To Catch a Countess (7 page)

And then God sent her a reprieve. The clouds yawned, and a torrential deluge of water fell from the sky.

Everyone, including Victoria, ran toward the house. When she reached the door, she was still clutching the mallet and dropped it.

Once inside the house, Victoria kept running. Alexander caught up with her at the bottom of the foyer stairs. He seized her upper arm and whirled her around.

“If you ever do anything like that again,” he warned, “I’ll take you across my knee. Do you understand?”

Frightened, Victoria nodded. She didn’t stop nodding until he walked away, muttering curses.

*    *    *

An hour later, Victoria had changed her gown and brushed her hair. She debated hiding in her chamber for the remainder of the weekend, but the earl’s threat precluded that. She had shown fear and, in order to save face, needed to return downstairs to pretend that he hadn’t frightened her.

Summoning her courage, Victoria forced herself to go to the drawing room where everyone would congregate after drying off. She paused to collect herself and then, hiding her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt, walked into the room.

Spying Alexander sitting with Rudolf and Samantha at a card table, Victoria walked in the opposite direction. She didn’t bother to approach the prince’s brothers but gave them a frosty glance as she passed them.

“Victoria, I want to speak to you,” Duke Magnus called.

Her damn uncle.

Victoria had forgotten that he had seen her trying to injure the earl. Now His Grace would give her a dressing down in front of everyone. Her whole life had been falling apart, one humiliating event after another, since speaking to the earl at the stream yesterday.

Victoria knew she couldn’t prevent a tongue-lashing from the duke. She deserved it, too. Aiming the ball at the earl had been wrong, and she would have to apologize.

Victoria crossed the room. The duke shifted his gaze to a point behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and caught the earl shaking his head at the duke. What did that mean?

“Never mind.” Duke Magnus gestured her away. “I’ll speak with you later.”

Victoria wasn’t about to argue the point. She wasn’t looking forward to a dressing-down in front of guests. It would be best to apologize to the earl now. Waiting meant continued worry.

Turning around, Victoria caught Alexander watching her. When her gaze met his, he looked away and started speaking to her brother-in-law.

On shaking legs, Victoria crossed the drawing room and stood beside Alexander. She waited for him to acknowledge her presence, but he ignored her.

“My lord,” Victoria said softly. When he looked at her, she flicked her tongue out to wet her lips gone dry from nervousness. “My lord, I apologize for trying to injure you. My behavior was inexcusable, and I hope you will forgive me.”

His hazel gaze warmed to her, and the hint of a smile touched his lips. “Are you apologizing on orders from His Grace?”

“No, but His Grace would have ordered me to apologize if he had spoken to me.”

Alexander arched a brow at her. “Are you apologizing in order to prevent a dressing-down?”

“I am apologizing because I was wrong,” Victoria answered, and then tipped her head in the duke’s direction. “I’m certain His Grace will still spare a few minutes out of his busy schedule to give me a dressing-down.”

Alexander smiled at her. Victoria felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

“We wanted to play whist and needed a fourth,” he said, gesturing to her sister and brother-in-law. “Will you play?”

The last thing Victoria wanted to do was play cards. Her inability to distinguish certain numbers would only cause trouble, but refusing the earl’s invitation would appear rude.

“I fear I cannot distinguish the suits without my spectacles,” Victoria hedged.

“You’ll manage.”

“My making mistakes won’t upset you?”

“We aren’t playing for money,” Alexander said. “Relax. It’s only a card game.”

Victoria acquiesced with a nod, and sat across the table from the earl. She glanced at her sister. Samantha wore a worried expression. She knew the danger in Victoria’s trying to read numbers.

Alexander shuffled the cards, set them down for Samantha to cut, and then dealt them. He placed the last card, the trump card, face up on the table before him. “Diamonds are trumps.”

Victoria picked her cards up and felt her stomach flipflop. She had a fair number of sixes and nines, as well as red and black. The reds seemed to be the same shape, as did the blacks. How was she to know which red card was the trump suit?

Victoria wished she had refused the invitation. She glanced at Samantha whose eyes held a question.

