Secrets in Mourning

by Janelle Daniels

  “Lady Victoria! Over here!” Victoria recognized the voice, but couldn’t find Molly in the crowd. Finally locating the slender woman, Victoria smiled in greeting as she wove through the crowd to get to her. “The juggler starts the show,” Molly said, her eyes bright with excitement. “He should begin any minute. We should stay here so as to see it best.”

  Victoria laughed at the girl’s excitement. She herself had seen far grander things when she lived in London, but after being away from the glitter so long, a juggler sounded like enthralling entertainment. “I can’t wait to see him. Think he can truly juggle ten items at once?”

  Molly nodded seriously. “I even heard that one of the items is a sword. Another is a torch.” She paused dramatically. “A lit one.”

  “Is that so?” Victoria couldn’t hold the disbelief from her voice. Even in London such an entertainer would find a captive audience.

  “This is so exciting,” Molly said, scanning the crowd. “I heard there will be dancing later.”

  “Oh.” Victoria’s heart dropped slightly. Dancing was one of the things that she missed most. But the fact that she was in mourning prevented her from taking part in those festivities. “That will be wonderful to watch.”

  “Will you not be participating?” Molly’s brows furrowed as she looked to Victoria. “I had hoped to see what dancing looks like in London.”

  Victoria shook her head regretfully. “Unfortunately, no. It wouldn’t be right since I’m in mourning.”

  Molly waved her hand at the insignificance of her words. “That is no matter. You are close to half-mourning, and no one here would hold it against you. You’ve been a model for widowhood,” she teased.

  “Thank you very much,” Victoria said dryly, but was cut off from saying any more.

  The juggler had begun.

  ***

  There hadn’t been one day that had passed in the last long, miserable month when Connor hadn’t thought about that kiss with Victoria. Working himself to the bone each day, his body strengthened, losing the miniscule amounts of extra skin until it was taut across thick, roped muscles. Trying to sweat out any thoughts of Victoria had utterly failed.

  He had hoped that keeping himself so occupied, by not attending dinners in her company, and otherwise avoiding any interaction between the two of them, would lessen his desire.

  What a fool he had been.

  If he had learned anything over the last month, it was that he couldn’t hide from her. Especially not in his dreams.

  Waking up sweating, his muscles straining, he wanted her more than he ever wanted anything else in his life. His desire for her overwhelmed him, consumed him in a way that he had never felt for another.

  Why her? As hard as he had tried to deny that anything about her appealed to him, he knew he was lying to himself. Certainly, she possessed beauty and strength of spirit, but she was also dropping the protective mask of indifference she’d brought with her from London.

  And if he thought staying away from her would help him to forget her, he was wrong. He had heard about her virtues from the men and women that worked for him. It seemed like everyone in the whole damned manor was singing her praises.

  He winced as slipped on a rock as he headed to the festival. He should focus more on where he was going than his sudden obsession with Victoria.

  But when he made it over the next hill, he couldn’t stop his body from lurching, reacting to the sight of her in front of a man juggling… good Lord was that a sword? His eyes narrowed at the entertainer and noticed ten objects flying through the air. Two of which would cause severe harm if caught improperly.

  He wanted to call the man a fool, but he had no right to such an opinion. The only fool in the crowd was him. That’s what came from wanting a woman that you couldn’t, or shouldn’t, have.

  Not wanting to disturb the scene, he stayed atop the hill. Browsing through the crowd, his eyes always strayed back to her.

  It was too far to see for sure, but he knew there was a smile curved on her lips. The way she leaned forward, seeming to hold her breath as the torch lifted high in the air, he knew she was lost in delight.

  He had seen that smile before, envisioned it in his mind a million times, hovering beneath him as he took her soft lips in a deep kiss.

  A growl sounded in his throat. He needed to stop thinking of her that way. She would be going back to London, never to return to Lynfield Hall.

  Never to return to him.

  He stumbled back as that thought slammed through him. Where had that come from? He couldn’t possibly want her to stay. They were too different.

  But as he rebelled against the thought, deep down, the desire to keep her, to possess her, wove through him.

  He stared down at her, the crowd growing hazy as he focused solely on her. His body seemed in tune with hers, shifting subtly as she begun to sway to the lively fiddles that had begun to play at the end of the juggler’s performance.

  Victoria’s laughter filtered to his ears, as loud as if she were next to him, and he watched, mesmerized, as her skirt began to shift side to side with her movements. Gracefully, she twirled, seeming not to care about the crowd around her.

  She swayed in the night, her serviceable black gown swirled with the movement. She was one with the music, not fighting it, not joining it. She was it, almost as if the notes floated out from her person.

  His body clenched, every nerve fraying as he watched the only person he had ever wanted for his own.

  Acceptance quickly followed. He wouldn’t lie to himself when his body mocked him. He wanted her.

  But she would never want him, would never be willing to give up the privileged life she led in society.

  “My lord,” someone called from the group, spying him atop the hill. “Will you not come join us?”

  The music stopped briefly as the crowd turned to invite him to take part in the festivities. Looking anywhere but at Lady Victoria, he made his way down, taking care to bury any lingering emotions. He would be strong, stable.

