He couldn’t help but smile slightly now as he recalled the expression on Victory’s face earlier when she ate her first mouthful of the orange sponge pudding his cook had provided for their dessert. Victory hadn’t spoken a word during the eating of the first or second helping of that rich concoction.
Having now given his instruction to his butler regarding night attire for Victory, Gabriel was not best pleased to find her seated in the high-back leather chair situated behind the desk in his study. She was unapologetically looking through one of the ledgers he had been working on earlier in the day. Ledgers she had no business even opening.
He straightened to his full height of several inches over six feet. “Spanking you would no longer be appropriate.” Although several of the ladies at Club Venus had expression pleasure in the act with some of the gentleman with whom they spent the night. But that was a sexual pleasure, something Gabriel should not even be thinking about when it came to Victory. “And how dare you interfere with the things on my desk?” He scowled pointedly at the ledger open in front of her.
She shrugged unapologetically. “It’s as well I did, when a brief glance has shown the figures in these columns to be incorrect.”
“What do you mean?” he amended sharply.
She glanced coolly across the desk at him, her short curls gleaming myriad colors in the candlelight, from chestnut to ebony. It was such an unusual hairstyle for a woman, and yet at the same time totally becoming to Victory as it framed and enhanced the delicacy of her features, that Gabriel wondered if she might not start a new fashion—
How could she possibly start a new fashion when she would never appear in Society!
“I meant what I said,” she said calmly. “These numbers do not add up correctly.”
Gabriel scowled. He had totted up those figures several times this morning before putting in the total and now this—this woman who was barely more than a child was daring to dispute its correctness.
“But I should like to commend you,” she continued decisively, “for the generosity you show toward the…ladies in your employment.” Her gaze was almost shy as it now met his. “The ladies who work on the streets are treated abominably by the men who are supposed to care for them.”
Gabriel’s throat moved as he swallowed. “And you know this because…?”
Her cheeks became flushed. “Because I have witnessed their suffering firsthand, and the bruises they cannot hide, not because I have ever been one of their number.”
“I did not mean to imply otherwise and am fully aware of the protection you have received from your mother,” Gabriel assured hastily. “In regard to the payments given to the ladies who choose to reside at Club Venus, I do not see why, when a woman is forced to sell the one thing she possesses that is her own, she should not receive the full monies paid for having done so.”
“Many would not agree with you.”
“Then those people would not be welcome in Club Venus. Are you certain that my figures are incorrect?” He moved to stand beside her so that he could see the columns of numbers in the ledger.
“Oh yes.” Victory nodded. “Your total is short by almost ten pounds. I believe the mistake was made here.” She pointed to a place in the debit column.
Bending close so that he might focus on the numbers better, Gabriel became aware of the clean aroma of her curls, along with the sandalwood soap she had been given with which to wash the months of grime from her body. Even dressed in the manly shirt and pantaloons, Victory maintained that exquisite beauty which continued to take Gabriel’s breath away.
Her excellent table manners were as much of a contrast to where she had been forced to live as her pristine white teeth and speech had proven to be.
“You are perfectly correct,” he murmured slowly seconds later as he straightened, feeling slightly stunned at the revelation. Mathematics might not have been his best or favorite subject at school, but he had thought himself more capable of addition than this.
Victory beamed her pleasure at his affirmation. “There are several mistakes on previous pages too.”
“I have never enjoyed mathematics,” he admitted ruefully.
Her eyes widened. “But they make perfect logical sense. Ten added to five will always be fifteen, and so on.”
Gabriel smiled at a memory of his lessons at school. “Not if it is ten oranges and five apples. Then it would still be a separate ten and five and not a total of fifteen.”
She shrugged. “It would if it was fifteen pieces of fruit.”
There was no arguing with that logic. And perhaps he had found something Victory could do, at least temporarily.
But they would have their talk before he broached that subject.
“Let us start as we mean to go on.” He looked down at her sternly. “Which means you are to sit on the other side of the desk, and I shall take up my seat on this side.” His brows were raised expectantly.
Victory gave a small giggle as she stood to move round the desk and sit in the chair there. When she looked up, the haughty duke had taken his seat in the high-backed leather chair in which she had made herself comfortable earlier. “What is it you wish to know, Your Grace? I do believe that I have already told you all there is to know about me.”
“Tell me again.”
Chapter Seven
Victory obediently related the happiness of the years she had lived in Cornwall with her mother and grandfather, with her father too when he was home from the navy.
“Do you remember him?” the duke prompted.
She frowned. “Of course. He was a loving man and always laughing. He was also tall and dark-haired. Hair color I inherited,” she added dryly.
Blackborne glanced at the halo of dark curls about her face. “So I see, although you do not have his stature.”
Her brows rose. “As I said earlier, we cannot all be as toplofty as you, Your Grace.”
He smiled ruefully. “I cannot decide whether you meant that as a compliment or an insult—and perhaps it is better that I do not know,” he added when Victory gave another chuckle. “Now, describe your mother for me.”
