To Catch a Countess

by Patricia Grasso

  “I never knew learning could be such fun,” Victoria whispered, savoring the sensations he was creating.

  Alexander captured her lips again. Flicking his tongue across the crease in between her lips, he sought and gained access to the sweetness within. She was soft, and her delicate scent of vanilla and jasmine inflamed his senses.

  Her gown fluttered to the floor when he stepped back. She stood in chemise, stockings, garters, and slippers.

  “Left shoulder,” Alexander said, unfastening the chemise’s ribbons. “Right shoulder now.”

  Her chemise fell to the floor and pooled at her feet. Victoria stood in her stockings and garters only, enjoying his perusal.

  Alexander unpinned her hair, letting the curly mane of fire cascade almost to her waist. Then he stepped back to admire her nakedness. With a smile on his lips, Alexander studied her lovely face with its alabaster skin and pink lips, her breasts with their pink-tipped nipples, her slender waist, her curvaceous hips . . .

  Victoria knew the instant he spied the small dagger inside the leather garter strapped to her calf.

  Alexander lost his smile. “What is that?”

  “I think it’s my leg.”

  Alexander snapped his gaze to hers. “Tory, I am serious.”

  “Old habits die hard.”

  His expression softened on her. “You look like a pagan princess with your red curls and that dagger.”

  “Continue with my lessons.”

  With a groan, Alexander lifted her into his arms and placed her across the cot. He spread her thighs and stepped between them, running a finger along her moist crease, eliciting a gasp from her.

  “Left breast,” he whispered, leaning over her to suckle upon one pink nipple. “Right breast.”

  Victoria moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer. Closer. Closer.

  Alexander freed his manhood and rubbed its tip against her nub. “Tell me what you want, Tory.”

  “I want you inside me.”

  Alexander thrust forward and pushed himself deep inside her until their groins touched. Then he moved . . . slowly, enticingly, inviting her to move with him.

  Catching his rhythm, Victoria kept her legs wrapped around him. She moved with him, hands clutching his back, his powerful muscles flexing beneath her silken touch.

  Her throaty moans incited him to thrust harder, deeper. Victoria cried out as her body shuddered with contractions of pleasure. Only then did Alexander join her, flooding her womb, collapsing upon her.

  Long, silent moments passed. The only sound each heard was the life blood singing through their bodies, the rhythm of their heartbeats.

  Alexander lifted his weight off her. Supporting himself on his elbows, he looked down at her.

  “What direction was that?” Victoria asked, her voice a breathless whisper.

  “That, my love, was dead center.”

  * * *

  Victoria dressed with special care that evening, wanting Alexander’s attention fixed on her, not the voluptuous widow. She chose a midnight blue silk gown, its bodice cut in a V in front, hinting at cleavage. High-waisted, the gossamer silk clung to every curve. The only jewelry she wore was her diamond betrothal ring. Her aunt’s maid had styled her fiery mane in an upswept fashion.

  “Darling, you are more dazzling than the noonday sun and more enchanting than the silvery moon,” Aunt Roxie drawled, walking into her bedchamber. “Come, Alexander is waiting.”

  After one final peek at herself in the cheval mirror, Victoria turned to her aunt. Her smile was sunny, but worry clouded her eyes.

  “I have some advice,” Aunt Roxie said.

  For the first time in her life, Victoria appreciated her aunt’s experience. “I need all the advice you can give.”

  “First of all, there is nothing to worry about,” Aunt Roxie said, taking her hand in hers. “If either of those two witches insults you, return the insult sweetly, putting them on the defensive. Look them in the eye as if you were superior to them in every way. Which you are, darling. Do not disagree with Alex in any way. If he does or says something you don’t like, wait until you are alone to criticize him.”

  “What if the widow flirts with Alex?”

  “If you aren’t in close proximity to cling to him physically,” her aunt answered, “then you must flirt with Venetia’s husband. That will bring Alex scurrying to your side.”

  “How do I flirt with Mr. Gibbs?” Victoria asked, beginning to panic.