  And no one would know he longed for the widow only a few steps away.

  Accepting several greetings, he began to feel more at ease. These were his people. The people he had come to rely upon, the people he had promised to serve, to protect. His responsibility might weigh heavily upon him at times, but he had never felt more satisfied in his life.

  “Good evening, my lord.”

  And with those sweet melodic words, his body instantly tensed. Turning slowly, he carefully curved his lips in a friendly smile. “Good evening, Your Grace. Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Yes. Very much so.”

  At that moment, the band began the first few notes of a song before couples began pulling their partners to the floor.

  It was a tune he knew well. One that had been taught to every child in the area. One that seemed to reflect his mood perfectly.

  “How lovely,” Victoria said breathlessly. He wasn’t sure if she had realized her comment on the music until she turned to him, a question bright in her eyes. “What is it?”

  He cleared his throat, perhaps a bit longer than was necessary before answering. “It is a folk dance about lost love.”

  “I see.” A fresh batch of mischief sprang into her eyes. “Is there any folk dance not about lost love?”

  “Not any worth dancing to.” He paused. “Unless of course, it is about a love, more deep and true than any other.”

  Her chest heaved a little faster as her hands knotted at her waist.

  “Your Grace, please join us,” Molly called from the crowd, her cheeks rosy with pleasure as her partner spun her in circles.

  A laugh tinkled from Victoria’s lips, mesmerizing him as no other sound could. “You enjoy yourself without me, Molly. As you can see, I have no partner.” A furious blush crept to her cheeks as she quickly glanced at him.

  He wanted to smile, knowing she hadn’t meant to fish for an invitation.

  “Ask her, my lord,” one man called
out.

  “Yes, ask her.”

  “Yes, go on, then.”

  A few more voices joined the chorus to persuade him to take her to the floor before he grinned sheepishly at her. If it were possible, her face turned a brighter shade of red.

  “Forgive me, my lord. It was not my intention to trap you into the dance.”

  “It is my pleasure.” He held out his hand for her, his body flinching with pleasure as her skin touched his.

  “I fear I don’t know what to do.”

  He smiled down at her, leading her to the edge of the makeshift floor. “You will pick it up quickly.”

  And she did.

  He circled her like prey, the other men in the group following his lead, each circling their own partner. He was stating the interest of the man, watching, desiring. Her lips turned up wryly at his movements.

  No doubt she had experienced just this thing with other men in London. With her beauty, she would no doubt be receiving much more attention in the future. Not to mention the fortune she would inherit.

  The thought of other men courting her, kissing her, was driving him mad. Aggressively, he scooped her into his arms, twirling madly as the other couples followed suit. Their whirlwind was a forced to be reckoned with, their passion inescapable.

  The feelings the song evoked intertwined with his own, fueling a more demanding need to claim her.

  The thought was like cold water being thrown on his head. Slowly drifting away from each other, when the tale of lost love was at an end, he felt hollow inside.

  An applause broke out when the music ended, but he stood staring at her, searching for the answer that would defuse his desire. She seemed equally enthralled, not bothering to tear her gaze from his.

  “You were wonderful!” Molly exclaimed, patting Victoria on the back.

  And just like that, the moment was over.

  Molly blushed slightly. “You were wonderful as well, my lord. As usual.”

  “Thank you, Molly. It is easy when you have a good partner.”

  Victoria’s lips curved sweetly, and he knew that she had never had any complaints in that area. “It was easy enough to learn.”

  “Will you not join us and look at the seller’s carts, Your Grace?” Molly looked to her hopefully.

  “Unfortunately, I have something I must speak with Her Grace about.” Startled almost as much as everyone else from his words, Connor straightened his stance.

  She smiled to Molly. “You go on alone. I’ll catch up with you soon.” After Molly continued on without her, Victoria turned to him. “What is it you need to speak with me about?”

  Quickly scrambling for a topic, he stalled by offering her his arm. “Let’s walk for a bit.”

  She didn’t call his bluff then, just gently took his arm and allowed him to steer her away from the crowds. They moved in harmony, he realized after a moment.

  The night was complete darkness now, allowing more privacy along the shadowed corners of the festival. While rules were relaxed and people loosened their moral values for the night, he would still need to be careful with her.

  “Thank you for the dance earlier. I truly wasn’t fishing for an invitation.” Her voice seemed to melt around him.

  “It was my pleasure. I was honest when I said you were an accomplished partner. You picked it up rather quickly.”

  She laughed lightly. “It wasn’t difficult. The cat and mouse game of courtship is nothing new to me.”

  “Of course.” He heard the edge in his voice, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “Soon you will be in that world again. But this time, you will hold all the cards.” He thought his comment would draw laughter, but instead she remained silent.

  “Yes, but that won’t be for some time.”

  “Not too long. Half-mourning ends next week.”

  She jerked to a stop, spinning toward him. “Half-mourning? What does that have to do with it?”

  “You are free from your obligation at that time.”

  “I don’t understand. I am required to stay for the year.”

