Creeping towards the door, she remembered the broken glass and tested each spot with her tiptoes before setting her foot down. Because fumbling for the doorknob in the dark took longer than she would have liked, Victoria kept praying – no not praying. God would no longer answer her prayers. Instead she kept hoping that Tristan wouldn’t awaken.
She couldn’t face him yet.
Once she found the cool knob, Victoria pressed her ear against the door. Met with nothing but silence, she cracked the door open with a faint creak of its hinge.
Several seconds passed as she peered through the small gap she allowed herself. It was dark, save for a few flickering wall lamps illuminating the hallway, and Victoria suspected it was later than she originally thought.
What if one of the servants heard us? An icy panic surged through her veins at the thought of shaming herself in her brother’s home.
Stop it! Her conscience screamed at her. Your ruin means nothing compared to Gwen’s suffering.
Her conscience was right. Gwen was all that mattered. Victoria clutched her ripped bodice as she snuck down the dim hallway towards the sanctuary of her own bedchamber, ticking off the facts in a quick staccato. The lamps remained lit. The servants hadn’t ventured to Tristan’s wing, probably because they expected him to check on his sister throughout the night.
Gwen … please be all right.
By concentrating on the only person who mattered, her sister-in-law, Victoria was able to keep her emotions in check until she heard muffled voices down the expansive hallway. Victoria darted into her suite just in time to hear her maid stating, “His Grace asked me to check on his sister before retiring.”
Closing her door in silence, Victoria headed into her dressing room. Hastily removing her gown, she flung it along with the items she’d been carrying into her wardrobe before grabbing her dressing robe. Only after she had tied the sash did she slam her wardrobe doors shut and re-enter her bedchamber.
Just in time to hear Meg’s faint knock.
“Lady Victoria,” Meg whispered as she opened the door a crack then peered through it.
She then caught sight of Tori, who was trying her hardest to look innocent of any wrongdoing. And the intimacy she and Tristan had shared on this night indeed qualified as such.
Victoria was certain she would rot in hell for all eternity as her cheeks burned under Meg’s close scrutiny.
“I am sorry to disturb you, Lady Victoria,” Meg’s tone was tender. “His Grace asked me to check on you. He is sorry he sent you away, my Lady.”
“How is Gwen, Meg?” The thought of her dear friend caused tears to well in Victoria’s eyes.
“Her Grace is still with us,” Meg replied as she prepared her mistress’s bed for the night. “His Grace won’t leave her side, God bless the man.”
Victoria swallowed hard. Words couldn’t form past the lump in her throat. In one night, everything had changed and now, even if Gwen did survive, Victoria’s actions would hurt everyone she loved. She had disgraced herself in her brother’s home and would bring scandal to him and his family. Slumping her shoulders, she began to sob.
“Oh, dear me,” Meg approached her mistress.
Meg was a kind, thin woman ten years Victoria’s elder. Her husband had been a groundskeeper until he passed away five years ago. It was around that time that she and Victoria had become friends. Most improper for a Lady and her maid, however Victoria cared not for propriety. She never had and her lack of restraint on this particular night cost her dearly.
Meg hugged Tori. “Don’t cry, Lady Victoria. Oh, dear me.” Meg patted her mistress on the back. “It’s not too late for Her Grace. As long as she is alive there is hope.”
Victoria clung to that possibility with all her might as she pulled away. “I’m sorry, Meg, I am a bit emotional tonight. Pray, tell me how is Sebastian?”
“He finds comfort in Her Grace’s presence. I believe the fact that she is still breathing fortifies his resolve.” Meg patted her mistress’s knee. “I must admit that it is you I am now most concerned for.”
Her kindness humbled Victoria because she didn’t deserve Meg’s compassion.
“No, it is Gwen who needs our concern, our prayers,” Victoria squeezed her eyes shut, in desperate need of solitude. “May I have some privacy, Meg?”
Meg nodded. “Take care of yourself, Lady Victoria. Ring for me if you need anything.” She walked to the door then stopped, her hand resting on the brass knob. “Ring for me, even if you wish to talk.”
Victoria wiped her eyes. “Thank you, but I will be fine—”
“You must promise me,” Meg’s voice, now authoritative, startled Victoria, causing her to look directly at the kind woman. Reflected in her maid’s eyes was an expression of … oh, dear God in heaven.
Meg knows.
But how and did anyone else?
Unmitigated panic must have been evident on Victoria’s own visage because Meg was quick to explain.
“I saw you approaching from his wing.”
Victoria’s knees went weak, causing her to collapse onto her window seat. She clutched herself as a chill seeped within her core.
“I didn’t know whether I should say anything but you appeared so distraught.” Meg crossed the room before sitting beside her friend.
“Does anyone else—”
“No, just me. That is why I raised my voice when Winston approached. I wanted to give you enough time to enter your rooms.”
Victoria squeezed her friend’s hand. “Thank you, Meg.”
“Would you like to discuss it, Lady Victoria?”
Tori pulled away from her, looking into Meg’s hazel eyes, now brimming with understanding.
