After last night’s encounter with Blake, Victoria had gladly accepted Samantha’s invitation to go shopping this morning. She desperately needed time away from him to clear her thoughts.
The crumpled paper grew damp in her sweaty palm. The urge to reread the missive, to study it line by line, was overwhelming. But she was determined to keep its contents private. Only after Samantha started haggling with the shopkeeper did Victoria feel confident to unfurl the paper and reread it more carefully.
I will send Spencer next week to collect what you have gathered. Do not disappoint me.
Charles
He hadn’t even signed it “Father,” but “Charles” instead. It sounded as if he was giving orders to one of his underlings in his official capacity as a Junior Lord Commissioner of the Treasury. The cold tone of the letter, combined with its content, sent a chill down her spine.
The fact was, she had gathered nothing. There had been little opportunity and even less desire to spy.
But the time had come for her to make a decision.
Just then, bells jingled behind her, and Samantha exited the spice shop.
“Victoria, where have you been? I found the most amazing chamomile-and-mint tea.” Samantha proudly held up a tin of tea leaves. “It’s said to miraculously ease abdominal pain during a woman’s monthly courses.” Cocking her head to one side, her eyes raked Victoria’s face. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”
Victoria, as nonchalantly as possible, pulled out a handkerchief from her reticule and at the same time pushed the note to the bottom of the bag, hiding it from Lady Devon’s view.
“Tis nothing,” Victoria said, dabbing at the corner of her eye. I simply have something in my eye.”
Victoria hated lying to her friend. But if Samantha knew the truth, then her loyalties would be torn—and she would have to choose between maintaining Victoria’s secret and confiding in Justin Woodward. Victoria did not want to come between the two lovers.
Samantha looked at her curiously. “You’re certain? You’re not still thinking of last night, are you?”
Victoria had told the baroness about last night’s debacle in her attempt to soften Blake yet keep him at a distance—minus a few heated details.
“I can’t seem to forget how easily I lost my focus,” Victoria said. “I must seem like a failure to you.”
“Nonsense, my darling. I told you that you didn’t fail, but to the contrary, you have him eating out of the palm of your hand. You just don’t see it yet.”
Taking Victoria’s arm, Samantha guided her to an awaiting coach. “You do not look well; we should return to Rosewood.”
As the coach pulled into Rosewood’s white stone driveway, Victoria’s tension mounted. She had been unusually quiet on the drive home, and, thankfully, Lady Devon did not question her.
Her friend believed she was reliving a kiss from Ravenspear, when in truth, she was deciding whether to steal from him instead.
Unsure whether the master of Rosewood was out of the house, Victoria tiptoed across the marble vestibule and up the staircase. She hoped to reach her room unnoticed, but to her dismay, she heard a bedroom door open and close. She hadn’t yet reached the top step, and she froze as Blake met her at the landing.
Clutching the polished banister, her eyes moved upward from his shiny black Hessians to his broad chest before meeting his gaze.
They had not seen each other since last night’s chess game. Blake had departed early in the morning with Justin to ride the estate. Victoria had burned her tongue drinking her morning cup of tea in her haste to leave before Blake had returned.
And now, as she stared into his compelling blue eyes—the color even more intense in his bronzed face—she was reminded of her sleepless night, tossing and turning in bed, thinking of his touch, his embrace, his heated kiss.
She couldn’t deny the truth any longer.
There was strong passion within her, and Blake Mallorey had the power to unleash it at his whim. Her vow to entice him without succumbing to his masterful touch could shatter beneath his persuasive lips.
He watched her with a curious intensity, like a predator would its prey.
“I missed you this morning, Victoria,” he said. “I left very early, and when I returned, Mrs. Smith advised me you had departed for the day.”
“I decided to listen to your suggestion and spend more time away from Rosewood with Lady Devon.”
Blake moved aside, allowing her to step up to the landing. With quick strides, she hurried to her bedroom door, all too aware of his long legs keeping him easily beside her.
As her hand touched the brass doorknob, she hesitated. Was he going to follow her into her room? She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, unsure what to say.
“I wanted to ask you if…” Blake faltered, looking about as if to find the right words in his head. “Would you like to attend the theater with me this evening? The town has a good production and the actors are quite talented and have received good reviews by the critics. Of course, it’s not as exceptional as London’s Drury Lane Theatre, but good nonetheless.”
If Victoria didn’t know any better, she would swear he sounded nervous.
Blake Mallorey, fifth Earl of Ravenspear, apprehensive?
She turned to face him squarely, her back to the door. “Are you asking me to attend a public event with you unchaperoned?” she blurted out.
Had the time finally come for him to reveal their relationship? Then why ask her permission?
“You misunderstand,” Blake said. “My intentions are only to enjoy your company for an evening and see a fine show. I have a private box at the theater, and we don’t have to arrive until the lights are dimmed and the production begins. It will be difficult for anyone in the general audience seated below to see us together.”
When Victoria shot him a doubtful look, he rushed to continue. “If it makes you more comfortable, I shall request Justin and Lady Devon to join us. To all appearances, Samantha will be your chaperone.”