Victoria gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. She refused to tell the earl or anyone else about her problem and would muddle through the game as best she could. Never would she even consider admitting to her stupidity.

On her right, Rudolf led the play by tossing a black ten on the table. Victoria stared at the black ten, a one and a zero. She could read that much, but had he tossed a spade or a club?

“Any day now, Tory,” Alexander said with a smile in his voice.

Victoria gave him a sheepish smile. Avoiding the sixes and nines, she tossed a black queen down.

“Tory, are you certain you understand how to play whist?” Alexander asked, stopping the game.

“I play with my sisters all the time.”

“Do you mind if I check her hand?” Alexander asked Rudolf.

The prince didn’t mind, but Victoria did. “Why do you want to see my cards?”

“Pass me your cards,” the earl ordered without giving her a reason.

Victoria handed him her cards. Watching his expression, she knew she had blundered.

“Rudolf played a ten of spades,” Alexander said, irritation tingeing his voice. “You played a queen of clubs, which you are going to lose because it isn’t the lead suit. You could have played the knave of spades and won the trick.”

“I’m sorry,” Victoria apologized, feeling self-conscious. “I did warn you I needed my spectacles.”

Play resumed.

Samantha played the two of spades. Alexander followed her with the four of spades, giving the first trick to Rudolf and Samantha.

Next, Rudolf played a red eight. Hoping to choose the correct suit, Victoria picked a nine and tossed it down. Samantha threw a red three and Alexander the red two.

Rudolf reached to gather the cards. “I won that trick,” Victoria said.

“Eight beats six,” Rudolf told her.

“I played the nine.”

“You played a six,” Alexander told her, sounding more irritated than before. “Let me see your cards.”

With her frustration growing, Victoria passed him her cards. Again, she knew from his expression that she’d made an error.

“Why did you play the six when you are holding the ten?”

“I thought it was a nine.”

“How could you possibly think that?” Alexander asked. “Sixes and nines are completely different numbers.”

“I’m sorry,” Victoria apologized, her voice no louder than a whisper, her complexion a vibrant scarlet. “I must have been holding the card upside down.”

Rudolf started the third round with a red ten. Victoria knew she needed a red picture card to beat it. Was the knave the correct suit?

“Play your card,” the earl said.

Victoria worried her bottom lip with her small white teeth. Then she tossed the knave on the table.

“Good God, Victoria,” Alexander said. “You can’t play a trump unless you have nothing in the suit thrown. Are you trying to lose the game, or are you just stupid?”

The word stupid echoed in her mind. The earl had no idea how difficult life was for stupid people. Like her.

“Don’t call me that,” Victoria cried, fighting back tears. “Find yourself another partner.” And then she swept the cards off the table.

Everyone in the drawing room turned to watch the scene unfolding. Victoria wanted to bolt out the door. Her uncle would certainly give her a dressing-down now.

Alexander relaxed back in his chair and studied her. “Pick the cards up.”

“No.” The word fell like a gauntlet between them.

Samantha leaned down to get the cards, but the earl’s voice stopped her, “Leave the cards on the floor.” When she looked at her husband, Rudolf nodded at her to do as the earl said.

Victoria felt her anger growing. The earl had upset her to the point of losing control, and now he sat there looking as if he had not a care in the world.

“Pick the cards up,” Alexander ordered, a sterner edge to his voice.

“You are not my lord or my guardian,” Victoria informed him. Unable to keep her bitter disappointment from surfacing, she added, “If you want to be obeyed, give your betrothed orders, whoever the unfortunate lady is.”

Victoria knew she sounded like a scorned lover and wished she could recall the words. She flicked a glance at their audience. Their smiles surprised her.

“Apologize to the earl,” Aunt Roxie said.

“Let Alex handle her,” Duke Magnus said. “He will be dealing with her fits for a long time and should start now.”

Victoria stared at the duke, his words confusing her. And then she knew—her uncle was giving her to the earl for his mistress.

Victoria began to tremble. She turned a troubled expression on the earl.

“I should give my betrothed orders?” Alexander said, amusement lighting his gaze on her.

“That is your business.”

