“Victoria, dear,” her mother chirped as she entered the parlor where Victoria and her sisters were waiting for the first of the guests to arrive.
“Yes, Mama?” she asked, rising from her seat on the chaise beside Faith, who’d been given permission to stay with them until the ball began. Grace was in the nursery being watched over by Ping-Na, who was given orders to do whatever it took to keep Grace there— She couldn’t be allowed to escape and get into trouble. Not that she tried to do so, but more often than not, trouble followed Grace around like a puppy.
Grinning at that thought, Victoria watched her mother glide across the room to come and stand before her. Her mother took her gloved hands in hers and gave Victoria a brilliant smile.
“This evening has been long in coming, and I just know that you will be the brightest star shining in the room.”
Verity and Honoria both snorted, making their mother’s smile falter, just a bit.
“Not that you two will not shine brightly as well, but as the eldest, Victoria must be the focus of my attentions this evening.”
Victoria almost rolled her eyes at that, but she refrained. “And what attentions will those be, Mother?” she asked, wariness sliding over her.
Her mother’s expression pinched in a blink.
“Tonight you will not be a spy for the Crown. You will be the daughter of an earl. A lady. And as a lady, you will dance with every gentleman who requests one, and you will smile and accept all flattery as if it were utter truth, and you will thank each and every person for coming. And above all, Victoria Elaine Daring, you will comport yourself as a woman seeking an eligible man to marry.”
Struck by her mother’s command, Victoria grimaced.
“Surely not, Mother. What would I do with one if I did get some poor man to pay his addresses to me? I cannot marry—”
“Don’t you dare tell me that, Victoria. And I’ll hear no arguments about it,” she demanded, dropping Victoria’s hands and stepping back. “Now, the first of the guests are arriving, and once the ballroom is reaching capacity, you will be introduced one at a time.”
Bristling at her unwarranted set-down, Victoria bit back a retort, turning to look at her sisters for support. They were staring at her with looks of sympathy on their perfectly alike faces.
“Now,” their mother intoned, clapping her hands for emphasis, “I must go find your father. He disappeared with Leavenson the moment the man strode through the door.”
“Leavenson is here?” Victoria asked, her sliver of excitement in the evening beginning to sink.
Lady Gadstoke sighed. “Yes. For all your father’s determination for you girls to enjoy your evening, he cannot seem to say the same for himself. Excuse me,” she clipped, departing the room.
Victoria spun on her sisters immediately.
“You two are no help at all,” she sniffed.
Verity and Honoria looked at each other, shared a silent conversation, and then turned back to Victoria.
Verity spoke first. “What could we say? We agree with Mama.”
Vic huffed, only slightly annoyed at her sisters, whom she knew only had her best interests at heart.
“You agree that I should be husband-hunting in our own ballroom?”
Honoria giggled. “If it means we shall have a brother-in-law, and you will finally be happy, then yes, by all means, hunt and shoot and hit your target.”
Finally be happy? “What do you mean? I am happy. I do not need to be married to be happy.”
“Oh, we know you are happy to be a Daring, Victoria, and that you are the best elder sister anyone could want, but…don’t you wish there was more? Do you not wish to be courted and treated like the wonderful woman you are? Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be loved and admired and desired above what you can offer as a spy? Victoria, you are more than just the operation— We all are; we are women, too.” Verity fell silent after that, both she and Honoria gazing at Vic with a curious sort of apprehension in their eyes.
Admired. Desired.
Immediately, Victoria’s thoughts collided with images of Richard. During their encounters, even before he’d discovered her secret, he had seemed intrigued by her—and not because she was some tool to be utilized, but because…perhaps he found her attractive.
He never looked at her as though she were some puzzle to solve, though she was quite sure he was curious about her. But why? What was it about her that kept him coming round?
And what about him made her like it so much?
…
Being announced at one’s own ball in one’s own home was certainly a singular experience; everyone turning to stare with open interest on their faces, almost as if one were an exotic exhibit at the museum.
Once again, Victoria was struck by how excited and anxious she felt to be the center of attention, along with her sisters, without the aid of a mask to cover her. To hide her. If she were in disguise, she’d feel less out of place amongst the glittering crows.
“I can tell by that look on your face that you are considering running to the nearest corner to hide,” Love teased as he came up beside where she was standing with Honoria, Verity, and their mother.
“Do stop teasing her, Lowell,” their mother snapped, her fan already working rapidly to dispel the growing heat and stuffiness in the room. The windows were all open to let in the cool night air, and the doors to the veranda and garden were thrown open to allow guests to come and go when they needed a breath of fresh air.
I need several breaths of fresh air, she thought, but she knew her mother would not be pleased if she did, indeed, run to the nearest corner to hide. Such as the corner in the garden, farthest from the house, where she’d recently discovered a lonely stone bench.
The tiny hairs along her arms stood on end, and her breath caught. She turned toward the ballroom doors to find the one man she hadn’t known she’d been looking for.
“It appears that your Richard has arrived,” Verity murmured, eyes dancing.
