“Goo-noon.” The boy turned into his mother’s skirt.
“Say hello to Miss Victoria. You know her.”
Richard smiled. “Huwoe.”
Victoria squatted down. “Good afternoon, young man. You are getting to be such a big boy.”
Millicent spoke again to Graham. “This is my little one, Ulysses. He’s ten months old.” She deposited the baby into Graham’s unsuspecting arms.
Graham looked as though he wasn’t sure what to do but shifted the child, getting a better hold on him.
“Right this way.” Millicent led them into the parlor.
Stanley greeted them with a kiss to Victoria’s hand and a handshake for Graham.
He was doing quite well with a baby in his arms. He looked like a natural.
The sight warmed Victoria’s heart.
The servants set out tea, scones, strawberry preserves, and clotted cream.
Graham and Millicent sat on the sofa with Richard between them, and Millicent held Ulysses. Graham picked up Richard’s small toy wooden horse from the floor and gave it to the boy.
Richard galloped the horse over to Graham’s thigh and left it there.
Graham galloped it back to the boy.
And back and forth it went until Richard climbed onto Graham’s lap. “Now you.” The boy bounced. “Horsey ride.”
“Richard, get down and don’t bother Mr. Wellington.” Millicent reached for her son’s arm.
“That’s all right. I don’t mind.” Graham took the boy’s hands and bounced him on his knee. “‘Trot, trot to Boston to buy a loaf of bread. Trot, trot home again. The old horse is dead.’” He let his knee drop, indicating the demise of the poor animal.
Stanley leaned toward Victoria. “He likes you, you know?”
“Nonsense. I’m nothing more than an obligation he would rather be rid of.”
“If that were so, he wouldn’t be entertaining your best friend’s child.”
She watched Graham. Could he truly have feelings for her that weren’t associated with his duty?
The nanny entered the room. “I’ll take the children now if you like.”
“Yes, thank you.” Millicent handed over Ulysses.
After a moment of fuss from Richard, the nanny had the three-year-old by the hand and left with her charges.
Graham repositioned himself on the sofa. “Mrs. Amundsen, your son is quite the cowboy.”
“Thank you. You will wear out long before he does.” Millicent pinned Victoria with her gaze. “Do tell him. He has been such a good sport about all this.”
She didn’t want to. Everything would be spoiled. But Millicent was right. Graham deserved to know. She gave her friend a nod of consent to tell him.
Millicent shook her head.
Graham narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”
Victoria’s insides tightened. “I … I have a confession to make.”
He tilted his head. “I’m listening.”
She didn’t want to say but went on. “I told the ladies … that I invited to the party about my predicament.” She took a deep breath. “I told them to be overly attentive to you.” She regretted her actions and hurried on to explain before he could cut her off. “I needed you to understand what it was like for me.”
Graham stared at her. “So the ladies hovering around me was all an act? The Linden sisters? Miss Hudson?” He shifted his gaze to Millicent. “And you aren’t looking for a father for your sons?”
“I’m not opposed to marrying again, but he has to be the right man. You have been a darling, playing with my boys.”
Graham’s jaw muscles flexed.
Stanley chuckled. “I thought something was going on. My sister was quite out of character.”
Victoria hoped Graham would see the humor in this.
Graham stood. “Mrs. Amundsen, thank you for a lovely time.” He left the parlor, evidently angry with Victoria’s deception, and headed out the front door into the rain.
“Oh dear.” He was angry with her.
Millicent waved her hand in her brother’s direction. “Stanley, go after him and explain.”
“He’ll get over it.”
Victoria wasn’t so sure. She rose. “I should go. Could you have Pierce bring round the car?”
A couple of minutes later, wrapped in her cloak, Victoria hastened through the rain to the open automobile door. “Hurry and see if we can catch up to Mr. Wellington.”
Pierce drove faster than normal but still safely.
Not too far down the road, Graham strode along one side. When had she started thinking of him as Graham and not Mr. Wellington?
“Pierce, stop alongside him.”
The chauffeur did.
She opened the door. “Please get in.”
For a breath’s length, she thought he might refuse, but he dipped the water off the brim of his hat in a stream and climbed in.
After Pierce had the automobile traveling at a more reasonable speed, Victoria chanced to speak. “I’m truly sorry for putting you through all that. You didn’t seem to understand how things are for women. I needed you to have the smallest amount of understanding.”
Graham removed his hat and burst out laughing.
She couldn’t believe he was laughing. “I’m pleased you can find the humor in this.”
“I thought about the way the ladies acted. At the time, I was shocked, but now I can see it was playacting.”
“So, you’re not angry with me?”
He shook his head. His shaggy brown hair sprinkled rain droplets inside the automobile. “I’m game for a good lark now and then.”
“But you looked upset.”
“I was trying not to laugh once I figured out the jig.”
Pleased, she settled back in the seat, not bothering to wipe away the rain on her cheek from his hair, which was wavier than usual, being long and wet. She rather liked his untamed appearance. It gave him a roguish quality.
He gave her a rakish smile. “After this, I think I have earned the right to call you by your first name. If that is acceptable with you?”
