The Lord Next Door

by Gayle Callen

  As she stood alone in the drawing room, admiring how everything looked, she saw the little bird statue that had belonged to the countess. It made her think of David and his inability to talk about the past. The countess’s death had started the earl on his descent into scandal, but things had always been strange next door. Banstead House had seemed to be draped in mourning through some part of every year when she was a child. She had often wondered how many elderly relatives the earl must have, for there to be so many deaths.

  This was a mystery she had to solve. In the library, she found the family Bible, and the year of the countess’s death—the exact same year David had stopped writing in the journal.

  After Lady Banstead’s death, the parties had started. The house had seemed to come alive, ablaze with lights several times a week, with carriages lined along on the road to disembark their passengers. Her father had complained about the loud voices in the garden so late at night and the music that had gone on until the early hours of the morning.

  And what about David? How had such disrespect for the year of mourning affected him? He hadn’t even been able to write to her anymore.

  Absently, she looked farther down the page, and what she saw made her blood chill in her veins. After David, there were five other babies born—and all had died on the day of their birth.

  “What are you doing?”

  Victoria gave a jump and almost dropped the huge Bible. She turned to find Lord Banstead in his wheelchair with his regular frown in evidence. Nurse Carter stood behind him, her gaze lowered awkwardly.

  “Good morning, my lord,” Victoria said. “I was just on my way in to visit you.”

  “Don’t think you’re reading the Bible to me. Had enough of that as a child.”

  “Of course not, my lord.” The poor man. He’d had so many children die. No wonder the house had been under the blackness of mourning. And the last baby’s birth had also killed David’s mother.

  Could tonight’s party help David and his father?

  “My lord, you’ve seen all the preparations for the dinner this evening. Won’t you do us the honor of attending?”

  “Those days are long past me,” he said gruffly. “Good of you to ask.”

  She sighed. Even her mother had refused to attend, claiming a headache.

  “You can always change your mind, my lord. As for our reading, shall I follow you to your room? Or perhaps you’d prefer I read to you in the conservatory today. The flowers are lovely.”

  To her surprise, he agreed to the conservatory. The sun was shining through the glass, ferns and plants rose high all around them, and Victoria experienced a feeling of peaceful resolve. At least her relationship with the earl was improving, which was a step in the right direction in her very deliberate meddling between father and son.

  As couples made their way up to the drawing room, Victoria stood near her husband and greeted their guests. To her surprise, she found that having to coordinate the evening actually gave her less time to worry. Mr. and Mrs. Perry, an older couple, came through the door. Mr. Perry immediately drew David aside, and Victoria found his wife looking very apologetic.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Perry,” Victoria said.

  “Good evening, my lady. I hope you don’t mind, but we brought our daughter this evening.”

  An extra guest at the table. Victoria’s mind was busily rearranging chairs, even as she said, “It is no problem at all, Mrs. Perry.”

  The woman turned to bring her daughter forward, and Victoria froze.

  “Lady Thurlow, this is my daughter, Miss Perry.”

  Prudence Perry. Victoria had known the last name was familiar, but she had never thought beyond that, until she was confronted by her childhood tormentor.

  Prudence had matured into a stunning young woman.

  “Good evening, Lady Thurlow,” Prudence said. “My mother tells me you are the former Miss Shelby?”

  Victoria cleared her throat and wanted to wince when that captured David’s attention.

  “Yes, Miss Perry, I’m the eldest of the Shelby daughters.” She hesitated. “Do you not remember me?”

  “I think so,” she said uncertainly. “But I remember your sisters more.”

  Mrs. Perry laughed a bit shrilly. “Yes, hard to believe shy Victoria Shelby has matured into such an accomplished lady.”

  Accomplished? Victoria stared between mother and daughter, not knowing what to say. Mr. Perry hustled them into the crowd, and Victoria turned to stare after them.

  David stepped up beside her. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “I used to know her, but it seems she doesn’t remember me.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “No, that’s good. She used to tease me unmercifully about my lack of dancing skills, and the stuttering way I spoke when I was overwhelmed.”

  He smiled at her. “Then Mrs. Perry was right—you’ve become an accomplished woman.”

  “Because I no longer stutter?” she countered dryly.

  He laughed. “Didn’t you write about this girl in the journal?”

  More and more he was bringing up the journal himself, the man who wanted to forget the past. “Yes, I told you all about her. I’m sure I whined terribly, but that’s what a girl of fifteen does. You offered to avenge me.”

  “I would have done anything to figure out how to meet you.” He winked.

  Oh, how she liked this amusing side to him. She wouldn’t have believed it possible just weeks ago.

  “Your idea of revenge was gratefully accepted in the spirit in which it was offered.”

  “What did I offer to do?”

  “You wanted her address, so you could dump mud in her bed.”

  “Ah, yes, I knew how to win a young girl’s heart.”

  She felt tears sting her eyes. He really had. Maybe that had never gone away.

  “Well, I didn’t take you up on it, and it’s a good thing, because here is Miss Prudence Perry in person.”

