“But you have,” she said bitterly.
“Yes, the damage is done.” His voice was flat and unemotional. “And all I can do now is try to make reparations and ask your forgiveness.”
“Not my forgiveness,” she corrected. “Vivien’s.”
Grant stared at her as if she had suddenly gone mad. “I’ll be damned if I’ll go with my hat in hand to that woman.”
“That is the only reparation I’ll accept.” She stared at him without blinking. “I want you to apologize to Vivien when you find her, for your cruel intentions toward her. And I’ll forgive you if she does.”
“Apologize to Vivien,” he repeated, his voice rising to a thunderous pitch. “But I didn’t sleep with her. I slept with you.”
“What if you had indeed slept with her as you planned? Would you feel sorry then?”
“No,” he snapped.
“Then you would not regret manipulating and deceiving someone if you thought he or she deserved it?” Her face was taut with disappointment and censure. “I would not have thought you capable of such ruthlessness and small-mindedness!”
“I said I was sorry, dammit!”
“But you’re not,” she replied gently. “You don’t regret having come up with your horrible plan…you only regret that you didn’t hurt the person you had intended to. And I could never love a man who behaves in such a manner.” It almost gave her satisfaction to watch him struggle to control his spiking temper. Closing his eyes, he somehow managed to stave off an explosion, although his color heightened and his jaw vibrated with a visible tic.
“It’s time to leave,” he finally said. “I’ve sent word ahead to Linley.”
Although Dr. Linley’s fashionable residence was within walking distance, Grant had ordered his carriage to be prepared. The ride was silent, uncomfortable, and mercifully short. Vivien glanced frequently at the huge, aggravated male in the seat opposite hers. Grant seemed to be in a state of battened-down consternation, more than ready to do battle—except there was no one to do battle with.
She suspected that he was considering their argument and silently debating the points she had made. She longed to say something else, to soften him with a few pleading words…perhaps even try to coax him into agreeing with her. However, she kept her mouth tightly closed. He must resolve this issue on his own. She knew that he had no liking for the real Vivien Duvall, but that didn’t excuse his own actions. A man wasn’t entitled to lie or take advantage of others merely because he didn’t respect them.
They reached Linley’s town home, one of a long row of Grecian-fronted residences adorned with immaculate white plasterwork and columns. Grant helped her from the carriage and escorted her up a small flight of steps, and they were immediately welcomed into the house by the butler. Dr. Linley awaited them in the library, a small but tidy room lined with oak bookcases and furnished with shield-backed Hepplewhite chairs and a matching table.
Greeting them pleasantly, Linley seated Vivien in an armchair by the fire. He smiled and brushed back a swath of blond hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Miss Duvall,” he murmured, “you are not feeling unwell, I hope?”
Vivien opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. She stared at him with hot color climbing up her face as it struck her that the main purpose of this visit was to discuss the unexpected discovery of her virginity, and its bearings on her case. How had she come to be in this ignominious position?
Regarding her with mild perplexity, Linley turned his attention to Grant, who was stone-faced. An inquiring glint shone in the doctor’s gray eyes. “I had to cancel two appointments because of the message you sent this morning, Morgan,” he remarked. “Would you care to explain the urgency of this visit?”
“There has been a new development in Miss Duvall’s case.” Grant half sat, half leaned against the edge of a heavy library table. “I assume you keep a file on each of your patients. I want to see Miss Duvall’s, with no detail omitted.”
“That file is only for my eyes and Miss Duvall’s,” Linley replied equably.
“It has relevance to my investigation.” Grant paused in visible discomfort, his nostrils flaring. “Tell me, Linley, when you examined Miss Duvall…was she a virgin?”
The doctor’s perplexed gaze flickered from Vivien’s downcast face and back to Grant’s. “Assuredly not,” he replied, tugging at the golden forelock that had slipped over his brow once more.
“Well, she is—or was, until last night.”
Silence descended in the room. The doctor’s face was carefully composed. “Are you certain of that?” he asked, contemplating them both.
Vivien flushed and refused to meet his gaze.
“I’m not a green lad, Linley,” Grant muttered.
Linley strove for a matter-of-fact tone. “Then this is not the woman I examined. Vivien Duvall was in the earliest stage of pregnancy. When I saw her at your house, I assumed she had either had a miscarriage or had rid herself of the baby. I observed that there was no longer any enlargement of the womb and no bleeding. It was not my place to comment on her decision. And I wasn’t looking for evidence of virginity.”
“Christ.” Absorbing the information, Grant glanced at Vivien. Her obvious lack of surprise at the news caused his green eyes to narrow suspiciously. “You knew,” he said. “Somehow you knew about the pregnancy.”
“It was probably Lord Gerard’s baby,” she said. “He told me while we were talking in the garden last night.”
“Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew what your reaction would be if you thought I had deliberately ended the pregnancy,” she said. “You would have despised me. So I decided to keep it to myself for a little while.”
Grant responded with a string of blistering curses and turned a threatening gaze toward the doctor. “The file, Linley. I’d like to see what other minor details you’ve been keeping from me.”