“Quite acceptable.”
“And you, Victoria, must call me Graham.”
“I would like that, Graham.” She liked that very much. It made them seem less like adversaries and more like friends.
No more than friends.
Chapter 7
Victoria stood before the full-length mirror in her room, inspecting her overall appearance. A slim, black velvet evening gown with black beads and black embroidery accompanied by long black gloves and a black lace fan. She was tired of all this black. But following convention was the least she could do out of respect for the man who had taken her in and seen to all her needs. The physical ones, at least.
A knock on her door.
“Come in.”
Muriel stepped inside. “Mr. Wellington is downstairs.”
“Thank you.” Victoria scooped up the matching velvet shawl and followed the maid out of the room.
She stopped at the top of the stairs to take in Graham’s appearance.
He looked dashing in his formal evening suit, with his wavy brown hair freshly cut. He turned and gazed up at her.
Her breath caught. Handsome popped into her head. Yes, very handsome.
She made her way down the staircase slowly to have reason to keep her gaze on him.
He didn’t smile, only stared. “You … you’re … stunning.”
So he was pleased.
“You look quite debonair yourself.”
“Who have you paired me with tonight?”
“Since the jig is up, I have invited Millicent.” She wrapped her shawl around herself. “My friend will be pleasant company for you. We’ll pick her up and meet Douglas Berg at the theater.”
Graham helped her on with her hooded cloak and escorted her out to the waiting automobile.
An hour and a half later, Pierce pulled up in front of the Bijou Opera House.
Graham assist
ed both ladies out and ushered them inside. He took their wraps and deposited them in the coat-check room.
“Victoria,” someone called from across the lobby.
She scanned the faces to locate Mr. Berg. Instead, her gaze lit on Lord Hugh Claremont, who strode in her direction.
Too late to pretend she hadn’t seen him. But at least she had the excuse of finding Mr. Berg to pull away from him.
Lord Claremont loomed over her. Perfect white teeth gleamed through rosy lips. Something in his possessive smile spoke of victory. “You are a hard lady to gain an audience with.”
For him, on purpose. How many times had she avoided this man’s telephone calls in the past two months alone? And feigned headaches when he came calling? “Seeing to the contents of my uncle’s will has consumed my time.” She gave her closed fan a flourish. “We must be off to locate the rest of our party.”
“Mr. Berg?”
Victoria’s false smile wavered. How did he know? “Yes. Enjoy the show.”
He gripped her arm. “I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Berg won’t be able to make it tonight. He asked me to attend you in his stead.”
No. And she had thought she might actually enjoy this evening.
“Shall we go up to my balcony box?”
She glanced at Millicent and Graham, who both shrugged.
Victoria endured the first half of Rigoletto with Lord Claremont leaning toward her and whispering throughout the performance. She waved her fan toward him. “I can’t hear.” With you hissing in my ear. But he didn’t stop.
At intermission, she fairly jumped from her seat and latched on to Millicent’s arm. “Shall we go to the ladies’ powder room?”
“Yes.” Her friend hurried out with her, understanding Victoria’s need to escape.
After the entr’acte, Victoria dreaded returning to Claremont’s box. “Do you think the men would notice if we didn’t return?”
“Only if they both have gone suddenly blind. Even then, I think they would be aware of your absence. You made it through one half, you can make it through the other.” Millicent took her arm. “The second half will be better. I promise.”
It couldn’t be any worse, and she was that much closer to the end of the evening and returning home. She took a deep breath. She could manage. The opera was half over.
The men met her and Millicent in the lobby and escorted them up the stairs.
Behind her and Lord Claremont, she thought she could hear Graham grumbling. Then Millicent giggled.
Once in the box and preparing to sit, Millicent spoke in a slightly raised voice. “Mr. Wellington! That is a wholly inappropriate comment.” She turned. “Victoria, do trade seats with me.”
Her friend didn’t give Victoria a chance to respond before slipping around her and sitting in Victoria’s seat next to Lord Claremont’s.
Victoria smiled and quickly sat next to Millicent. That left the seats on either side of the ladies for the gentlemen. Graham sat next to her.
Lord Claremont’s scowl showed his displeasure, but he sat without complaint when the lights dimmed.
As the curtain rose, Graham whispered, “I didn’t say anything improper to her.”
“I know. She is giving me a reprieve from his lordship.”
“Very kind of her.” After a pause, he continued, “You were gone a long time. I thought you might have slipped out a side door.”
“Millicent wouldn’t let me.”
He chuckled softly.
A soothing sound.
After the show, Graham retrieved their coats from the cloakroom. He helped Millicent on with hers first.
Pinning Victoria with his gaze, Lord Claremont shrugged into his overcoat. “I’ll drive you home.”
She didn’t relish the idea. “I have my automobile and chauffeur.”
“Mr. Wellington can use them to take Mrs. Amundsen home.”
She didn’t like the way he was making decisions for everyone. Nor did she know how to turn him down without ruffling his feathers too badly in public and causing a scene. She would definitely be thought of as unseemly then.
