Lady Vivian Defies a Duke - By Samantha Grace Page 0,18
was the most preposterous thing she had ever heard. Did her brother know of the duke’s plans?
“It seems like a risky venture, Your Grace. Are you certain this expedition is wise?”
Foxhaven’s lips thinned and curved into a parody of a smile. “You needn’t worry, my lady.”
She needn’t worry because she would not become his wife. She braced to hear the words spoken aloud.
“Sunday is the church picnic,” Patrice said, guiding them toward a more benign topic of conversation. “I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to venture out. I’m not quite feeling myself yet.”
Vivi was more than happy to shift the focus of the dinner conversation. Despite the duke’s observations, she could be amiable when she chose. She aimed a teasing grin at her cousin. “Mrs. Honeywell will be disappointed you won’t be able to attend. Who will she accuse of cheating when she loses the pie baking contest this time?”
Patrice’s cheeks flushed pink. “Now, Vivi.”
Vicar Ramsey judged the contest and without fail had awarded the first place ribbon to Patrice and her perfect peach pie every year she had entered. In fact, he loved Patrice’s pie so much he had called at Brighthurst every day for a week upon his return from America last summer. Each morning her cousin had risen at dawn to bake a pie for the minister, which bespoke of her mutual affection.
Vivi hoped her cousin might someday find happiness with the vicar, even though she had refused his offer of marriage once before. Patrice insisted she must see Vivi settled before she entertained thoughts of matrimony.
She’ll be free when you join the convent. Vivi tried to shake that depressing thought from her mind. That life wasn’t for her.
“I can just imagine the look of horror on Mrs. Honeywell’s face when someone else bests her in the contest this year,” she said, hoping she sounded more cheerful than she felt. “I hate to miss it.”
“If you linger by the judging table, you will not miss a thing.”
Vivi balked. “You want me to go without you? Shouldn’t I stay home, too?”
“Oh, dear. I thought you appeared peaked yet. You are still unwell, aren’t you?” Before Patrice did something foolish, like test her forehead for fever, Vivi waved her off.
“I feel fine.”
Patrice’s forehead scrunched. “We can’t be too careful. I know you refused to see Dr. Fredrick, but—”
Vivi held up her palm to stop her cousin’s unnecessary fretting. “I swear I am fully recovered. The picnic will be just the thing to make me feel better.”
“If you are certain…” Vivi nodded and Patrice’s worry lines faded. “Thank you. Vicar Ramsey relies on friendly faces in the sanctuary when he is delivering the liturgy. The vicar gets nervous when he speaks to a crowd.”
Foxhaven’s brows shot up. “What an unfortunate choice of vocation for the man.”
“He was never cut out for the cloth, but his father insisted. Vicar Ramsey’s sojourn to America did not reap the benefits he had hoped it might. I’m afraid he is stuck with his vocation.”
Vivi had never known Vicar Ramsey’s history. In truth, she had never given much thought to him beyond his association with Patrice, but this explained his lack of rousing sermons. “How awful for the vicar.”
“I am certain he would appreciate your sympathy, Vivian, but please say nothing to him.” Patrice was beginning to sound hoarse.
“Perhaps we should call it an evening,” Vivi said. “You need your rest.”
Her cousin stifled a yawn. “I am rather tired this evening.” Leaning her elbows against the table, she pushed to her feet. Foxhaven stood to assist then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and escorted her toward the door.
“The vicar may count on another friendly face Sunday, Lady Brighthurst. I’ll make certain Lady Vivian arrives to the church on time.”
Pardon? Vivi scrambled from her seat.
“I would be grateful if you ensured her safe arrival, Your Grace.”
“It would be my pleasure. Lady Vivian shall come to no harm under my watch.”
They spoke of her as if she were a child or a dimwit in need of supervision.
“I don’t require an escort.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how ludicrous she sounded.
Foxhaven halted at the threshold and looked back over his shoulder. Patrice turned to stare at her too.
“I meant to say, I would employ the services of a footman.”
Foxhaven’s smug grin chafed. “It’s no trouble, my lady. A day of picnicking sounds delightful.”
A full day of the duke toying with her sounded anything but delightful to her.