‘Would it have made any difference?’
‘No. After learning what I did that day, I have to say it would not. I was saying—when you were so stuffed up with your own battered pride and the knock to the inflated opinion you have of yourself, did you stop to consider for one second why I had run away?’
‘No,’ he snapped.
‘And so you have judged me ever since without a hearing,’ Victoria taunted, too furious to quail before the murderous look tightening his face.
‘Very well,’ he conceded, eyeing her carefully, curious as to what it was she had learned that had driven her away. ‘I am listening now.’
‘Now it is too late. It no longer matters. You can go and jump in the river for all I care.’
Laurence stared at her in silence, unable to believe the coolly aloof, self-possessed young woman had become this furious vixen, her eyes sparking with wrath.
Victoria instantly noticed the altering of his expression. He was watching her, his face inscrutable. Suddenly her determination wavered. She wanted to throw herself across his chest, lock her arms around his neck and plead with him. She wanted to ask for another chance. Perhaps if they went back to Yorkshire... She turned away and pressed her knuckles hard against her lips. It was no use. He had decided, and even if she begged him to take her back as his wife and not his mistress and he agreed, there would always be this thing between them. Driven by the whip of her pride she pushed away a strand of her hair and faced him, trying to hide the pain in her heart, to forget what lay between them.
‘I want nothing from you, Laurence. Not now, not ever. Forget the contract you made with my mother. As far as I am concerned you no longer have any say in what I do. You have no rights over me whatsoever.’
‘Try telling that to a court of law.’
Victoria’s emotions veered crazily from fury to mirth as the absurdity of the bizarre tableau suddenly struck her. She laughed harshly, unable to believe he would go to such lengths to keep her with him. ‘I would like to see you try,’ she scoffed. ‘If, after all this unpleasantness, you wish to continue as my guardian out of some obligation you still feel to my mother—although I shudder to think what she would make of you seducing her daughter last night—then take me to court by all means. What you did to the girl you were supposed to be guarding should make an interesting—and most hilarious—court case, which would do your reputation as a respected and upstanding man of the community and in the world of business no good whatsoever. In short, you would become a laughingstock.’
Laurence’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Let’s just get one thing straight, Victoria. I did not seduce you. As I remember, you were a willing partner.’
She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Whatever. One thing you should know is that I’m going away. I was going to tell you. I didn’t want to simply disappear as I did the last time. I’ve managed to obtain a position as governess to a respectable family—an American family. We are leaving for Liverpool next week, where we are to board a ship bound for New York. Now go away and leave me alone. I never want to see you again.’
Taken completely off guard by her announcement, Laurence hesitated for a moment and then walked out, closing the door quietly behind him. He never raised his voice or slammed doors as Victoria would have done. He lost his temper in an icily controlled way. She found it disturbing. She would have preferred shouting and slams.
Damn you, Laurence Rockford, she thought in helpless rage. She never wanted to think of him again. But she knew that she would be unable to stop thinking about him. She had no power over him or her thoughts. Everything had all been disastrously snatched away from her. She was trapped by her own nature, when all hope was gone, and her vitality ebbed away. Tears came to her eyes, beading on her thick lashes, and trembled without falling.
* * *
Over the following days, Laurence tried to purge Victoria from his mind and tear her from his heart with decreasing success. He knew he was losing the battle, just as he knew he had been losing when he’d walked into the Pulteney Hotel and seen her for the first time after she’d jilted him.
Travelling to the docks, he gazed out of the window of the coach, trying to concentrate on the meeting he was going to have with some business acquaintances that day. But it was Victoria he saw in his mind, not ships and profit and loss—Victoria riding beside him—Victoria sitting with her feet in the water on the day he had proposed to her—Victoria looking up at him when he held her in his arms.
She had told him she was leaving—going to America. When she had told him he had thought he didn’t care. But he did care. Very much. Wearily he rested his head against the upholstery and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t banish her from his mind. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she preparing to leave—never to return?
