Gayle Buck (6 page)

Yet to continue under the same roof with Sir Aubrey and Lord Damion after having been made aware of their monstrously insulting plans for her was repugnant. She heartily wished that she could sweep from the room and with towering hauteur order a carriage from the nearest village. But she knew her immediate finances would not allow her that luxury. Briefly Victoria contemplated an immediate withdrawal to a certain Anglican bishop’s home, where she had left her daughter Jessica, but as swiftly discarded it. She had not yet accomplished her purpose for coming to England and that goal now appeared dependent on Lord Robert’s will, which meant that she needed to remain in the neighborhood until the reading. She hated the thought of being away from Jessica for longer than she had planned, but it was better than subjecting her daughter to the rude treatment she was encountering. In the meantime she would notify her banker of her whereabouts so that she would not again be caught in the same trap.

When she again met Sir Aubrey’s gaze, Victoria’s eyes smoldered dangerously. “It is with the greatest reluctance that I am forced to accept your continued hospitality, Sir Aubrey. Pray do not think that this means I acquiesce in your abominable scheme or that I shall meekly accept further insult!”

Sir Aubrey appeared affronted. “My dear Lady Victoria—”

The oak door was suddenly thrust open. Lord Damion’s eyes flicked over Victoria before he addressed Sir Aubrey. “I must beg the honor of Lady Victoria’s private company, sir. We left our conversation this morning unfinished.”

Sir Aubrey deliberately ignored his hard tone. “My dear Damion, pray do join us. My delightful new niece and I have been discussing the future.”

Victoria stiffened in her chair. Lord Damion closed the door with a snap and his eyes remained fixed on Victoria’s still face as he approached. His walk reminded her forcibly of a large cat, at once lithe and dangerous. A shiver raced down her spine. She had already had a taste of his unpredictability.

“Indeed? Pray enlighten me, Uncle.” Lord Damion’s voice was silken. Gently he swung a beribboned fob from between his long browned fingers.

“Ah, you must wait for the will to be read to satisfy your curiosity, Damion. I am positive that we shall all find it of paramount interest,” said Sir Aubrey. His smile was malicious as his eyes flickered toward Victoria. “I cannot convey how delighted I am that you accepted Lord Robert’s invitation, Lady Victoria. Since he told me of it I have been truly agog to get your measure.”

With a muffled exclamation Victoria jumped to her feet and stood at the grate with her back to the two men. She clasped her hands together tightly, inwardly raging. She could see now that Lord Robert had an ulterior motive for asking her to the Crossing and it galled her that she had been so manipulated.

Lord Damion let drop the eyeglass that was suspended by a black riband at his waist and regarded Victoria with a frown. So she had told him the truth about receiving an invitation from Lord Robert. He suddenly felt very foolish. He had always prided himself on being an accurate judge of character, but he had been entirely in the wrong about Lady Victoria. And as a consequence he had treated her with abominable disrespect.

Sir Aubrey observed them with satisfaction. He rose from the chair with the help of his cane. “You may now resume your discourse, Damion.”

Chapter Six

Lord Damion bowed slightly to his uncle as the older man left the room. He closed the door and with his hand still on the knob looked meditatively across at Victoria, who had turned to face him. Remembering vividly the emotions he had evoked in her and what she had but moments before learned of his character, Victoria met his eyes with proud defiance. “I assume that you have come to belabor me further. Or shall you put a period to my unwelcome existence with my own pistol?”

Lord Damion’s keen eyes narrowed. “I wish to do neither,” he said, crossing the room to stand next to her. He laid a long arm along the top of the mantel. Acutely aware of his eyes on her, Victoria averted her own. Lord Damion said quietly, “My uncle made mention of Lord Robert’s will. Though his lordship did not take me wholly into his confidence, I may guess at Sir Aubrey’s revelations. He was privy to a great deal and has no doubt apprised you of the way things stand.”

Victoria gave an angry laugh. “Oh yes, he certainly did that!”

“I know that it must have come as an unpleasant surprise to you. Believe me, I would never have countenanced Sir Aubrey’s confidences if I had guessed what he meant to do,” said Lord Damion quietly. He abhorred the harshness his uncle had obviously seen fit to employ with Lady Victoria, especially since she was proven a legitimate guest of the family. “I hope you will disregard his abominable lack of tact.”

