JAMES FLIPPED THROUGH the he various missives. He
discarded all the soiree invitations haphazardly into a pile.
Martin would see to them later. He answered a few
inquiries from his acquaintances at Eton asking if they
would expect him to arrive in time for the season. James
wrote a few sentences, pointing out their tomfoolery—it
wasn't as though Prinny would accept his retreat to the
country instead of Parliament.
Sighing, utterly bored of the various invitations and
requests, James wondered for the fourth time today
about the happenings upstairs.
He knew the girl, Vivienne—was her name, seemed to be
healing remarkable well according to his housekeeper.
He'd done his best to stay away. There were times where
he'd been tempted to slide the door open and see those
hauntingly green eyes, but he had refrained. It was
beneath him to be visiting a chit and he had more
important matters to tend to—like the proposals of new
farming systems to increase crop yields in his country
estates, thereby increasing his wealth.
There was a knock on the door and James yelled, "Come
in."
Martin, his butler stood on the other side holding a stack
of papers. "This just arrive this morning, Your Grace. The
messenger said it was of utmost importance."
James rubbed his temple absentmindedly—almost all the
missive he received were always of 'utmost importance.'
"Very well, give them to me."
Martin dropped the papers onto the desk.
James gestured towards the pile of invitations, "Dispose
of those for me, will you?"
"Of course, Your Grace." He bowed once before leaving
the study.
James picked up the first document and read through the
first line. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he
continued reading the first page. As he made his way to
the end of the document, his heart began pounding
widely. It just couldn't be possible. The document had to
have been forged.
"Martin!"
His butler scurried through the room once more, still
holding the soirée invitations. "Prepare my horse, I must
leave for London at once."
His butler only bowed, "I will inform the stablemaster at
once."
James grabbed the document he had just finished
reading and made his way to the manor entrance. Only he
was stopped by his housekeeper.
"I was just coming to see you, Your Grace."
"Speak in haste, I am leaving for London," James said as
he continued walking. Mrs. Shrine scurried to keep up with
him.
"Right now?"
James paused for a moment, cocked his right eyebrow
before looking—more like looming over her, "Yes right
now. Is there something you wish to discuss?" he asked,
impatiently.
Mrs. Shrine opened her mouth then closed it before
opening it again. "It's just that Vivienne is doing better
now, what should we do with her?"
James hadn't thought that far ahead when he kept the girl
under his roof. In those moments, all that mattered was
her health, and the fact that she might live. If the words
she muttered were true, he knew that she was running
away from something, and it wasn't safe for her outside.
"Offer her a position as a member of my household."
"Which position would you like her to take?"
James shrugged while Martin helped him with his coat
before passing him his hat. "It is up to your discretion
Mrs. Shrine. I am sure that you will find a suitable place
for her."
James was halfway out the door before Mrs. Shrine's
words hit his ears.
"What about wages and lodging?"
He looked back at the plump women. "I am sure that is
also something that can handled by you, after all there is
a reason as to why I employee you, correct?"
James saw her skin deepen a few shades, but he ignored
it and mounted the horse that awaited him. He needed to
get to London, as fast as possible.
***
Vivienne watched as the horse galloped away from the
path until it became smaller and smaller. She'd seen the
duke rushing out of his estate and that was the first
glimpse of him she had in days. In the earlier days of her
recovery, she hoped that he would visit her, but he stayed
away for the most part. Sometimes, in the night, she
thought she heard his footsteps linger in front of her door
before they would retreat down the hall to where is
bedchamber lay. She didn't know why she wanted to see
him—but there was something alluring about him.
A knock broke her from her thoughts, and she watched
Mrs. Shrine enter the chamber. The housekeeper's face
was neutral, and Vivienne's heart sank.
"His Grace would like for me to leave, wouldn't he?" She
was not welcome in the house anymore. She would have
to leave, and travel to where, she did not know.
Mrs. Shrine raised her hands, "No dear. He has offered
you a spot in his household instead. Naturally, you will be
given a wage and a room in the servants quarters."
Vivienne didn't say anything, yet she continued looking at
the kind women who had kept her company the last few
days. She was utterly certain that it had not been the duke
who offered a position but the housekeeper.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Although Vivienne did not have any experience being a
maid, she was sure that she could learn. She would
almost do anything as long as it meant that she got to
stay under a roof in which she felt relatively safe and
cared for.
Mrs. Shrine smiled at her. "Come along then, I'll show you
your new room, and then you can get settled in before
beginning the tasks."
Vivienne followed her out the door, taking one last look at
the room she'd been residing in for the past week. She
shut the door firmly behind her. To survive, she would
need to be adapt and if it meant being a servant in the
duke's house, she would do it.
***
The servant's quarters were much shabbier than her
previous chamber, but Vivienne didn't mind. Her cot was
comfortable enough—it was much better than the stables
and hard ground she'd slept on the last few weeks.
