by Gayle Callen
Victoria followed his gaze, and to her shock, David was walking toward them, rain speckling his face and evening coat. He was easily the tallest, most powerful-looking man there. And he was…hers. She felt foolishly satisfied by that. Did that mean she was falling in love with him?
For a moment, she thought he was angry. How had he discovered her plan?
And then that display of his emotion was just…gone, wiped off his face as if it had never been there. He nodded to Lord Wade, took her gloved hand and brushed a kiss on the back of it. Lord Wade was showing the open curiosity she was feeling, but David didn’t respond to it.
“Lady Thurlow, forgive me for being late,” he said smoothly.
“Nice to finally see you here, my good fellow.” Lord Wade betrayed a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Thank you for amusing my wife.”
David spoke blandly, but Victoria noticed that Lord Wade’s eyebrows shot up, and his grin became wider.
“Any time,” Lord Wade said.
Then finally David met her questioning gaze, but he said nothing. She knew he would never say anything in public, but she didn’t know what to expect when they returned home. And she welcomed their coming discussion. He had to see the logic of her position. Somehow she would explain it to him.
Two by two, people began to press forward to speak to them. David remembered to introduce her each time.
Soon a man pulled David away, and Victoria was left with one of the wives, Lady Walcot. The woman rattled on about the lovely evening, and the beautiful painting on the wall above them. Victoria nodded at the appropriate points, but her gaze followed David as she admired the easy way he spoke with people. She was so proud of him—proud to be with him. Was this love?
The switch in topic came so suddenly that Victoria almost missed it. Lady Walcot was forced to repeat herself.
“Lady Thurlow, is Banstead House still as grand as it used to be?”
“It is a wonderful home, my lady, but I never visited it before my marriage, so I cannot truthfully answer.”
“I, of course, never attended one of those…parties,” she hastened to say.
She emphasized “parties” as if they were a forbidden pleasure.
“My young cousin Humphrey attended. Such stories he brought home—” She leaned forward, blinking eagerly through her eyepiece. “The women—so scantily clad!”
More scantily clad than tonight’s ladies—like Victoria herself—with necklines that displayed so much? Perhaps Lord Banstead’s guests had not been proper women? Her eyes sought out her husband again. She could only imagine how he felt having such things occur in his own house.
He was speaking to a tall young woman, with very dark hair and very pale skin, who was staring up at him intently with a look that Victoria found…confusing.
Lady Walcot was still talking, but Victoria only caught the end.
“And the piano! Surely it was burned afterward.”
“The piano in the drawing room?” Victoria said, remembering Miss Fogge’s similar conversation. “I cannot be certain, but surely it is old enough to be the original. Burned, you say?”
To Victoria’s regret, Lady Walcot reddened and excused herself. As Victoria turned to watch the older woman leave, she realized why—another woman was approaching.
The woman David had just been speaking to.
Victoria smiled up at her, suddenly feeling very short and very plump. But very intrigued.
“Good evening, Lady Thurlow,” the woman said. “I know I should have waited to be introduced, but David—Lord Thurlow—would surely want us to meet. I am Lady Sarah Palmer.”
“How pleasant to meet you,” Victoria said, hoping that it would be.
They curtsied to each other.
“It’s good to see that Lord Thurlow has finally married,” Lady Sarah said in the sweetest voice. “I did worry about him after…well, you understand.”
Victoria smiled. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
Lady Sarah tilted her well-coifed head, and feathers fluttered. “You did not know that my father adamantly refused when Lord Thurlow asked permission to wed me?”
“No, I did not,” Victoria said, wondering how David felt that this woman even dared to speak to him again. Or were they both still heartbroken over her father’s decision? There were so many ways that she could act on such news. “It must have been dreadful for you.”
“It was far worse for Lord Thurlow,” the woman said.
She oozed a compassion so sugary that it set Victoria’s teeth on edge.
“For I was the second woman to have to refuse him.”
Victoria must be falling in love, because her heart hurt for poor, proud David. What would make any family refuse a future earl, especially someone as wonderful as he was?
But Lady Sarah was no lady, to discuss such things with David’s new wife. The woman was waiting patiently like a spider for Victoria’s reaction.
“Lady Sarah, though it was such a dreadful thing to happen to you, do tell me you have found a husband at last.”
The woman’s smile grew faintly pinched. “I have. I’m engaged to the Marquess of Cheltenham.”
“Then I hope you are as happy as I am with my dear husband. No man could be as sweet. Do thank your father for saving David for me.”
“Did I hear that someone saved me?”
Victoria gave a start as David took her elbow. He looked between her and Lady Sarah with interest.
Lady Sarah only curtsied and moved away at a pace that tried for languor but only showed speed.
David looked down at Victoria, one brow raised in question.
Victoria smiled. “I told her to thank her father for saving you for me.”
He only had time to betray surprise because dinner was loudly announced.
“I have to escort someone else to the table,” he said in a low voice, bowing over her hand.
“That’s all right, David. I understand how important rank is. I’ll join you after dinner.”