Whatever thoughts of revenge had driven him to her bed, they were forgotten the moment he’d taken her in his arms and her soft, glorious body had yielded to his. From the moment their lips had met, what had followed had been the most wildly erotic and sexual experience of his life. He wasn’t proud of himself for having ruined her and there was the possibility that she might be pregnant as a result of his irresponsibility. With this in mind, unable to bear the thought of spending the rest of his life without her, he refused to allow her to disappear from his life so completely.
The letter! Why hadn’t he read her letter? He’d known she was apprehensive about marrying him, but he’d thought she’d got over it. If he hadn’t felt so furious and betrayed that day, he’d have gone after her and demanded to know why she’d run away. And then when she’d tried to explain her actions in a letter, he hadn’t even had the courtesy to read it, but tossed it unopened into the fire.
Now his anger had diminished enough, he felt the only reason she could have had for marrying him was because she loved him. Both his heart and his intellect told him that. Halfway to his destination he knocked on the carriage roof and instructed the driver to go to the Pulteney Hotel instead.
* * *
Diana watched Laurence stride into the room. A worried shadow darkened her eyes as she patted her elegantly coiffed hair into place and thought about Laurence’s unexpected visit. His visits were infrequent and usually disappointingly brief—it seemed odd somehow that when he spent every hour working, he had decided to call on them today.
Laurence stepped swiftly across the carpet and, ignoring her outstretched hands, he caught her in a brief embrace and pressed an affectionate kiss on her smooth forehead. ‘You look lovely as always, Diana.’
Diana leaned back, anxiously studying the deeply etched lines of strain and fatigue at his eyes and mouth. ‘We’re delighted to see you, Laurence. Is there a reason for your visit?’
‘No. I was just passing.’
He flopped into one of the chairs and Nathan poured a liberal glass of whisky for him from a decanter that was waiting on the bureau. He smiled his thanks and, feeling the need of the strong liquor to revive his spirits, he took a big gulp at the glass, wishing it would blot out his thoughts, his memory, as it did everything else when he drank too much.
‘Have you seen anything of Victoria?’ Diana was brave enough to ask—Laurence had told them that if anyone brought up Victoria’s name to him again, he could not guarantee not to lose his temper, but Diana would not be threatened.
He took another long swallow of his drink to dull the ache that came with just her name. ‘You know very well, Diana, that I saw her at the Pendleton ball and that I danced with her.’ He dragged his thoughts away from that night. He preferred the more refined torture of thinking about the joy of her—the tender way she had looked at him when she had been in his arms—how she had melted against him—her kiss—how soft and yielding her body had felt before he had stolen her innocence. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I was wondering if you had made things right between the two of you—that
now you’ve heard her explanation—’
His eyes shot to hers. ‘Explanation! What explanation?’
‘Do you mean she hasn’t?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Because unlike you, I feel a responsibility for the part I played that day—in fact, we were all responsible.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘How much do you know of what happened, Laurence?’ Diana asked.
‘As much as you do, I expect.’
‘You would have learned a good deal more had you read the letter Victoria wrote you,’ Diana admonished gently.
‘What are you saying?’
‘Diana spoke to Victoria at the ball—before you arrived,’ Nathan provided. ‘After hearing what my wife had to say, it’s my opinion that Victoria was justified in doing what she did when she ran away.’
Laurence’s eyes snapped to his brother. ‘I can’t believe you are saying this, Nathan. I have gone through hell keeping the truth about your birth from her. You’re the one who didn’t want Victoria at the Hall, don’t forget. You couldn’t wait to see the back of her.’
‘I don’t deny it, but after giving the matter some rational thought and reminding myself that she is, after all, my sister, I would like to do right by her. She does not deserve antagonism from me. None of this is her fault. Victoria knows, Laurence. She knows I’m her brother.’
