by Erica Ridley
The curtains were drawn when she stepped into the room, giving the large parlor a cozy, sleepy feel. The only movement came from a fire dancing in the grate. The only sounds, the occasional crackling of a log.
And then she heard it.
A grin spread across her face as she rushed in the direction of Duke’s familiar purr.
The little scamp was curled in Theodore’s lap, stretching luxuriously whilst he enjoyed lazy scratches at his favorite spot behind his ear.
Theodore’s wheeled chair was nowhere in sight. The wooden crutches lay on the floor, tucked within arm’s reach of the plush armchair where he sat petting her cat.
“Traitor,” Virginia said by way of greeting.
He nearly jumped out of his skin.
Laughing, Virginia took the seat opposite him. “Not you. Duke.”
At the sound of his name, Duke turned his head slightly and gave a halfhearted hiss. He was enjoying his scratches too much to put proper effort into the greeting.
Only when Theodore dropped his hand guiltily did Duke force himself from Theodore’s lap and saunter to Virginia’s feet.
“Watch this,” Theodore said. “Duke.”
Duke turned and hissed.
Theodore cocked an eyebrow toward Virginia.
She shrugged. “I showed you that trick the day you met him.”
“You didn’t show me this one.” Theodore turned back to Duke. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Duke flopped over onto his spine. Purring loudly, he rubbed his back against the carpet in random patterns.
Virginia’s lips quirked.
Theodore pointed. “Did you know he would do that?”
“Of course. He is my cat.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Theodore demanded.
“Everyone knows ‘Your Grace’ is a proper way to address a duke,” she reminded him, “and ‘thank you’ is common courtesy.”
Theodore stared at her in consternation.
“Congratulations.” Virginia tried not to let her grin show. “You have good breeding. Duke approves.”
“I’ll write a note to the papers to let them know.”
“The three-bearded rockling’s bright orange scales do not take his measure, but that of those around him.” Virginia settled across from Theodore and narrowed her eyes. “You should consider a pet.”
“I had a pet.”
“You had one?” Virginia swallowed her dismay. “Is he… Did something happen?”
“Something happened.” Theodore’s jaw tightened. “I went to war. I could not abandon Coco to languish in my town house without me, and my father refused to allow a ‘mongrel’ on his property. I was forced to find her a new home.”
Virginia’s heart skipped in empathy. No wonder Theodore’s bride needed to be perfect. His family would accept nothing less.
“When you return to London, will retrieving Coco be your first stop?”
“I don’t know.” Theodore ran a hand through his hair. “Checking on her, certainly. But I have been gone a long time. She was a puppy when I left, and now she is grown. She has a new family now.”
“She didn’t forget you.” Virginia hoped he did not discern the tremble in her voice. “No one forgets their first family, no matter how they part.”
“Good friends of mine took Coco in and have come to love her. What kind of man would I be if I took her from them?”
Virginia tried not to imagine how she would feel if Duke’s first owners appeared out of nowhere and ripped him from her life. Theodore was right. Some things, once lost, could never be regained.
“Don’t get any ideas with my cat,” she said sternly. “Duke is a loan, not a gift. He won’t be going to London.”
“London weeps at His Grace’s absence.” Theodore gazed down at Duke curled between their feet. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll miss the ill-tempered beast.”
Virginia nodded. “That’s exactly what he says about you.”
Theodore’s mouth curved. He gestured at her lap. “What’s in the basket today?”
She patted the lid. “A special gift.”
His eyes narrowed. “Ice cream?”
She shook her head. “Something even better.”
“What could be better than ice cream?” he asked suspiciously.
“I’ll show you.” She opened the lid and pulled out the custom-built leg brace of walnut and metal she’d picked up at the le Duc smithy just that morning.
“Just so I’m clear,” Theodore said. “Not better than ice cream.”
She set down the basket and motioned for him to rise. “Up, up.”
He scooped his crutches from the floor and launched to his feet. “Metal doesn’t match my waistcoat.”
She knelt before him to adjust the fit of the brace with its thick leather straps. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” he said after a moment. “It’s not touching my knee. What’s it supposed to do?”
“Nothing, until you need it.” She sat back. “The straps keep the brace affixed just above and below your knee. The hinges allow you to walk with normal motion. This mechanism here—” She touched two metal pieces. “—prevents your knee from buckling completely. Your leg won’t fully bend while you are seated, but nor will it collapse beneath you if your goal is to remain upright.”
“It’s hideous.” Theodore said. “Ask if it comes in blue.”
She grinned and held out her palm. “Walk.”
His expression was dubious. “Without my crutches?”
“Take one, but try not to use it,” she suggested. “Don’t go fast. See how it feels.”
He handed her one of his crutches and took a few hesitant steps. The new metal squeaked with each motion.
“Very good,” she said approvingly.
“Very noticeable,” he corrected. “I won’t be caught dead with such a contraption in public.”
“Then you must practice every day until you don’t need it,” she shot back.