Victoria was relieved when David rode inside the carriage with her, leaving his horse to be tied up behind. She’d hoped they could speak about the evening, but instead the strained silence between them was dreadful. Throughout dinner, although they had sat almost a table length apart, she had an unimpeded view of him. And he had a much closer, unimpeded view of Lady Sarah.
No wonder he didn’t like to attend these events, when he had to meet up with women who’d rejected him.
“David.” She said his name softly, her voice stark in the dark carriage. Did she dare put her hand on his arm?
But it was as if he was just waiting for her to speak, for he stiffened and said in a low voice, “When I first arrived, I noticed that Wade was ogling your breasts.”
Stunned, she stared at him. “This is what you want to talk about first?”
“Might as well begin at the beginning of the evening,” he said.
“David, I am short. All men look down at me when we speak. Besides, Lord Wade is your friend after all. And I did not ask the dressmaker to lower this neckline!”
He roughly turned her toward him and parted her cloak, baring her upper bosom to his angry gaze.
“I let it go because I thought I could view you in private,” he said.
She remained still, letting him look his fill. “Then did you expect to keep us both locked away, where no one would ever see me dressed for the evening?”
After a frozen moment, when his hot gaze remained on her chest and she wondered with a thrill of excitement what he meant to do with her, he looked up at her face.
“All right, I’m not making sense. You know I haven’t kept you locked in the house. I’ve even purchased an opera box because I know how you like music.”
“Oh, David,” she whispered helplessly.
“But tonight I had to chase you down. I felt like a fool.”
“You didn’t look like a fool,” she murmured, her face hot. “You looked like a man who’d…recovered. And
if you want to be upset about such silly things, maybe I should be upset that I had to find out in such a public manner that you’d asked two other women to marry you.”
“You can see now why I thought I’d spare you such evenings.”
“You mean spare yourself from having to tell the truth.” Victoria couldn’t believe she was talking like this, after she’d begun the evening on a lie in the first place! “Were you worried I would meet people who would reveal Banstead secrets?”
“As you have already seen, there are no secrets among the ton. But I’ll tell you another one. Lady Sarah was not only congratulating me on my marriage, but she was offering herself on the side.”
Victoria frowned at him and pulled her cloak closed. “Offering…herself?”
“As my mistress, or however else she would want to amuse herself.” He suddenly looked tired. “My, what a pleasant evening, wasn’t it?”
“She would do such a thing in public?” Victoria asked, aghast.
David touched her hand where it rested on the bench, smoothing her fingers through the gloves. “You are such an innocent, Victoria.”
“You didn’t have much innocence growing up,” she whispered, not wanting him to stop touching her, but afraid to lose this chance for honest conversation.
“No.” He looked out the darkened window as if he could see something. “After my mother died, my father found a mistress rather quickly, and moved her right into the house.”
She tried to withhold a gasp, but in the lamplight she saw David’s bitter smile.
“An understandable reaction,” he said. “You can see why a duke would not wish his daughter to marry me.”
“But that was your father’s doing!”
He looked at her intently, and she couldn’t say anything over her heart’s terrible pounding. She wanted to take him into her arms, to comfort him the way only a wife could.
“Of course it was my father’s doing,” he continued quietly. “We’d never had much of a relationship, and the mistress killed it completely. She would throw parties, invite the most unsavory of guests. My father indulged her, trusted her. Hell, he must have loved her, becauses he had the run of the house, even when he was away from London. He didn’t know about the worst of these events, but I did. And the ton knew, and never let me forget.”
She wanted to shield him from what she’d heard, but she knew he wouldn’t like it.
“Lady Walcot mentioned the parties, and the ’scantily clad women.’ It’s not the first time I’ve heard something like this.”
He sighed. “It’s been five years since his mistress died. You’d think such speculation would eventually end, but it never will. I’m sorry you had to be subjected to it. I wanted to protect you.”
“I know.” She touched his arm, and he didn’t pull away.
“Now you know why Southern Railway has been so enjoyable for me. Those directors only care about my money, and the power I can wield. It’s refreshing.”
She sighed. “Can I ask one more thing?”
“Of course.”
“Lady Walcot also asked if the piano had been burned.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Thoroughly cleaned, yes, but not burned.”
“What happened, David? I’d rather be prepared when people speak of it.”
“One of Colette’s friends—Colette was my father’s mistress—became so inebriated that she removed her clothes while dancing upon it. Then she sat and accompanied herself while she sang opera. She was quite talented,” he added mildly.
Victoria could not imagine baring herself before dozens of people. She would surely die from the shame. When that woman had awakened the next day, had she been overcome with remorse? Or hadn’t she cared?
He sighed. “You’re scandalized, as I knew you would be.”
“No,” she said firmly, knowing her own secrets were much worse. “I’m trying to imagine how that woman felt the next day.”
A sad smile tilted one corner of his mouth. “Always worried about everyone, aren’t you? Then worry about my character, because I hid behind the ferns and watched her whole performance.”
“How old were you?” she whispered.
“Sixteen.”
