The Forgotten Duchess

Chapter Fifty-Five | Awake

JAMES RUBBED HIS eyes and let out a yawn. Glancing at the clock, he was surprised that it was barely after midnight, yet he was uncharacteristically tired. The documents around him seemed to be growing by the minute. He really needed to visit Chalcott manor and speak with his estate manager. However, James did not want to leave Vivienne alone in London. His eyes were blurry, and the words on the page seemingly danced beneath him.

Blinking rapidly, James stood. There was no use in staring at the pages any longer. He would look at the rest in the morning. He exited his study and slowly climbed the stairs, his eyes shifting towards Vivienne's room. Somehow, he'd made it a habit to sit by her bedside before retiring for the evening.

Pushing the room open, he walked around the trunks scattered in the chamber. Preston had located Vivienne's trunks and James had ordered for them to be sent to her room. He wanted her to feel at home for when she woke up—whenever that would be.

It was nearly a week now and Vivienne had yet to awaken. Ballard had checked on her a few times throughout the week, but he did not have any answers. Feeling helpless, James hired a few more physicians but they had all been stumped over Vivienne's condition as well. One of them even had the galls to inform James that it might be better to say his goodbyes and let the young lady go. James had promptly asked Preston to remove him from the manor before he could act on his urges and punch the man's face.

He settled into the seat beside Vivienne's bed, gaze flickering towards her body. Her blonde hair was spread out on the pillow, moonlight providing a soft glow. As he did every night, he took in her features. The arch of her light brows, the tall slope of her nose, the rose-coloured lips...

All he wished was for her to open her green eyes and look at him once more. He longed to hear her soft melodic voice, but as usual, there was silence. James sighed, leaning back into the chair but his gaze never left Vivienne's face. There was an uncanny feeling surrounded by silence.

He opened his mouth to fill the emptiness in the room. "I've always been terrified of falling in love," he admitted. James didn't know what he was saying but he wanted to share these stories with her.  "My parents, their love seemed to lighten any room. When my father passed, my mother was so melancholy, she barely ate or drank. There were some days where she could go hours before being coaxed by a maid to eat a small morsel of food. It was as if she no longer wanted to live without him. He was her reason for living, and once that had been taken away, nothing else mattered."

It had taken James a great deal of reflection to realize that he was terrified to go through what his mother did. It was his conversation with Aunt Esme in the garden that helped open his eyes to the truth. She had been right; he was angry with his parents for leaving him alone in the world. He was angry at his mother for loving his father so much that she could no longer be there for him. However, the last few weeks made him realize how foolish he had been. It was not his father's fault that he had been taken away from this world early. Nor was it his mothers for falling sick after the death of her beloved.

James reached out his right hand to place it upon Vivienne's. It felt warm and soothing and something about the connection made him blurt out the truth. "I rejected your feelings out of fear of what could one day happen to either of us. But if I have learned anything over the last week, it is that life can be short either way. It doesn't mean we should live a life without love because we fear the worse."

He smiled softly, "I'm an idiot for taking so long to come to that realization but I've finally arrived at it. Now, I am waiting for you Vivienne, as you did the same for me. You just need to wake up first so I can apologize about being an imbecile."

There was a small twitch beneath his hands and James eyes shot up to her face, immediately on alert. He glanced down back at his hands. He was not imagining it, Vivienne had moved. It was possible that Vivienne was responding to his voice and words. After all, it was Ballard who had suggested the technique of speaking to her in the first place.