She had changed into a more sensible gown, which
another maid had lent her. It had a few holes in places
but it would do, for now. Later on, she would need to
purchase a few more gowns after she was paid her
wages.
She was currently airing out the drawing room as well as
removing dust that had gathered on the antiques around
the room. Mrs. Shrine had placed her with another maid,
Chrissy who did not speak much but continued scowling
periodically at Vivienne. It made her uncomfortable, but
Vivienne was scared to say anything that would result in
her being sacked.
Continuing to wipe down the desk, Vivienne spun around,
and her foot caught on the edge of the settee causing her
to lose her balance.
"Ahh," she screamed. At the last moment, she tried
gripping the table to prevent the fall and instead, her
fingers grasped the porcelain vase and it came tumbling
down with her. The sound of glass shattering into tiny
pieces filled her ear.
"You fool!"
Vivienne looked up to see Chrissy staring down at her in
horror. "What have you done!"
Vivienne opened her mouth and then closed it. Everything
had happened so fast—she was fine one moment and
then she wasn't. She glanced around on the floor beside
her to see shards of glass everywhere. Thankfully, she
didn't think any had sept into her skin, but she wasn't
sure.
"His Grace will be furious!" Chrissy continued, her anger
causing her skin to turn a bright red. "What was Mrs.
Shrine thinking letting you work here?"
Just as Chrissy finished speaking, the door of the drawing
room was populated by Mrs. Shrine and a couple of other
servants whom Vivienne did not know.
Mrs. Shrine's eyes zoomed in on Vivienne, she knew she
was going to be sacked now.
"Are you alright?"
Vivienne realized the question was addressed to her. "I
believe so," she said, fighting back the tremble in her
voice.
Mrs. Shrine began commanding the others on what to do
but Vivienne was not paying attention. She'd done it now;
the duke would have her hung or demand payment for
what she'd broken.
"Oh lordy, she's going to swoon."
The voice cut through the fog her mind was in and her
gaze snapped towards Chrissy. "I am not going to
swoon."
Before Chrissy could respond Mrs. Shrine cut in, "Let's
help you up dear."
Vivienne carefully stood up with assistance from the
housekeeper before she was led back to the servant's
quarters. Mrs. Shrine examined her foot for cuts and
Vivienne nearly flinched at the contact before reminding
herself to stay still. Her fingers clutched the pendent
beneath her dress tightly. It gave her some comfort and
reminded her of home.
"Remarkable," she muttered, her eyes glancing up to
Vivienne. "You see to be perfectly healthy."
Vivienne gave her a weak smile, "That is excellent news.
May I return back to my work?"
Mrs. Shrine looked at her for a few seconds. "Mayhap it is
my fault, it might be better to rest today dear."
Vivienne shook her head, she needed something to do, to
keep her busy from the nightmares that plagued her at
night. "I am feeling quite perky, please let me return."
"Very well then," Mrs. Shrine winced. "It might be better
for you to help the cook instead of returning to the
drawing room."
"Will His Grace relive me of my duties?"
The housekeeper's face was not consoling. "I'm not sure,"
she replied. "The duke is in London, a decision will not be
made until he returns. Till then, you can assist the cook."
Vivienne nodded and went to the kitchen hoping for
better results than the drawing room. In the end, she fled
the kitchen nearly in tears as the cook rambled on about
her incompetence in rapid French. Mrs. Shrine told her to
assist the gardener next and it did not go much better.
She accidently cut one of the stems of the rosebush
earning her relive from the estate grounds. She tried to
give it her all in everything, but it seemed like she was a
failure at it all. When nighttime came, she stuffed her
mouth with the sheets in order to hide the sound of her
crying—it seemed like she was going to be in the streets
quite sooner than she thought.
***
James stepped down from his horse and quickly walked
towards the shabby building. He rarely visited the slums—
especially Almonry. There were thieves, whores, and
dozens of other illegal transactions taking place here. It
was very unbefitting of a duke, but the papers tucked
beneath his arms currently held more weight and worry
than this place. James could feel the eyes on him as he
slipped into the building. He knew his fine clothes drew a
target on his back—he would need to be on alert when he
left.
The interior of the building was not better than the
exterior. Paint was chipping on the walls and it looked as
though the structure could crumble at any moment. He
approached the desk, where a man sat in a shabby coat
and hat.
"What can I do for yer?"
James eyed his shoes, which were currently resting on the
desk. Immediately the man dropped them down.
"I'm looking for Mr. Baldwin."
The man's eyes let up with recognition before they
narrowed. "What do you want with him?"
"That," James said icily, "is solely my business."
The man looked at him for a moment before he turned
around and shouted, "Oh Baldwin, there's some fancy
chap asking for yer."
There was a slight cough before a thin man emerged
from the darkness wearing rimmed frames. He was not at
all what James expected. The man's eyes widened as
they took in James appearance.
"The Duke of Lennox, I presume?"
James nodded and help up the papers in my hand, "Now
would you bloody tell me why these papers say that I'm
betrothed?"
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