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Chapter 30

Chapter 30

“Why do you think he will tell us anything new now?” Jonathon wondered from his seat next to Edward in his carriage, which rattled along the uneven road, hooves rhythmically striking the cobbled pavement.

Edward locked eyes with his friend. Over the past several days, both of them had become pictures of despair. Edward’s hands were clenched tightly in his lap and his usually immaculate attire showed obvious signs of neglect, with his cravat slightly askew and his coat unbuttoned.

He sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Sometimes, I fear we are chasing shadows. It’s been days since Viv vanished and every lead has crumbled into dust. William must know something, although he refuses to tell us anything.”

“We have been following him for the past two days,” Jonathon reminded him. “And we haven’t discovered anything.”

“Exactly.” Edward nodded. “That is only two days. If he is involved in all of this, he has to slip up eventually. And when he does, I want to be there.”

The very thought of not knowing where Vivianne was—or worse yet, with whom—was tearing him apart. She was all he could think of. Knowing that she was in danger kept him awake at night, gnawing at his consciousness. She needed him. And he was sitting there, helpless and desperate, unable to do anything.

“And the rumors,” Edward added, raking his fingers nervously through his greasy, dirty hair. “They must have originated from someone, then the ton got a hold of them, and now, they are spreading like wildfire.”

“Has your uncle heard them?” Jonathon asked cautiously, because he also knew what that would mean.

“Yes.” Edward sighed again. “He has advised me to just forget about Vivianne, as if such a thing were possible.”

“He believes the rumors?” Jonathon asked incredulously.

“I think almost everyone does, John.” Edward felt a tidal wave of rage at those words, rage with merged with helplessness. “You know that the ton is a cesspool of piranhas, feasting on the flesh of those who are not there to defend themselves.”

“I know that all too well.” Jonathon nodded. Concern deepened the lines of his forehead, which, just like Edward’s, had become much more prominent in the past several days.

“The only person benefiting from those rumors is that scoundrel Reginald,” Edward pointed out. “Seeing he’s not here to leak them on his own, that must mean someone else is doing it for him. It has to be William, I just can’t prove it—and it is driving me mad!” He couldn’t prevent himself from shouting those words, almost as if an explosion had taken place inside his chest and there was no other way of letting it out.

He felt Jonathon’s hand on his shoulder in an effort to steady him. “We’ll find her, Edward,” Jonathon assured him. “No matter how long it takes, we will bring her home.”

Edward’s breath came in short, choppy hisses he could barely control. His body trembled with an overload of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him completely. But there was one thing leading him, like the flicker of a candle in the darkest of nights: Vivianne. He would not let her go, even if the entire world demanded it of him.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, John,” Edward managed to muster when the carriage suddenly came to a halt.

The two men exchanged a meaningful glance, then they left the carriage and exited onto the street. Edward glanced around. Cobbled stones, uneven and worn, stretched beneath the wheels of carriages that clattered on through the narrow passageways. On either side of the street were the elegant fa?ades of tall townhouses, adorned with wrought-iron balconies and doors welcoming visitors.

Only, he was certain that the doors he would knock on would not be welcoming. Not this time, nor any other. In the distance, the toll of a church bell announced the hour. Edward felt as if it were meant just for him, reminding him that time was of the essence. He had not a moment to spare and he knew it.

“Come,” he urged Jonathon, but before they could cross the street and head toward William’s townhouse, he heard someone call out his name.

“Why, if it isn’t Lord Chesterfield?” The voice was mocking, as always, refusing to be ignored. “Fancy meeting you here!”

***

“Come, Viv, I’ll help you up… slowly now.”

Vivianne heard the man’s voice as his hands extended toward her. Her body instinctively flinched as he touched her, but she was too weak to respond.

The world swam before her eyes, a blur of colors and shapes that refused to settle. The dull ache in her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat, each pulse sending a fresh wave of dizziness through her. The man’s voice came at her again, distant and muffled as though she were underwater.

“There we go,” he said again, wrapping his arm around her waist. There was something about his touch that her body was repulsed by, but his hand was the only thing keeping her propped on her feet. Without it, she would stumble onto the ground once again.

She blinked, trying to focus, but the face before her was a smudge of dark eyes and a strong jawline, obscured by the haze clouding her vision. She struggled to make sense of the situation as another wave of pain shot through her body. She turned to the man supporting her weight as he carefully held onto her.

“Steady now,” he murmured, his tone both reassuring and authoritative.

Who was he? He certainly spoke as if he knew her.

“I’ve got you,” he said again. “Let’s get you to a more comfortable place?”

She tried to protest, her voice weak and tremulous, barely more than a whisper. “I… I don’t know you… who are you?”

He frowned at her, lifting an eyebrow in confusion. “You… really don’t remember?”

She shook her head. “What happened to me?”

He paused, his grip tightening around her just slightly, as if to anchor her in place. For a moment, she thought she saw a flash of fear in his eyes, but it was hastily replaced by concern.