“When I give these orders, should my betrothed obey them without question?”

Victoria shrugged.

“Does that mean yes or no?”

“That means I don’t give a fig.” Victoria lifted her nose into the air and turned to leave.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Alexander rose from his chair and walked around the card table to tower over her. “Pick up the cards, my sweet betrothed.”

Victoria couldn’t credit what she had heard. The earl was already engaged. He couldn’t marry two women.

“Are you implying that I am your betrothed?” Victoria stared into his hazel eyes.

“I am saying it, not implying,” Alexander told her. “Pick the damn cards up.”

Victoria stared at him blankly. She would know if she was betrothed, wouldn’t she? “You never asked me to marry you.”

“Your guardians proposed the match.”

Victoria stood there, frozen, as disturbing thoughts swirled around inside her. Her aunt and uncle had proposed the match. Alexander hadn’t even wanted her.

“How long have we been betrothed?” Victoria asked, her voice an aching whisper.

“I’m sorry.” Alexander recognized the pain in her eyes, regretted telling her that her guardians had proposed the match.

“How long?”

“Almost a year.”

“A year?”

In the next instant, Victoria marched across the drawing room to confront her guardians. “How could you?” Her tone mirrored her anguish. “You promised me in marriage but never asked what I wanted. You didn’t even bother to tell me.”

“We thought it for the best,” Aunt Roxie said.

“Stop the theatrics, Victoria,” Duke Magnus ordered. “The match is good.”

“I’m questioning your treatment of me, not the match.” Victoria turned to her aunt. “When is the wedding?”

“June the twenty-fourth,” her aunt answered, obviously flustered. “The invitations will be sent next week.”

“Were you planning to send me an invitation?” Victoria asked, her voice dripping sarcasm. “Is that how you planned to tell me?”

Without waiting for a reply, Victoria advanced on the card table. “And my sisters,” she said, her gaze on them. “When I think of your play-acting yesterday . . .” Then she mimicked them, “Practice your flirting on Alexander. Drop your gaze shyly. Look at him as if he had just placed the world at your feet.”

This last statement earned muffled chuckles from her brothers-in-law, nor did they escape her tirade. Victoria cast a murderous glare on Robert and then looked at Rudolf. “If my sisters knew, then you knew, too.”

“I asked everyone to remain silent,” Alexander said in a quiet voice. “I wanted to give you a chance to grow up.”

“I despise you most of all,” Victoria said, rounding on him. Without warning, she slapped him, eliciting shocked gasps from the gathering.

Catching her around the waist, Alexander lifted her off her feet. Surprise kept Victoria from reacting.

“Don’t touch those cards,” Alexander ordered, tucking her under his arm. He marched toward the doorway. “My sweet betrothed will pick them up.”

Victoria had never seen anyone as angry as Alexander Emerson. She didn’t dare struggle, nor did she give him the satisfaction of crying for help that would not come.

“Open that door,” Alexander growled at a footman when they reached the duke’s study.

Hanging from beneath his arm, Victoria kept her head down and closed her eyes against the humiliation of being carried like a recalcitrant child. She couldn’t imagine what he intended, but he seemed too angry to talk things through.

Marching into the duke’s study, Alexander set her down and closed the door. “Sit in that chair.” When she did, he leaned against the desk and stared at her. “Your actions were childish. You will pick those cards off the floor. Are you listening to me?”

Victoria nodded but remained silent. She refused to look at the triumph in his eyes. He was bigger than she. He would win when strength was the deciding factor, not that she expected him to strike her.

“Do you have anything to say?”

“You called me stupid,” Victoria said, raising her gaze to his. “I told you I’d misplaced my spectacles.”

“You are correct,” Alexander said, surprising her. “After throwing the mallet at me, I mistakenly believed you were losing on purpose.”

“You don’t know me very well if you believed that.”

“We need to become acquainted,” Alexander agreed. “We will return to the drawing room, apologize to each other, and pick the cards up together. Then you will rusticate in your chamber and consider the ways that horrendous scene between us could have played out.”

Alexander offered her his hand, and Victoria did what he least expected. She gave him a tentative smile and placed her hand in his.