To Catch a Countess

by Patricia Grasso

  Backing away from the door, Victoria leaned against the wall. Her heart sank to her stomach, and her head swam dizzingly. Tears welled in her eyes, but she tamped them down. She wished she could crawl into a hole and die.

  Alexander had flirted with her, kissed her, and touched her but had been betrothed to someone else the whole time. She felt tarnished and stupid. The earl had used her as a diversion for the weekend.

  Victoria almost felt sorry for the lady. The poor woman would endure a lifetime of his unfaithfulness. And then Victoria recalled what he had told her in the game room. The earl said that he had no mistress.

  A tidal wave of anger surged through her. Alexander Emerson wanted to make her his mistress. He had nearly succeeded, too. If her brothers-in-law had not interrupted, she could be a fallen woman.

  Victoria decided to put the whole affair behind her. It could have been worse. She might have succumbed to his seduction. Her feelings were hurt, but her virtue was intact.

  She would practice her flirting skills on Rudolf’s three brothers. That should effectively tell the earl that he had no chance to make her his mistress. She needed to be careful never to be alone with him again.

  After taking a deep breath, Victoria squared her shoulders and pasted a sunny smile onto her face. Then she walked into the drawing room. Victoria saw Prince Stepan first. Ignoring the earl, she brushed past him and headed straight for the youngest prince.

  “It’s good to see you,” Victoria greeted him.

  “Best wishes,” Stepan said, and lifted her hand to his lips.

  His words confused her. “Best wishes to you, too.”

  “Stepan, I want to speak with you,” Rudolf called from where he stood with his two other brothers.

  “Luncheon will be served in the garden,” Aunt Roxie announced.

  Feeling a presence beside her, Victoria glanced to her right and saw Alexander. He didn’t look especially happy.

  “I want to speak privately,” Alexander said. “Will you come with me to His Grace’s study?”

  “I will go nowhere with you.”

  “Are you embarrassed about last night?”

  Victoria waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Please do not remind me of my folly.”

  Alexander narrowed his gaze on her. “I would speak with you about us.”

  Victoria knew he was going to make her a proposition. “There is no ‘us,’” she informed him. “Nor will there ever be an ‘us.’”

  When she moved away, Alexander encircled her shoulders with his arm and pulled her back to his side. “We need to speak.”

  “I’m sorry to spoil your plans, my lord, but I am a virtuous woman,” Victoria told him. “Stay away from me, or I’ll scream.” At that, she lifted her nose into the air and walked out of the drawing room.

  Tables had been set up on the expanse of lawn nearest the house. The children and their nannies had already had their luncheon at a long table nearby. Tinker and his squadron of footmen stood at attention, ready to serve.

  Victoria intended to sit with the three Russian princes and as far from Alexander as possible. Prince Rudolf materialized beside her and escorted her away from the table. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “You know you can confide in me.”

  “You know what is wrong,” she answered. “You saw what Alexander was doing in the game room,”

  “That behavior is natural between a man and a woman,” Rudolf told her. “There is nothing to be—”

  “I heard your brothers congratulating him about his betrothal,” Victoria interrupted, her voice an angry whisper. “Alex is trying to seduce me into being his mistress after he’s married to someone else. What do you say to that?”

  Rudolf stared at her in obvious surprise. Then he threw back his head and shouted with laughter.

  “Tory, you are more entertaining than a Drury Lane actress,” he said. “Alex does not want you for his mistress. You are not the mistress type.”

  “What is the mistress type?” she asked, insulted by his laughter.

  “A man chooses an experienced woman for his mistress,” Rudolf explained. “You are barely out of the schoolroom. Why would he want a virgin mistress?”

  “You should ask him that question,” Victoria said, and stalked off toward the table.

  Victoria sat down with the three princes though they appeared not to want her near them, especially Stepan who seemed uncomfortable when she slipped into the chair beside his. She pretended blindness but surreptitiously watched Alexander sitting at the far end of the table with her brothers-in-law.