The idea of attending the theater sounded wonderful to Victoria, but she was still hesitant.
Then she recalled her conversation with Samantha. Maybe all wasn’t lost after last night? Perhaps Blake’s attitude had softened—just a touch—toward her already.
“I’d be delighted to go if Mr. Woodward and Lady Samantha agree to accompany us.”
A shadow of disappointment crossed his face but was quickly masked with a contented look. “Wonderful. Can you be ready by seven?”
“Don’t you need to speak with Mr. Woodward first?”
“Of course. But I’m certain Justin and Lady Devon will be pleased to accompany us. I’ll come for you at seven.”
He offered her a charming smile, then turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, his confidence obviously returned.
Shaking her head in disbelief, Victoria opened her bedroom door, turned the key in the lock and collapsed in a wingback chair by the window. Minutes passed before she felt secure enough to pull her father’s note from her reticule.
Her stomach still churned with anxiety over the surprise delivery. The large hearth in the corner of the room caught her attention and, jumping to her feet, she threw the dreaded paper into the vacant fireplace. Lighting a match, she touched an edge of the note, and then watched as the corners curled and blackened as it burned.
What choice am I going to make? she wondered.
If she listened to her father, then she had not one second to spare, for rummaging through Blake’s voluminous papers would take hours, days, even.
A picture of his massive library desk, piled high with dense files, flashed through her mind. No, she would have to search the recesses of her mind to recall bits and pieces of conversations she had overheard while Blake and Justin had talked business in the library, over dinner, during cards and wherever else they had spoken in her presence.
The note had completely burned, no evidence of its existence except the tiny pile of ashes
that remained, and still there was a terrible tenseness in her body. If only Victoria could deal with her father’s plans as easily as she had with his missive.
There was no doubt in Victoria’s mind that Charles Ashton would soon seek her out through an emissary—either Spencer or Jacob Hobbs would do his dirty work. He would never jeopardize his position on the Treasury Commission.
But no matter whom he sent, Charles would demand results.
Victoria paced her bedroom, then entered the sitting room and walked around aimlessly, her mind racing. Her father didn’t know of her investing ability or knowledge. Only Spencer knew the extent of her activities, and her brother would never reveal her secret.
She could lie to Jacob and her father by telling them she rummaged through Blake’s documents but couldn’t make sense of anything. If she put on a convincing act—the helpless, flustered female—they would believe her. They would never imagine a woman capable of understanding the complexities of the London Exchange, let alone earning money investing in it.
And the truth was, she didn’t want to spy on Blake Mallorey. He had kept his word not to force her into his bed, had seen to her every care and need, had even gone to lengths to protect her reputation—most notably from the malicious gossip Lady Taddlesworth. And, lo and behold, Victoria’s conscience was bothering her. Even though he had forced her to reside at Rosewood, she fought a daily battle to maintain her resentment toward him.
She could live like this for a year, and then return home with the yoke of Blake’s debt lifted from around her father’s neck. Maybe then her life could return to her normal, predictable routine.
But deep down inside, she knew she would never be the same after living with Blake Mallorey. How could she forget such a powerfully attractive male that she had feelings for as far back as she could remember, and who could send her insides aflutter with no more than a sideways glance? She knew that any man she encountered in the future she would compare with Blake Mallorey. She had no doubt that all others would fall far short.
With sudden clarity, Victoria knew what course of action she would take. She smiled a secret smile and opened the doors of her wardrobe, intent now on choosing a gown to wear for tonight’s theater outing.
“You can lie to Father,” she mumbled out loud. “You’ve been doing it for years, and he’s never suspected a thing. Why worry now?”
Chapter 17
When the Ravenspear coach and team of six stopped before the Berry Street Theatre, Victoria felt excitement bubble up inside her.
Ever since Blake had mentioned the theater tickets this morning, she had looked forward to the play. A frequent attendant of London’s Drury Lane Theatre, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed the experience.
Leaning forward in her seat, Victoria raised the tasseled window shade of the coach to get a better look. Through the building’s large bay windows, she could see the well-dressed gentlemen and ladies parading around the lobby while they sipped glasses of bubbly champagne.
Much like London, she mused, the mingling is just as important as the quality of the production.
“If it would make you more comfortable,” Blake said, “we could wait inside the coach until the play starts and everyone is seated.”
Victoria met Blake’s gaze, taken aback at his remark. He mistook her curiosity of the crowd for anxiety. He had been considerate all evening, informing her that Justin and Samantha agreed to accompany them and ensuring that his private box was high enough and sufficiently dim to keep curious eyes at bay.
His good manners had made her even more fretful regarding her father’s demands.
She was aware of Blake’s stare as he awaited her response, and, once again, she swore he appeared uneasy.
Is he worried I’ll change my mind and not enter the theater? Where is the calm, collected and composed earl?
“Waiting is not necessary since Mr. Woodward and Lady Devon are with us,” Victoria said, looking at the attractive couple seated across from her.
Samantha smiled and reached across the seat to squeeze Victoria’s hand. “To anyone that asks, Victoria is a dear friend of mine who has come to enjoy the fresh country air and escape the oppressive London gossipers.”