Graham draped her cloak around her shoulders. “As one of Miss Dewitt’s solicitors, I am duty bound to be her escort until all the stipulations of the will have been met and dealt with.”
Very smooth. She fastened her wrap at her neck as she spoke to his lordship. “Thank you for your offer. Good evening.”
Lord Claremont scowled.
She smiled back as she turned to exit with Graham and Millicent. What she had wanted to say to Claremont was Go away and stop bothering me. He would not have taken that well and probably would have perceived it as a challenge.
Fortunately for her, she had her protector, Graham.
Sitting behind the desk in the library, Victoria growled softly and wadded the letter.
“Something wrong?” Graham sat across from her.
“That is the fifth one.”
“The fifth what?”
“Rejection. I don’t understand. All the schools I applied to have turned me down. Stating that they don’t have need of an additional teacher at this time or that their budget can’t support another teacher. I even spoke to several parents who were interested in piano or French lessons for their daughters, and they have all declined my services as well. They were all so enthusiastic before.” She had hoped to have a placement secured before Christmas and start after the first of the year.
“I’m sorry.”
She pinned him with a stare. “Truly. Now you can say that you told me I wouldn’t be able to work. What did you say? ‘Your kind of people don’t know what hard work is.’ Or something like that.” That he, of all people, thought poorly of her hurt most of all.
“That’s not true. I was hoping you would gain employment.”
“That is hard to believe. You’ve been pushing the marriage angle.”
“But I agree that none of the gentlemen are suitable for you.”
At least they could agree on that. She pulled out a sheaf of blank papers. “I will make a new list of potential pupils.” She rummaged in the desk drawers for a fountain pen. Bother. She hadn’t left one of hers in here. No matter. She thunked an inkwell onto the desktop then dug through her uncle’s myriad of expensive nib pens. She held up her prize, an ebony-handled metal-tipped nib pen inlaid with mother of pearl. The one her uncle never allowed her to use. She opened the well and dipped the pen.
Graham leaned forward. “Is this really necessary? Go to the schools tomorrow and make inquiries. Shall I do it for you?”
She appreciated the indignation in his voice. “Not necessary. They each made it perfectly clear in their letters that they would not be hiring me.” She thrust the letters, even the crumpled one, across the desk to him and went back to her list.
He would obviously never consider himself a candidate. Her uncle had fortunately not put any stipulations on what kind of man or his station she must marry. Graham could be considered right alongside Lord Claremont or a chimney sweep. But far more appealing than either.
She turned back to her task of finding employment. A couple of possible student names came to mind as well as an academy for boys. She touched the pen to paper. It scratched rather than flowed. Redipped. More scratching. She rotated it a little this way and that. A splotch of ink puddled on the paper. Holding the instrument up to the light, she noticed the tip was damaged.
She stared, turning it around and around, watching the light glint off the defect. Was this why her uncle never permitted her to use it? Why hadn’t he said so? Rather than making her feel as though she wasn’t good enough?
“These are an outrage.” Graham slapped the letters back onto the desk. “You might have grounds to sue them.”
She set the pen aside. “Why would I want to work at an establishment where I had to force them to hire me?”
“When you put it that—”
Foster opened the sliding library doors. “Mr. Frye is here to see you both.”
<
br /> Victoria glanced at Graham. Had he known his grandfather was coming today?
Graham shrugged.
She returned her gaze to the butler. “Show him in.”
Graham stood.
The old man crossed the room with more agility than Victoria had expected and sat in the vacated chair. He flapped his hand about. “Pretend we have dispensed with all the greetings and pleasantries.”
Graham shifted to sit on the corner of the desk. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“I come with disturbing news.”
She couldn’t imagine what would be more distressing than being forced to marry.
Mr. Frye opened his mouth to speak but said nothing for a long moment as though considering his words. “First, tell me your interest in Lord Hugh Claremont.”
“Interest? I have no interest in him.”
“Then you are not considering his lordship as a suitor?”
“Certainly not.”
“Very well. Stanley Browning came to see me.”
Victoria blinked, trying to catch up with the subject changes. Disturbing news. Then Claremont. And now Stanley. Why had Mr. Frye come? Did he even remember himself? “What did Stanley want?”
“He was paid a visit by Lord Claremont.”
That connected two of the three. “Why would Lord Claremont do that?”
“He asked Mr. Browning to stay away from you. If he knew what was good for him. A veiled threat if I ever heard one.”
And that connected the third. Disturbing news, indeed. “Why didn’t Stanley come to me directly?”
“Well, he obviously felt it was enough of a threat he didn’t feel safe to approach you.”
Victoria eyed the pile of rejection letters and pulled them toward her. She shuffled through them then shook them in the air. “He did this as well.”
Graham twisted toward her. “I doubt that.”
“I don’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“This is exactly the kind of thing he would do to get his way. He knows all the prominent people who send their daughters to those schools and is either friends with board members or on the boards. So he would have known before I even left Boston. His title carries weight. And I’ll bet he asked Mr. Berg to go away as well so he could take his place at the theater.” She had tried to be nice but not anymore.
The American Heiress Brides Collection Page 12