  “Trust your instincts, darling,” Aunt Roxie said, touching her niece’s cheek. “You carry my blood in your veins. Flirting will come naturally once you start. Imagine you are the greatest actress in the world performing before an audience of four. Throw yourself into the role with aplomb.”

  “I love you, Aunt Roxie.”

  “I love you, too, darling.”

  Walking down the stairs to the foyer, Victoria caught Alexander’s first glimpse of her. She crossed the foyer to stand before him and gave him an inscrutable smile.

  “You look beautiful,” Alexander complimented her, “but I do not trust that smile. What are you planning?”

  “I am planning an enjoyable evening with you.”

  A short time later, the Gibbs’s majordomo greeted them at the door. After taking Victoria’s silk cape, the man escorted them upstairs to the drawing room where the others had already gathered.

  “Welcome to our home.” Harry Gibbs met them midway across the drawing room and shook Alexander’s hand. Then he lifted Victoria’s hand to his lips before escorting them across the room.

  Venetia and Diana sat together on the settee. Alexander bent to kiss his sister’s cheek and then lifted the widow’s hand to his lips.

  Victoria felt disheartened when she looked at the widow. Diana Drummond wore a black low-cut gown. She wondered how she could compete with the widow’s voluptuous sophistication. Then Victoria thought of her aunt and gave herself a mental shake, telling herself she was just as good as the widow. Especially if reading was not required.

  Think aplomb, Victoria told herself.

  “How delightful to see you again,” Victoria said, an insincere smile pasted on her face.

  She glanced at Alexander. His lips quirked as if he wanted to laugh.

  “Is that your betrothal ring?” Diana asked, her gaze on the enormous diamond.

  Victoria held her hand out for their inspection.

  “My devoted husband-to-be has vowed to drench me in diamonds,” she told them. “I do believe he has made a good beginning.”

  “Alexander always did have excellent taste,” Venetia said.

  “Especially in my choice of a bride,” Alexander added.

  “Well said.” Harry Gibbs gestured to the doorway. “Shall we go down to dinner?”

  Venetia and Diana rose from the settee. As if they had planned their moves, the two women slipped an arm through Alexander’s, trapping him between them, and escorted him out of the drawing room.

  Victoria narrowed her gaze on their backs. Harry Gibbs offered her his arm. Walking beside him, Victoria noted the widow was unacceptably close to Alexander, close enough to press her breast against his arm.

  “Is something wrong?” Harry Gibbs asked, his voice low.

  Victoria managed a smile for him and thought aplomb. “Whatever could be wrong when I am escorted to dinner by such a handsome man as you?”

  “Don’t let my sister bother you,” he whispered. “Diana is an incorrigible flirt.”

  Beneath the majordomo’s supervision, two footmen served dinner. They dined on cucumber soup, dandelion salad with sharp vinaigrette, stuffed meadow mushrooms, and roasted chicken with potatoes. There were lemon barley water and wine.

  “Would you prefer warmed milk?” Venetia asked, eliciting a smile from her sister-in-law, when Victoria declined the wine.

  There was nothing subtle about the woman’s insult. In her mind’s eye, Victoria pictured her aunt gesturing dramatically and saying, “
Think aplomb.”

  “Lemon barley water will suffice,” Victoria said, her smile sweet. She flicked a glance at Harry Gibbs, adding, “I admit I have not acquired a taste for wine or spirits. I’m certain my appreciation will grow with advancing age like Ladies Venetia and Diana.”

  Harry Gibbs grinned. “My dear, you need never acquire such a taste in order to be delightful.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Victoria willed herself to blush and dropped her gaze as if shy. She slanted a glance at Alexander, who was smiling as if he knew her ploy.

  “I adore opera,” Diana Drummond said to Alexander. “Would you be amenable to my using your box one evening?”

  “You are welcome to use it whenever you wish.”

  “Do you still attend the opera every Thursday?” Venetia asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Diana Drummond laughed throatily. “I am still tickled by the chit who thought Mozart was Mo Sart.”

  “I am the chit who said that,” Victoria announced, her expression placid.

  Aplomb. Aplomb. Aplomb.

