Page 29 of Just a Little Daring

Somehow her voice was steady, but the warmth that had bloomed inside her had died a quick death, and the snowflakes falling with slow deliberation around them seemed to settle in its place.

“It’s for the best,” he said quietly.

“As you say,” Vivien managed, praying she would not cry until she was alone.

“You should get inside before you catch a chill, Miss Anson.”

His voice was gentle, kind as always, and she was Miss Anson once again.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be on my way. Easier for everyone. Bainbridge will see my things sent on.”

Vivien nodded. “Good day to you then, Mr Lane-Fox.”

Oh, how polite they were, how very English. She wanted to howl and stamp her feet on the ground, but she would not. Instead, she turned away and walked back to the house alone.

Chapter 10

Bainbridge,

Forgive me for my unseemly departure. I could not stay. I ought never to have listened to you in the first place, though I blame myself for doing as I wished, rather than doing as I knew was right.

This little exercise has only made me wretched. Miss Anson is everything any man could want, and if I marry her, I consign us both to a lifetime of fighting society and causing a scandal. Neither of us wants that.

I must forget her and turn my attentions elsewhere. If only it were that simple.

Please forward my belongings to Mivart’s. I shall take rooms there for now.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr August Lane Fox to The Most Hon’ble Lawrence Grenville, Marquess of Bainbridge.

31st March 1841, Cavendish House, The Strand, London.

Vivien sighed and stared at the rows of books in front of her. Usually such a sight was enough to gladden her heart and a visit to Hatchard’s the very thing to brighten her day. Except in the dreary weeks since she had last seen August, nothing made her smile any longer. Worst of all, she had heard reports he had escorted Miss Cecilia Thrussell to a musicale last week. Miss Thrussell was a sweet girl, quiet and demure. She would make him the perfect, well-behaved wife.

Not that Viv was moping. Well, she was trying her best not to mope, for she hated being such a wet blanket, but the world seemed grey and dreary of late. Even the weather was awful, with no sunshine for weeks, instead a constant, grim drizzle that made everyone cross and fretful.

Ash had made her come out today, determined to get her out of the house and into a more positive frame of mind. Bless him, he had done all in his power to make her smile, even eschewing some of his invitations to stay at home with her when she was especially blue devilled. This simply could not go on. It was not fair to him, or to her. She deserved better.

Viv took a deep breath and picked a book at random from the shelf—she didn’t much care what—and was almost knocked off her feet. The book fell with a thud to the floor and a young woman reached out to steady her.

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, only… lud, he’s coming! Please… please don’t give me away.”

Before Vivien could ask what the devil was going on, the girl flung herself to the floor in the corner of the bookshelf behind Viv. The young woman hugged her knees, making herself as small as possible and sent a beseeching look up at her.

Viv turned as she heard the heavy tread of footsteps grow closer. Turning, she was somewhat alarmed to see one of Mr Peel’s burly policemen.

“Good morning, miss,” he said. “Did you see a young woman come this way, dressed in grey, about so high?”

He gestured with his hand to indicate the approximate size of the woman huddled just around the corner of the bookshelf Viv stood beside. She hesitated.

“Good heavens, what has she done to have a Metropolitan Policeman chasing her? Is she dangerous?”

“To public order, aye. Ranting about the rights of women and causing a public menace she was,” he said in disgust. “Women like that go about stirring others up, making them dissatisfied with their lot when they was perfectly happy before.”

“Oh, yes, I see,” Viv replied blandly. “Because we should all be at home stitching samplers before the fire where it is safe, and we can cause no bother to anyone. I should be getting back myself.”

She gave the man a dazzling smile, the one that usually made men lose their wits. It worked this time too, and the fellow did not seem to heed the fact that she had laced her words with blatant sarcasm.