Lady Vivian Defies a Duke - By Samantha Grace Page 0,4

another bout of hacking into her handkerchief. Vivi stepped forward to assist, but there was nothing she could do. When her cousin could breathe again, she rested her head against the pillows and closed her eyes. “You mustn’t speak that way about the good lady.”

Vivi saw nothing redeeming in Mrs. Honeywell. She was a tyrant who lorded her husband’s status as the largest landholder in the area over everyone in the village. In addition, she had been holding Vivi’s family hostage for nearly two Seasons, offering to keep Vivi’s secret in exchange for an invitation to stay with Ash and his wife in London. Vivi’s sister-in-law had been so angry about being burdened with the busybody’s company that she had refused to allow Vivi to join them. Not that she had any desire to spend more time with Mrs. Honeywell. Vivi had had quite enough of the woman’s meddling the rest of the year.

Mrs. Honeywell also possessed an unnatural interest in Patrice’s affairs. What care was it of hers if Vicar Ramsey called on Vivi’s cousin more than he did on his other parishioners? Didn’t the Bible charge Christians with the duty to visit the widowed? She couldn’t be certain—her mind did tend to wander during the vicar’s uninspiring sermons—but it sounded like a reasonable charge to her. Something that should be in the Bible if it wasn’t.

“Remember what the vicar says about turning the other cheek,” Patrice said.

Vivi lowered her gaze to give the appearance of contrition, but the gossipmonger could go jump in a lake for all she cared. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Cousin.”

“Thank you, dearest. I’m pleased my lessons in humility are not going unheeded.”

She repressed a sigh. She owed much to her cousin. Humility seemed a small price to pay in return. Patrice had devoted the last ten years to Vivi’s well-being, educating her and showering her with the affection she had lost after her parents died and her brother married. Vivi might have been sent to the convent as soon as her brother’s bride moved into Ashden House if not for Patrice’s plea to allow Vivi to live with her.

She swallowed around the large lump forming in her throat. No matter how many sacrifices Patrice made for her, they seemed to be made in vain. Vivi inherently disappointed everyone who cared for her.

Patrice weakly patted her hand. “Did you need something?”

She looked away, unable to meet her cousin’s eye. Her gaze landed on a welcome distraction, a stack of unopened correspondence on the writing desk. “Would you like me to sort your post?”

She started for the desk, but Patrice stopped her with a touch to her arm. “The post can wait until I am well. I should rest now, dearest.”

“Of course. Forgive me.” Vivi placed a kiss on Patrice’s forehead then turned for the door.

“Oh, Vivi?”

She stopped at the doorway and looked back over her shoulder. Patrice already had her eyes closed.

“Thank you for discussing next week’s menu with Cook. I am certain Lord Ellis will have a pleasant stay.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she mumbled.

Patrice sank against the pillows with a serene smile. “If your brother could see you, he would be proud.”

Her brother could visit her any time he wished. He had chosen to keep his distance since the incident with Owen.

Her cousin’s eyes fluttered open and she studied Vivi. “It is hard to believe you were once the high-spirited girl who arrived on my doorstep long ago. You have transformed into a beautiful lady. The duke will be delighted.”

Vivi slipped into the corridor without responding. She had become too good at hiding her true nature from Patrice. She was exactly the same hoyden who had arrived on her cousin’s doorstep, a pretender who had been caught in a lie by the one man she needed most to convince she was a lady.

***

A bright, white flash and deafening crack split the air.

“Damnation!”

Luke Forest, the Duke of Foxhaven, gripped his horse’s reins tighter. The hairs on his arms stood on end and his heart raced.

Another bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree, splintering the upper trunk. Thor jerked and nearly unseated him. He held fast, his legs clutching the horse’s quivering sides.

“You’re not afraid of a little lightning, are you?”

Deep-throated thunder rumbled the ground, earning an uneasy whinny from the horse.

“I’m not fond of it either.” Luke straightened in the saddle and urged Thor into a trot. It might be treacherous to hurry along the rutted lane in fading light, but no more