JAMES SIPPED HIS brandy and leaned into the chair. There was nothing more he wanted to do then to take a walk in the crisp air, but London was not the place for such pleasures. There were other pleasures that could be taken in the town but after his horrendous day at parliament, all James did was drink his annoyance away.
He had heard the front door opening a while back and the sounds of brief chatter between his butler and Vivienne. Yet James remained firmly rooted in his place, not wanting to be seen or heard. The last thing he wanted to do was to be dragged into a pleasant conversation while he was feeling quite... unpleasant.
James hadn't seen Vivienne since the night at Almack's. He was not avoiding her per say—but he didn't want her to look at him with those soulful green eyes and demand answers to questions he himself didn't know.
The door to his study creaked open and he stiffened in alarm. His shoulders relaxed marginally when he realized it was his great-aunt.
"Preston didn't state that you were home," his aunt said in a way of greeting. She was still wearing her evening gown, a shawl around her shoulders.
"I'll increase his pay for being so loyal," James said dryly. "I thought the ball didn't end until the early hours of the night, what are you doing here?"
His great-aunt ignored his question and instead walked to the side cart where an assortment of drinks stood. She poured herself a hefty amount of sherry before settling into one of the chairs James had taken from the library into his office. James watched in alarm as she took a large gulp. He had rarely, if ever seen his aunt drink so brazenly. "Is everything alright?"
She leaned back into the chair and sighed. "I miscalculated," she admitted, after a moment of silence.
"Are you in debt?"
Aunt Esme cracked open one of her eye lids and trained her grey eyes on him, "Heavens no child. I meant I miscalculated with Lady Vivienne."
James raised an eyebrow trying to feign disinterest. "You usually aren't one to make careless mistakes," he said softly.
Aunt Esme set down her drink on the table. "Yes, well I did not take into account how cowardly and foolish the ton can be!"
"Are you going to tell me what the matter is, so I can fix it now?"
His aunt gave a bitter laugh. "I don't believe you can do much to fix it since the problems begin with you."
"Me?" James asked astounded. "I haven't done anything particularly scandalous in a while—although you might count today as being quite the different story."
It had not been his fault, but that of his friends. The finer details would not matter to the ton though; James would bet one of his fine stallions that his name would appear in tomorrow's gossip column.
"Oh, don't be full of yourself," his aunt snapped. "I'm speaking about the fact that none of the eligible bachelors will even offer Vivienne a dance! The poor girl looked like a wallflower, cowering in the shadows tonight."
James still did not see how he was the problem in all of this. It seemed like the ton's gentlemen were the foolish ones. "This does not seem like it concerns me much—"
"Of course, it does! If I had not made you dance with Vivienne at Almack's she might have done a better job at gathering suitors." His aunt gave him a glare. "Apparently you dancing with the girl has made the ton believe that you have your sights on her."
"It was not my idea to join you at Almack's," James said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
His aunt downed the rest of her sherry, "No, it was mine. Hence why I have come to dwell in my sorrows. She looked miserable tonight, almost as pathetic as that helpless cat of hers. I saw the joy leaving her eyes, and James let me tell you this, it was heartbreaking."
James could almost imagine the scene playing out. Vivienne standing in the corner alone, her pink lips turned downwards as she watched the dancing couples on the floor, wishing to join them. He did not voice his thoughts aloud, but his mind was whirling with ideas. He would fix this and give her the season she deserved. Standing up from his chair, he poured his great-aunt another glass of sherry before settling back down to plot his next move.
***
James walked into White's with a plan in mind. He wasn't here for a drink, but something much more cunning. His gaze swung around the room, trying to find the perfect gentleman to hatch his plan with. He spotted Viscount Melville in the corner of the room. Ah, Melville would be the perfect accomplice in James' plans.
Walking towards him with purpose, James settled down into the chair beside him. The young buck looked at him in surprise, "Lennox, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Melville," James said smoothly in greeting. "Say, you've been frequenting the balls of London, haven't you?"
"And what of it?" Melville said tightly.
"I was wondering if you could help me with a piece of information that might be quite valuable."
Melville tugged on his coat, looking uncomfortable at James' request. It was not often that the Duke of Lennox was known for asking about something, and he could see the unease in Melville's eyes. James did not let the viscount decipher any of his moves. Instead, he leaned back into the chair casually placing one foot over his knee to show his ease.
"Information is not something that comes lightly, but I'll help you this once if I can."
James looked at the Viscount across from him. Apparently, it seemed that Melville had grown up after all. Nodding once, James asked his question. "Which lady has the largest dowry this season?"
Melville spluttered, his eyes going wide. "Are you having trouble with your funds?"
James gave him a cold stare, "No, my coffers are extremely full. I'm not one to share this but I was just about to make a friendly bet on which debutante would snare a lord the quickest. What better method is there but to base my bet on a poor lord looking to marry someone with a large dowry?"
Melville's eyes lit up as understanding dawned upon him and James smiled with satisfaction. He'd gotten the young lord exactly where he wanted him.
"I must admit, you are quite crafty Lennox. Hell, I wouldn't tell you the name except that you would take a look at the betting books and figure it out anyways."
James merely smiled, "That, I have no doubt about."
Melville sighed, "It's Lady Sarah, her dowry is rumored to be 10,000 pounds."
James placed his finger on his chin, "That is quite the sum. Although it seems society is quite mistaken. I have it on good standing that Lady Vivienne's dowry is just shy of 15,000 pounds."
The viscount eyes widened, "By God, on who's authority did you obtain that information from?"
James smiled and stood. "By my authority Melville. After all, I am the one who is providing it."
