She had kissed him last night. The little minx. Over the past few days, he had drawn on every last drop of his willpower to stop himself from hauling her into his arms and wrenching the innocence from her lips. And look what she had done. She had grabbed him by the coat and kissed him. Her inexperience had not dulled his desire at all. Oh, no. Her initiation of the embrace had only driven him more mad. Her desire was clearly a match for his, that much had been determined.
Fortunately, sanity had pricked his brain. He had suddenly realized the complete stupidity and wrongness of what they were doing. If they had been discovered by anyone, his name would be beyond scandalized right now. Exactly why he needed to avoid her at all costs. She wasn’t some lightskirt he could tumble and move on from. She was off limits, out of bounds. Off limits, out of bounds. He repeated the mantra over and over.
He had enjoyed their discussion of the Roman Empire and was impressed by her intelligence and her willingness to argue with him over certain points of contention. Hopefully he could find the same kind of intellectual stimulation in his future wife.
Now, she rose and went to the tea table without ever looking his way. As she poured she said, “How do you like your tea, sir?”
Why was it when Victoria spoke the words “Your Grace” and “sir” he felt like grinding his teeth?
“A splash of milk and a dash of sugar, please.”
He looked her over while she kept her head down and readied his cup. A lovely blue gown showed a great deal of her slender neck and the very tops of her smooth breasts. Thank God she had not been wearing such a thing last night. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Kissing her the night before had not diminished his desire in any way, which was why he had tried to prevent such an occurrence in the first place.
She carefully walked his tea over to him. Her short stature brought her velvety skin right to his eye level. Taking the cup, he swept his gaze toward the fireplace. If he didn’t rein in his illicit thoughts, he was going to thoroughly embarrass everyone in the room. He took a drink of his tea and looked across at his mother. That did the trick.
“Miss Forster has thoughtfully paid me a visit on this wretched day. I certainly did not expect her to take our little deceptive conversation from the other night seriously. However, I am truly delighted she did.” The duchess flashed them both a brilliant smile.
Miss Forster turned a murderous glare his way. He gave her a small shrug. So he had misled her about his mother’s state of mind. Perhaps she would gain a little cachet with the ton and her cousin from the visit.
She didn’t appear at all pleased with his lackadaisical response to her angry stare, but he did not care. At least she wasn’t looking at him with hot desire in her eyes.
“It is a pleasure to have you in our home,” he said to her in his most agreeable tone.
She redirected her deadly stare to the fire, and he could have sworn he saw the flames jump. Her hands fisted in her lap, no doubt to keep from strangling him.
“Taviston attended the Burtons’ ball last evening. He is looking for a bride,” the duchess announced brightly.
“Mother.” She needn’t trumpet the information about. She had more than a little bit of the devil in her and had unfortunately passed that trait straight to Peyton.
“I do beg your pardon, my son. You have attended two balls in the space of a week. I assumed after our previous conversation you must be wife shopping. Am I wrong?” she asked with a glint in her eye.
Taviston blatantly ignored her and drank his tea.
The duchess turned to Victoria instead. “How did you spend last evening, Miss Forster?”
Without a smile she answered, “I attended the Burtons’ ball as well.”
“Indeed,” the duchess said with interest. “Did you chance upon my son there?”
The put-upon young woman sighed, almost inaudibly. “Yes, I did. We discussed the decline of the Roman Empire at length.”
“Really,” his mother said with disbelief.
Taviston sat up straighter. “I am of the opinion the fall was due entirely to an obvious lack of moral character.”
His tone should more than indicate to Victoria that he referred to their kiss. He did not know what possessed him to provoke her like this; he absolutely did not think she was a loose woman.
Watching her blue eyes fog over with indignation, he smiled charmingly. She didn’t appear to be breathing.
After a long pause she drew in a ragged breath and said through clenched teeth, “I was more of the opinion the fall occurred because of the influence and encouragement of opposing forces.”