  Their surprised expressions told her that she had caught them all—including Alexander—off balance. She could have kissed her aunt for the sound advice.

  Harry Gibbs was the first to recover. “I daresay, Lady Victoria hasn’t the experience of you older ladies.”

  With a come-hither expression, Victoria turned to him. She leaned close, her smile conspiratorial. “Did you know that Beethoven was a woman? Her name was actually Bea Toven.”

  Harry Gibbs burst out laughing. “Lady Victoria, you’re a breath of fresh air after an evening in a smoky tavern.”

  “Call me Tory,” she said. “All my friends do.”

  “Tory, then.”

  “Are you implying that I am a smoky tavern?” Venetia asked, her irritation apparent.

  “Dearest, a compliment to one lady isn’t necessarily an insult to another,” Harry Gibbs told his wife.

  “Diana loves to read,” Venetia said, turning to her brother. She looked at her sister-in-law, saying, “Alexander has an extensive library.”

  “I would love to see this library and, perhaps, borrow a few books,” Diana said.

  “A beautiful widow entering a bachelor’s home is not done in England,” Victoria said, before Alexander could speak. “You will be most welcome to browse in our library after we marry. Until then, London boasts numerous bookstores and lending libraries.”

  “I’m certain Diana could come to the library if I accompany her,” Venetia spoke up. “After all, Alex and I are siblings.”

  “Estranged siblings.” Victoria couldn’t imagine why Alexander was letting her do all the talking. His expression was pleasantly surprised rather than placid.

  “They aren’t estranged any longer,” Diana said.

  “That remains to be seen,” Victoria drawled. “Your behavior may be as innocent as a babe, but vicious rumors will spread if anyone sees you entering his house. Besides, Alex and I will be busy between now and the wedding. Won’t we, darling?”

  “We do have a full social schedule until then,” Alexander agreed, amusement lighting his eyes.

  Victoria smiled at Diana. With her hands in her lap, Victoria pointed her index finger at the widow, made a circle with it, and then pointed it toward her again as if she had a magic wand. In her mind, she had just turned the widow to stone.

  Alexander chuckled. Lifting his gaze from her lap, he leaned close and whispered, “Bravo, Tory.”

  “What is so amusing?” Venetia asked.

  “I apologize for my rudeness,” Alexander said to his sister. “It’s a private joke between my bride-to-be and me.”

  Victoria knew Alexander didn’t trust her to be alone with the two women when he said, “Harry, there are only the two of us. Why don’t we have our brandy in the drawing room?”

  “I’m amenable,” the other man said, and rose from his chair.

  Alexander pulled Victoria close as they climbed the stairs to the drawing room. “You naughty minx,” he whispered against her ear. “You are beginning to remind me of your aunt.”

  “I thank you, darling, on behalf of my aunt,” Victoria drawled.

  Alexander and Victoria sat together on the settee as brandy, coffee, and tea were served. “Oh, drat, no warmed milk,” she said, making the men smile.

  When Alexander put his arm on the settee in back of her, Victoria cuddled close to his body. She ignored the two women and feigned attention to his conversation with Harry Gibbs concerning shipping lines, the wool trade, and other subjects.

  “How did Charles die?” Alexander asked, during a lull in the conversation.

  “It was his heart,” Venetia answered. “There was nothing we could do.”

  “Did Charles say anything important before he died?”

  Victoria heard the hopeful note in his voice and knew what he wanted. Only Charles Emerson knew the secret of Alexander’s birth. His death could signal the end of Alexander’s search for the identity of his natural father.

  “Father always regretted the angry words that passed between you,” Venetia was saying. “Other than that, the end came too quickly for any deathbed sentiments.”

  The evening ended soon after that. Harry, Venetia, and Diana escorted them downstairs to the foyer.

  “You must have dinner at my house,” Alexander invited them. “Once Victoria is settled, she will send you a note.”

  “We’ll be looking forward to it,” Venetia said, her smile obviously forced.

  The door closed behind them. Alexander leaned close and said, “I’m proud of the way you weathered the storm.”

