But he only had eyes for Victoria.
She was resplendent in a gown of sunrise pink, a deeply rich color that only enhanced the flush of her cheeks, the lushness of her lips, and the creaminess of the skin on her throat.
She was a goddess in the flesh, come to torment him.
You have been reading too much Byron. Truthfully, he’d only read a few bawdy poems, nothing that would compare to Victoria…or what just seeing her was doing to his insides. His chest was heavy, and the pulse in his neck was pounding. Sweaty hands, swirling thoughts, and nearly complete loss of composure—how did one woman affect him so?
He was a viscount, had lands and a fortune of his own; he was a peer, a strong and capable man, one who’d experienced more than his share of fiery affairs and hopeful debutantes looking to be viscountesses. So why did the sight of a beautiful woman turn him into Yorkshire pudding?
No, not just any woman. This woman. Victoria. With her jeweled eyes and penchant for intriguing him.
It didn’t help that she was looking at him, her face lit up, her eyes sparkling. And she was smiling. Her smile slammed into him, making his breath catch. He hadn’t known what to expect from the mysterious and beguiling Victoria Daring, but it certainly wasn’t this. She seemed almost…happy to see him? Oh…but that couldn’t be good.
She was most certainly up to something, but he’d let her play her game, if only for her to fall ever deeper into a snare of his making. He met her smile with a knowing one of his own, then watched the flash of wariness appear just before it was cloaked behind a curtain of feigned interest.
But…was it feigned?
His smile widened, flashing his teeth, and she blushed, the color rising from the delectable tops of her breasts up her long, graceful neck and into her cheeks. By God, she was delicious.
And if that blush had been any indication, her interest was very much real. Just as his was.
“My darlings,” Lord Gadstoke called, raising his arms in welcome. Lady Gadstoke stood, rushing to her daughters and leaning in to speak to them quickly, her face pinched. To their credit, the daughters looked properly chastised for whatever they’d done that had earned their mother’s displeasure.
“Now that we are all here…” Lady Gadstoke began, then introduced each woman to Richard’s aunt and cousin. Introductions were always the most tedious of things, though he did enjoy watching his aunt watch the Darings with a speculative eye.
Aunt Margaret had made a name for herself for her ability to see through the facade and right to the meat; she’d tongue-lashed many a well-dressed cad with pockets to let who’d dared to leer at Elizabeth as though she were ripe for the plucking. And now his aunt was peering at Victoria, a dark and curious gleam in her eye. What was she thinking?
He didn’t even know what he was thinking—he couldn’t think, not with Victoria so near. She was seated on the couch next to her sisters, and every once in a while, she would glance at him.
“Lord Richard,” Lord Gadstoke drawled, “are you much involved with Parliament?”
He took a long sip from the tumbler of Scotch in his hand. He’d need fortification for any conversation about politics.
“As a matter of fact, no,” he replied. “I leave the politicking to my brother. I have not the stomach for the arguing and the cajoling and the blustering.”
Nodding, Lord Gadstoke offered, “There is much of that, but there is also progress. I have many connections I have made over my years in the Far East, and many of them would give their right eye for the opportunity to actively participate in measures that benefit their people. But without the wigs.”
Richard chuckled, and he felt Victoria’s eyes on him. Studying him.
He liked it, her attention.
“I understand you have done tremendous work with the local peoples… Have your children also worked closely with them?”
“Absolutely. I encouraged each of my children to learn the language, the culture, and even some of the less genteel arts.”
That piqued his interest further. “Oh? Like what?”
“Well…” His gaze flicked to his wife, who was glaring at him. He coughed. “It really is of no consequence.”
Oh, but he must know now, especially since he suspected that those arts included blade play and lock picking.
“We are glad to have you back, my lord. Your involvement with the Foreign Office is important work,” Justin effused, his own tumbler empty.