All humor faded from Victory’s countenance. “She was the kindest, most loving mother anyone could wish to have.”
“I am sure she was,” the duke acknowledged softly. “But I meant for you to describe her physical appearance.”
Victory’s chin rose. “Still worried that you might have had a hand in fathering me?”
“I believe it would be another part of my anatomy entirely that would have been involved if that were the case.” He rose noisily to his feet. “And why is everyone obsessed with the idea you might be my child? Winter asked me the same question,” he supplied impatiently when Victory looked at him enquiringly. “I will tell you the same as I told him: I was not sexually active at the age of twelve or thirteen, which is the age I would have been when you were born.”
She shrugged narrow shoulders. “Even so, your interest in the matter is…curious.”
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. “Would it hurt you to satisfy that curiosity? Without, if you please, casting further aspersions upon my character?” He mocked her earlier comment.
Victory could see nothing but mild curiosity in the duke’s expression. And yet she sensed there was far more to his questions than he wanted to admit. “My mother was my height, red-haired where my hair is dark, but with the same green eyes.”
She did not understand the look of profound relief which flickered across the duke’s face, although the reason for that became clear as he continued talking.
He nodded. “For many years now, I have been searching for my fair-haired and blue-eyed sister, Elizabeth, and the child she was expecting when my father disowned her and ejected her from our home. I have not set eyes on her or her child, nor heard news of them since,” he explained huskily. “Elizabeth’s child would now be aged nineteen.”
“The same as me,” Victory realized. “I am so sorry I am not her, Your G
race. I have no doubt having you for an uncle would have been miraculous.” Although her attraction and awareness of Gabriel might have made that a little awkward. A little? It would have made it incestuous!
“No matter, I will continue to look for my sister and her child,” he assured. “Now, continue. You said the years you have spent in London have been less enjoyable than your happy childhood in Cornwall,” he prompted gently.
Victory turned to stare sightlessly across the room. “My mother and I did not starve, nor were we ever molested, physically or sexually, although all of our belongings were stolen at one time or another. Our personal well-being was maintained only by my mother’s close vigilance and determination. There were many occasions when I thought we should lose that fight, especially when gentlemen began to take notice of me when I reached the age of ten,” she added bleakly. “Then my mother came up with the idea of cutting off my long hair and dressing me as a boy. By that time, I could speak the Cockney as well as any of them. The two together ensured that I remained unharmed from all but the worst predators, and once we moved to St Giles, Jimmy and his pals would step in and help save me from the more determined of those.”
“He tried to sell you, or someone like you, to me earlier,” the duke recalled coldly.
She smiled slightly at his obvious disapproval. “Jimmy was only assessing your intentions, you being so obviously out of place in St Giles. I think if you had requested to buy me, or someone like me that you would have received suitable punishment from Jimmy and his friends. He’s a little rough around the edges, but his heart is in the right place.”
The duke winced. “Perhaps I should ask Winter to go and look at the wounds I inflicted upon Jimmy and the others.”
This time, Victory chuckled aloud for several minutes. “I really cannot see that haughty gentleman strolling around St Giles in search of your victims,” she finally managed to explain when the duke looked at her enquiringly. “Do not worry, Jimmy and his associates have received much worse than the few scratches from your sword and survived.”
“Even so…” Gabriel felt slightly guilty for his aggressive behavior earlier, now that he knew it had been in Victory’s defense. “I will see that several hampers of food are delivered to Jimmy tomorrow.”
She nodded. “And he will not keep it but ensure it is distributed to the most in need in St Giles.”
“A modern-day Robin Hood!”
Victory chuckled. “He would cringe with embarrassment to hear you say so, but yes, he is always ready to help those worse off than himself.”
Gabriel nodded distractedly. “What are we to do with you, Victory?”
She tensed. “What do you mean?”
He grimaced. “Well, I cannot return you to St Giles—”
“Why on earth not?” she challenged.
Gabriel stood, unwilling to keep his distance when he could see how much his questions had unsettled her. But he had needed to ask them. His awareness and attraction to her demanded he further confirm that the two of them could not possibly be related in any way. The explanation as to the reason for those questions was the least he had owed her, considering how personal those questions had been.
He now leaned back against his desk, mere inches in front of her. “Let me rephrase that—you will not be returning to St Giles,” he stated in a voice that brooked no further argument.
“Well, I’m too old to go to school, nor do I wish to become an apprentice to a blacksmith or work in a stable.”
He sighed. “None of those things will do now that I am aware of your true age and gender.” He studied her from between narrowed lids. “This evening, you have shown an ability with numbers.”
Her smile was rueful. “I do not believe anyone would employ a female bookkeeper.”
“Or secretary, as a rule,” he acknowledged. “But in view of the money you have already saved me today once I have adjusted the figures in my ledger, I would be willing to make an exception.”
Victory gave him a sharp glance. “I do not… What do you mean?”
Gabriel did not at all care for the wariness of her expression. “I am in need of a secretary to assist me with my ledgers and keep my daily calendar in order.”