  Seeing the three of them put their heads together, Victoria knew they were discussing her. She could feel the earl’s gaze on her. His disgruntled expression became a smile, which made her even more nervous, and then the three men exploded into laughter.

  Victoria lost her appetite but looked over the luncheon fare and filled her plate anyway. She helped herself to a crisp salad with sharp creamy dressing and a spicy egg and anchovy sandwich.

  “What has been happening in London?” Victoria asked Stepan, trying to banish the earl’s presence by making conversation.

  “The usual,” the prince said without looking at her.

  No help there. The prince’s behavior verged on rudeness.

  “Have you attended any balls?” Victoria asked Mikhail.

  “I’ve been passing my evenings at White’s,” the prince answered.

  “How do gentlemen pass their time at White’s?” Victoria asked Viktor.

  This prince, at least, smiled at her. “We drink and gamble.”

  “How interesting,” she said. “Do the gentlemen ever discuss the ladies?”

  Prince Viktor coughed. “I’ve never heard any gossip.”

  Victoria wanted to ask to whom Alexander was betrothed, but pride kept her silent. Suddenly, she realized why the princes were behaving strangely. Rudolf had warned them away. Her own brother-in-law was conspiring with the earl.

  Rising from her chair, Victoria gave the princes a reproving look. “Though I find your company charming, Your Highnesses, I promised to lunch with my nieces and nephews.”

  “Where are you going?” Duke Magnus called to her.

  “I am going to sit with the children,” Victoria answered. “The children have no ulterior motive for liking me.”

  “Roxanne, I want to know what is going on here,” Victoria heard her uncle saying. She didn’t hear her aunt’s reply because, as she passed the far end of the table, Rudolf stopped her.

  “We are playing croquet after lunch and need a fourth,” Rudolf said. “Will you play with us?”

  Victoria looked at him and then flicked a glance at Alexander. She was about to refuse when she realized the damage she could inflict with a mallet and croquet balls.

  “I would love to play croquet,” Victoria said, her smile bright.

  She ate a pleasant lunch in the company of the children and their nannies. No one avoided conversing with her, and no one tried to seduce her.

  An hour later, after the footmen had set up the wickets and the pegs, Robert and she stood with mallets in hand at the start line. Rudolf and Alexander had insisted the lady should go first.

  “We play clockwise,” Robert told her.

  “I understand the game,” Victoria said in an irritated voice.

  Robert inclined his head. “I apologize for underestimating you.”

  Victoria set her red ball down on the start line. She held the top of the mallet with her left arm close to her body. Her right hand grasped the shaft lower down.

  Hearing the snickering of the three men, Victoria decided to ignore them. They were trying to break her concentration. She placed her left foot, bearing her weight, in advance of her body. Slowly, she drew the head of the mallet back and struck the ball, which rolled about halfway to the first wicket.

  With a triumphant smile, Victoria turned to the men. Rudolf and Alexander were laughing. Robert wore a pained expression.

  “You were
supposed to hit the ball toward the first wicket,” Robert told her.

  “I did.”

  Robert shook his head. “Wicket one is to your left. You struck the ball to wicket four on the right.”

  “Victoria can’t tell left from right,” Alexander called, making her flush. “She does understand fork and knife directions, though. She had the same problem at the billiard table last night.” His tone became suggestive when he added, “You remember the billiard table, Tory. I believe you were sitting on it.”

  Both Robert and Rudolf turned their backs, but Victoria could see their shoulders shaking with laughter. She suffered the sudden urge to hit the earl with the mallet but managed to control herself.

  Victoria marched to her ball, picked it up, and crossed the lawn until she stood halfway between the start and wicket one. Then she set the ball down and walked to the sideline so the next player could start.

  “You can’t do that,” Alexander said. “You’ll need to start over when it’s your turn.”

  “I can do anything I want,” Victoria said, whirling toward him. “Shooting the wrong way was an honest mistake.”