“It’s cold and heavy and displaces my balance.” His gaze met hers. “But it helps. Thank you.”
She bit her lip. “There might be a way you can return the favor.”
He lifted his brows. “Name it.”
Virginia took a deep breath. Now that her friends were scattering to the four winds, she would need to make new ones. Which meant mingling with her neighbors here in Christmas. Wild crushes were out of the question, but small dinner parties… Perhaps.
She’d turned down such invitations before, because attending would do more harm than good. She’d expose herself as the peculiar girl who didn’t belong.
This was her opportunity to send the same old story in a new direction.
“You are good at High Society,” she began slowly.
He cocked a brow. “You say that as if it were a dangerous sport.”
“Isn’t it?” Boxing and fencing would be safer. One chose a single opponent and the match never lasted for more than an hour. “Teach me what to do at a dinner party.”
Theodore blinked. “A dinner party?”
Virginia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If she explained her reasons, he might be the one to chuckle and think her peculiar.
With a single crutch under his arm, Theodore crossed to the closest bellpull and gave it a tug.
“How long will it take to prepare a four-course meal for two?” he asked the footman who answered the call.
“It needn’t be real food,” Virginia blurted out.
“Of course it does.” Theodore nodded to the footman. “Send the first course to the dining room as soon as it’s ready. We’ll start with a glass of wine.”
“At once.” The footman dashed from the room.
Theodore turned to Virginia. “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you, Miss Underwood?”
She hurried to the side without a crutch, careful not to touch him.
“Take my arm,” he whispered.
“I’ll unbalance you,” she whisp
ered back.
His dark gaze heated her to her toes. “We’ll find a way to manage.”
She curved her fingers lightly about his arm. It was not the first time Society’s rules dictated she take a man’s elbow, but it was the first time she’d wanted to. The dark blue superfine of his jacket felt strange and inviting beneath her fingers.
They exited the front parlor at a slow, even pace, careful not to bump the walls or each other. When they reached the dining room, only the heads of the long table were set. Theodore had a footman move the place settings to the middle of the table, across from each other.
“We are not hosting,” he explained without forcing her to ask. “We are attending. If you need to host a party, we can practice that scenario tomorrow.”
“I will never host a party.” The words came out more vehement than Virginia had intended.
“Then this will do.” Theodore led her to a chair and did not take his until she was seated. “Now, when we look at our place settings, we see multiple forks and multiple spoons. The outermost silverware—”
“I know which fork does what,” Virginia said. “I’ve eaten food before.”
His brows rose. “My apologies. I did not realize the castle dining rooms were formal.”
They were not. Virginia’s parents had instructed their children in the proper use of silverware from the moment they were old enough to lift a fork. Mistakes were not tolerated.
“Perhaps we should start with the differences,” Theodore began anew. “Does the castle observe precise dining hours?”
She shook her head.
“Very well. A formal dinner party differentiates itself from more casual dining customs before any of the party has taken their seats. A strict order of precedence is observed, meaning the first to the table is always—”
“I know about precedence,” Virginia said. She could quote her mother’s lectures from memory. “I know about controlling invitations to maintain proper numbers, seating arrangements that alternate men and women, not using one’s gloves at the dinner table.”
Theodore leaned back. “What exactly do you need me to teach you?”
“What to say.” The back of her throat grew thick. “What to do. How to be.”
Every day that she’d lived here in Christmas, she had longed to take part in the year-round holiday fun. Her fear of ruining the moment for others, of being overwhelmed by her senses, of not knowing how to take part had kept her from trying. She yearned for that to change.
He gazed at her for a long moment. “I gather you’re not referring to the manners one might discover in a book on comportment.”
She shook her head. If only it were that simple. “I’ve read all of those. Primogeniture, politesse, mind one’s parents, never go outside without a bonnet. But the rules that seem to matter most are the unspoken ones no one bothers to teach.”
“Have an example?”
“Make eye contact even when you don’t want to,” she said after a moment. “Stay within a socially acceptable distance that changes according to each person’s preferences. Say ‘how droll’ to the host even when he isn’t.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You’re absolutely right. Those are the rules, and I’ve never heard them taught in any school.”
“Can you help?” she asked.
“I can try.” His expression turned serious. “Those are the sorts of issues one notices when things don’t go as expected, rather than a list of prohibited behaviors I could write down for you to memorize.”
“That’s always the problem.” She tried to swallow her frustration.
“We’ll find a way,” Theodore said. “Don’t give up on me yet.”
A footman arrived with the first course. Virginia was pleased to see tonight’s soup was chestnut.
Theodore sent her a considering gaze. “I suppose there’s no need to explain who does the serving and how second helpings are handled?”
No. Virginia could serve the king himself. She just wouldn’t know what to say to him.
“If the topic of conversation appears to be the weather,” she began haltingly, “and, after having discussed the current climactic conditions exhaustively, the entire party turns to me as if expecting my input but without having asked a direct question… What do I say?”
Theodore arched a brow. “This doesn’t sound like a hypothetical question.”