Victoria looked up at him in astonishment. His tone was not friendly but it was sincere. He even appeared discomfited by his uncle’s absurd suggestion. Victoria felt a rush of happy relief that he had not after all been party to Sir Aubrey’s proposition. He was not the cold opportunist Sir Aubrey had led her to believe him. She smiled tentatively at him. “Thank you for your understanding, my lord. I promise you that it is already forgotten.”

Lord Damion felt a resurgence of his initial liking for her. He had been struck then by her well-bred air and he had to admire her present fortitude in the face of her disappointment. Sir Aubrey had undoubtedly been ruthless in squelching any hopes she may have had about Lord Robert’s will. “I regret the discomfiture you have been subjected to, not the least of which has been at my hands,” he said with civility. “I should not have doubted your word that you had received an invitation to visit the Crossing. Pray accept my sincere apologies. I shall in future remember to treat you with the respect due to a lady.”

Victoria was unexpectedly affected by this fresh illustration of his kindness and felt a sudden prick of tears. Blinking unsuccessfully, she said, “So foolish. I fear this morning has proven singularly unsettling.”

“I quite understand, ma’am.” Lord Damion offered his handkerchief to her and Victoria dabbed at her eyes with the fine lawn. “You will naturally wish to join your friends at Belingham Manor with all speed. Have you spoken to my uncle of your departure?”

“Yes, but Sir Aubrey learned only this morning that Lady Belingham and her daughter are not at home. They have made an unexpected trip to Bath and it is apparently not known when they will return,” said Victoria. “Sir Aubrey has offered to put me up until their return. I hope that you have no objections?”

“My objections no longer exist. I hope our understanding is such that we may forget the past, if you agree,” said Lord Damion. He held out the pistol to her.

“Of course.” Victoria accepted the small firearm and put it in her pocket. She smiled again, unaware of the unusual effect her fine brown eyes were having on him. Glancing down at her stained hem, she said, “If you will excuse me, I’ll repair to my room and make myself presentable once more.”

“I will ask that a maid be sent to you immediately.” Lord Damion walked with her to the door and opened it for her.

Pausing only to send a footman with a message to the housekeeper, Lord Damion accompanied Victoria across the hall to the foot of the stairs. As she ascended the first step, he detained her with a light touch on her elbow. “I have an engagement this morning with the steward, but perhaps later you will allow me the pleasure of acting the proper host and show you the gallery, where hang several portraits of Charles’s ancestors, illustrious and otherwise, as well as some of my own.”

Standing as she was on the first stair, Victoria found that she was almost at a level with him. She caught her breath at the familiar glint in his eyes. Surely Charles had looked at her just so. Without being conscious of it, Victoria drew away from him. “Thank—thank you, my lord. I should enjoy it above all things,” she stammered, and went quickly up the stairs.

Surprised by her emotion, Lord Damion looked after her with a faint frown. Dismissing it with a shrug, he turned away and walked to the study where the steward would already be waiting for him.

Victoria reached her room and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, hands pressed to her warm cheeks. The look in Lord Damion’s eyes, his nearness, had brought a breathless excitement to her that she had not felt in a long time. Vividly she felt again his hard arms and demanding lips.

Victoria shook herself, dispelling the memory with a shiver, and moved away from the door. She put the pistol away in its case. The look in Lord Damion’s eyes reminded her of Charles and only that. She had been too long alone. That was why her breath would catch when she was around Lord Damion. It had little to do with his lovemaking this morning. He simply reminded her too sharply of Charles. With unwarranted irritation Victoria began to undo the buttons on her gown.

A discreet knock came at the door and a maid entered on Victoria’s hail. She bobbed a respectful curtsy. “I am called Mary, an’ it please m’lady. Mrs. Lummington has sent me to wait on your ladyship until your own ladies’ maid should be arranged for.” She came forward to nimbly finish unbuttoning the back of Victoria’s gown.

“I know that you will do very well for my needs, Mary,” said Victoria, omitting that she would not be residing at the Crossing long enough to warrant a dresser. It would be only a few days until the will was read. Then she and her daughter would be together again. And if Lord Robert had written the truth in his letter, little Jessica would be established without question as a March and with every right to her English heritage. But Victoria vowed to herself that if there appeared to be the slightest chance that Jessica would be slighted, she would never tell Charles’s relations of her existence.