Involvement in the Foreign Office? Something niggled at Richard’s mind…. Did what Victoria was doing in the earl’s study have anything to do with her father’s affairs? He knew that Banebridge had several connections in shipping and trade; had those things made him a target of some plot? And if so, what plot could possibly require a noble lady to dress in disguise and break into his personal study?
Lord Gadstoke cleared his throat. “It is important work. There are many enemies at our door. We must keep our eyes and ears open, and our hands ready for decisive action.”
Again, the niggling…
“Hear, hear,” Justin gushed.
Suddenly annoyed about the topic—or rather his uneasiness about Lord Gadstoke’s words—Richard snapped, “Politics is an old man’s game.”
Surprisingly, Lord Gadstoke chuckled. “It is that, but I was born an old man. At least that’s what my daughters tell me.”
Justin tsked. “Dear brother, there is more to politics than that. Think of all the people we help with the decisions we make—why, where would the commoners be without House of Lords to better their lives?” Spoken like a duke.
“We would help them better if we put aside our entitlements and gave them a hand up. You haven’t seen pride in one’s work until you’ve seen a lad grin from ear to ear, simply because you thanked him for his diligence in caring for your horse.”
Justin snorted, sending a shaft of outrage down Richard’s spine.
“You’ve gone maudlin, little brother. We pay them to do the work; does it matter what words we speak to them?”
Struck by his own brother’s empirical tone and staggeringly arrogant words, he opened his mouth to share his displeasure, but the butler arrived just then, announcing dinner.
Saved by the dinner bell.
Lord Gadstoke escorted his wife, Justin escorted his aunt, and Richard escorted his cousin into the dining room. While making small talk with Elizabeth was pleasant enough, he’d rather Victoria had threaded her arm through his and walked beside him. Though their time in the parlor had been short, and he hadn’t been able to speak with her, he couldn’t help but feel that something had changed about her. Rather than avoid looking in his direction as he’d expected, he’d caught her looking, caught her blushing, caught her smiling at him.
Suspicious and yet diverting.
Having Victoria smile at him wasn’t the worst of outcomes, but still… Her furtive glances and becoming blushes seemed out of place between them, especially after their silent battle at the haberdasher’s. A battle he couldn’t wait to wage once more.
As they made their way into the dining room for dinner, he intensified his resolve to uncover what Victoria Daring was up to. No matter how intoxicating her smiles.
Chapter Eleven
Forcing her mind to focus, Victoria fought down the urge to shudder.
He’d brushed against her. His arm, hot and hard, had brushed against her shoulder as he helped his cousin to her seat. It shouldn’t have affected her; it shouldn’t have sent sparks of awareness and tingles of fire through her. It was an unintentional thing, not meant to drive her to distraction. But…she couldn’t be sure of that, not after that wolfish grin he’d brandished upon her appearance.
Her gaze flicked to where Richard was standing beside his seat. He wasn’t looking at her, but she couldn’t dismiss the fact that he’d stared at her throughout the short interlude in the parlor. At least once during that time, she wondered if she’d come down with an illness that presented in bursts of heat.
Victoria didn’t know whether to be glad or annoyed that her mother had the forethought to seat Richard on the other side of the table, on the other side of Love, who appeared more than willing to engage Richard in conversation. On the one hand, she didn’t have to put on a show of sweet, gentle miss, conversing about whatever it was men spoke with gently bred women about.
On the other hand, though, she couldn’t go through with her plan to distract him from the questions burning in his eyes if she couldn’t speak with him.
It was a conundrum, and she hated conundrums. Even her tutor in Zhejiang had bemoaned Victoria’s lack of interest in anything other than training. But she’d enjoyed training, pushing her body and, by extension, her mind. And now she had to pretend to like to prattle about ribbons and slippers, and act as though she didn’t have two thoughts to rub together whenever a man was present.
It was an act, a ruse, a part of being an active spy amongst the ton. And if she were truly honest with herself, she’d admit that she appreciated the looks and flattery from the few men she’d met at the handful of dinners they’d attended.