  “Did you invite her?” David asked.

  “No, and they seemed quite embarrassed to bring her. I wonder why.”

  They were distracted by the Staplehills, the next guests to arrive, but Victoria found her gaze wandering often to the Perrys.

  Before dinner, Victoria moved through the crowd in the drawing room, never stopping to converse for long, feeling the need to make sure everything was running smoothly.

  As she passed a gathering of younger wives, she heard a voice call, “Victoria—I mean Lady Thurlow! Could I have a moment of your time?”

  Victoria pasted a smile on her face for Prudence, and allowed herself to be pulled near the windows, away from everyone else.

  Prudence smiled nervously. “I just wanted to apologize for my parents’ behavior. I have no idea why they insisted I come tonight. They even made me cancel my own plans to accompany them.”

  “Miss Perry, as I told your mother, it is no inconvenience. And I’m glad we have the chance to become reacquainted.”

  Prudence nodded. “Maybe that’s the reason they wanted me to come. I confess I have little memory of you, but then again in those days, I was mostly concerned with my wardrobe.”

  Her manner seemed embarrassed, and Victoria found herself relaxing. Maybe what she’d built up into this terrible, humiliating assault was really the antics of a spoiled girl, as young as she herself had been. Perhaps Victoria wasn’t the only one who’d matured.

  The women were waiting for the men to emerge from the library after dinner, when they heard the sound of raised voices echoing from the entrance hall. Victoria tried to stem the tide, but everyone rushed to the corridor to look over the balustrade.

  Mr. Staplehill was trailing Mr. Perry, who was striding away from him toward the stairs.

  “I don’t know why you’ve taken such offense,” Mr. Staplehill said in his very young, pleading voice. His face went pale.

  “When you have a daughter, you’ll understand,” Mr. Perry said.
He started up the stairs, then came to a halt when he saw all the women staring down at him speechless. His face reddened. “Mrs. Perry, Prudence, we need to leave now.”

  Prudence gasped. “But Papa, the dancing hasn’t even begun yet!”

  But her mother took her arm, and both headed downstairs. Victoria followed them, sending the butler for their wraps.

  David met them at the door. “Perry, don’t leave. Staplehill is a young pup, and doesn’t think before he speaks.”

  “It’s all right, Thurlow,” Mr. Perry said. “I’ll be at the meeting when the announcement of the consolidation will be made. Nothing will keep me from that, I swear.”

  He left with his wife and daughter. Victoria gave her husband a worried look, but then she swept back up to the drawing room to tell the orchestra to begin.

  Hours later, when everyone had finally gone home after the dancing was finished, Victoria spoke briefly to the servants about their duties cleaning up, then she went to look for David in his study. She leaned her head inside and saw him sitting behind a massive desk, account books spread out in front of him. The light of a single oil lamp sent his shadow monstrously large against one wall of the study. He sat back and motioned her in.

  “I didn’t see you leave the party,” she said, sitting down across from him.

  “I was walking people to the door.” He smiled at her. “You were quite the success. Thank you.”

  She smiled back. “I’m happy to help you.” When he remained silent, she knew she could not. “So what happened between Mr. Staplehill and Mr. Perry?”

  He stretched back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Something very foolish, from what I could see. Staplehill is like a puppy. He needs to be the center of attention. In a dull moment, he brought up something about a girl who’d allowed herself to be compromised. It happened a year or two ago; it all ended well. I have no idea what set Perry off. But he was offended for the girl and her family, and he let Staplehill know about it.”

  “Could this cause problems for your railway?”

  “I don’t think so. But Perry is our biggest investor besides me, and he’s the one with the controlling interest in one of the railways we’ve targeted. I’ll meet with him and make sure everything’s all right.”

  Silence settled between them, and it felt comfortable, as if she could ask anything and he’d talk to her.

  “David, why are you doing this? I mean being so involved in Southern Railway, when it is not something a gentleman does.”

  He considered her. “I’ve already told you that the railroad is important for England’s future. If my money can make it happen, then I want to help.”

  She thought he wouldn’t say any more, but then he spoke in a soft, contemplative voice.

  “Though it’s not true right now, someday any man can help shape the country, and not be looked down on for it. It’s more than just setting policy in Parliament. If I help start it at the beginning, I can show people that a name can have power without a noble title behind it. It’s something to be proud of—that our children can be proud of.”

  “So that they’ll forget the things their grandfather did?”

  He looked out the darkened window. “Yes. Go on to bed, Victoria. I’ll join you soon.”

  David stripped down for bed, forgetting that he usually wore clothes to his wife’s room. He was distracted by how easy it was to talk to her, by the things he’d almost revealed. He didn’t want her knowing every detail of his father’s scandals. He didn’t want those rumors to hurt her. She’d been hurt enough in her life.

  He donned his robe, shrugging at his bare legs. She’d have to see them eventually.

