A Little Bit Wicked (18 page)

“Marcus, you are not going to forget about her,” Clarissa said. “You love her. One does not simply forget about their love.”

In that moment he had two flashes, one of his father weeping on his knees at his mother’s graveside, and then one of Charles holding Rebecca’s lifeless body as sobs racked his own. Love—that was what love had looked like to him all his life, the pain after love. And he had run from it. It was why he’d left London to begin with—because he couldn’t bear to watch Charles grieve the way they’d all watched their father grieve.

But the fact was, regardless of how he’d run from love, it had found him. Marcus sighed. “Damnation.”

“Go to her,” Clarissa said.

“I cannot.” He eyed his sister. “I relieved her of her duties to help with your scandal.”

“Oh, Marcus. What have you done?”

Chapter Eighteen

Vivian had never been to Diana Cosgrove’s home, but her address had been easy enough to locate. She took a gamble going there to find Frederick, but she had a sickening feeling that this was where she’d find him. The butler had readily allowed her entrance and shown her into a small parlor, so her instinct had been correct.

The wallpaper and draperies warmed the room in soft shades of butter. The furnishings were not in the current fashion, but everything was clean and pretty. She wondered why Frederick hadn’t returned to his family’s home. Vivian believed Frederick’s mother was still living, but his father had passed away several years ago. His two older brothers were both upstanding members of society, the eldest, the viscount, a vocal member of the House of Lords and the middle son a leader in the House of Commons. The older men of the Noble house were living up to their name.

Frederick made her wait nearly half an hour before he entered the room. She had to admit, the years had been more than kind to him—he was still, in a word, beautiful. He was dressed more like a poet than an aristocrat, though, which she supposed fit considering he considered himself an artist. Still, now he appeared slovenly, whereas she used to find his dress charming. His hair fell in tousled blond curls about his head, a few falling onto his forehead. His thickly lashed brown eyes looked her over.

“Vivian, darling, I knew you would come.” He held his hand out to retrieve her own, but she only looked up at him. “Very well. I see you are not feeling particularly friendly.” He sat across from her. “I must admit I am surprised that you have made quick work of the task I set before you. And that you discovered where I’ve been staying. I understand you met my Diana.”

She said nothing, partly because she was still gathering her courage, but also because at the moment the only things she could think to say were horrifically unladylike. She would not give him the pleasure.

He leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He clasped his hands, letting them rest atop his abdomen. “Tell me which family has agreed to sponsor my exhibit? Lord Harcourt or Viscount Riggens? Oh wait, allow me to guess.”

He smiled boyishly and she realized he would never grow up, he’d never mature as a man should, because he was spoiled and entitled and lazy. She did something she’d never before done—she thanked heaven that he’d walked out on her ten years before.

“I should think you would select Lord Harcourt, since his wife is so very fond of artists. Certainly you must have something on that woman, as she must be sleeping with some of the artists she patronizes,” he said.

Vivian said nothing and kept her hands tightly clasped together. She had heard rumors about Lady Harcourt, but she had never sought out her services. In contrast, she had handled a situation for Viscount Riggens two summers before, a tiny matter involving his younger son and a slight thieving problem.

She wanted to throttle Frederick. Aside from his obvious handsome features, what had she ever seen in this man? “Neither,” she finally said.

His eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“I did not speak to either of those families.”

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He watched her a moment and then said, “Oh, I see, you had a better family, one I had not considered, with whom you garnered an agreement.”

“No, Frederick, I did nothing. I owe you nothing,” she said evenly. So far she was managing to keep control of herself. Her voice sounded measured, and she held her hands together to hide the fact that they both shook terribly. She wished she’d told Marcus about this, had him come with her and help her, but that would entail her telling him the truth about her past. Not that it mattered now. None of it did.

His eyebrows rose. “You might not owe me, but it doesn’t mean you won’t pay. Remember, I know the truth about you.” He leaned even further, closing the distance between them. “Vivian, I will have no problem disclosing every detail we shared.” He shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll embellish a few merely for my own entertainment. Rumors of your wantonness will shock the good families of London.”