  Rudolf started next, and then came Robert. Both men shot their balls closer to the wicket than she had.

  Alexander stepped up to the start line. He hit the ball expertly, and it rolled through wicket one.

  “Nice shot,” Rudolf called.

  “That was great.” Robert turned to Victoria. “Do you think you can hit the ball in the correct direction this time?”

  With her anger rising to the boiling point, Victoria approached her ball. She positioned her body and drew the mallet back.

  “You are holding the shaft incorrectly,” Alexander called. “I would be happy to teach you the proper way to grasp a shaft, Mistress Victoria.”

  Rudolf and Robert shouted with laughter. Victoria felt her face growing hot. Then she noticed Rudolf’s brothers and the duke walking toward them, apparently attracted by the men’s laughter.

  Victoria hit the ball. It rolled close to the first wicket but did not go through.

  “What do you think, Tory?” Robert asked. “How many strokes will it take to get the ball through the wicket?”

  Victoria ignored her unsympathetic partner. Both Rudolf and Robert hit their balls through the first wicket. On his first stroke, Alexander hit his ball through the second wicket.

  While the men were admiring the expert shot, Victoria kicked her ball through the first wicket. She dreaded the oncoming ribald comments but supposed she deserved them. She had fallen from grace by allowing the earl to touch her but would never have expected him to be so cruel.

  “Tory, it’s your turn,” Robert called.

  “Wait a minute.” Alexander marched back to the first wicket. “Your ball was on the other side of the wicket.”

  “You are mistaken,” Victoria said, looking him straight in the eye.

  “I would never have expected you to cheat, Mistress Victoria.” Alexander walked away but managed to hit her with a parting insult. “Let her cheat,” he called to the prince. “She’s going to lose anyway.” Then, in a louder voice, “I’m sorry we stuck you with her, Robert.”

  Victoria felt her complexion flaming and cursed her red hair. She hit the ball, which rolled near the second wicket.

  Both Rudolf and Robert managed to get their balls through wicket two. Alexander shot next, his ball rolling only part way toward the third wicket.

  “Perhaps your luck is changing, my lord,” Victoria called, relieved that the earl was less than perfect.

  Alexander did not respond. Instead, he turned his back as she stepped up to her ball.

  Victoria didn’t miss his insult. This one smarted as much as his comments.

  At the last minute, Victoria changed direction and aimed for the earl. She hit the ball as hard as she could and watched it fly into the air and strike the earl’s leg.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Victoria called, when he whirled around. “You know I have a problem with directions.”

  Her apology didn’t stop Alexander. He started toward her, marching purposefully across the grass, and there was no mistaking the fury etched across his features.

  Victoria stood frozen as the earl closed the distance between them. She began to tremble when he reached the halfway point.

  And then God sent her a reprieve. The clouds yawned, and a torrential deluge of water fell from the sky.

  Everyone, including Victoria, ran toward the house. When she reached the door, she was still clutching the mallet and dropped it.

  Once inside the house, Victoria kept running. Alexander caught up with her at the bottom of the foyer stairs. He seized her upper arm and whirled her around.

  “If you ever do anything like that again,” he warned, “I’ll take you across my knee. Do you understand?”

  Frightened, Victoria nodded. She didn’t stop nodding until he walked away, muttering curses.

  * * *

  An hour later, Victoria had changed her gown and brushed her hair. She debated hiding in her chamber for the remainder of the weekend, but the earl’s threat precluded that. She had shown fear and, in order to save face, needed to return downstairs to pretend that he hadn’t frightened her.

  Summoning her courage, Victoria forced herself to go to the drawing room where everyone would congregate after drying off. She paused to collect herself and then, hiding her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt, walked into the room.

  Spying Alexander sitting with Rudolf and Samantha at a card table, Victoria walked in the opposite direction. She didn’t bother to approach the prince’s brothers but gave them a frosty glance as she passed them.

  “Victoria, I want to speak to you,” Duke Magnus called.

  Her damn uncle.