  He shook his head slightly, surprised she didn’t know. “No, the requirement was only for full mourning. You are free to leave as soon as your enter half-mourning. The carriage has already been checked over and made ready for your trip next week.”

  “I’m leaving? In a week?” She turned away from him, walking a few steps.

  “Aren’t you happy?” The thought that she might actually feel something more for him caused a burst of happiness in his chest. “I thought you would be glad to leave.”

  “I was. I am.” She threw up her hands in exasperation before turning back toward him. “It’s what I want.”

  “But?”

  “But…” she fumbled for words. “But I wasn’t expecting to leave so soon. What will you do when I’m gone? Who will take over my duties?”

  “I think we’ll be able to manage,” he said, taking a step closer to her. She didn’t seem to notice.

  “I doubt that.” Her brows furrowed. “I’ve hired several more servants, but they will need to be managed if the manor is to run properly.”

  “Perhaps Mrs. Waversly could take over. She seems up to the task.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she said, nodding grudgingly at her toes.

  The total lack of enthusiasm about her leaving propelled him forward another step. It wasn’t until he was directly in front of her that he saw her stiffen, glancing up at him warily. “Why are you doing this?” she asked softly, but didn’t make a move to step away from him.

  The heat of her skin, the smell of her freshly washed hair, swept over him as he took yet another step toward her. Their toes were touching, and he only needed to reach out for her to have her in his arms. He didn’t pretend to not understand her question. He had asked himself many times before. Why was he pursuing her? Why could he not keep his hands off her? “Because I have to,” he said honestly. He felt his breath speed up as she stared into his eyes, her emotions flooding her features.

  “This is impossible.” She sounded almost disturbed by the fact.

  “I know.” He reached out his hand, caressing one of her cheeks with his thumb. “You don’t belong here. You should be in London, enjoying your time as the belle of the Ton. Not here, rebuilding this manor.” With me. But he didn’t say it. It surprised him how easily the thought occurred to him.

  When she laughed, it sounded slightly bitter. “That is the only place I have ever belonged. In the ballroom or on the arm of a man.”

  “Not any longer.” Her eyes went wide at his words. “I may not have mentioned it before, but how you’ve changed Lynfield Hall, the servants, everything, it’s remarkable. You truly are gifted. More lies within you than a pretty face and pleasing figure.” He chuckled when a blush crested her cheeks. “Come now, that can’t be the first time anyone has complimented you.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Then why the blush?”

  She shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It never mattered before.”

  His hand stilled. “And it does now?” He looked hard into her startlingly blue eyes, seeing the color turn deeper, hazier as passion filled her.

  He was no saint. Seeing that look in her eyes, feeling her body sway against his, there was only one thought in his mind. Taste her.

  Moving slowly, he kept his gaze fixed to her, watching her eyes widen with excitement as his head lowered to claim her lips. The minute their skin touched, it was as if an electric current had rushed through him. There was no stopping, there was no slowing down.

  It was just them. And their passions rose.

  Tongues met, swirling, plunging, twisting. Their breaths intermingled, heaving as if they couldn’t taste enough of each other.

  He knew he should release her, let her go. She truly didn’t belong here with him. But he couldn’t.

  Wrapping his arms securely around her, he tugged her up against him, feeling every curve of her body line up with his. But he didn’
t take it any further.

  She isn’t mine. The thought seemed to torture him, taunt him into claiming her. But he couldn’t.

  With a strength he hadn’t known he possessed, he gave her a last lingering kiss, taking her taste and sealing it into his mind forever before he released her. In a way it was goodbye. He had every intention of staying away from her until her departure, not wanting to risk further contact, further involvement.

  “You should head back to the festivities.” His voice was gruff, but he didn’t care.

  Hesitantly, she stepped away, sensing his mood. “Will you not come with me?”

  “No. I should head back.” He didn’t bother giving her an excuse because he knew she would see though it. She was too smart not to.

  “But—”

  “No.” He shook his head firmly. When he saw she was going to say more he spoke again. “Nothing can come of us.” He couldn’t afford to have her argue it. He only had so much self control before he locked her back into his arms.

  He would never let her go again if that happened.

  Biting her lip, she took a step in retreat before anger glinted in her eyes. She didn’t say anything before moving away, her back held straight as a queen’s.

  And that’s when he finally admitted it to himself.

  He would never love another more than the proud woman who walked away from him.

  Chapter 10

  It was much later that night when Victoria finally gave up on sleeping. Wrapping her dressing gown tightly around her muslin-clad shoulders, she burrowed her feet into slippers and left her room to haunt the long, drab corridors of Lynfield Hall.

  Ignoring the creaking floors, Victoria continued on, her thoughts fully occupied with the night’s events.

  Nothing can come of us, he had said. The thought still infuriated her. It was the first time in her life that a man had turned her down. The first time a man hadn’t thrown himself at her feet.

  And why should I care? Her nose twitched. Why did she care?

  Looking around at the manor, she wanted to laugh. It was hardly a treasure with as many outdated rooms as there were refurbished ones, but part of her couldn’t really commit to her mental taunt.