The Forgotten Duchess

Chapter Thirty-Two | Dowry

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."