The Lord Next Door

by Gayle Callen

  Gradually the buildings grew closer together, bland brick buildings of commerce rather than the pleasing architecture of the West End of London. They finally came to a stop before a building with a sign proclaiming SOUTHERN RAILWAY. A boy came bounding out of the door to steady their horses, as if he’d been waiting for Lord Thurlow.

  Victoria could hold her tongue no longer. “My lord?”

  He set the carriage brake and glanced at her absently. Had he forgotten she was even there?

  “Miss Shelby, I must deliver some important papers. I’ll be but a moment.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he had already dropped to the street, a leather satchel under his arm. He took the stairs two at a time and disappeared inside.

  Victoria glanced over her shoulder at the maid, who was looking around them with wide eyes. Victoria gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It was not that the street was in a decaying neighborhood of London, but it was obviously an industrial area, where few women were seen, to judge by the stares she received from passersby. Even Lord Thurlow’s sleek white horses looked like something out of a fairy tale compared to the draft horses pulling heavy carts through the streets. Men in plain tweed coats and trousers tipped their hats as they walked by. One man, without a coat to hide his shirt and suspenders, whistled as he looked over the horses.

  “Liedy, whot a fine matched pair they is,” he said.

  What was she to say to that? “Thank you, sir.”

  More and more she was feeling as if Lord Thurlow had forgotten her. He should have at least invited her inside to wait, away from the dust and noise of the streets!

  The door finally swung open, and he emerged. She saw the surprise on his face before he tucked it away.

  He had forgotten her. After all, he must have had this errand planned, and taking her for a ride fulfilled two purposes for this trip. How convenient for him.

  The horse admirer hurried on his way, and Victoria noticed that even the little boy holding the horses seemed relieved at His Lordship’s presence. Lord Thurlow swung up, and as the carriage tilted beneath his weight, she gripped the rail behind the bench. To her shock, his…hips grazed her as he sat down, pinning her hand between him and the rail. Blushing furiously, she yanked hard to free herself. Lord Thurlow shifted and eyed her beneath one raised eyebrow.

  “Miss Shelby, have you ever ridden on a train?” he asked as he flicked the reins to guide the carriage into traffic.

  “I have not,” she said tightly.

  “It is an exciting experience.”

  “I’ve heard it is very loud and very dirty.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps. But the railway is England’s future. Haven’t you noticed how in just the past few years, the price of coal sharply dropped and food from outlying farms became fresher?”

  She stared at him. “No, my lord, I have not.”

  “Of course, of course, your father would have dealt with such things.”

  She lifted her chin. “The prices must have already lowered since I began overseeing our household purchases less than a year ago.”

  He studied her intently, and she wished he would watch the traffic instead.

  “I had not forgotten your recent accomplishments,” he said in a lower voice. “I admire you for them.”

  She wished it wasn’t so easy to be distracted just looking at him. She wanted to stay angry. “I was not looking for admiration as I kept food on our table.”

  “Of course not. But the railway will make everything easier, not just travel. It’s a new era, where men who control the flow of goods and services control industry—and the future of our country.”

  She stared at him in confusion. He sounded like a little boy obsessed by the roar of a passing train. Memories flooded back of the detailed observations he’d written every time he discovered a new frog or snake. Had trains become his new interest? Many peers became railway shareholders, of course, or so her father had once tried to explain to her. But how many delivered their own paperwork? Lord Thurlow was such a puzzle to her.

  They drove in silence for several blocks, until the streets began to widen, and the carriages turned elegant.

  “Miss Shelby,” Lord Thurlow said, “would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a luncheon next Wednesday? I would call for you at one o’clock. There will be several couples in attendance, so you will not feel so alone should the other gentlemen and I have business to discuss.”

  Her entrance into society had begun. Her stomach seemed to turn over as she remembered every dreadful luncheon she’d ever attended—and there had been many. But she had never been to the ton’s events. Her mother had once resented that she herself could not break into the ton, and had thought to do so with her daughters. Victoria and her sisters had been expected to shine at parties, to eventually marry well, and the pressure had weighed on her.

  She could never put into practice the skills her mother drilled into her. She had barely been able to meet a stranger’s eyes. After one dance with a man, tripping all over his toes, she was not asked again. She was never at ease in conversation—except writing to Tom. Toward the end, she sat more and more with the chaperones and wall-flowers, content that her mother had finally given up on her.

  She wanted to refuse Lord Thurlow’s invitation, but she felt so petulant and childish, so she only said, “Of course, my lord. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  They finally drove past Banstead House, her new home. She stared up at it, worried for the future, frightened of her new duties as viscountess, yet allowing her relief to take precedence. She had a place to live.

  Outside her town house, he drew the horses to a stop.

  Victoria glanced over her shoulder, smiling distractedly at the maid, but still looking at Lord Thurlow’s home. “I didn’t get a chance to see much of Banstead House on my visit a few weeks ago.”

  When she turned to face him, he was holding a flat, rectangular box toward her. “Let me present you with a gift in honor of our engagement.”

  She reached for the box, then opened it. A lovely diamond necklace nestled within. She stared at him.