“I shouldn’t,” guilt and shame pulsated through Victoria’s veins. “How selfish would I be? Talking about myself when Gwen …”
She couldn’t finish her statement. Victoria didn’t want to accept Gwen’s fate any more than Tristan.
“I am not here to judge you,” Meg assured her. “I think you need someone and I am here for you.”
“Tristan was beside himself with grief, fear and rage when he exited Gwen’s suite. When Sebastian excused me, I set out after him.” Victoria combed her hands through her knotted hair. She could still remember how Tristan’s hands tousled her locks during their intimate act.
“I have loved him for so long, Meg. I convinced myself that he loved me, too.” Victoria buried her face in her hands. “I was so very wrong.”
“There, there, my Lady,” Meg said in a soothing tone, patting her mistress’s back. In a split second, her tone turned steely-edged. “That no good, rotten son of a whore!”
“Meg!” Tori jerked free, studying her friend with wide eyes.
“What?” Meg asked, “The most extraordinary woman I know loves him and that man is too stupid, or too stubborn, to see it. Or perhaps it’s a combination of both. You never know with men.”
Wiping her eyes, Victoria couldn’t help but grin at her friend’s loyalty.
“You should be glad I used that term instead of some of the others I have learned,” Meg smoothed her skirts. “Rory has quite the colorful vocabulary and much of it is not suitable for polite society.”
“I can imagine,” Rory was their stable hand and Victoria suspected he knew many unflattering words, although how Meg knew of them was a question unto itself.
Meg patted her on the head. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“My lips are sealed,” Meg promised her. “However, you have much to mull over. After all …” her voice trailed off and her cheeks turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. “I don’t know how to say this, but … what if you are with child?”
Dizziness washed over Victoria and she could feel the color drain from her cheeks. She had yet to consider that particular scenario.
“I’m sorry I said anything,” Meg wrung her hands.
“No, you’re right. I do have much to consi
der,” Victoria crossed the room, leaning against her grand mahogany footboard for support.
Holding on for dear life was more accurate.
“Good night, Meg. Thank you”
Meg curtsied before shutting the door behind her, leaving Victoria alone with her thoughts.
Tristan’s words again filled her mind. I will marry you, but I will never love you. It all made perfect sense now. Tristan would marry her because she may be carrying his child.
Why had she not considered this? Grabbing one of her pillows, Victoria threw it across the room missing her dressing table by mere inches. What a fool she’d been and she had no one to blame but herself. That ridiculous scheme she concocted to make him love her – how could she ever have believed it would work? Why did she ever think that he would revert to the man he had been? For that matter, was Tristan ever the man she thought him to be?
Cold, hard and brutal reality battered her like the heavy winds that churned the last time she visited the coast. Fitting, since she felt as if she was teetering on the edge of a steep cliff.
What if she had wrecked her life for an illusion? A man who never existed, a man Tristan was incapable of being?
I will marry you, but I will never love you.
That was his decision, not hers. Did Victoria wish to marry him now? True, she could be carrying his child but, then again, her mother had taught her enough about human biology to know that she might not be with child from this one encounter.
Was Victoria prepared to torture herself for the rest of her life, loving a man who would never return the sentiment? Spending each day with him, aware that he married her only because he felt obligated to do so?
Then there was the matter of Tristan. How would he feel if she weren’t pregnant? Victoria suspected that he would feel trapped and would despise her for it.
What kind of life would that be for either of them?
Victoria settled upon her mattress, reaching for another pillow. This one she clutched against her chest as she recalled what transpired in Tristan’s suite. A deep-rooted passion emanated from Tristan’s gaze, from his every touch. How could she possibly have been so wrong, so delusional, so presumptuous as to think he loved her?
Shame, sharp and hot, sliced Victoria’s conscience like a blade searing it until she was sure that she could no longer stand the pain. She had allowed Tristan to do so much to her.
She had done so much to him!
When she remembered the way she kissed him, explored him, undressed for him … even now, her skin burned from his touch, her feminine core still ached from his intimacy, her mouth and breasts were still swollen from his ardent kisses.
Enough of this!
What a selfish person she had become. Worrying about herself when Gwen was close to death. Victoria had never before felt so irresponsible. On this night, she had let numerous people down including Sebastian, Gwen, and herself.
In spite of the deaths of her father and mother, the worst Victoria ever had to overcome was her father’s abuse … hiding it from her mother and brother who tried so hard to protect her until the fateful night when Mama discovered Papa in Victoria’s room.
But Victoria had done as her mother bid. She kept secret what happened on that night. It was the same secret her mother had taken to her grave. Victoria had taken her mother’s advice and eventually healed, the years following that terrible event filling her with happiness and security until tonight, when her world had splintered apart in a matter of hours.
Ominous clouds hung heavy above the estate as a howling wind once again whipped the hard rain around the brick and limestone structure that was her home. In immediate response, Victoria’s chest tightened.
Everything was changing, as if the storm itself was thrashing her about, weakening her once-sound footing. Even though her life appeared to be the same, all she once held dear now seemed like a distant memory.
Was it just this morning she had been playing with Nicholas and Emma outside in the warm breeze? Now, Victoria wondered if the sun would ever shine again. If it did, would Gwen ever open her eyes to see it?