He left the viscount in the chair and James could see him conversing with his friends who joined him moments later. Word would spread around White's faster than a wildfire and he was sure that the rest of London would know soon as well. Vivienne would no longer have to go through an evening when there were not at least five gentlemen asking her to dance. He had done his task, now it was up to her to figure out the rest.
***
"It seems like you caused quite the ruckus at White's last evening."
James and Berkeley both paused their fencing match at the sound of the voice. Headfort stepped into the light, his gaze trained mostly on James.
"Well, I wouldn't say it was as big as the ruckus you caused at Westminster."
There was a fleeting smile on Headfort's face before it vanished. Meanwhile, Berkeley remained in the corner, unaware of where he stood with his friend after their fight last night. Headfort moved his gaze towards Cedric, "You want to fence?"
If Berkeley was confused in the change of attitude, he didn't say. Instead, the viscount adopted a fighting stance.
"You'll act as the referee?" Headfort asked James.
James looked between both of his friends and gave a slow nod. If they needed to fence in order to remove the bad blood between them, who was James to judge? Headfort removed his fencing sword and yelled, "en guard."
They both stood with their swords pointed at one another, James took a deep breath and yelled, "aller!"
There was a flurry of action as Headfort went on the attack, making Berkeley adopt a more defensive stance. It was Headfort who got the first point, and he could see Berkeley's competitive nature come about. The viscount might want to gain Headfort's approval, but he would not be made to look like a fool. In the end, Berkeley made a spectacular feint and attacked Headfort's left side, giving him the win.
They were both breathing heavily when James called the match.
"I love her you know," Berkeley said, his words echoing in the room.
Headfort looked up to him, with pain in his eyes.
Berkeley continued speaking his blue eyes filled with determination to make Headfort understand. James didn't know whether to applaud his bravery or to shake his head at the man's foolishness. "She'd loved me for even longer Henry. I was the fool who didn't see it earlier. Fiona's been patiently waiting for me for so long, and I won't let anything keep us apart—not even her brother."
Headfort threw his sword on the ground and began walking towards Berkeley. James watched wearily, unsure of what was about to occur next. Surprisingly, Henry pulled Cedric into a hug. They exchanged a few words, but James couldn't make out most of them. What he did hear however was, "Then I won't make you wait a second longer."
James sighed with relief and shook his head; his friends were fools, the lot of them.
***
Vivienne's dance partner led her to the refreshments where Fiona and Cedric were conversing together. She thanked the gentleman before she left to join the two of them.
"My God, it's been quite the evening!" she exclaimed happily. After not dancing with any gentlemen in the last couple of balls she had attended, it seemed as though the flood gates had opened tonight.
There was not a single dance that Vivienne had not been claimed for. She loved the dancing and meeting the gentlemen, but she had to admit, nothing could be compared to the first dance she had shared with the duke at Almack's.
"You must be parched," Fiona said with a smile as she handed her a glass filled with champagne.
Vivienne let the cool drink settle down her throat before she admitted to her friend, "I don't know what happened, but it seems I've been receiving quite the attention tonight."
She thought she heard Lord Berkeley mumble something about the duke and a dowry, but she wasn't sure.
Fiona clasped her hands in Vivienne's, drawing their attention away from the Viscount, "I am so joyful for you. Hopefully, you'll find a dashing gentleman to fall in love with."
Lord Berkeley and Fiona exchanged a loving glance and Vivienne smiled. She admitted that she'd been weary of the viscount, but the evening had proven her quite wrong. He hadn't left her side and they had danced every dance until Fiona's legs had grown weary. Even then, Lord Berkeley had followed Fiona everywhere—except for the ladies' lounge. Fiona had whispered to Vivienne that they would be announcing their betrothal very soon in the newspaper. Fiona was delighted for her friend.
"Have your feet healed?" Lord Berkeley asked her red-haired friend.
Fiona gave him a small nod, and Lord Berkeley extended his hand, "Then Lady Fiona, will you do me the honour of this dance and every other dance till the night ends?"
A small smile played upon Fiona's lips, "I can promise this dance, but there might be other gentlemen vying for my attention for the others. Perhaps you might be lucky in driving them off."
"I'll drive them off, alright," Lord Berkeley said with a growl before he whisked her friend away to the dance floor, the two of them twirling about.
"There is nothing quite like young love, is there?" A male voice interjected.
Vivienne spun around to see a gentleman with a sharp nose, dark eyes, and a moustache. Her gaze wandered to his outfit, he was dressed in a fine black waistcoat and matching black trousers. "In that, we are in agreement Sir."
The man shared a smile with her before he bowed, "Captain Gronow at your service, and what might be your name, if I may inquire?"
"Lady Vivienne," Vivienne said with a slight smile. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"I believe that was supposed to be my line," Captain Gronow said slyly.
"I do apologize for making you flounder then," Vivienne replied, a smile still playing on her lips.
"Ah, no worries. I was hoping that you could join me on the dance floor and allow me to display my exquisite dancing skills."
Her smiled dimmed even though her heart urged her to say yes, "I believe my feet are quite tired tonight, mayhap another time?"
Captain Gronow looked at her for a moment before he slowly nodded and bowed, "I'll be looking for you at the next ball my lady."
Vivienne watched his retreating figure and sighed. She would have loved to dance and talk with him late into the night, but something was holding her back—no it was someone, and she knew exactly who the brandy-coloured eyes belonged to. She could not seem to shake them off, no matter where she went, they followed her everywhere.
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Well, it seems fencing might be one way to solve problems between friends. Also, how cunning was James in this chapter ;) Do you guys think Vivienne should have accepted Captain Gronow's wish to dance?