  “For the wedding day,” he said.

  He climbed down from the carriage without another word, as if he hadn’t just offered her a fortune in jewels. She pressed her lips together to hold back a slightly hysterical giggle at the thought of what she could have done for her household with the money this cost.

  “Thank you for your generosity, my lord,” she said, closing the box and slipping it into her reticule.

  He helped her to the pavement. “As for Banstead House, I will be honest with you, Miss Shelby. I am in the process of hiring a new housekeeper, and my butler would be appalled if I invited the future lady of the house at such an unsettled time.”

  Lady of the house…

  That almost distracted her from the important part of his speech. “You need a new housekeeper, my lord? Could you perhaps consider Mrs. Wayneflete for the position?” Before he could answer, she hurried on. “Our house will be handed over to my cousin, but I know Mrs. Wayneflete would prefer to remain with my mother and me. She’s been with us my whole life.”

  “I would be happy to interview your housekeeper, Miss Shelby. Do send her by to speak with my butler.”

  Not a definitive answer, but it would have to do. Lord Thurlow escorted her up to her door, then turned to face her on the top step.

  She wanted to move away but restrained herself. Was he going to take her hand again? The memory of his mouth on her skin still arose at the most inconvenient times.

  Lord Thurlow wore the faintest smile, as if he knew what she was thinking. Would it always be this way, he full of awareness, she ignorant of everything he was contemplating?

  “Hello!” came a sudden call from next door.

  Victoria and Lord Thurlow both looked toward Banstead House, from where a man was just leaving. As he came closer, she saw that he was very blond and pleasant-looking, smiling at her as if she should
know him. Twenty-six years of maidenhood, and on the same day, two different men at her door!

  Chapter 4

  Only through good breeding did David keep from swearing out loud. What the hell was his friend Simon doing here on Victoria’s doorstep?

  “Hello,” Simon said again in that cheerful voice that verged on annoying.

  Simon’s speculative glance was all for Victoria as he looked between them from the bottom of the stairs. For some unknown reason, David wanted to clench his teeth together. Instead he lightly rested his arm around Victoria’s waist. She gave a little start, then held unnaturally still. She felt very warm, very soft.

  “Miss Shelby,” David said, “may I introduce Simon, Lord Wade.”

  Victoria’s face took on another rose blush as Simon took her hand in both of his.

  “Miss Shelby, it is a pleasure to meet David’s betrothed at last.”

  “Thank you, Lord Wade,” Victoria said, “but it could not have been that long since you first heard of me.”

  David felt an absurd feeling of satisfaction. “I told him of the engagement two days ago, Miss Shelby, but as you can see, he has the patience of a mouse.”

  “Is that a slur, Thurlow?” Simon asked in mock horror. “Will you not even invite me in? Your staff went to all the trouble of telling me where you were.”

  Simon was obviously spending too much time at Banstead House, if the staff was talking to him so freely. “I was just leaving, Wade. You can accompany me.”

  “But I could further my acquaintance with Miss Shelby. After all, I will be an integral part of her wedding.”

  “You must be Lord Thurlow’s best man,” Victoria said.

  “Indeed he is,” David said, before Simon could speak. “Although I’m not sure if he’s the best, he’ll have to do. Good day to you, Miss Shelby.”

  She nodded to them both and stepped inside her town house, closing the door behind her. David dragged Simon away by the arm.

  Simon laughed. “This is quite unnecessary. I assure you I mean no ill will toward your lovely future bride. Although I must admit, I’m rather…surprised.”

  David pulled him out onto the pavement and turned toward Banstead House. “And what do you mean by that?”

  “Just that, in my brief few moments with her, she seems rather…young.”

  “She’s twenty-six.” David released his friend when two elderly ladies peered at him suspiciously through identical monocles.

  “Then I’ll amend that to naive. Shy and naive. Does that sum her up?”

  “Of course not. But she has a rather shy nature I admire.” And he admitted to himself that the gray gown was a vast improvement, making her hair less washed out.

  “Not exactly like your mistress, eh?”

  “That’s not a topic to be mentioned in public,” he said shortly, opening the town house door and leading him inside. “I won’t bring scandal on my bride.”

  “It’s hardly scandal to—” Simon broke off when he looked into David’s face.

  David thought he saw pity in Simon’s eyes, and he didn’t want it. Simon must have known what the earl’s scandals had cost David, but in the spirit of friendship, he’d never brought up a subject David didn’t want to speak of. Simon had been a friend since schooldays, one of the few who hadn’t deserted him when the earl had ruined the family name.

  “So how did you meet her?” Simon asked, trailing him into the library.

  “She’s been a friend since childhood.”

  “So have I. Why have I never heard of her?”

  David smiled. “Because her friendship goes back to when I was ten years old, nearly half a lifetime earlier than I met you.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you never spoke of her,” Simon chided, pouring them each a glass of brandy.

  David stared down into his drink. “Maybe because I never actually met her. She wouldn’t allow me to.”

  Simon sank into a leather wingback chair before the hearth and waited expectantly. David was forced to explain the journal writing he and Victoria had shared, and that he’d stopped writing once he went off to school.