Laurence stared at him in stunned surprise. ‘And how on earth would she know that? How did she find out?’
‘When she was about to leave for the church, Clara paid her a visit. She told her everything—about Nathan and how her mother had given him up at birth. She also told her how her education was paid for. There was nothing she didn’t spare her.’
‘Oh, Victoria!’ he gasped softly, the full horror of what Victoria must have experienced registering in his mind. ‘No wonder she ran away.’
‘Precisely. Not only was she devastated, she felt betrayed—by you—by me, but most of all by her mother. All in all, we have treated her very badly. I’m sorry I made things difficult for you,’ Nathan apologised softly. ‘I don’t think I realised how much you loved her.’
Laurence drained the rest of the glass at a swallow.
‘I am right aren’t I, Laurence? You do love her, don’t you?’ Nathan asked.
Laurence answered him sharply. ‘I asked her to be my wife.’
‘But it’s not only that,’ Nathan went on recklessly, knowing his brother’s anger was just below the surface.
‘Yes, I love her. I’m just learning how much I love her as I’ll never be able to love again.’ He stared at his empty glass, his face grey and his eyes dark with misery. ‘Love,’ he said. ‘Love,’ mouthing the word, weighing it. ‘How many definitions are there to that one word? When I want to say I love Victoria, it doesn’t sound like what I mean.’ He banged the glass on the table so hard it cracked. Laurence dropped his voice to a fierce whisper. ‘I love her so much it twists my gut. I love her so much that to think of losing her now is like thinking of dying.’
‘Then go to her,’ Diana said, ‘before it’s too late.’
He clenched his fists and got to his feet. ‘I’ll not lose her now, not again. I’ll go to her and when I find her I’ll tell her this.’ He stopped and frowned. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever told her I love her. I’ve said marry me and you’re adorable, but I’ve never told her I love her.’
‘Perhaps that’s part of the reason she left you, Laurence. Perhaps because you never said it she thought you never felt it.’ Nathan was watching him with a strange expression of understanding.
‘I’ll find her,’ said Laurence, ‘and this time I’ll tell her... If it’s not too late.’
* * *
Laurence tracked Victoria down to Hyde Park, where she was strolling with Amelia and Mrs Fenwick. The day was fine and sunny and the park was beginning to fill up with Quality. Being the fashionable hour, in no hurry to return home, Mrs Fenwick was content to sit on a bench close to the Ring and pass the time of day with two ladies of her acquaintance while Amelia and Victoria continued to promenade.
Hyde Park was a source of wonder and delight for Victoria, drawing all classes of a pleasure-seeking society. It was the time and place when every woman was seen as a challenge to the predatory amorist. There was an open and tantalising mingling of the sexes and endless opportunity for intrigue.
Dressed in their finest, the two girls attracted many admiring glances. A gleaming red phaeton driven by Sir John Gibson flashed by, a smug Clara Ellingham seated beside him. She gave Victoria no more than a cursory glance before slipping her arm through her escort’s. A group of fashionable dandies astride prime leggy mounts paused to admire and gather round, among them the fastidious Lord Falconbridge. With their high spirits and droll sarcasm and harmless fun, they took it upon themselves to flatter and tease, and Victoria and Amelia took it all in good humour.
Lord Falconbridge nudged his horse close to Victoria. ‘Don’t look now, Miss Lewis,’ he drawled, smirking as he cast a supercilious glance behind her, ‘but I believe I see Lord Rockford bearing down on you. He’s certainly persistent, I’ll say that for him. But don’t be alarmed. I’ll protect you,’ he said drolly.
Victoria turned around to see a gentleman, wearing an exquisitely cut, dark-brown coat and fawn breeches, with black riding boots polished to a dazzling sheen, mounted on a grey thoroughbred riding towards her, a groom out of his stable close behind. Seeing him again made Victoria’s heart quicken its pace. He was almost upon them, his hard stare fixed on her. Her feet rooted to the ground, her heart began to hammer in nervous anticipation and more than a little dread. Then a firestorm of humiliated fury erupted inside her. Not wishing to make a fool of herself, she stood her ground.