“What happened to the last one?”
He frowned his confusion. “Last what?”
“Secretary.”
Gabriel eyed her steadily. “We ate him for dinner this evening.”
“We—!” Victory made a gagging noise in her throat, her eyes narrowing as the duke began to laugh. “Oh, you think you are so funny, don’t you, Your Grace.” She stood to poke an accusing finger into his muscular chest. “Well, do not expect me to be as tender to eat as your last secretary!”
Dear God…
The mere thought of eating this young women, of having his lips on her pale and silky flesh, of tasting and lapping up the nectar between her thighs, was enough to cause Gabriel’s cock to once again engorge and pulse painfully against the front of his pantaloons.
Something Victory was standing too close to see as yet, but must surely become aware of if she took a step back or moved closer so that their bodies touched.
The fact he had now confirmed beyond a doubt that Victory could not be his niece, as the mother she had described was most certainly not his sister, Elizabeth, was not helping Gabriel to control the attraction he felt toward Victory. His sister had been fair-haired, with blue eyes. She had also been at least five inches taller than Victory’s diminutive height.
But having that knowledge was no reason for him to give in to the temptation Victory represented to his normally rigid self-control.
Gabriel clasped his hands together so as not to act upon that attraction, fingers linked so tightly, the bones showed white beneath the flesh. “Perhaps we have talked long enough for this evening?” he suggested as he saw Victory was trying to suppress a yawn.
He doubted it was boredom but more likely to be as a result of these past twenty-four hours having been so traumatic for her. She was also clean, warm, and her belly completely full for what was probably the first time in a very long time.
“Everything appears less…troublesome after a good night’s sleep, I have found,” he suggested kindly.
Victory gave an inelegant snort. “I don’t remember the last time I dared to relax my guard enough to have one of those.”
No, Gabriel would imagine that living in St Giles was not conducive to having a relaxed and happy night’s sleep, even with Jimmy to watch over her and her mother. “You may rest easy here tonight.” He placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Tomorrow, I will arrange for some dresses to be delivered so that you may start to wear clothing suitable for a young lady,” he added ruefully.
Those green eyes gleamed with mischief. “Anyone would think you do not approve of me wearing a man’s linen shirt and pantaloons.”
“I do not.” But it was not, Gabriel inwardly acknowledged, for the reason Victory no doubt assumed it was.
The shirt might only hint at the curve of her breasts, but the pantaloons fit against her hips and thighs like a second skin. Outlining the mound and cleft between her thighs.
A mound that would no doubt be covered in a dusting of the same dark curls as were upon her head.
In truth, this rapidly increasing physical awareness of Victory came as something of a surprise to Gabriel. He could not remember the last time he had felt attracted to any woman, let alone as intensely as he now did Victory.
He had assumed this lackluster sexual interest in recent years to be because he owned and ran Club Venus, where an overabundance of desirable women were always available for his pleasure, if he so wished. He never had. It did not sit well with him to think that a woman was with him out of monetary obligation rather than a mutual desire.
But after several months of having a complete disinterest in sex, he was now aware of everything about Victory in a way he could never remember being with any woman before.
Every delicious curve of her
was etched into his brain and a constant enticement for his throbbing cock.
The darkness of her hair. Her porcelain complexion. Dark brows over emerald-colored eyes. The pert nose between high cheekbones. Those pouting and ripe-cherry-colored lips above a pointed chin that spoke of her stubbornness. That lithe and delectable body.
“Go to bed, Victory,” he bit out harshly. “You— What on earth are you doing?” He reared back as he felt the softness of those bright red lips press against his cheek.
Victory felt the blood draining from her own cheeks as she stepped back, one hand raised to her throat in alarm. “I’m sorry I— I always kissed my mama good night, and as you have become something of a guardian to me.”
His eyes glittered down at her intently. “I am not a guardian to you. Nor shall I ever be. Do you understand?” The duke grimaced. “Nor, thank God, are you my niece. If you were either of those things I could not do this!”
With the tears still blurring her vision Victory didn’t see the darkening of the duke’s eyes or the lowering of his head, only felt, and then gasped, as his mouth came crashing down on hers and his arms pulled her close against him. Making her fully aware of the long length of his arousal pressing and throbbing hotly against her abdomen.
Victory had spent many years hiding the fact she was a woman so that she might become the boy that allowed her to pass unnoticed. She had tried to suppress any feminine desires too. But Gabriel Templeton, the Duke of Blackborne, had always aroused a wanting, a yearning inside her, and an ache between her thighs.
The moment she felt Gabriel’s lips in gentle exploration against her own before his tongue swiped across and then between them into the moist heat of her mouth, that desire took possession of her with the force of a tidal wave.
He held her so tightly against him, their bodies were melded together from breasts to thigh. So much so that it was impossible for Victory not to be aware of every hard ridge of his cock pulsing against her softer flesh in the same uneven rhythm as his heartbeat. As evidence he felt that same desire she did.
Gabriel's Torment (Regency Club Venus 2) Page 6
