To Catch a Countess

by Patricia Grasso

  “Come, Diana,” Venetia said. “Let’s leave Alex to deal with this.”

  After they’d gone, Alexander sat down on the settee and stretched his long legs out. His wife was magnificent in her fury, but she had better direct that anger at someone else. Unlike her uncle, he would not tolerate her temper tantrums or rudeness to others.

  Leaving the library to dress for the evening, Alexander walked through the connecting door into his wife’s chamber. Victoria sat on the chaise and stared into the darkened hearth.

  Was she angry? Hurt? Or both?

  Alexander knew that Victoria knew he was there. She refused to acknowledge his presence.

  Crossing the bedchamber, Alexander stood beside the chaise and stared down at her. Several moments passed before he realized she would not look at him no matter how long he stood there. Her petulance irritated him.

  “Will you be accompanying me to the opera?”

  Victoria turned her head, her gaze frosty. “I do not wish to intrude in your opera box.”

  “As you wish.”

  * * *

  After eating a lonely dinner, Alexander left the house and climbed into his carriage. He had planned to attend the opera, but the widow would most likely show up. He had no interest in encouraging her pursuit of him, especially since the gossip columnist from the Times would comment on his wife’s absence. Reading that in the newspaper would hardly help douse the flames of their argument.

  “Drive to White’s,” Alexander called to his coachman, taking himself out of harm’s way.

  A short time later, Alexander walked into White’s Gentleman’s Club. What he needed was a drink. Several, in fact. Spying his brothers-in-law sitting together at a table, he crossed the room and dropped into a chair at their table.

  “Whisky,” Alexander growled when a waiter appeared beside him. He looked at Prince Rudolf. “I wish they served your vodka here.”

  Prince Rudolf and Robert Campbell looked at each other. “I believe His Lordship has argued with his wife,” the prince said.

  “It certainly appears that way,” the marquess agreed.

  Alexander gulped his whisky and grimaced at his brothers-in-law. “My former mistress abandoned my daughter at my home today.”

  “Which one?”

  “Suzette.”

  “Ah, the ballet dancer,” Robert said.

  “Tory is upset?” Rudolf asked, struggling against a smile.

  “My wife wants to keep the girl,” Alexander complained, eliciting their laughter.

  “That makes three for three,” Robert said to the prince.

  “What do you mean?” Alexander asked.

  “The Douglas sisters never met a stray they didn’t want to keep,” Prince Rudolf said. “Take my advice and surrender to the inevitable. Make a place for your daughter in your home.”

  “Society will frown upon this.”

  “You are bedding down with Tory at night, not society,” Rudolf said.

  “My six-year-old Daisy is mine by a former mistress,” Robert admitted. “Angelica abducted the girl from her negligent mother. Of course, I had to part with a small fortune in order to keep her, but the peace in my domestic life was worth every pound.”

  “My adopted sons, Grant and Drake, are orphans that Samantha and I found on a road in Scotland,” Prince Rudolf said. “Go home to your wife, and do not argue again until she is pregnant.”

  “There’s more to the situation than Darcy,” Alexander confessed. “In the midst of the afternoon’s turmoil, Venetia and Diana Drummond arrived and urged me to return the girl to her mother. Their meddling incited Victoria to rudeness. Her rudeness incited me to reprimand her, which, in turn, incited her to anger.”

  “Apologize to Tory and tell her that your daughter stays,” Prince Rudolf advised him. “She will forgive you.”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  Prince Rudolf grinned. “I have a spare bedchamber at my house.”

  “I know Venetia is your sister,” Robert said, “but she may not have your best interests at heart. I do believe the widow is angling to make you her lover. Beware of those two plotting to destroy your marriage.”

  “You are right about the widow,” Alexander said, rising from his chair, “but I cannot credit their plotting against Victoria and me.”

  Thirty minutes later, Alexander returned to Grosvenor Square. He climbed the stairs to the third-floor and wondered if his wife’s anger had kept her in her own chamber that night. Sleeping alone was out of the question, and he intended to lay down the law about that. No matter what passed between them, he wanted his wife beside him at night.