He caught himself before he started sputtering. He should have known, after their intelligent conversation, that she was more than capable of firing back at him. Outwardly, he glared at her. Inwardly, he congratulated her.
His mother looked back and forth between the two of them. “I had no idea ancient societies could be so stimulating.”
“Indeed.” Taviston grinned at his adversary. “Miss Forster seems to think the Romans did not exercise free will.”
She pressed her shoulders back with confidence, failing to realize that doing so portrayed her breasts even more magnificently. “Certainly they made their own choices, but those opposing forces did not retreat. No, they actively participated in the decline of the Empire.” Her lips curved upward, then flattened, then inevitably tilted up again.
Honesty compelled Taviston to nod with admiration. But enough. He set his cup down on the low table in front of him and rose. “I apologize, ladies, but I must return to my work.”
Pausing before Miss Forster, his body told him to touch her, anywhere, anyhow, no matter how inappropriate, but his mind said otherwise.
Time stretched awkwardly as he stood before her. Finally, she rose as well. He gave in to his bodily instinct and took her hand. She refused to look up at him. With an iron will, he resisted the urge to kiss the back of it, but he did not let go.
His mother cleared her throat. He dropped her hand like a hot coal, bowed and said quickly, “It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Forster.” He nodded at his mother and strode out of the room.
After closing the door behind him, he took a few deep breaths. He turned to go back to his study, but two things caught his eye. The rain still pounded on the windowpanes and Timothy the footman sat in the foyer. Why wasn’t he waiting in the carriage? Taviston headed down the stairs.
“Timothy.”
“Oh.” The young man jumped to his feet. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“Where is Miss Forster’s carriage?’
“She isn’t allowed to use the family carriage, Your Grace. We walked here.” Timothy looked everywhere but at Taviston.
“You walked in this weather?” Anger flashed through him. The Brownes were utterly petty and selfish.
“Yes.”
“Halston!” Taviston wasn’t surprised to see Halston appear instantaneously.
“How may I help, sir?”
“Order up the carriage. See that Miss Forster is conveyed home.”
He didn’t wait for a reply from Halston. His order would be followed. Crossing the foyer, he pushed open the door to the morning room.
He sank into a chair. It was chilly in the room; there was no fire going. He could do with some frostiness. Why were the Brownes so cruel to their ward? She was a very close relation, a cousin. There was no reason for it that he could see. In reality, he had no idea how Barrett Browne treated her, though it seemed as if he ignored her. But Louisa. Yes, Louisa was quite the shrew. She had always annoyed him, but now he was developing a healthy dislike of her.
Miss Forster had taken care with her appearance for her call upon his mother. Her hair had been braided and wound around her head. Despite her apparent sojourn in the rain, not a strand had fallen out of place. Her gown was a beautiful blue and had fit her perfectly, unlike some of her previous eveningwear.
He couldn’t help but smile as he thought back to the scene in the drawi
ng room. She had been acutely embarrassed when he had first entered, but had soon got over it. She had passion, that one. As if he didn’t know that from the previous evening. His smile disappeared as his groin tightened at the memory.
He had always been in control of his bodily desires and the words coming out of his mouth. Not so in the presence of Miss Victoria Forster. It was a humbling thought that she could bring him down. Which was why he would avoid her, henceforth.
Thus decided, he picked up the newspaper from the table beside him. Except it wasn’t a newspaper at all, but that rag Hither and Yon. He was surprised his mother allowed it in the house. Centered on the front side was a sketch of Lady Maplethorpe and Thomas Pemberton, both well-rendered. There had already been rumors wafting around that the two were embroiled in an affair. This illustration—he looked closer at the accompanying article—claimed to depict a scene from the Wallingfords’ rout, with Pemberton’s hand dangerously near the lady’s backside. Hmm. He’d been in attendance that evening, and he remembered the pair wearing the exact clothes shown in the picture. Accurate and well-drawn. What kind of talented spy was the publisher of Hither and Yon employing?