Blake cocked an eyebrow at Samantha’s dramatics, then opened the coach door and hopped out. Holding out a hand to Victoria, he asked, “Shall we, then?”
She placed her hand in his, and his long, tapered fingers grasped her firmly as she stepped down. With just one touch, she was instantly aware of his strength and dominant masculinity.
As the two couples walked into the lobby, they drew attention. Stealing a glimpse at Blake’s devilishly handsome profile and commanding manner, Victoria understood the crowd’s fascination.
Tonight Blake wore light brown trousers that hugged his flat stomach and thighs. His double-breasted jacket, a darker shade of brown than his trousers, was perfectly tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders and tall, lean frame. A crisp, snowy-white cravat was tied at his throat, and superfine linen ruffled down the front of his shirt and at his shirt cuffs.
After observing Blake’s meticulous attire, Victoria was relieved she had dressed with care. She had chosen a gown of pale-pink silk with full short sleeves, adorned at the bodice with crystal beads that shimmered in the candlelight. Her raven tresses were piled high upon her head, with loose curls framing her face, exposing her neck and low-cut neckline.
Almost immediately, people came over to greet them. Most sought to acquaint themselves with the newly returned Earl of Ravenspear, and it became apparent that Blake did not socialize frequently enough to satisfy the curiosity of his country neighbors. Many shot curious glances toward Victoria, and she began to have doubts about her decision to accompany Blake in public.
Lady Samantha must have sensed her tension because she edged closer to Victoria in silent support.
Several young gentlemen elbowed their way through the crowd to stand before Victoria. They bowed gallantly as they introduced themselves.
One, Nathan St. Bride, was more daring than the rest, and his lips lingered a moment too long on the back of her hand. A wiry man of average height, he had an aquiline nose, straight forehead, and dark, observant eyes. His thick, tawny-gold hair curled around his ears and matched the twirled tips of his mustache. Strong cologne wafted from his body, overpowering the perfumes of the women surrounding her.
“Lady Devon, where have you been hiding your ravishing friend?” The man spoke to Samantha, but his gaze never left Victoria’s face.
“Hiding?” Samantha asked coyly. “We’ve been out and about town all week long, Mr. St. Bride. Where have you been, sir?”
Nathan St. Bride smiled broadly at Victoria, revealing pearly, even teeth. “I must socialize more if I’m missing such beauty.”
From a sideways glance, Victoria was conscious of Blake’s watchful glare. A muscle near his eye twitched, and his fists balled at his sides.
An unexpected thrill ran down Victoria’s spine at Blake’s jealous response. She recalled Lady Samantha’s advice about flirting with other males to inspire jealously and rivalry in Blake. She had doubted the wisdom of the baroness’s odd advice, but Victoria was beginning to see its usefulness.
She smiled sweetly at Nathan and laughed at one of his jokes.
Behind St. Bride’s shoulder, Blake’s nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched, hard as a lump of granite.
“Will you allow me to call on you, Miss Ashton?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t think that’s possible, Mr. St. Bride,” Victoria answered, alarmed at his forwardness. “Lady Devon keeps me busy, and my time in the country is limited.”
She was willing to flirt with St. Bride in the safety of a public place, but she had no desire to further acquaint herself with him in private.
Nathan leaned forward and whispered so that only she could hear. “Ah, I understand. You’re with the earl and can’t talk freely in public, can you?”
Stunned, Victoria
stepped back. How did he know? She was spared from having to answer when Blake approached her side.
Blake touched her elbow lightly, urging yet protective. “The play will start soon,” he said, shooting Nathan St. Bride a stern look. “We should take our seats.”
Allowing Blake to lead her away, they made their way to his private box. She had little time to think about St. Bride’s remarks before the curtain opened and the production began.
As the actors played their parts, Victoria sat mesmerized, absorbing every word, lost in the story. Only when the curtain fell, signifying the interval, did she turn her head. Samantha and Justin then excused themselves to seek refreshments in the lobby, and Victoria was left alone with Blake.
She turned to look at him and found him studying her.
“That was beautiful,” she said. “Thank you for bringing me.”
“I enjoyed watching you more than the play itself. I had to drag my eyes from you, afraid that others would notice. You look lovely tonight.”
She sat as still as a mouse, and her heart turned over in response to his eloquent words. She was flattered by his interest despite herself, and was highly aware of his dark sensuality. Everything about the man attracted her tonight, from the one lock that fell a little forward over his dark brow, to the distinctive muscle of his thigh pulling against his trousers, to his familiar cologne.
“I have something for you.” He reached into his double-breasted jacket to pull out a red velvet box. “It reminded me of you, and I hope you like it.” Placing the box in her hand, he coaxed, “Go on. Open it.”
Victoria’s heart beat fast as she lifted the lid. Her throat went dry at the sight of an exquisite emerald necklace nestled inside folds of red velvet. The size of a pigeon egg, the green gem was surrounded by brilliant diamonds and glistened in the candlelight.
She had never held, let alone worn, such a costly piece.
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