Laurence’s gaze locked with that of the arrogant Lord Falconbridge. After having been consumed with the need to see and speak to Victoria for the past twenty-four hours, he had been taken aback to find her surrounded by the dandyish fops, but managed to keep his temper in check. Her expression was clearly hostile as she watched him approach, telling him she did not wish to speak to him. This possibility was intolerable to his pride. After all, he had matters of importance to speak to her about and he was not about to be turned away by her or her foppish friends.
He drew rein. After a curt nod in the direction of the dandies, he looked at Victoria. ‘Good afternoon, ladies.’
Knowing full well how this unexpected encounter would be affecting Victoria, but choosing to ignore it, for Amelia thought Lord Rockford the most handsome of men and the right choice of husband for her friend, despite their past differences, she beamed up at him.
‘Why, Lord Rockford, how nice to see you,’ she greeted him with warmth. ‘Isn’t that so, Victoria?’ she enthused.
Victoria was quietly seething. How dare he approach her here? He left her no choice but to speak to him. She stared at him coldly, as though she did not know him—as if he did not exist—then looked away, dealing him a rapier-like snub.
The direct cut stopped him in his tracks, fury searing its way through every vein and artery.
Lord Falconbridge picked up on it immediately. ‘I don’t think the lady wishes to speak to you, Rockford. I would go on my way if I were you.’
‘You’re not,’ he bit back, wanting to kill him.
Victoria’s chest constricted at the surprise and anger she saw in Laurence’s face, but she refused to feel guilt. It was the least he deserved for the way he had treated her after the Pendleton ball, but from the corner of her eye, she saw the astonishing speed with which his expression of anger turned into cold disgust.
A small piece of her heart died in that moment. She could not bear to look at him. She was aware of him urging his horse closer and him dismounting. Lord Falconbridge was staring at him through narrowed eyes, as though
Laurence were the first fox of the season.
‘Miss Lewis appears to have an aversion to you, Rockford. Why do you persist?’
Laurence ignored him. ‘I have matters I wish to talk over with you, Victoria. I know you are leaving shortly and there are a few affairs that need to be settled before you leave.’
‘If we have anything left to talk about, it can be discussed at the house.’
‘I have called at the house, but you’re never at home. I would be grateful if you would take a short stroll with me and listen to what I have to say.’
‘You must, Victoria,’ Amelia said, hoping that what Lord Rockford had to say to Victoria would clear the air between them and stop her leaving for America, which, in her opinion, would be a huge mistake.
Victoria stared at him for a long, indecisive moment. In contrast to all the colourful dandies hovering about her like tropical butterflies, Laurence Rockford was like a dark, forbidding force. Just when she had thought that she would not be affected by his presence ever again, he appeared, and all her carefully tended illusions were cruelly sundered. Why hadn’t he stayed away and left her to be reconciled to leaving? Why did he have to prolong her misery?
‘Very well,’ she said reluctantly.
‘I’ll go back to Mama,’ Amelia said, already tripping away from them. ‘We’ll wait for you.’
Smiling farewell to her admirers and the glowering Lord Falconbridge, after Laurence handed his mount to his groom, Victoria fell into step beside him, walking over the grass.
‘I do hope your intentions are honourable, Laurence.’ She tried to sound flippant. ‘I seem to be at your mercy and you appear quite determined to compromise my reputation.’
‘I think,’ he said quietly, with an underlying humour, ‘we should go back to my house and talk. On the other hand, I might be tempted to kill you, so perhaps it’s as well to be somewhere more public.’
‘I know you’re loathe to find me here with the detestable Lord Falconbridge, but I beg you to pause to consider if killing me is worth hanging for.’
The Master of Stonegrave Hall Page 22