While many men would have been intimidated by the irate giant before him, Linley displayed no unease. “All right, Morgan, you may view the damned file. But not until after I talk to Miss Duvall…er, that is, this young woman…in private.”
“Why in private?” Grant asked.
“Because her welfare is my first concern. I’ve attended newly married women in hysterics after their wedding nights. I’d like to ascertain for myself if she is well, and it doesn’t help her nerves—or mine, for that matter—for you to be charging about like an enraged boar.”
“Nerves!” Grant’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “Her nerves are fine.” He glanced at Vivien’s averted face with a sudden flicker of concern. “Aren’t they?” he asked her.
She did not reply, only sat with her hands twisting in her lap.
“Out,” Linley commanded briskly, seeming to enjoy the rare privilege of telling Grant what to do. “You’re familiar with the house, old fellow. Go amuse yourself in the billiards room. Have a drink or a smoke. I’ll send for you in a few minutes.”
A warning grumble erupted from Grant’s throat, and he left reluctantly.
Vivien looked up warily as Linley approached her. She braced herself for censure, but found only kindness and concern in his gray eyes. Asking permission to sit in a nearby chair, Linley regarded her with a faint smile. “Beneath all that snarling and blustering is one of the finest men I have ever known,” he remarked. “Morgan is accomplished in many ways, but not where women are concerned. That is, he is not usually a seducer of innocents.”
“He wanted revenge for some slight that the real Vivien had done him,” she answered dully. “He planned to sleep with her and then cast her aside.”
Linley shook his head. “That is not like him,” he said thoughtfully.
“Now he intends to make amends, of course,” Vivien said. “I believe he is even trying to convince himself that he loves me.”
“After what has happened, I would say you deserve whatever compensation Morgan can offer.”
“No,” she murmured. “I don’t
want compensation—I just want to know who I am.”
“Of course.” The doctor regarded her with frank sympathy. “I’m afraid there is not much I can do to help you. However, I would at least like to assure you that the discomfort you undoubtedly experienced is a temporary thing. It all becomes easier on subsequent occasions.”
Rather than tell him that there would be no subsequent occasions, Vivien nodded briefly. “I understand,” she said quickly. “No more need be said, Dr. Linley.”
He gave her a comforting smile. “Bear with me for one moment longer. I merely wish you to understand that in this act between a man and a woman, there should be honesty, affection, and trust. Don’t give yourself to a man unless you believe those things are shared between you. And then it is a wondrous experience, and something not to be missed.”
Vivien thought of the man pacing around the house as they spoke, and her insides ached with yearning. She wondered if she could somehow summon the courage to trust him again, or if he was even worthy of such trust.
“Morgan is a good fellow,” Linley assured her, seeming to read her thoughts. “Arrogant, stubborn…but also compassionate and courageous. I hope you won’t give up on him too easily, my dear. Especially considering the way he feels about you.”
“About me?” Vivien asked, startled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The doctor smiled wryly. “In the five years that I’ve known Grant Morgan, I’ve never seen him in such a state over a woman. Guilt is the least of the emotions that are working on him.”
“If you’re trying to imply that he’s in love with me…” Vivien began warily.
“It doesn’t matter what I imply. The fact is, he is in love with you.” Linley stood and went to the door. Before opening it, he added prosaically, “What comes of that is up to you.”
Linley found Grant in the billiards room, seated on a chair at the baize-covered table with his arm and chin resting on the edge. One by one, he rolled a succession of ivory balls in varying patterns across the table, sending them to a corner pocket where a green braided silk bag waited to catch them. He surveyed the clicking orbs as he spoke. “How is she?”
“Considering the whole of what she has been through since the night she was rescued from the river…very well indeed. She is a resilent girl.”
Grant felt an easing in his throat. He trusted Linley. And in the course of treating the varied physical and emotional complaints of the women of London, the man should be an expert. Grant gripped the last ivory ball, engulfing it completely, then sent it rolling gently to the corner pocket. “I have an issue to take up with you, Linley,” he muttered. “Your silence on the matter of the real Vivien’s pregnancy—”
“I was obliged to keep silent,” Linley said matter-of-factly. “Miss Duvall made it clear on the day of the visit that the babe’s future, perhaps even its life, depended on secrecy. And although she seemed to be given to dramatics, I was inclined to believe her. She was none too happy about my confirmation of the pregnancy, and she left with suspicious haste. As if she were afraid of something…or someone.”
“You should have told me before!” Grant stood and scrubbed his fingers distractedly through his short hair. “For God’s sake, someone is trying to kill her. The fact of her pregnancy could be one of the most important clues about what happened to her and why.”
“Morgan,” the doctor said calmly, “do you know what would happen to my practice if it became known that I divulged private information without a woman’s consent? Do you know how many of my patients are obliged to keep the circumstances of their pregnancies secret for one reason or another?”
“I can only guess,” Grant said sardonically. The respectable ladies of London’s first society often escaped their loveless arranged marriages by taking lovers. Sometimes they foisted their illegitimate children off as their husbands’. No doubt the popular Dr. Linley was the keeper of many secrets.