  Alexander walked into his chamber and stopped short. His wife was sleeping in his bed. Stripping down, Alexander slid into the bed and drew his wife into his arms. She wore nothing, too.

  “How was the opera?” Victoria asked, her eyes opening when he touched her.

  “I passed the evening with Robert and Rudolf at White’s,” Alexander answered, as her eyes closed in sleep. “Tory?”

  “Yes?”

  “I apologize for my behavior.” His lips hovered above hers. “Darcy can stay.”

  He pressed a kiss on her lips. Sighing, she entwined her arms around his neck and returned his kiss. Their naked bodies melted together from breast to thigh.

  “What made you change your mind?” she whispered.

  “You were exhibiting the quality I most wanted in a wife,” he answered.

  “What is that?”

  “An abundance of maternal instinct to nurture my children.”

  “Alex?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “I need money to take Darcy shopping tomorrow.”

  Alexander drew his head back to look at her beautiful face. “What about your allowance?”

  “Gone.”

  “Good God, Tory. Today is only the eighth day of July,” Alexander said. “How could you have squandered your allowance in eight days?”

  “I spent it on your Christmas present,” she told him.

  “Christmas present? It’s only July.”

  “This present will take months to finish,” Victoria said.

  “What is it?”

  “A surprise.”

  “I refuse to give you another shilling until the first day of August. You must learn to manage your money.”

  “Very well, I’ll tell the shopkeepers to send you the bills,” Victoria said.

  Alexander laughed. Just before his lips claimed hers, he whispered, “You are an incorrigible brat.”

  “My aunt should have mentioned that before you married me.”

  “She did.”

  Chapter 10

  “Please teach me the other two strategies,” Victoria begged the Philbin brothers.

  “Lady Victoria you have not progressed enough with the first strategy,” Phineas Philbin told her.

  “I may never progress to your satisfaction,” Victoria said, her frustration rising.

  Two weeks had passed since she had last seen her tutors. Her new daughter, Darcy, had kept her busy, but Victoria had taken an hour each day to practice the first strategy, b is d as in did.

  “I apologize for my waspishness,” Victoria said, fanning herself. “This heat has darkened my mood.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” Phineas assured her.

  “We understand your frustration,” Barnaby added.

  “You are the hardest worker we’ve ever seen,” Phineas told her, “but we warned you the progress could be slow.”

  “My head aches with defeat,” Victoria said. “If you teach me the other two strategies, I will practice two hours a day instead of one.”

  The Philbin brothers looked at each other. Barnaby shrugged, and Phineas nodded.

  “We will give you three more strategies,” Phineas said.

  “You will need to master all the strategies before we can progress to others,” Barnaby warned her. “Your pleading will not change our minds.”

  Vic
toria smiled, eager to learn. “I promise not to press you for others.”

  “The first strategy was b is d as in did,” Phineas said. “The second strategy is the reverse, d is b as in baby boy.”

  “D is b as in baby boy,” Victoria repeated.

  Phineas handed her the parchment with the now-familiar sentence on it. “Read this, my lady.”

  Victoria placed the parchment on the table near the window. She read haltingly, her finger pointing the way, each syllable becoming a separate word. “At nine in the morn-ing, the bark-ing dog saw in the dark bog.” Victoria smiled. “The sentence makes sense. I really did it.”

  The Philbin brothers smiled at each other. “The sentence makes sense,” Phineas said, “but that is not precisely what is written.”

  Victoria lost her smile.

  “There are two more strategies,” Barnaby said. “When you see the word saw, read it as was.”

  “Saw equals was and was equals saw?”

  Barnaby nodded. “Six is nine and nine is six.”

  “Forget about the numbers for now, my lady,” Phineas advised her. “Too much at once will only confuse you.”

  “B is d as in did,” Victoria chirped. “D is b as in baby boy.”

  Both Philbin brothers smiled and nodded.

  Victoria looked at the parchment. Again, with her index finger pointing the way, she read aloud. “At six in the morn-ing, the bark-ing dog was in the dark bog.”

  “Bravo!” The Philbin brothers clapped with approval.