“Why, thank you for saying so, m’lady,” said the maid, gratified. She helped Victoria out of the gown and clucked her tongue over the soiled hem. “Proper filthy, it is. Begging your pardon, m’lady, I’m sure.”

Standing in only her thin shift and stockings, Victoria poured water from a pitcher into a hand basin so she could splash her arms and face. “I fear I must agree, Mary. And you will find almost everything in the small portmanteau in the same state. I did not even bother to unpack it. My carriage broke down late yesterday evening and the portmanteau flew into the road, tumbling everything into the mud,” she said as she dried her hands with a soft towel.

The maid pursed her mouth. “Proper shocking, I say. To think of your intimates scattered over the countryside. I will have every last stitch of it laundered, m’lady!”

Victoria laughed in genuine amusement. “Oh, there was no lasting harm done. However, if Lord Damion had not arrived in good time before the downpour, it might have proven far worse. I would now be nursing a putrid throat, I am sure.”

“Aye, for all he’s so cold, m’lord Damion is a proper Christian gentleman,” said the maid. She was lifting the lid on Victoria’s larger trunk and so did not see her new mistress’s look of astonishment. “When the old lord, m’lord March that would be, suffered with his attack, he couldn’t properly move nor talk anymore, leastways so a body could understand him. Oh, didn’t he get fierce when he couldn’t make hisself understood the first time! That was when m’lord Damion began to come for days at a time to help his lordship run this great house. It were his heart, the doctor said, and nothing to be done for it.” The maid drew out a dove-gray gown and shook out the creases. “Here we are, m’lady, this one will do the trick. The others need a bit of pressing.”

She threw the gown over Victoria’s head and smoothed it into place. Victoria began to button the narrow cuffs while the maid did up the back. “How long ago was this?” she asked, curious. Charles had spoken so rarely of the family he had left behind and then had dwelt only on his father’s strict notions of family honor. Victoria had never quite understood why Lord Robert should have cast off his only son and heir for joining the army. But then she had come of yeoman stock and her father, having taken up a military career when young, had chosen to settle in Portugal rather than return to the isle of his birth. His had been a restless mind, open to change, and Victoria had inherited much of his resilience.

“Before ever I came to the Crossing, m’lady. Mrs. Lummington, she could say for certain, but I heard tell it was right after Master Charles ran off to join the army,” said Mary cheerfully. “It tore the old lord up something fierce, but it were the news that Master Charles was dead that brought on his worse attack. He fell over cold as stone and didn’t wake for ever so long.”

Victoria stared at her pale reflection in a tall mirror. Oh Charles! she thought unhappily.

“That were a bad day, no one knowing where to turn until m’lord Damion was sent for,” said Mary. Frowning, she twitched at a stubborn crease in Victoria’s skirt. “It needs a bit of pressing, too, after being folded so long, m’lady.”

“It shall have to do for now,” said Victoria, picking up a hairbrush and giving her curls swift attention. “But I hope that you may have my other gowns and shifts done soon or I shall truly be sunk in disgrace.”

“Do not be worrying your head over that, m’lady. They’ll be clean and pressed before ever the others arrive,” said the maid reassuringly. She handed the cashmere shawl to Victoria. “My, isn’t it a lovely thing.”

Victoria draped the shawl around her shoulders so that it lay in graceful folds. “Before the others arrive? Who might that be?”

The maid looked at her in surprise. “Why, Master Evelyn and his lady and the lawyer, to be sure. Oh, I am forgetting that you have just come.” She glanced around as if afraid of being overhead and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The talk is that his lordship did favor m’lord Damion over Master Evelyn something awful. Well, and why shouldn’t he when m’lord Damion is the elder? At all events, everything will surely go to m’lord Damion and won’t Master Evelyn be in a proper taking! He is filled with vile envy for his cousin m’lord Damion. It’s said we’ll see violence before all is done.”

Victoria now regretted encouraging the maid’s gossip. “Nonsense! I am certain the speculation is greatly exaggerated. Master Evelyn must surely hold his cousin in proper esteem.”