“I understand the concept of confidentiality,” Grant continued tersely. “However, the real Vivien is probably alive and in hiding somewhere. She is most likely pregnant and definitely in danger…and the girl you’ve seen today is in danger as well. So if there is anything you can remember about what Vivien said to you that day, you’d do well to tell me.”
“All right. But before we return to the library to examine my files, I’d like to offer a word of advice. It concerns Vivien…that is, the young woman who is awaiting us. She was understandably disinclined to discuss her recent, er…experience with you, but she seems a sensible enough creature, and I don’t believe she suffered unduly.”
“You thought sleeping with me might be enough to frighten her into fits?” Grant inquired acidly.
A humorless smile pulled at Linley’s mouth. “You would be surprised at what a physician discovers about women, Morgan. I’ve attended some who are so refined that they can’t say words like ‘stomach’ or ‘breast’ aloud. There are women who can’t bring themselves to tell me what ails them, and so I keep a stuffed doll in a drawer of my desk, and let them point to the body part that is giving them pain. Fully grown, married women, mind you. At times I’m certain it’s mostly a pretense of delicacy, but there are unquestionably those who are acutely uncomfortable with all things pertaining to sex and physicality.”
“Vivien’s not that rarefied, thank God.”
“You’re right,” the doctor said equably, “but even so, she may have a few private fears and concerns that only you—or her next lover—can assuage.”
“There isn’t going to be a ‘next lover,’” Grant said automatically, outraged by the idea. “I’m the only man she’s going to have.”
“Well, for most women the second sexual experience is even more important than the first. It either confirms or disproves their worst fears. In my professional opinion, most of the women I see who claim to be inherently cold-natured have in reality been mishandled by husbands or lovers.”
Grant sent him a simmering glare. “I know how to please a woman, Linley. Or are you preparing to expound on your own vast experience with females?”
The doctor laughed suddenly. “No, I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands.”
They returned to the library, discovering Vivien beside a bookcase loaded with ham-sized medical and scientific tomes. Her gaze left the rows of ponderous volumes with Latin and Greek titles, and flew to Grant’s face. They exchanged a wary stare, while Vivien wondered what had been said between Grant and Linley. Grant wore a disgruntled expression, his black brows lowered over his eyes.
Busily Dr. Linley hunted through cabinets and drawers until he produced a thin sheaf of documents tied with string. “Ah, here it is,” he remarked, spreading a few papers across the library table. Grant was at his side immediately. “You see?” Linley continued, tracing one finger along a page of notes. “Nothing untoward, except…” He fumbled a bit with the pages, and suddenly a small square of paper slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Vivien went to retrieve it quickly. It was a letter, sealed with brown wax and addressed to “V. Devane, White Rose Cottage, Forest Crest in Surrey.”
“What is that?” Grant asked.
Vivien was silent, staring at the face of the letter. Something about the way the words were formed, the phrase “White Rose Cottage,” seemed to reach into her sleeping memories and jostle them. Her lips parted, and she read the address soundlessly, again and again.
“Well, Linley?” Grant demanded, interrupting Vivien’s concentration.
The doctor shrugged, actually seeming a touch sheepish. “Good God. I had forgotten about that.”
“Where did it come from?” Grant asked impatiently.
“Miss Duvall left it here on the day I confirmed her pregnancy. As I told you, she was quite distressed. In her haste to leave, she dropped her reticule. The contents spilled out, and she scooped them back inside. After she left my house, I discovered that she had overlooked this letter, which obviously she had intended to send to someone. I had intended to return
it to her on her next visit. I placed it in the file for safekeeping.”
“Didn’t it cross your mind that the letter might be important?”
“I’m a busy man, Morgan,” the doctor said defensively, folding his lanky arms across his chest. “I have more important things to do than oversee my patients’ correspondence. Now, you can continue to berate me for a small oversight, or you can open the blasted thing and read it.”
Vivien had already broken the seal. Unfolding the neatly creased paper, she discovered a few lines written in flowery script. Some of the words had been dashed off hastily, a few letters left unfinished.
Dearest,
No, you must not come to town. There is trouble brewing here, but nothing I can’t manage. I’m off to settle a few minor matters, and then I’ll come to Surrey. Together soon, dear—
Vivien
Barely aware of Grant reading over her shoulder, Vivien continued to stare at the letter. “Did she mean to send this to a lover?” she murmured.
“Probably.”
“Do you think she could be there now? At this White Rose Cottage?”
“We’ll find out. I’m going there today,” Grant said. “Right after I report to Cannon at Bow Street.”
“I want to go with you.”
“We don’t know who will be there, or what to expect. You’ll be safer here.”
“But that’s not fair!” Vivien exclaimed. “If the real Vivien is in Surrey, I want to see her too. She might be able to explain how I came to be in her place. She might even know who I am. I must go with you!”
“No,” Grant said. “You’re staying in London in the protection of my own home. I’ll have one of the Runners assigned to watch you this evening, in the event that I need to stay away longer than expected.” Seeing her unhappy expression, he slid an arm around her waist and bent his head to speak softly. “I won’t risk a precious hair on your head. I don’t know what I might find in Surrey—and I’d prefer you to stay here and be safe and comfortable. Let me take care of this alone.”