Voices in the hall jerked him back to the present. It would be Halston informing their guest she was to be escorted home in the Taviston carriage. Taviston hoped her pride would not overshadow her common sense and make her refuse.
He stood up and crossed to the window facing the street. Pulling the drape back slightly, he saw her being hustled into the carriage by both Timothy and one of his own footmen. Taviston had a very fine view of an adorable bottom before she disappeared inside. Hell and damnation. Absolutely no more social events for him. His bride search could wait.
The dark blue carriage slowly drew away from the house. He let the curtain fall.
He would take great care to stay away from her.
Off limits, out of bounds.
Chapter Thirteen
Six days later Victoria eagerly rose early. She had finally set a plan in motion to catch a husband. A good plan. One that wouldn’t make her look like such a desperate fool. The day before, she had encountered Lady Northfield and a friend while ambling down Bond Street. With the idea of asking for Jane’s assistance in making a suitable match, Victoria had asked to meet that fine lady privately. As a result, they had arranged an early morning ride through Hyde Park.
Earlier in the week, she’d met Mr. Ripley at the park and handed over two sketches from the Burtons’ ball. Neither had depicted a secretive kiss in a garden. Ahem. For her efforts, she was another two pounds richer.
The only thing tempering Victoria’s good mood was the absence of Arthur. The beast had mysteriously managed to slip out of the house the past few nights. But by mid-morning of each day, he appeared at home again, so Victoria tried not to worry too much about his well-being. She missed his nightly snuggles though.
This morning she slipped into an old riding habit that hadn’t seen the light of day in many years. The dark blue velvet, once brushed, was serviceable, though still out of date. Remarkably, the dress fit well and didn’t look nearly as ridiculous as the evening gowns that Louisa made her wear.
The matching hat for the habit was nowhere to be found but she made do with a small cream colored one. After adding a blue feather to it, she pronounced it very smart-looking indeed.
By half past seven Victoria was out the door with Timothy and on her way to Hyde Park. Jane stood waiting outside the gate, with a horse for each of them and a footman of her own.
“You look ready to ride,” Jane said with an approving nod. The marchioness herself wore an up-to-the-minute chocolate-colored riding habit with a matching hat. So elegant.
“I am. I haven’t ridden in years, but I always did enjoy it. Which of these lovely beasts is to carry me about?” Victoria eyed the two fine horses standing behind Jane, one a dappled grey and the other a glossy chestnut.
“Come and meet Daisy.” Grasping Victoria gently by the arm, Jane steered her toward the chestnut, who eyed them with a placid look. Jane patted the horse on the nose and spoke again, “Daisy is the gentlest creature you shall ever meet. I will even go so far as to say she is sweeter than my own darling, Lily.” She gestured toward the grey mare.
Victoria held out her hand and let Daisy sniff it. “I believe we will get along fine.”
“Shall we then?” Jane questioned while signaling her footman. He very capably helped Victoria mount the horse, held onto the reins while she settled her skirts and then handed them over to her. Soon enough Jane sat atop Lily and they were heading into the park toward Rotten Row. It was early enough that there wouldn’t be many riders on the path.
They hadn’t gone far when Jane turned to Victoria with curiosity ablaze in her eyes. “I cannot stand the wait any longer. What is it you wished to speak with me about?”
Victoria laughed at her friend’s anticipation. She had no doubt Jane would eagerly help her. “I was wondering if I could ask for your assistance in a certain matter.”
“Of course you may, silly goose. Now tell me what that matter is before I burst!”
As they turned onto Rotten Row, with the horses doing nothing more than plodding along, Victoria smiled briefly and then turned serious. “I need to find a husband, Jane. The sooner, the better. I was hoping you could aid me in my search. You seem well-acquainted with society.”
“I am indeed.” Jane’s eyes grew thoughtful and possibly even a little mischievous. “A husband search. How intriguing. I have the feeling you know I could not possibly resist such a challenge.” She looked over at Victoria. “Do you know that I ran through many ideas in my head last night, trying to think of what you could want to talk about? Truthfully, a husband hunt never entered my mind. You are attractive enough and the daughter of a gentleman.”