  “So you know a lot about her already,” Simon said. “No wonder you’ve settled on her as a wife.”

  “It comes at a fortuitous time. The railway directors are demanding that we meet more often as the deadline approaches, but we can hardly meet in public, so we’re going to include our families as a reason to socialize.”

  “Why can’t you meet in public? The scandal of a peer doing more than investing in the railways would hardly rival your father’s notoriety.” Simon eyed him thoughtfully. “But of course, you want to draw no attention to your activities at all. It’s a fragile game you play, David.”

  “It’s not a game,” he said as he sat down in the opposite chair. “Much of my capital is tied up in this venture—if it fails, it would be an even bigger scandal than my father’s. I won’t let that happen.”

  “You’d hardly be on the streets.”

  “No. But there’s power to be had in guiding England’s industrialization. Men come to me for advice, and they don’t care about my father’s scandals. I like the feeling of shaping a new course for the country, Simon, but I know I can’t be open about it with the ton. I’ve been ostracized enough—I won’t do that to my children. Someday, men of any class will be appreciated for their vision, and when that happens, I’ll already be ahead of everyone, making the name of Banstead important once more.”

  Simon smiled. “I thought you were doing that in Parliament.”

  “I am,” David said with satisfaction. “But a man can spread out his bets, can’t he?”

  Simon shook his head in a rueful manner. “So you’re marrying for business reasons only?”

  “Of course not. I need an heir,” he said bitterly. “And let’s not forget she’ll have to deal with my father.”

  “It sounds like she’ll have a lot to do.” Simon lowered his voice. “Are you certain you can make her happy enough that she’ll want to help you?”

  David frowned as he drained his glass. “She and I are helping each other. It will work out to both our satisfaction.”

  Though he looked troubled, Simon raised his glass in a toast. “To your success in securing a wife.”

  David clinked his glass. “At last.”

  A week later, Victoria was waiting in the entrance hall for her betrothed. She would have chewed her lip incessantly if Mrs. Wayneflete had not caught her in the act.

  “It will be all right, miss,” the housekeeper said kindly. “You’ll do fine.”

  Victoria took a deep breath. “I tell myself that. I know I am not the same frightened girl I used to be when I attended these events, but…what if I embarrass him?” she finished with a whisper. “What if he realizes our engagement is a mistake, that I’ll be nothing to him but one scandal after another?”

  Mrs. Wayneflete took her quivering hands. “You are perfect just the way you are, Miss Victoria. You found me a position, you saved your mother, and you’ve given your sisters a safe place to call home. Hold your head up and show him what it means to be a Shelby.”

  Victoria gave her a tremulous smile.

  Lord Thurlow arrived exactly on time, with the same maid sitting in the seat behind his bench. As he came up the front steps, Victoria waited as Mrs. Wayneflete insisted on opening the door. He stepped inside, bringing in the wind and the smell of the rain that clung to his broad shoulders and dripped from the top hat he put under his arm.

  Though she had told herself to be prepared, Victoria was still shocked by the thoughts that chased each other through her mind as she stared at him.

  He was going to be her husband. And Mama and Mrs. Wayneflete had just last night stumbled through a recitation of a typical wedding night, which even now left her cheeks aflame as she imagined herself and Lord Thurlow in such close proximity.

  Once again, she expected his indifference—he had left her on the streets just last week!—but he surprised he
r, looking her over with an interest that made her glad she had worn the half-mourning color of lavender. When his gaze lingered briefly on her breasts, she wanted to whip the shawl around her immediately. Instead, Mrs. Wayneflete reached to help her until Lord Thurlow took the shawl away.

  “Allow me,” he said, his voice perfectly polite.

  Biting her lip, Victoria turned her back and waited with something approaching trepidation as the material settled around her. His hands reached over her shoulders to enfold the shawl about her, and she quickly stepped away.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  As they walked through the doorway, he produced an umbrella and held it above her until she was safely under the hood of the carriage. She remembered to brace herself before he climbed up beside her.

  He drove only several blocks away, then pulled up before a town house on Belgrave Square, an area of London not quite as fashionable as it used to be, though still filled with elegant town houses of the wealthy.

  “My lord, who are we visiting?” she asked, when it was obvious he hadn’t thought to tell her.

  He took her hand to help her down. “Mr. Lionel Hutton and his wife.”

  She glanced up at the three-story home. “I know that name. I think my father did business with him.”

  “Surely your father did business with most of the wealthy people in London, Miss Shelby.”

  But she couldn’t stop frowning. It still unnerved her to meet people who had known her father. She was almost relieved when the maid followed behind them dutifully.

  Once inside, they were greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Hutton, both smiling in a parental way, as if Lord Thurlow was their son.

  “So good to meet you, Miss Shelby,” Mrs. Hutton said. “We were so pleased upon hearing of your engagement.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hutton,” Victoria said, trying to relax.

  Mr. Hutton cleared his throat. “Are you the daughter of the late Mr. Rutherford Shelby?”

  Her insides went tight with panic, and it took all her courage not to glance worriedly at Lord Thurlow.