She swallowed. He was serious, she knew that much. Still, it mattered not. She would not use her clients for this man because she knew one thing for certain—once she gave in to his requests, once she said yes, it would never end. She’d be beholden to him for the rest of her days, and nothing was worth that. She wanted him out of her life for good.

She came to her feet. “I said no. You do what you must.” She took a deep breath. “But remember that to the people in London, I am The Paragon.” She tilted her head up. “They look to me for guidance. You have been gone for a decade and you’ve seemingly made nothing of yourself. No one will believe what you say about me.” She knew that probably wasn’t true, but she’d be damned if she let him know that. “I came here to tell you that.”

“You will regret this, Vivian. You mark my words.” He stood and pointed at her. “I will make you regret this.”

“I have many regrets where you’re concerned, Frederick, but I guarantee,
this
will not be one of them.”

…

Had the request to attend that night’s ball come from anyone but her Aunt Rose, Vivian would have begged off. But the ball was at Rose’s dear friend’s home and her aunt hadn’t wanted to attend alone. In addition, Vivian knew she needed to be out among people. This was her life, these people were her friends—or at the very least her clients and acquaintances.

Vivian stood in the ballroom doing her best to appear pleasant, but it was a struggle. All she really wanted to do was go home and have a good cry. It took all her strength to maintain her facade. She had no idea what Frederick was going to do or when he planned to do it. For all she knew, the rumor, or rather the truth about her, already spun through the room.

She did, however, know that Marcus was here. She’d seen both Lena and Clarissa when she’d first arrived. Clarissa had merely hugged her, then walked away with tears heavy in her eyes. Vivian had no idea what that had been about. Lena had asked about their weekend trip, but Vivian had been vague and then thankfully her aunt had come by and asked her to come meet a friend’s cousin who was in town visiting.

After that interaction Vivian had found a quiet corner to stand in from which she could merely observe the goings-on. And this was where she’d been for the last four songs the band had played.

She’d wanted to talk to Lena, but hadn’t known what to say. For the first time, she’d felt part of someone’s family. Between Lena and Clarissa, Vivian had felt as if she’d belonged, and it was odd because she’d never felt that way with any of the other families she’d worked with.

A stir began over by the French doors that led out onto the terraces. More and more people left their dancing and their refreshments and gathered in that direction, until the entire crowd in the ballroom had gone outside. The band stopped playing, and servants scuttled about. Outside, the voices rose. A few women screamed.

Vivian made her way outside and searched the crowd for her aunt. She found her leaning against the balustrade, looking upward.

“Aunt Rose, what is all the commotion?” she asked.

“I can’t see much from here, but from all the mutters, I’m to believe there is someone who has climbed out onto a third-story balcony and is threatening to jump,” Rose said. “Quite tragic.”

“I’ll try to get closer,” Vivian said. She pushed her way through the crowd. Once she’d made her way down the steps to the grassy garden area, she asked a gentleman, “Who is it?”

“Someone up there,” he said, pointing to the top story of the house. A person stood in the rounded balcony that probably belonged to one of the bedchambers. “It’s a woman.”

Vivian followed his pointing hand, looking upward, and sure enough there was a woman standing on the circular stone balcony. The woman’s cloak billowed behind her, blowing in the wind. “Who is that?” Vivian asked, but to no one specifically.

The crowd continued to murmur, a few people yelled up to the girl. She peered over the edge of the balcony presumably looking at the ground beneath her.

“Annie Liddle.” The name began to make its way through the crowd.

“Annie,” Vivian said quietly. She hadn’t known the girl very long and didn’t know her well, but out of all the women she’d suggested Marcus court, Annie had been Vivian’s favorite. She was a sweet girl, funny and charming, but something had obviously gone terribly wrong.

Vivian moved through the crowd, angling for a place where she could better see the girl, and in the process she ran right into Marcus.

“What the devil is going on?” he asked.

Vivian pointed. “That’s Annie.”

He looked up and cursed. “What is she doing up there?” But it was a question that required no answer. “There’s got to be a way to get her down.”

By now her parents had gathered and were yelling things up to her, words of love and encouragement, but her mother was sobbing so loudly no one could decipher her words. “Annie, you get down here right this instant,” her father said sternly, obviously trying a different technique to convince his daughter to leave her perch.