  “Darling, I appreciate the praise.” Victoria planted a kiss on his cheek.

  * * *

  When the door closed on their guests, Harry Gibbs turned on his sister. “Diana, that look bodes ill for Lady Victoria. If you cause trouble for them, I promise to send you back to Australia. Set your sights on an available gentleman. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly.”

  He kissed his wife’s cheek. “I have some papers to look over. I’ll be along shortly.”

  The two women watched him climb the stairs and disappear from sight. “I thought your brother was unattached,” Diana said.

  “Don’t worry,” Venetia said. “You will be his countess. We will need to lie low until after their wedding.”

  “After their wedding will be too late.”

  “Marriages can be broken,” Venetia assured her. “I have a plan that will send that red-haired twit running home to auntie, and no one will suspect our involvement.”

  “You are so deliciously wicked,” Diana said, looping her arm through her sister-in-law’s. “Tell me about this scheme.”

  Chapter 8

  “I’m so excited, I could swoon.”

  Hearing giggles behind her, Victoria turned around and smiled at her sisters. Angelica and Samantha, along with the duke and the duchess, stood in the nave of Audley Chapel. Both sisters had agreed to stand as her matrons of honor. The duke would escort her down the aisle to the altar where Alexander would be waiting with his two groomsmen, Robert and Rudolf.

  With the pre-nuptial social schedule, the days to her wedding had passed faster than the blink of an eye. Thankfully, her rivals for Alexander’s attention had backed away as the wedding approached, but Victoria felt certain the unrequited would gather at a later date.

  Victoria wore her mother’s wedding gown. Embroidered with hundreds of seed pearls, the white silk gown had a squared neckline, long sleeves shaped like bells, and a fitted bodice with a dropped waist. She wore her diamond betrothal ring, which had been moved to her right hand, and carried a bouquet of orange blossoms. Diamond florets glittered in her fiery hair.

  “I cannot believe my darling Tory is about to become a countess,” Aunt Roxie gushed.

  “Well, my dear, she won’t become a countess unless you take your seat,” Duke Magnus said.

  Aunt Roxie nodded and began to turn away. Victoria
threw herself into her aunt’s arms and hugged her.

  “Thank you for all you’ve done for me,” Victoria said. “I love you.”

  “Be happy, my darling,” her aunt said, touching her cheek. She left the nave to find her seat at the front of the church.

  When the violinists and organist began playing, Victoria hugged each sister in turn. “I love you,” she told them. “I hope we will always remain as close as we are today.”

  “Be happy,” Angelica said.

  “Make that a double dose of happiness,” Samantha added.

  Victoria turned to the duke. She crooked her finger at him and, when he leaned close, planted a kiss on his cheek. “Uncle, I thank you for taking me into your home and caring for me. I apologize for being difficult. If justice does exist, I will have a daughter exactly like me.”

  “My home will be especially boring without your gaiety,” Duke Magnus said.

  “You will live longer without me.”

  “Are you ready, my dear?” the duke asked, offering his arm.

  Victoria shook her head. “I thank you for finding a wonderful man to be my husband and promise to be the best wife ever. I intend to make Alex and you proud of me. Now I am ready, Your Grace.”

  “Now I am not ready,” the duke said, his eyes filling with unshed tears. He took a deep breath, placed her hand on his arm, and moved to the head of the aisle.

  Samantha started down the aisle. Behind her walked Angelica.

  “I have a message from your aunt,” Duke Magnus whispered, leaning close. “Remember to walk through life with aplomb.”

  Victoria giggled, drawing curious looks from the guests. “Tell Aunt Roxie that I will honor her considerable reputation, and society will know that I learned from the best.”

  Hundreds of candles lit Audley Chapel, casting eerie shadows on the walls. White roses and blue forget-me-nots adorned the altar. A hundred guests, garbed in a rainbow of colors, filled the pews.

  Victoria saw none of it. Her gaze and her smile were only for her bridegroom.

  At the altar, Alexander took her hands in his and raised them to his lips. “Thank you for agreeing to become my wife, my countess, and the mother of my children.”