“Victoria,” the Duchess of Ashbury intoned, and Vic turned to look at the woman seated at her mother’s right. She was a handsome woman, fair of complexion, with eyes the color of winter grains. “What do you think about your new life in our fair city?”
“Your Grace,” Victoria said, grappling with her first thought, which was, It smells of smoke and body odor. Instead, she answered, “It is different than I thought it would be.” The truth, that.
With only the months-old newspapers they’d received in Zhejiang, she and her siblings could only imagine what life in London was like based on their reports.
Lady Ashbury raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”
Drat!
Vic placed her soup spoon beside the bowl and dabbed at her mouth with the corners of her napkin, though she hadn’t taken a bite yet. Even without looking, she knew everyone was waiting for her response. It was quiet enough to hear a gnat gasp, and she didn’t have to look to know he was looking at her; she could feel his gaze on her face, watching. More than likely waiting for her to slip up, to give something away that he could use to grow his suspicions.
You are being ridiculous. You are charming and witty and just the kind of woman who wouldn’t hide something as dastardly as a dressing room full of disguises. Despite the rush of sensation when Richard had touched her, she’d been as calm and collected a lady as one would expect. She would be the ideal lady if it killed her. Or him.
“Well, Your Grace, I find the city far more…crowded than I was expecting.”
Lady Ashbury grinned. “What you mean is that London is ripe and teeming with malodorous ninnies.”
Shocked, Victoria could only stare at the woman who’d apparently read her mind.
Verity and Honoria both broke into choked laughter, which they hid behind their hands, and her parents looked as shocked as she was. Richard, however, looked positively mirthful, his cock-eyed smile making her stomach switch places with her brain.
A gasp from her right, where Lady Elizabeth, the duchess’s daughter, was sitting, made Vic glance at her. The girl was as red as a garnet. Unlike Victoria’s own mother, it seemed that Elizabeth’s mother was willing to break with societal norms and actually speak what was on her mind. It was refreshing.
Taking pity on her, Victoria reached out and patted Elizabeth’s hand before she replied, “I have yet to encounter a truly malodorous person, although I have not had much in the way of social interaction.”
“And why not?”
“We are celebrating her—and Verity and Honoria’s—coming-out with a ball next week,” her mother interjected carefully.
Lady Ashbury nodded. “Keeping your treasures close to the chest until you can display them properly.”
“Just so,” Lady Gadstoke replied.
“Have you visited the museum? Opera house?”
Victoria met the older woman’s pointed gaze. “No, I have not had the pleasure.”
“Hiding away?”
She stiffened, her feathers ruffling slightly. “I hide from nothing.”
The duchess’s lip quirked. “Oh? And what do you do when you aren’t hiding?”
Train until her knuckles split and her body was bruised. “I”—think of something polite and boring—“paint landscapes and embroider lace.”
Dear heavens, she nearly fell asleep just speaking those words.
A sound from the other end of the table told her that Richard reacted to her answer, but she couldn’t make herself look to see what his reaction was. She refused to give in to the desire to admire his face, the fit of his coat, the long fingers on his strong hands…the way he drank his wine and how the column of his throat worked as he swallowed.
Gāisǐ de. Now his throat distracted her! God save her from handsome necks.
Lady Gadstoke, once again, broke into the conversation. “All of my daughters are quite accomplished in…the arts. And my son, Lowell”—Love tipped his head in their mother’s direction and offered the barest of smiles—“is one of the finest sportsmen on two continents.”
“Is that so?” Richard finally spoke, making Vic flinch. Hiding her nerves by reaching for her glass of wine, she pretended to sip it. “I fancy myself a sportsman, as well,” he continued. “I spend several hours a week at the fencing club. Fencing is one of the most…strenuous forms of exercise.”
Had she imagined his emphasis on that word? Daring to look over at him, she nearly bellowed at the smirk on his face. The devil knew exactly what he was saying, playing the wicked cad at the dinner table. But why?