Victoria huffed, lifting her chin and trying to ignore the fact that he was headed right for them. “He is not my Richard, and do be on your best behavior.”
Verity had the temerity to look affronted by her sister’s insinuation that she wasn’t always well behaved.
By the time he arrived at their group, all of them—save their flustered mother—were holding back snickers of amusement.
“Lady Gadstoke,” he intoned, bowing to the hostess, who bowed prettily in return.
“Lord Richard,” she practically purred, “we are so glad you were able to attend. I know it was short notice.”
His bright eyes flickering, he turned to Victoria. “Even if I’d only heard of this ball five minutes ago, I would have done all possible to be here,” he said, his lips quirking.
Honoria and Verity both giggled pleasantly, though the sound was irritating to Vic in just that moment. Perhaps because she couldn’t see the humor in the situation; the most handsome man in the entire room was standing just before her, looking at her as if in challenge.
And Lord but she wanted to take up that challenge.
“Lady Victoria, Miss Honoria, Miss Verity, you are the loveliest blooms at the ball,” he drawled, dipping his head.
They curtseyed in kind, offering him thank-yous for the compliment.
Despite her own confusion on the matter of her strange draw toward Richard Downing, Victoria couldn’t stop herself from staring up at him.
His golden hair was styled just so, with a single lock left to curl over his forehead in a decidedly dashing manner. His suit coat fit his broad shoulders perfectly, only punctuating the trimness of his waist. The coat itself was black, with a white shirt and a deep forest-green cravat. His breeches were molded to his thick, muscular thighs, drawing the eyes to the utter athleticism of the man.
Victoria discovered her mouth was extremely dry the same moment Richard caught her staring. Her cheeks burned with the heat of her embarrassment, and not a little de
sire.
She cleared her throat, which made her mother grimace.
“My lord, may I ask if your aunt has arrived?” Lady Gadstoke asked, no doubt looking for a companion with which to gossip.
Richard grinned down at her. “She has. May I escort you to her?”
She waved him off. “Oh no. I will find her myself once the dancing begins.”
“Ah, dancing, yes,” Richard began, turning back to Victoria. Almost incapable of tearing her gaze from his—it had to have been the heat in the room playing havoc on her anatomy—she waited for him to continue. “Would you do me the honor of granting me a dance?”
“Of course she will,” her mother answered for her.
Finally finding her own voice, Victoria offered him her dance card. “Of course, my lord.”
He smirked, lifting the card to sign his name to a waltz.
Waltz? She knew the steps, had practiced them innumerable times with Love, but she’d never been held close by a man.
Not just any man. Richard. The man she was trying to rid from her system. The man who couldn’t seem to get his fill of her and move on.
Richard, the diplomat, also signed his name to Verity and Honoria’s cards before moving off to enjoy himself, as Victoria should have been.
As if Richard’s attention on them was a silent signal to the other gentlemen, a crowd began to gather around them, each man signing each of their cards. By the time the first dance was called, their cards were full, her sisters were giddy, and Victoria was overwhelmed.
She knew her parents and sisters wanted her to put aside being Vic and instead be Lady Victoria for the evening, but she couldn’t just stop being what she’d been trained to be. Wherever she looked, she saw potential enemies, a few of them having even signed their dance cards. And while she wanted to use her time during those dances to subtly interrogate these men, she knew her family would take that as a direct assault on their wishes.
If only she knew how to just…live. To just be a woman as Honoria and Verity so clearly could. They were dressed alike in lovely cream lace gowns, Honoria’s coiffure bedecked with emeralds, while Verity’s was dotted with pearls. They were two of the most beautiful and popular ladies in the room, and not just because it was their coming-out. Also because they were engaging and charming, and—really—being their true, lovely selves.
And seeing them like that was both a light in her soul and a poisoned needle in her chest.
Chapter Fifteen
All that day, Richard had spent an inordinate amount of time holding his breath, waiting for the right time to arrive at the ball. He’d spent the last two days thinking and rethinking what to wear, how to greet her, how to ask for a dance, and then how to get her alone. He had nearly driven himself mad with it. But once he arrived and saw her, there across the ballroom, everything simply fell into place.
Though his heart was racing, it was a steady pace, and as he approached her, his eyes only for her, his heart rate increased. She was the most gorgeous creature to ever grace this side of Heaven. Her black hair glinted like polished ebony in the candlelight, and the sapphire pins twinkled, matching the color and challenge in her eyes. And her gown… It had to have been sewn together by enchanted folk, for the sea-green fabric seemed almost too fine to be made by human hands.
And when he caught her staring at him, admiring him, her face turning pink, it had taken every lesson he’d ever learned of decorum not to whisk her into the garden and kiss her until her flush was one of desire.
He had danced with his cousin Elizabeth, who was actually a rather talented dancer, and then the other two Daring ladies, so he knew his waltz with Victoria was coming. That it was nearly time for him to draw her into his arms and hold her close—but not too close, of course—and just be with her, without the disguises or the talk of lock picking.
But when he arrived at the spot where she’d been earlier, she wasn’t there.