“There is no need to worry,” he replied in a soothing tone. “I know you, Vivianne, even if the moment has stolen your memory. I will tell you everything and you’ll be fine, I promise. Just lean on me and let me get you back to bed.”

Back to bed? Why was she in bed? Was it morning? Frightened, she realized that she had no idea what time of the day it was. Even more terrifyingly, she had no idea what day it was or where they were. She knew nothing, of herself, of the man by her side, and the thought filled her with immense fear.

Her thoughts were too scattered to truly grasp the severity of her situation, and she lacked the strength to resist the man. He slowly proceeded to guide her through the corridor and up the stairs, each step carefully measured as if she might collapse at any moment. She could still feel his arm around her waist, steady and protective, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold floor she had just left.

Finally, they reached a room, which was barely lit by the soft sunlight flowing in through the window. The aforementioned bed loomed before them. He rushed over to push the covers to the side, and for a moment, she thought she heard the rattling of chains.

“What was that?” she said, stopping in place, inches away from the bed.

“Nothing,” he was quick to respond. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I… thought I heard some rattling,” she said, listening for the sound again.

“No,” he assured her as he approached, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from her sweaty forehead. “You have taken quite a fall. It is no wonder you hear noises that aren’t there.”

“A fall?” she asked, trying to remember, but the memory refused to be ensnared.

“Yes.” He nodded, sighing heavily and gently pushing her onto the bed. “You have been unwell for the past couple of days, Vivianne. I brought you here in hopes that the calmer neighborhood would help you heal, but it seems the silence has only made you grow paranoid.”

“Paranoid?” She echoed the word that shocked her the most.

“Yes.” He nodded again. “I don’t know why or how, but you started to think that I’ve been keeping you against your will. At first, I thought it would pass just as suddenly as it had appeared, but you grew more and more paranoid with each passing day. This morning, when I brought you your breakfast, you spilled hot tea in my face and tried to run away. I ran after you, praying to God that you would not come to any harm, and then you just… tripped over the first staircase and tumbled down.”

Upon those words, he sat down next to her, taking her trembling hands into his own and bringing them to his lips for a tender kiss.

“When I saw you lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, I… I thought I lost you,” he said in a voice that was on the verge of breaking. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, Viv…”

She swallowed heavily as she struggled to decide whether the man was telling the truth. If he wanted to harm her, he would have done it by now… no? She was on the ground, her life holding onto a thread. He’d helped her. He’d brought her back to safety. Was he truly her friend or her enemy? And most importantly, who was he?

“I… I don’t remember you,” she told him again.

“It’s all right.” He smiled, squeezing her hand. “We will wait for your memory to come back, and I will be by your side every step of the way.”

“But… your name,” she said awkwardly. “What do I call you?”

“Reggie,” he finally revealed.

She was hoping the name would ring some distant bell in her mind, but to her disappointment, it didn’t. Not even her own name, Vivianne, so lovely and unusual, helped her remember anything. It was obvious that she was destined to remain in the haze of her own mind for the time being.

She asked her next question cautiously. “Are we alone here?”

“Yes.” He nodded. She thought he would clarify, as that was highly irregular, but he stopped there.

So, she pressed for more. “My family?”

“In London,” he revealed. “Your sister is with them.”

“My… sister?” she asked, as her throat became more and more parched.

“Aurelia.” He revealed yet another name that didn’t mean anything. Vivianne felt like crying, but she fought off the desperate urge. “The London Season is in full bloom, and your sister is being courted by a young man… oh, I forget his name. So, your parents agreed that it would be best if we removed you from the hustle and bustle of the Season until you felt better.”

“But… alone?” she echoed. “That is highly inappropriate. How did my parents allow this? My reputation… it will be ruined,” she gasped, pressing her hand to her lips. The idea of being alone with a man in a house was unthinkable.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled softly. “Only your family knows you are here. No one else. We had to do it like that, lest he find out you were here.”

“He?” she repeated, sensing that there was much more to the story than she was being told.

“Lord Chesterfield.”

“Who is he?” She frowned. She was laying the new names inside her mind like the foundation of a new home, but her home was made of cards and each new piece of information only blew her cards away, instead of making the house stronger.

Reggie sighed. “You need to rest, Viv. Please… I fear that all of this is too much for you. You need to rest.”

“No, I need to know who I am and what happened to me,” she demanded.

“And you will,” he promised. “But I’m afraid that too much information all at once will unnerve you and might cause even more damage. Please… just trust me. Can you do that?”

It was a question she didn’t have an answer to yet. However, there was nothing else she could do but nod.

“Good.” He smiled reassuringly. He looked down at the two cups lying on the floor. The carpet had already soaked up the liquid he claimed she’d spilled on it. “How about I go and make us some more tea? It will calm you down.”

“All right.” She nodded, watching him get up and bend down to fetch the cups. He placed them on the tray and headed to the door.

He closed it behind him, and then she could hear the sound of the lock turning. She swallowed heavily, wondering why he felt the need to lock the door. His explanation was that she wanted to run away. But the real question was… why?

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