Dear God, please save Gwen’s life.
After what Victoria had done tonight, the sin she committed, a chill of dread crept over her. She had no right to ask God for anything though Victoria would bargain with the devil himself if it meant saving her sister-in-law’s life.
Let me burn in hell for the sin I committed tonight, but please save Gwen.
* * *
The moon illuminated Tristan’s suite in an opaque glow when he awakened to find his arms empty. He rolled onto his side then searched the shadows to no avail.
He was alone and his heart sank at the realization.
It was real, wasn’t it?
Or had it been an illusion?
He sat, a sharp pain radiating within his stiff back. It was the second time in as many days that he had awakened in physical pain. He cursed himself for choosing the hard floor, of all places, to sleep though, upon further recollection, Tristan was reminded that he hadn’t intended upon sleeping there.
Scanning the shadows, he could discern the remnants of the furniture he had broken and the scent of a snuffed candle. He mustn’t have slept long.
Tristan’s blood pounded in his temples as he stood, wrapping the coverlet around his waist. Once on his feet, he carefully made his way to the dresser and fumbled to light the gas lamp that rested upon it.
It cast a golden glow upon the chaotic room. Tristan ignored the mess, instead searching for a note from Victoria.
There was none.
If something had happened to Gwen, Victoria would have awakened him, would she not?
Tossing the bedding onto his mattress, he stepped into his breeches and buttoned them before glancing at his pocket watch.
Several hours remained before dawn.
Not about to call for his valet at this time of night or under these circumstances, Tristan instead grabbed his shirt from the floor before noticing the many wrinkles upon it. No, it would not suffice. Instead, he tossed it aside and pulled another from his wardrobe. As an afterthought, he found his boots and tugged them on with force before venturing out to see his sister, glass crunching beneath his feet.
As his muffled footsteps bounded down the carpeted halls, he again thought of Victoria’s desertion. He didn’t know what he had expected when he awoke, though it didn’t involve waking up alone with a stiff back and without one word from her.
He reached Gwen’s suite to find Sebastian asleep in the chair next to her bed. Striding silently over to his sister, Tristan sat in a vacant chair on the opposite side of the bed noting, as he took her hand in his, that it had warmed since he last held it.
This must be a good sign.
The fireplace was still aglow, the cinders crackling. Though Victoria had lit a lone candle, there had been no fire in his own suite, as he had preferred obscurity. Not once had he noticed the chill because Victoria had kept him warm.
Sebastian stirred.
Lovely, Tristan noted with disgust. Not only did he just seduce the man’s sister but he was now reveling in her naked splendor while in Sebastian’s presence.
“Are you all right?” Sebastian’s words sliced through the thick silence.
“How I am is of no significance,” Tristan assured him. “How is Gwen?”
“Dr. Danbury checked on her about,” Sebastian paused, glancing at his pocket watch, “twenty minutes ago and said she was better than he expected.”
“Of course, he thought she would die at any moment,” Tristan muttered.
“Yes, and thank God Gwen has not,” Sebastian stretched his arms above his shoulders. “The specialist will be here soon. We should know something more once he examines her.”
Properly admonished, Tristan said no more. Instead he leaned forward and kissed Gwen’s hand, remembering her last conversation with him.
You want a family.
Although he had been too stubborn to admit the truth
to her at the time, his sister had been correct. He did indeed want a family. In fact, it remained his dearest wish buried deep within his tortured soul.
Tristan contemplated all that transpired between him and Victoria. If he considered it hard enough, Tristan would be compelled to admit that he knew precisely what he was doing by filling her with his seed.
He’d felt an overwhelming thirst to possess her since their first kiss. Was their indiscretion his only way to get what he wanted? It allowed him to marry Victoria without having an emotional attachment to her, without opening his heart or compromising his pride.
At some point last evening, it became clear to Tristan that he needed Victoria. No, it was more than that. It was an urgent, insatiable desire that intensified until he thought it might kill him. He tested her, pushing her away repeatedly, yet she never relented. Not once because, somehow, Victoria understood him.
That was why Tristan had to have her. It had been a deliberate decision, one comprised of pure selfishness. Tristan knew that once he penetrated Victoria, there was no turning back. Once he filled her with his seed, she would belong to him.
He glanced towards Sebastian, wondering if his brother-in-law had any idea what Tristan had done to the man’s sister. No, Sebastian was a mess – unshaven, eyes wan, hair mussed. Clearly he had been preoccupied with his wife all evening.
“You look like hell,” Tristan muttered.
Sebastian raised his brow. “You’re one to talk.”
For the first time in his life, unadulterated shame knotted within Tristan’s abdomen. Desperate for a change of topic, he suggested, “Why don’t you get some rest? I shall sit with Gwen until you return.”
His brother-in-law kissed Gwen on her forehead. Stroking her hair, he whispered, “I love you, Duchess.”
How was it possible that the words and emotions came so easily to some? Take Sebastian and Gwen, for example. Weren’t they afraid that they would get hurt? Tristan knew the answer.
The Skilled Seduction Page 10