Victoria sighed at her friend’s confusion. “I believe you stretch the truth a bit with your adjective attractive. Certainly, I am not horse-faced, but none would ever describe me as pretty or beautiful.” Her horse let out a whinny. She patted Daisy’s head. “I do apologize, Daisy. It’s all right for you to be horse-faced, just not us humans.”
“Well, I think you do yourself a disservice. Your lovely personality more than makes up for any striking beauty characteristics you may lack.”
“Thank you, Jane. But being an orphan and having the Brownes for relatives does not exactly increase my standing in society. Also, my dowry is very small because my father died destitute. Louisa says I am to be grateful I’m having a Season at all and she has convinced Mr. Browne to not waste any more money on me than necessary.” She shrugged. “Needless to say, suitors, of any sort at all, are not beating down my door.”
Jane smiled confidently. “Despite all that, I still think it will be easy to find you a husband. I think I’m beginning to see why you are in such a rush. But you must use caution because it would definitely be possible to go from a bad situation to worse.”
“Precisely why I have asked for your assistance. Surely you can help me avoid unsuitable men and focus on the ones who most fit my needs.” Victoria had started to relax in the saddle. Daisy was making her first ride in many years an enjoyable one.
“Absolutely. Now tell me what those needs are.” Jane quirked her eyebrows upward and added, “And do not forget about your wants as well. I should not like to see you shackled to a man you can only tolerate.”
Victoria nodded, then looked straight ahead and pondered her requirements for a husband. A picture of the Duke of Taviston instantly appeared in her mind. She scowled. Most certainly not. She hadn’t seen him at all in the past week, though her traitorous eyes had searched for him at every event she had attended. Obviously, she was attracted to the wretched man, but he was so far out of her realm of possibility. Not to mention he apparently thought she was some sort of lightskirt. The vile beast.
Setting her jaw, she turned to Jane. “I like fair-haired gentlemen who are not too tall.” But the image of Taviston would not leave her brain
. Her voice grew more insistent as she said, “I would like a gentleman with a sense of humor, not one who is overly serious. A title is not necessary at all, nor is a ridiculous amount of wealth, though I shouldn’t like to be always short of funds either. I have lived that life before. Really, Jane, I am looking for an ordinary man who wants a wife and a family. Nothing fancy.”
The marchioness stared at her through narrowed eyes but did not comment right away. After a moment she said, “Indeed. I see you have given this some thought.”
Victoria nodded then looked down the path. Two gentlemen on horseback cantered along about two hundred yards in front of them, heading their way. Her eyes grew round as she recognized the rider on the black horse.
“Bloody hell!” she muttered to herself, but then silently asked forgiveness for her choice of words.
Daisy unexpectedly reared up with a loud whinny and set off at a full gallop, tearing first down the Rotten Row path and then suddenly veering off toward the Serpentine. Victoria gave a feeble cry of “whoa” and tried to tug on the reins, to no effect. Deciding instead to concentrate on saving her life, she leaned forward and threw her arms around Daisy’s neck as the “gentle” mare ran hell for leather through Hyde Park.
TAVISTON RODE ALONGSIDE Northfield at a moderate clip when two female riders in front of them caught his eye. His friend continued to chatter on about some horse he was interested in buying, but Taviston ignored him. His attention stayed focused on the only other riders in the vicinity. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was Northfield’s wife Jane, accompanied by Victoria Forster. What an odd coincidence. And how strange Northfield did not seem to realize his wife was riding in this very park as well. Taviston muttered a few choice curses under his breath.
Before he could tell Northfield what he thought of his scheming ways, the chestnut Miss Forster rode suddenly reared up and shot off across the park at full speed. Taviston pulled his horse up and turned to watch in astonishment as the horse showed no signs of slowing down. The rider clung desperately to the beast’s neck as it recklessly crashed through bushes and around trees, heading for the west end of the park.
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