth. “I know this might be an uncomfortable conversation to have in front of your family, but I need to know. Did you fully consummate your relationship with this man?”

Elizabeth nodded and sobbed even louder.

Vivian had mentioned to Marcus that some girls had a tendency to do such a thing to get themselves in with a particular man, and essentially ensure their nuptials. It seemed obvious that Lord Pettyfield should have made this visit to the duke in question instead of to Vivian.

“And someone discovered you? Together?” Vivian asked.

“His wife,” Lord Pettyfield answered, with another round of insults directed at his daughter.

Ah, so that was why they hadn’t called on the duke. Unfortunate, to be certain. Marcus would wager this particular situation was one of the stickiest Vivian had dealt with. It would be interesting to see if she could work her way through this tangled mess.

“That does seem to be a problem.” She patted Elizabeth’s hand reassuringly. “Might I inquire as to his name, please?”

“Hempshire,” Lord Pettyfield said.

“Oh dear, that is a messy situation. He is very handsome and charming. I can see how a girl could be wooed by him,” she said for Elizabeth’s sake. “But his wife is possessive of him despite his philandering ways.”

“Or perhaps because of them,” Marcus said.

“She’s ruined!” Lady Pettyfield said. “We don’t need your explanation of
why
Elizabeth did this, we need a solution. Can she be saved?”

“There is no need to yell or make demands of Miss March,” Marcus said, nearly coming to his feet, but he thought better of it and leaned forward. “We are all friends here. If you should like assistance, perhaps you should treat her more kindly, else she might not be able to think of a solution.”

There was silence for several minutes after Marcus spoke. Even Vivian looked as if she didn’t quite know what to say, but then she sat forward in her chair as if to speak.

Lord Pettyfield spoke first. “My apologies for my wife. As you can imagine we were not expecting the Duchess of Hempshire to arrive at our home last night with our disheveled daughter in tow. To say we’re—” He took a shaky breath. “—devastated, well, we’re all simply clamoring for what to do to save our dear Elizabeth. There is no doubt that the girl was impetuous and foolish, but it is done now. We can only hope she is not with child.”

That statement brought another round of sobs from the girl in question.

Vivian nodded, then tapped one finger to her lips. “I believe I might have a potential solution, but it will take me some time.” Vivian came to her feet. “You are welcome to wait here or you may return home and I’ll send for you when I know something.”

Lord Pettyfield did not even bother looking at the women in his family. He stood and nodded. “If you do not mind, I believe we shall accept your hospitality and stay here for a while. I do not wish to deal with any more visitors at our house today.”

“Very well. I will try to do this quickly,” Vivian said. She turned to Marcus. “My lord, if you do not mind, I wish you to accompany me.”

This was not as challenging or adventurous as crossing the Tana River full of crocodiles and hippopotami, but he had to admit that his heart rate had increased and he was finding this situation vastly entertaining. Watching Vivian work, manage the families, was fascinating. “Of course.” He followed her out of the parlor. “Where are we going?”

“To Viscount Benbrook’s,” Vivian said.

“Why?”

“We’ll discuss that once we’re in the carriage.”

Not ten minutes later they were seated in the brougham and on their way to Harrowby Street to Michael Benbrook’s townhouse. As they rolled down Vivian’s street and turned the corner, she met his gaze.

“Michael came and visited with me a couple of weeks ago, after he lost a sizeable fortune in a rather risky investment,” Vivian said. “In an attempt to save his family’s coffers, he might have instead put them at great risk to lose everything. And they were already in a tough situation because his father had been a poor card player.” She shook her head. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to assist him other than loaning him the money myself. He is a nice fellow, but I fear perhaps a little too trusting.”

“You think to make a match,” Marcus said.

She gave him a weak smile. “Ordinarily I am not in the business of matching couples. In fact, I’ve not been a very successful matchmaker to date, but pairing them up does seem an obvious solution for both of them. Elizabeth needs a savior who will marry her and salvage her reputation, and Michael needs an heiress to fill his pockets.”