Richard’s remarks earned a broad smile from her brother, who sat up straighter and winked at Elizabeth, who blushed to the tips of her ears.
“Agreed, although I prefer dancing with beautiful women to matching rapiers with amateurs,” Love remarked, and the duke made a strangled sound, pinning Richard, then Love, with a glare. It seemed that the duke didn’t appreciate his brother and hers having a verbal sparring match at the table.
Victoria smiled at Elizabeth, leaning in to say, “Do not mind him,” as she flicked a glance to her brother. “He is as harmless as cream on a scone.”
Elizabeth peered up at Vic through her pale eyelashes and then across the table to Love before murmuring, “I do like cream.”
Unable to hold back her laugh, she grinned at Elizabeth.
“Cream is, by far, the best part of tea, is it not? Personally, I prefer great gobs of cream with a bowl full of strawberries or melon,” Victoria remarked, watching as Elizabeth’s expression opened up slowly, until she was looking directly at her.
“Oh, I do think that sounds lovely.”
A tickling sort of heat spread over her face. Against her better judgment, Victoria sneaked a peek at Richard. He was looking right at her, his expression unreadable, but his eyes had turned to molten gold.
Her breath stuck in her chest, she coughed.
“Victoria, dear, are you all right?” her mother asked, her face pinched with concern.
She coughed again but held up her hand. “No, no. I am fine. Just a bit of something stuck in my throat.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, disbelief clouding her features. Thankfully, though, she returned to her conversation with the duke and Vic’s father.
Catching Vic’s gaze, Verity leaned forward. “Lady Elizabeth, how are you enjoying your first season?”
Her face brightened. “Oh, I am having the most wonderful time. There is so much to do— Why, I even had tea with Lady Devonton just last week. She was the most wonderful hostess, and she invited me to ride out with her the very next day.” Her expression fell. “It really is dreadful what happened to her.”
Intrigue struck. Victoria laid a hand on the girl’s arm and asked, “What happened?” And why hadn’t they heard of this already?
Elizabeth turned to her, her hazel eyes sad. “It was all over town, how someone broke into her home a
nd nearly killed her.”
Honoria gasped. “Goodness. How awful.”
Victoria nodded, agreeing with her sister’s sentiment. “I am so sorry about your friend, Lady Elizabeth, truly.” Having only her family as friends, Victoria never experienced what it was like to nearly lose someone she cared about. She couldn’t imagine what poor Elizabeth was feeling. “Is she at home? Can we send her a bouquet?” It was something her mother would suggest.
“That is a marvelous idea, Victoria. You took the words right out of my mouth,” Lady Gadstoke said.
“Is she well enough to receive visitors?” her father asked, which was unsurprising to the other Darings at the table. He’d want to send one or all of them to subtly question her about the attack. More than likely, Victoria would go, though her mother would argue that, as she was the matron of the Daring family, she should pay the visit.
Unfortunately, her mother was as subtle as a monkey in a dress. At that imagery, Victoria hid a smile by ducking her chin, but she could still feel Richard’s eyes on her.
What was he thinking about dinner with the Darings…about her?
He was getting under her skin, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d never be able to shake him.
After dinner, they convened in the parlor once again, this time with brandy and music. Elizabeth was a deft hand at the piano, and Honoria was there with her to turn the pages of music. Verity, who had spent most of the evening observing, was sipping a tumbler of rice wine, something their father had grudgingly agreed to bring with them. While Victoria couldn’t stomach the stuff, both Love and Verity had acquired a taste for it. Lady Ashbury was deep in animated conversation with Vic’s mother, which left Verity alone.
Having a new camaraderie with her sister, with their shared secret, Victoria left her seat near the piano to make her way to Verity.
Before she could reach her sister’s side, Richard slid into her path. How could she forget how tall he was? Victoria wasn’t a slight woman, but this man seemed to tower over her, his imposing presence giving him the air of someone who wielded his strength with prowess.
A Lady Never Tells (Women of Daring) Page 10