“Oh, David, you were still but a child, traumatized by your mother’s death—”
“I wasn’t a child, Victoria. Not by then.”
He removed his hand from under hers and went back to staring out into the blackness. An occasional gas lamp illuminated shadows beyond his profile. With aching eyes she refused to let find relief in tears, Victoria could only watch him and worry.
For the first time, he didn’t come to her bedroom that night. Only then did she cry.
Chapter 19
Victoria came down to breakfast alone. She knew David had not left the town house yet, but he didn’t join her, either. To her surprise, his father did.
Nurse Carter positioned his wheelchair at the table, then curtsied as she took her leave.
Victoria smiled at the old man. “Good morning, my lord.”
He only harrumphed, then had a footman bring him ham and eggs. Surely that was more than he’d eaten in a while, and she held her breath as he dug in. By the time he’d eaten a few bites, it was obvious he still did not have a healthy appetite, but it was a start. If he took better care of himself perhaps he could hold off the consequences of his illness for a while longer.
He looked up and caught her watching. “The dinner party a success?”
She wasn’t sure how he meant the question, so she just answered truthfully. “Not really.” She hesitated. “Lady Sarah Palmer made certain to introduce herself to me.” She glanced at both footmen, and they wisely bowed and left the room.
Though the earl scowled, she thought she saw a flash of pain and guilt in his eyes. “Never much to say for the girl. Somehow landed herself a marquess.”
“But not your son.”
“No.” He swallowed and sat back. “The boy was devastated. I wouldn’t see that it was my fault until—until recently.”
She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t stop.
“I found a woman to keep me company in my old age. I had to pay her, but that didn’t matter. Every man pays the woman in his life in some manner.”
He looked away, and the gesture reminded her of his son.
“David didn’t understand,” he continued. “I don’t blame him. I thought the ton wouldn’t care what I did, that an earl was above any petty gossip. Even after he married you, I still didn’t realize what I’d done.”
She stiffened. “You were angry at him—at me.”
He gave a grudging smile, something she’d never seen on his face. “For a while.”
“Why don’t you talk to him about these things?” she asked gently.
“It’s too late. He’ll be rid of me soon enough. Things will be better between you.”
“You are not standing between us,” she insisted.
He shrugged. “Get me more eggs, girl. I find myself hungry today.”
Later, after the earl had been wheeled away, Victoria debated her strategy for her marriage. She was not deterred by David’s stubbornness. She deliberately left her household journal at his place at the table, knowing he hadn’t eaten yet. Then she went off to visit her mother, who expected a report on the dinner party.
As David walked down to breakfast, he was still berating himself on how late he’d risen. It had been difficult to sleep, knowing Victoria was just next door, waiting for him. But too much had happened last night, and he didn’t know what to think about it all. He hated that she knew some of his secrets, and couldn’t decide if this strange sensation was relief or just further confusion. And who was he punishing by staying away from her room—her or himself?
She was already gone from the dining room when he arrived, and it seemed very empty without her. But at the head of the table, one of her notebooks had been deliberately placed. Victoria had been trying to get him to read their old journal, though this wa
sn’t it. Maybe this was a new tactic.
He filled a plate, then pushed the notebook aside to begin eating. But his gaze kept darting back to it, and finally he opened it and flipped through several pages. The first date was the day he’d proposed to her, and so began list after list of everything she felt she had to do to prepare for the wedding. He sensed fear and relief and…something else, something hidden.
He forgot that thought as she related her attempts to soothe her troubled mother. Soon his father was thrown into the narrative, and with Victoria’s frustration came a stubbornness he admired. He could see her thrill at her first success, when the old man didn’t force her to leave his room.
How decent of him, David thought bitterly.
But as he got close to the last written page, going past menus and scribbled music notes and lists of wedding presents, he saw that she’d somehow reached his father.
David could feel it within the house. The tension had eased, and being at home wasn’t fraught with waiting anxiety. He’d hoped for this when he’d married her, and he’d succeeded. She’d succeeded. He didn’t feel good about using her.
Then he realized that there was nothing in her notebook about him. Wasn’t their marriage worth writing about? He remembered the different notebooks he’d seen spread on her desk. She was giving him a glimpse of her life with this one book, but wasn’t letting him see her truly personal thoughts.
She was trying so hard to be a wife to him, and he was selfishly trying to keep everything just the way he wanted it. She was attempting to cross a line to reach a compromise, and he was holding back like a coward.
It was his turn to give something back. If it meant so much to her, he’d take her to the duke’s ball tonight, and anywhere else she damn well wanted to go. She’d heard some of the worst about his past—at least the public scandals. And she didn’t despise him or his family. She didn’t seem hurt by it all, except…on his behalf.
But there were other ways he could hurt her, if he wasn’t careful.
Victoria was giving her mare a carrot when she felt someone watching her. She turned around and knew it was David, silhouetted against the brightness outside the stable door. She felt a thrill at his very presence, followed quickly by trepidation. Had he read her journal? Did he understand that it was time for him to try to reach his father before it was too late?