The Forgotten Duchess

Chapter Forty-Seven | Departure

VIVIENNE CHEWED THE piece of meat slowly, aware of the tension in the room. How she wished that she could have taken her meal in her room, rather than face this smog of hostility. Earlier in the day, a maid had informed her that her presence was required at dinner tonight, no exceptions. Thus, she had no choice in her dinner companions.

She could feel her aunt's glare from across the table, but she did not engage the countess. No, instead she focused on finishing her meal as quickly as possible and then fleeing the room—perhaps forever.

"Mr. Eastoff withdrew his offer," her uncle said gruffly.

Vivienne's fingers paused at the stem of the wine glass. "Is that so," she said conversationally. She hid a smile, immensely pleased as to how she had dealt with this morning's antiques.

"Do not smile," Lady Westmorland said crossly. "He was wealthy enough and would have made for a decent husband."

Vivienne's eyes snapped to her, and she let the anger she normally kept at bay show. "He was old enough to be my father not to mention he accosted me the gardens!"

She saw her uncle stiffen and it surprised her. He had not shown much indication during her stay that he cared for her.

Her aunt, meanwhile, did not relent, her face flush with colour from the wine she'd been drinking. "It would have been fine eventually; he would have died soon enough, and you'd have been a wealthy widow."

"Priscilla," the earl snapped. "That is enough."

The countess opened her mouth to retaliate but whatever she had seen in her husband's eyes made her close her mouth. Admonished, she turned back to her plate. Meanwhile, her uncle coughed slightly, not exactly meeting Vivienne's gaze. "The reason we wanted for you to join us was we have arrived at a potential solution for your dilemma."

Vivienne merely raised an eyebrow, indicating that she was listening.

"The scandal will die down, but it shall take some time. I have secured passage for you to Italy. There is a small house that Priscilla's sister owns, and she has agreed to have you spend the rest of the season there. Come next spring, there will be a different scandal for society to latch onto and everything will return to normal."

"Italy?" Vivienne said in shock. "But I do not know any Italian..."

"You can still survive. My sister didn't speak an ounce of the language either before moving."

It was not a ringing endorsement but then again, she had not expected anything more from Lady Westmorland. The more she thought about it, made her feel like it was the most appropriate solution. She was no longer having a pleasant time in London. Italy would take her away from this blasted house where nobody wanted her. However, she did not know what to expect from the countess' sister either. Vivienne briefly glanced around the room, and she knew her heart was set. Anything was better than spending her time here, where people snickered and whispered about her everywhere.

"I'll go," she said softly in resignation.

Her uncle nodded, but she saw the satisfied look upon her aunt's face. The countess could not wait to get rid of her. "That's wonderful to hear dear. Do ask the servants to begin packing as the ship leaves in two days time."

"Two days?" Vivienne choked out, looking at her uncle for support. She had been expecting more time to become acclimated to the idea.

He merely gave her a small shrug. "The next ship that sails to Italy after that will be in three weeks time."

Vivienne nodded, understanding the sentiment of her aunt and uncle perfectly. They could not tolerate to have her in the house for more than a fortnight. It seemed like all the preparations had been made prior to her knowledge. She looked at her aunt, it had been clever of them to present the proposal as an option, rather than a command. Nevertheless, she would be out of here in a couple of days, and that is all the mattered. Freedom was so close; she could almost taste it.