  Victoria had forgotten that he had seen her trying to injure the earl. Now His Grace would give her a dressing down in front of everyone. Her whole life had been falling apart, one humiliating event after another, since speaking to the earl at the stream yesterday.

  Victoria knew she couldn’t prevent a tongue-lashing from the duke. She deserved it, too. Aiming the ball at the earl had been wrong, and she would have to apologize.

  Victoria crossed the room. The duke shifted his gaze to a point behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and caught the earl shaking his head at the duke. What did that mean?

  “Never mind.” Duke Magnus gestured her away. “I’ll speak with you later.”

  Victoria wasn’t about to argue the point. She wasn’t looking forward to a dressing-down in front of guests. It would be best to apologize to the earl now. Waiting meant continued worry.

  Turning around, Victoria caught Alexander watching her. When her gaze met his, he looked away and started speaking to her brother-in-law.

  On shaking legs, Victoria crossed the drawing room and stood beside Alexander. She waited for him to acknowledge her presence, but he ignored her.

  “My lord,” Victoria said softly. When he looked at her, she flicked her tongue out to wet her lips gone dry from nervousness. “My lord, I apologize for trying to injure you. My behavior was inexcusable, and I hope you will forgive me.”

  His hazel gaze warmed to her, and the hint of a smile touched his lips. “Are you apologizing on orders from His Grace?”

  “No, but His Grace would have ordered me to apologize if he had spoken to me.”

  Alexander arched a brow at her. “Are you apologizing in order to prevent a dressing-down?”

  “I am apologizing because I was wrong,” Victoria answered, and then tipped her head in the duke’s direction. “I’m certain His Grace will still spare a few minutes out of his busy schedule to give me a dressing-down.”

  Alexander smiled at her. Victoria felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

  “We wanted to play whist and needed a fourth,” he said, gesturing to her sister and brother-in-law. “Will you play?”

  The last thing Victoria wanted to do was play cards. Her inability to
distinguish certain numbers would only cause trouble, but refusing the earl’s invitation would appear rude.

  “I fear I cannot distinguish the suits without my spectacles,” Victoria hedged.

  “You’ll manage.”

  “My making mistakes won’t upset you?”

  “We aren’t playing for money,” Alexander said. “Relax. It’s only a card game.”

  Victoria acquiesced with a nod, and sat across the table from the earl. She glanced at her sister. Samantha wore a worried expression. She knew the danger in Victoria’s trying to read numbers.

  Alexander shuffled the cards, set them down for Samantha to cut, and then dealt them. He placed the last card, the trump card, face up on the table before him. “Diamonds are trumps.”

  Victoria picked her cards up and felt her stomach flipflop. She had a fair number of sixes and nines, as well as red and black. The reds seemed to be the same shape, as did the blacks. How was she to know which red card was the trump suit?

  Victoria wished she had refused the invitation. She glanced at Samantha whose eyes held a question.

  Victoria gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. She refused to tell the earl or anyone else about her problem and would muddle through the game as best she could. Never would she even consider admitting to her stupidity.

  On her right, Rudolf led the play by tossing a black ten on the table. Victoria stared at the black ten, a one and a zero. She could read that much, but had he tossed a spade or a club?

  “Any day now, Tory,” Alexander said with a smile in his voice.

  Victoria gave him a sheepish smile. Avoiding the sixes and nines, she tossed a black queen down.

  “Tory, are you certain you understand how to play whist?” Alexander asked, stopping the game.

  “I play with my sisters all the time.”

  “Do you mind if I check her hand?” Alexander asked Rudolf.

  The prince didn’t mind, but Victoria did. “Why do you want to see my cards?”

  “Pass me your cards,” the earl ordered without giving her a reason.

  Victoria handed him her cards. Watching his expression, she knew she had blundered.

  “Rudolf played a ten of spades,” Alexander said, irritation tingeing his voice. “You played a queen of clubs, which you are going to lose because it isn’t the lead suit. You could have played the knave of spades and won the trick.”