  When he knocked, she answered, and he went in. She was sitting at her desk, writing in her notebook—but not the same notebook, he realized. There on the small table was their old journal, and he’d seen her carry a different color notebook down to breakfast in the morning. How many did she have? And why so many?

  “Am I interrupting?” he asked.

  “Of course not, David.”

  He remained silent as he watched her gaze sweep down his body. Her eyes widened at his bare legs, but she said nothing.

  “Victoria, I—” And then he stopped. What did he want to say?

  She closed the notebook and rose gracefully to her feet. Walking toward him, she asked, “Should I remove my dressing gown, David?”

  He let all his doubts go and just concentrated on her. He traced his fingers down her soft cheeks, then pushed her hair back over her shoulders. “No, I like removing it.”

  Ah, that virginal blush was far too provocative. Maybe his near nakedness was a mistake, for surely his robe was already pushing away out front.

  Chapter 16

  Victoria saw her husband through a haze of want that must be desire. She wanted to be near him, wanted to feel him touch her. It swept through her, burning, and she gave herself up to it. As he unclasped her robe and pushed it away she swayed toward him, barely able to keep from rubbing her chin against his hands at her throat.

  When the dressing gown was gone, his hands didn’t move away. She was wearing the nightdress with the lower neckline, which still didn’t even betray the tops of her breasts. David’s fingers caressed her throat, down into the hollow at the base. She watched the intent expression on his face, the way his eyes looked heated instead of distant. His hands followed the sweep of her collarbones, light touches that crossed between pleasure and a kind of pain she couldn’t resist. When he reached her shoulders, he started inward again, but this time his fingers slid beneath her neckline and traced along it from the inside.

  Her breathing was ragged, her skin so sensitive to everything he did. At first she wanted to look away, but she found herself trapped in his gaze. He watched her every response, and she couldn’t even think about embarrassment or awkwardness. His fingers slid lower as they neared the center and touched the slopes of her breasts and dipped into the valley between. Somehow her hands were on his waist, holding on as if she would sink to the floor if she let go.

  When he pulled his fingers away, she wanted to call him back, but choked on the words as he flattened his hands at the front of her shoulders, and slid down her sides, just brushing her breasts. To her relief, he circled her ribs and moved up again. His large hands cupped her breasts from below, gently lifting their weight in his palms. A low moan escaped her as her nipples brushed lightly against his palms. The most wondrous sensation shot through her body, catching her by surprise.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered.

  That melted her, and she clutched his waist tighter. His voice sounded husky, as if even he had trouble speaking. The ache she’d felt in her breasts whenever he touched her now bloomed into a need so fierce, she didn’t know how to react, what to think. She just stood there as he gently kneaded her breasts until she could feel every caress tugging deep into her stomach, even between her thighs.

  It was she who pulled away this time, stumbling backward as she crossed her arms over her chest. It couldn’t be right to need him this badly, to surrender herself so completely. There were so many things unsaid between them.

  “Did I push too fast?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head. “No. I just never expected—never imagined—”

  She wanted to ask if it always felt like this, but she didn’t want to hear how other women had once made her husband feel.

  “In the end, I’ll touch you even more intimately, Victoria,” he said, and there was a rawness to his gaze that made her feel needed.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “Good night.”

  He turned and walked away, and she let him go.

  When David entered the dining room for breakfast, Victoria was already there, reading the newspaper with a look of concentration that he found endearing. He didn’t see a notebook in sight. Didn’t she always study it to begin her day?

  She looked up at him, and instead of a smile, she
watched him solemnly, her eyes half lidded, a woman contemplating passion.

  She wet her lips, and he watched her mouth. He wished fiercely that this half marriage could be over and a real one begun. The moment lasted long between them, and it was finally Victoria who glanced at the footman and took a deep breath.

  “I keep looking, but I don’t see anything more about the factory bill.”

  David was in a daze as he filled his plate at the sideboard. “We’re still debating it. It might take weeks before it even goes back to committee for revision.”

  Now she was studying him in a way that no longer had anything to do with passion. He inwardly braced himself.

  “I’m still thinking about Mr. Dalton’s dinner party,” she said. “He is a member of Parliament, and perhaps it would help your career to attend.”

  “Victoria, he and I speak every day.”

  “But you don’t speak to all the other people he would be inviting.”

  “I probably do. You have said yourself that you have no fond memories of dinner parties. Last night was the last you’ll have to attend—or host—for a while. I’m sure that will give you plenty of time for your music.”

  They ate in silence for several very long minutes. But his wife was not a woman to dwell in petulance. Before long, she was speaking again as if they hadn’t had a disagreement.

  “I received letters from my sisters today,” she said.

  “And how are Meriel and Louisa?” he asked.

  “Very well, but of course you already know that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She laid her hand on his, and he stilled at her touch.

  “You’ve begun to send them each an allowance.” Her voice was soft, mild, with traces of an emotion he couldn’t name.

  “They are my dependents now, too.”

  “You’re not fooling me, David.” Her eyes glistened as they stared into his. “You don’t owe them anything. You just want to help out of the goodness of your heart.”