She shook her head. “It’s every single outing with strangers.”
“Go out with friends instead,” he suggested with a smile.
She didn’t smile back. It was exactly the problem.
“Here is a foolproof trick.” Theodore leaned forward. “Repeat the hostess. Just say, ‘I agree with Queen Turkey-tiara. Rain does seem to make the road wet.’”
She giggled. “But what if Queen Turkey-tiara has the opinions of a featherwit?”
“It doesn’t matter. No one can criticize you without offending the host. They wouldn’t dare.” He sat back. “Works every time.”
While Virginia considered Theodore’s words, a footman arrived with the next course.
She bit her lip. “What do I do if one of the ladies across from me makes rude expressions in my direction?”
“Nothing,” Theodore said at once. “If you don’t outrank her, act like you can’t see her. It will drive her mad.”
“What do I do if the gentleman next to me passes wind?”
“Audible or olfactory?” he inquired politely.
“Give me both scenarios.”
He burst out laughing. “What kind of dinner parties have you attended?”
“That hasn’t happened,” she admitted. “But it could.”
“Help me.” Theo stabbed his fork into the vegetables and affected a horror-struck expression. “If the boiled asparagus is too limp to stay on my fork, what do I do?”
She kicked him under the table.
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll injure my good knee.”
“If I’m roasting chestnuts on an open fire and the gentleman next to me loses his handkerchief into the flames, what do I do?” she asked.
He leaned forward. “If a caroler’s high-pitched falsetto cracks the lenses of my spectacles, what do I do?”
“If, whilst playing charades, I’m meant to imitate the Prince Regent singlehandedly consuming the buffet at Carlton House, what do I do?” she countered.
Theodore widened his eyes. “If the woman across from me doesn’t realize she’s already the perfect dinner partner just as she is, what do I do?”
Virginia’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. She wasn’t the perfect one. He was. Or perhaps two imperfect people could be perfect together.
As soon as the supper dishes were cleared, a footman swept into the dining room bearing a silver tray. “Pupton of apples.”
Theodore’s face lit up.
Virginia’s feelings were more bittersweet. There was nothing she loved more than dessert. But there was nothing she hated more than knowing this course meant their impromptu dinner party was coming to a close.
“If you’re not going to eat your dessert,” Theodore said, “I will do the honorable thing and personally dispose of both portions.”
She stuck her fork in the corner of his dish and lifted the morsel of baked apples to her mouth. “Mmm.”
He reached across with his fork to do the same.
She lifted her dish close to her chest to keep it out of his reach.
“Unfair,” he said. “If I held a pupton that close to my chest, the majority would end up in my neckcloth.”
“I’ve lost several crumbs down my bodice,” she admitted. “You don’t want them.”
“That is an erroneous assumption.” The heat from his dark gaze melted her to her core. “If my ungainly hobble wouldn’t ruin the moment, I’d stalk to your side of the table and steal a kiss for my dessert.”
Heart pounding, she set down her plate. “Stand up. I’ll meet you halfway.”
Theodore scrambled to his fee
t at once.
Virginia placed her hands atop the table and leaned as far forward as she could.
He glanced down at her bosom. “Should I rescue those crumbs, or—”
She lifted her gaze to his. “You should kiss me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
When his mouth touched hers, the world about them fell away. He tasted like cinnamon sugar apples and warm mulled wine and cozy winter nights. It was impossible not to wish every meal she took could end just like this.
The width of the table prevented them from falling into each other’s embrace. They could lock nothing but mouths, touch nothing but tongues. It was more than enough. He didn’t just make her feel visible. He made her feel like she mattered. Like nothing was more important than their mouths joined in a kiss.
She had to remind herself that none of this was real. A romance could never be. The only reason either one of them indulged the irresistible force drawing them together was because the night was wrapped in make-believe. The pretend dinner party. His cloak of anonymity.
Soon enough, this holiday would end.
Virginia didn’t want to think about any of that. She wanted to pretend his kisses would belong to her forever. That when Theodore’s legs were strong again, he would use them to sweep her off her feet, not to waltz with Lady Beatrice at their wedding. Virginia needed to stay strong.
Theodore could have her kisses. But she could not let him have her heart.
A throat cleared in the doorway.
Virginia and Theodore jerked apart to see Swinton gazing at them with an impassive expression. “Dinner was to your liking?”
Too much so.
“I have to go.” Virginia dashed from the table, squeezed past Swinton, and hurried back out into the snow before her ardor could cause her to make even bigger mistakes.
“Virginia!” called a voice. “Virginia!”
She slowed. That wasn’t Theodore. It was—
“Penelope?” she asked in bewilderment.
Her friend stood at her open door and motioned Virginia to join her. “Get inside!”
Virginia wrapped her arms about her chest and dashed up the walk.
“Why are you walking around in this weather without a pelisse?” Penelope demanded.
Her coat. Virginia groaned. She hadn’t just left that behind; she’d left everything. Her hat, her gloves, her basket.