"No, Charlotte won't know about anything. Let her think me happy," decided the girl. She knew that her husband was watching her. Watching her like an inquisitor watches his victim.

– Ah, yes, I don't think I've seen a single de Croix all evening! – Charlotte giggled. – But I wish I could have seen Mademoiselle de Croix's face! Just think of it: the Duke of Nightingale marrying Miss Beckley, and you, too, did not hesitate and married very well! Poor Lucy! I think, with her father's reputation, she'll be an old maid for life!

– I couldn't agree more. God be with her, that Frenchwoman… But she'll never set foot in my house! – Vivian winked at her friend. – But it seems that a new dance is about to begin, and I promised it to my husband.

– He loves you so much," Charlotte smiled. – He keeps his eyes on you.

– Well, it's wonderful to be loved by your husband, isn't it? – Vivian said with irony in her voice, but with a sudden coldness in her bosom.

When the music died down, the guests, satisfied and tired, went home, the candlelight, which had recently brightened the whole house, was extinguished, and the servants began to clean up after the merry and noisy ball.

Walking towards their matrimonial bedroom, hand in hand, the newlyweds Wingtons were silent. The light of the three candles sitting securely in the silver candlestick Jeremy carried in his hand danced and made the shadows of those walking shiver. But it was not only the shadows that trembled – it was Vivian's soul that trembled.

– Darling, this ball has made me so tired," Vivian said with a shy smile. – Please let me spend the night alone in one of the guest rooms.

– No," Jeremy said and turned his face to her face and smiled crookedly. – Are you afraid of me, my love?

– Not at all," Vivian answered him calmly, but his beautiful, predatory smile made her swallow. – I'm just very tired and would like to sleep alone tonight. And you've had too much to drink tonight, haven't you?

– No," Jeremy said firmly. – You are my wife, and I want you.

They stopped in front of the tall doors leading to their bedroom.

Jeremy opened the door and stared into Vivian's face. The fire of lust and unbridled passion burned in his eyes.

– Remember, my love, you will sleep only with me. Only in my arms. Always," he said quietly, leaning down to her ear. Then, pulling away, he gripped his wife's elbow firmly and pushed her towards the open door.

Vivian forced herself to smile and, praying that this night would soon turn into morning, walked into the bedroom.

– Vivian?

The girl flinched and, like a thief caught red-handed, hurriedly turned round at the voice of her spouse. Her face, in the early morning light, was pale and frightened. After a moment Vivian smiled, and, putting on a warm long dressing gown, went to the bed, but did not sit down, but stopped at some distance, so that Jeremy could not force her back to bed.

– Sleep, my love. It's still only early morning," she said affectionately.

– Then why aren't you in bed? – Jeremy frowned sleepily.

– I can't sleep… I'll go to the library and read a book," Vivian tilted her head to the side and gave her husband a kiss and added: – If Jane arrives before you get up, send her to me. All right, my dear?

– Since when did you become an early bird? – Jeremy narrowed his eyes, but then he smiled and leaned back against the cushions, closing his eyes and adding, "Tell them to build a fire in the library. I don't want you to be cold, my love.

– I'll do it myself. But you sleep, my love, sleep. – Vivian silently came close to the bed, leaned over to her husband's handsome, sleepy face and kissed him on the cheek, which made him smile sweetly.

"How can such darkness hide in such a beautiful body and behind such a pretty face! Mr. Darbinell, my former fiancé, is no match for you in beauty and youth. But, God, if I had known earlier how much I would have to pay for the title of your wife, I would have preferred a husband like that sweaty hog to you," Vivian thought with a bitter smile as she looked at her husband's fine young body. – But, thanks to you, I became rich and popular, my dear… No, I made the right choice. After all, one day you will cool to me, and I will happily turn a blind eye to your cheating and affairs with other women. I just have to be patient. Your passion for me can't last forever."

Trying not to wake her husband, Vivian quietly left the master bedroom and carefully closed the door behind her. Barefoot, with her hair loose and tangled after the fulfilment of the night's conjugal duty, the girl walked slowly down the long corridor, ignoring the cold, uncarpeted floor. The dull light of morning, so early that even the servants were still fast asleep in their beds, illuminated the corridor and made it cold and uninviting.

Wington Hall, this big, beautiful mansion of which she had been head of household for a month now, was a stranger to Vivian. She still could not believe that this place had become her home. Her own home in London. Because she remembered: it all belonged to her husband, and if he wished to divorce her, she would fall back into the horror of poverty and contempt by all. After all, this is how the perfectly well-coordinated mechanism of the society of the rich and aristocrats: you should fall down the social ladder, as your friends stop noticing you, and then even become ex. But what Vivian needed was not the attention and love of society: she needed to remain Jeremy's wife, whatever the cost. Moral anguish and loss of possession of her own body could be endured, she thought, but the death of the man she loved could not. Everything she did, she did for the good of Richard, whom she loved even more than herself, and if to be able to help him she had to weep with disgust and helplessness – the true companions of every night spent with Jeremy, Vivian was ready to bear it for the rest of her life. No grumbling. No complaints.

All Mrs. Wington needed to regain her moral and mental strength was a couple of spare hours spent alone with herself, writing letters or reading a book. In the first weeks of her marriage she had no difficulty in snatching for herself these coveted hours of freedom, for then Jeremy was very delicate in his love for her. Lately, however, her husband had become incredibly jealous and demanded that she be with him at all times, and Vivian had to dodge and invent urgent matters just to hide from Jeremy and withdraw into herself.

"I'll get up like this every morning. I can't get to bed late at night anyway: Jeremy won't let me out of the bedroom or his arms," Vivian thought tiredly. Her eyes were closed from lack of sleep and her body was so weak that she could hardly move from foot to foot, but she did not want to go back to the bedroom, to her husband's captivity. She would rather sleep in an armchair, in the library, on the floor! Not in the same bed as Jeremy. Not after what he'd been doing to her all those too long nights.

Entering the library, which held thousands of books, the head of household of Wington Hall locked the doors securely and lit the fireplace. When the first warm tongues of flame covered the fragrant birch wood, the girl climbed with her feet into one of the large armchairs and sat staring blankly at the bookshelf until a knock at the door and Jane's voice brought her out of her weightless state.

– Miss Vivian! Oh, I mean, Mrs. Wington! – called in a cheerful tone the faithful Jane, who, as before, held the position of personal maid to her now married friend. – 'Your husband has ordered me to call you to breakfast!

"What? Is it breakfast already? But what time is it? – Vivian wondered, and glanced at the large wall clock, which showed eight-thirty-three in the morning. – Time has flown by so fast… But it's a good thing that, unlike my Aunt Beatrice, Jeremy likes to snuggle in bed."