“Oh, I believe she has fled to the garden for a moment of quiet,” Honoria offered. “Victoria has always been rather averse to crowds.”
He chuckled. He could well remember how put out and flustered Victoria had seemed when she was dressed as a housemaid, holding a drinks tray at their first meeting.
“Thank you,” he replied. “I believe I shall go fetch her for our dance.”
“Yes!” Verity exclaimed. “You just go and fetch her. Victoria needs to be caught.”
Obviously missing the humor, though the sisters giggled merrily, he dipped his head and then turned to skirt the room toward the open doors to the garden.
Stepping out into the lantern-lit garden was almost like stepping into another world, one made up of blooms, manicured shrubs, and meandering pathways. The sky above boasted more stars than one could count, and the moon was waning, offering just enough of its glow to cast a soft whisper of light upon the earth.
It was spellbinding, as was the woman standing just at the bottom of the stone steps, her face lifted to the night as if in prayer.
He took a step closer, and she stiffened. Dropping her chin, she glanced over her shoulder at him.
“So you’ve found me,” she drawled, a crooked smile playing at her lips.
He grinned back, walking toward her and down the steps until they were standing face to face beneath the branches of a well-fed lilac bush.
“Were you hiding from me, then?” he asked, only slightly teasing.
She tipped her head, as if in thought. “If I were hiding, you would not have found me.”
He arched a brow, now more intrigued. “How’s that?”
“I am very good at hiding.” She straightened her head and met his gaze unflinchingly.
“What of our dance, Lady Victoria? Surely you do not mean to deny me one of the few things I have been yearning for this evening.”
Another smile tugged at her lips. “Yearning, have you? Well, we cannot allow you to feel as though your expectations of the evening weren’t met. What sort of hostess would that make me?”
“Indeed,” he drawled, presenting his hand for her to take. She dropped her gaze to it, confusion marring her delicate features.
“You mean to dance out here?” she asked, her voice strangely husky.
His body tightened at the sound, his heart tripping. “You and I both seek escape from the crowd—you because you abhor them, and me because that is not where you are.” At that, her expression changed, a flickering of surprise turning to a burn of excitement.
“Then let us dance beneath the stars, my lord,” she quipped, placing her gloved hand in his. As the music within the ballroom began to play, Richard pulled her farther into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the ton and into his embrace. His hand on her waist and her hand on his shoulder, their gazes locked to one another, and their bodies moving as if they, too, were part of the orchestration.
They danced like that, in silence, for several surreal moments, until the tension in her body changed, like she was trying to pull away.
“Victoria?” he said hesitantly. He didn’t want her to pull away, to end this moment between them. To shut him out as she had been doing since they’d stumbled into each other. “What is it?”
She dropped her hand from his shoulder and tried to step back, but he held her in place, his grip tightening.
“You must tell me what it is that is bothering you,” he demanded, his frustration at her smiles and then her withdrawals pulling him taut.
She squared her shoulders.
“What is it that you think you are doing?” she snapped. She was bristling, and he didn’t know why.
Refusing to rise to the bait of an argument, which she so clearly wanted, he simply said, “I am dancing with the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”
She gasped, her eyes widening, the sapphire depths darkening.
“Why does that surprise you, Victoria? You must know that I have been occupied with you,” he murmured, lifting his hand from her waist to brush his fingers along her cheek. “
You have become a rather important person to me—”
“Why?” she interrupted, her own hand rising to lie flat against his chest. At first, he thought she would attempt to push him away, but she didn’t. His chest exploded in shards of fire where her hand pressed against him. “What is it about me that has you so…occupied? Is it because you think I am someone else? This person you met before?”
She was referring to herself, when she was in disguise. So, she would continue to play the ruse. He would allow her…for now.
“No. It is because you fascinate me.”
“Because I am a curiosity, the debutante from across the continent, raised in the wilds of the Orient and desperately trying to fit into the premade mold of society.” Her voice was flat, as though she were reciting the words she expected him to say.
Like hell he would.
With a terrible need for her to know the truth, to see what he saw, to understand the fierceness of what he was feeling, he cupped her face in his hands, peering down into her eyes, eyes that had held him captive for too long.
Never long enough.
“You fascinate me. You use your mind as a weapon, rather than your beauty. Your wit and intelligence, your obvious love and loyalty to your family, and your staggering smile have all convinced me that there is no equal to you in all of England.”
The thin slashes of brows thrust upward, an expression of disbelief knocking the wind from him. Was it possible that she did not know what sort of power she wielded?
“You mean to tell me that you…see me as a woman?” she asked, her voice hushed.
Struck by the absurdity of her question, he chuckled. “How else would I see you?”
She blinked, her gaze dropping to his smile. And just like that, his body responded, his need to kiss her rising up to surpass his need to breathe.
He leaned in, and her breath caught, but she didn’t push him away, didn’t pull away, only waited. Her next exhale skated over his cheeks, catching on his eyelashes. If necessary, he would beg her for every scrap of her favor. Lord, he knew how mad he sounded, but what was madness when Heaven was within reach?
A Lady Never Tells (Women of Daring) Page 13