He couldn’t request an audience with Lady Brighthurst and her charge in his sorry state, but he didn’t wish to tarry longer than necessary either. “Perhaps my staff took shelter from the storm. I expect my personal belongings will arrive tomorrow.”
The butler’s gaze swept over him as if he was trying to puzzle out what type of man traveled in the middle of a thunderstorm. The servant’s placating smile indicated he thought Luke was a tad unhinged.
“Very good, sir. I will locate a change of clothing for you to wear for dinner. Lady Brighthurst kept her late husband’s wardrobe.”
Luke hesitated rather than follow the footman above stairs. Perhaps before the loss of his father, he wouldn’t have blinked an eye at the butler’s suggestion. “Are there no other options for attire? I don’t wish to give the good lady a shock by arriving for our interview in Lord Brighthurst’s jacket.”
The servant nodded his understanding. “I fear her ladyship is indisposed and unable to receive you this evening.”
Luke suppressed a sigh. He had hoped to get to the business at hand and return to Town no later than tomorrow. “How long do you expect Lady Brighthurst will be unavailable?”
“It is difficult to say. She has taken to her bed with a chill.”
Devil take it. “I see. Please, extend my wishes for a speedy recovery.”
“Lady Vivian will fulfill her ladyship’s hostess duties this evening. She has asked me to inform you dinner will be served at eight.”
“Extend my appreciation to Lady Vivian. I look forward to dining with the lady this evening.”
He had desired her kinswoman’s blessing before speaking alone with Lady Vivian, but obviously she had been accommodating enough to procure it for him.
Accommodating and amiable. Luke had no objections to those qualities. It was the words obedient, docile, and domesticated her brother had used to describe her that left him unsettled. If Luke valued those characteristics, he could get a dog.
Three
Vivi’s maid tipped her head to the side as she studied Vivi’s reflection in the looking glass. “If Lady Brighthurst thought she didn’t recognize you earlier…”
The conversation with Patrice had given Vivi an idea. She had to try something to salvage her situation, and she had nothing more to lose.
At best, Lord Ellis would return to London with reports of her eccentricity. Being considered eccentric, however, was preferable to being labeled a scandalous hoyden who swam in her unmentionables and sent gentlemen to their deaths by stranding them in storms.
As long as she didn’t take things too far… She didn’t want the distinguished title of Batty Lady Vivian bestowed on her either. She turned to the side to view her disguise from a different angle and frowned. She walked a thin line. Donning the former Lady Brighthurst’s red pouf wig practically screamed Bedlam candidate.
“What is your opinion?”
Her maid shrugged. “It’s not bad.”
In truth, the coiffure was hideous. But after searching every old trunk in the attic, the pouf—adorned with a life-size faux peahen nestled in the curls as if the bird took to roost—was the closest to normal she and Winnie could find. How very telling of the former countess’s fashion sense, or lack thereof.
“Should I trim the top again?” her maid asked.
Vivi shook her head and knocked herself off balance. She grabbed on to Winnie to steady herself, and they both had a fit of nervous giggles.
Earlier Winnie had wrestled the bird from its perch then trimmed two inches from the height of the pouf with a set of garden shears borrowed from the greenhouse. It was still a ridiculous creation that shot into the air like the Tower of Babel, but any more alterations and the wire frame underneath would show.
Their laughter died down and Vivi turned around slowly, testing the weight of the hair monstrosity. “If this abomination doesn’t hide my identity, at least it will distract Lord Ellis from looking too closely at my face.”
Winnie grinned. “And if not, falling flat on your bum should divert his attention. Although I am not sure you want him looking too closely down there either.”
Vivi moved to her dressing table to hide her embarrassment. “I told you, he didn’t see anything.”
“Indeed. He was a perfect gentleman.”
“He was.”
She didn’t know the reason she defended the man, but he had behaved with gentlemanly restraint, for the most part.
Winnie pried the lid off a tin of Patrice’s rouge, poked her finger into the jar, and with a grimace, applied the color to Vivi’s lips. “If this doesn’t work, your betrothed will receive