“I can see clearly up here, Mama,” Annie said. Her voice silenced the crowd. “Everything makes sense now.”

“What are you talking about, girl? Come down and we can discuss it together,” her father pled. “Please, Annie, look at how your mother weeps for you. Do not do this to her.”

“Mama, do not be sad, it will all be over soon.” Annie released a haunting laugh. “Tears solve nothing. You told me that, remember, Mama?”

“I’m going up,” Marcus told Vivian. “I’ll try to pull her back inside.”

Vivian nodded, and then grabbed his arm. “Please be careful.”

She moved further into the open space where she could best see Annie. There she found Annie’s younger sister, Cynthia, sobbing next to her parents. Vivian put her hand on the girl’s arm. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. “Do you know why she’s up there?” Vivian asked her.

The girl nodded. She swallowed and glanced at her parents, but they were still both focused on Annie. “He left her.”

Vivian frowned. “Who? Who left her?”

“Samuel. They were in love, but father forbade it because Samuel did not come from a good enough family.” Cynthia swiped at her tears. “Annie told Samuel she’d follow him anywhere. She told him that it didn’t matter to her what our parents said, but Samuel didn’t want to wait, so he left her. Went to America to find his fortune, he told her. Said there was no place for her with him,” Cynthia said.

“So she is heartbroken,” Vivian said more to herself than Cynthia. Vivian certainly knew how that felt, and though she’d never contemplated suicide, she knew how desolate it could feel when your whole world crumbled atop you. How had they not seen this with Annie at the party this past weekend? They’d been with her, had played golf and charades and she’d seemed in jovial spirits.

“And ruined,” Cynthia added.

The words seemed to echo all around Vivian as if Cynthia said them again and again. Vivian watched the scene unfold before her almost as if she wasn’t even in the same garden as the people surrounding her. The crowd behind her disappeared.

Ten years ago this could have been her. She could have done something drastic rather than swallowing the secret and hoping no one ever found out. Hell, she hadn’t merely swallowed it, she’d built her entire life around it, burying it a little deeper with every decision she’d made since then. But it was no different than her aunt’s card houses. Vivian knew it was finally time to pull out that bottom card and allow the other cards to fall where they may.

Vivian took a step forward. “Annie,” she called out. “Can you hear me?”

“Miss March,” Annie’s voice caught on a sob. “Is that you?”

“It is, dear.”

“It’s beautiful up here,” Annie said, her voice sounding fragile and strange.

“I’m certain it is. I’d wager you could see much of the city from up there during the daylight,” Vivian said.

“Yes, I can see the lights from across the Thames even now,” Annie said.

“I want to tell you a story, Annie. Will you listen to it before you—” She paused, grappling for the right words. “—before you make any decisions?”

“This is not the time for stories,” her father said harshly, but Cynthia grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Let her, Father,” she said gently.

“Annie, are you listening?” Vivian asked.

“I don’t have much time left,” Annie said.

With everything she said it was as if she became more and more distant.

“I’ll talk quickly, then. Did you know that I was in love once, too?” Though she left out the part about knowing now that there was no real love to be found with Frederick, it had been nothing more than young obsession and love—the ideal of love.

“Yes, I was in love with a man named Frederick Noble and, well, he told me he loved me as well.” Vivian ignored her own tears as she spoke, allowing them to fall freely. What people thought of her no longer mattered. All Vivian cared about at the moment was keeping Annie safe. “We planned to marry. He was gentle and charming and so adoring. He promised me so much. So many promises. One day, because I believed we would be married, because I believed his promises, one day I gave him my virtue.” Vivian ignored the gasps and murmurs that ran through the crowd.

“I gave him everything, Annie, my heart, my body, all because I believed what he told me, believed that we would marry, that he loved me. And then on the very night when he was supposed to propose, he left. He deserted me with nothing more than a letter sent to my house. A letter with more empty promises.” Vivian shook her head, remembering the cruelty of the man she’d given herself to.

“I was devastated. Heartbroken and terrified, Annie, perhaps similar to the way you’re feeling right now. I was so frightened someone would discover the truth—that my aunts would find out my secret. I never wanted to disappoint them. I knew I’d been ruined. Knew I was not fit for another man. So I told no one. I buried the secret and built my entire life around it.”