  “I read,” Victoria said, her voice filled with awe. Tears welled up in her eyes and brimmed over to roll down her cheeks. “I’m so happy.” She rose from her chair. “Do you think I’ll able to read a bedtime story to my husband’s daughter?”

  “Not soon, my lady,” Phineas said.

  “Someday,” Barnaby added.

  “I will dwell on today’s victory and remain optimistic,” Victoria told them. “I’ll see you in a week or two.”

  Victoria stepped outside into the bright sunlight and opened her parasol. The afternoon was unusually warm. As she walked down Oxford Street, Victoria regretted not taking the carriage, but she didn’t want anyone to know where she went on Thursdays. Her only consolation for walking in the heat was the mingling flower fragrances that permeated the air.

  “Is my husband at home?” Victoria asked, entering the foyer almost an hour later.

  “His Lordship had an appointment,” Bundles answered.

  “Where is my daughter?”

  “Mistress Darcy is in the garden with Mrs. Pinky.”

  Victoria walked upstairs to her bedchamber to freshen up and change her gown. She took her magic wand off her dresser and crossed the chamber to the window.

  Darcy and Pinky sat together on a bench shaded by a silver birch tree. Pinky looked hot and Darcy looked bored.

  Victoria left her bedchamber and hurried downstairs. “Darcy,” she called, stepping into the garden.

  The little girl smiled and waved. When she reached the bench, Victoria said, “Pinky, you appear wilted. The house is cooler than the garden. Go inside and rest.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” the nanny said, and returned to the house.

  “I’ve brought my magic wand.” Victoria held it up. “I will teach you how to use it.”

  Darcy clapped her hands together. Victoria felt an insistent tugging on her heartstrings as she gazed into hazel eyes that resembled her husband’s. Lord, but she loved Alexander. Victoria didn’t think that any woman could love any man as much as she loved her husband. Too bad her husband didn’t love her.

  “What’s wrong, Mama Tory?”

  “Like you, everything is perfection. Do you want to learn to use the magic wand?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “Point the wand at what you wish, make a circle, and then point it again,” Victoria explained. “Point, circle, point. While you do that, you must think of your wish.”

  “What if I want something that can’t be seen?” Darcy asked.

  “Point the wand at the sky, make a circle, and then point at the sky again,” Victoria said, demonstrating. “Recite these magic words: ‘Fairies and pixies, come to me. Fairies and pixies, hear my plea. Send a—blank—straight to me. Fairies and pixies, thankee, thankee.’”

  “Mama Tory, what’s a blank?”

  Victoria burst out laughing and hugged the five-year-old. “Blank is the word I used to fill the space where you say your wish. Do you want to try?”

  Darcy stood and accepted the wand as if it was the king’s scepter. Looking skyward, she pointed and circled and pointed. “Fairies and pixies, come to me. Fairies and pixies, hear my plea. Send a sister straight to me. Fairies and pixies, thankee, thankee.”

  Victoria clapped in approval for a job well done.

  Darcy passed her the wand. “How long will the fairies and pixies take to grant my wish?”

  “A sister is a very big wish that might take some time.”

  “Lady Victoria, there is a woman in the foyer demanding to speak to you.” Bundles drew her attention as he hurried across the garden. “The woman brought an older woman and a girl with her.”

  “That’s my sister,” Darcy cried. “Those fairies and pixies do fast work.”

  Victoria glanced at the five-year-old and refused to believe what her instincts were screaming. It could not be what she was thinking.

  “Come, Darcy.” Victoria took the girl’s hand. “Let’s see who has come to visit.”

  With the majordomo following in their wake, Victoria and Darcy returned to the house. Walking into the foyer, Victoria knew she would be replaying the scene she had with Suzette.

  The woman was blonde and exceptionally beautiful. In an instant, Victoria compared herself to the woman and found herself lacking. She shifted her gaze to the child, a blond girl, who appeared around five years, and an older woman, who perched on the bench where Pinky and Darcy had sat.

  “Are you the Countess of Winchester?” the woman asked.

  “Yes.”

  The woman dropped her gaze, boldly inspecting Victoria. When she lifted her gaze again, the blonde smiled as if she also found her lacking.

  Victoria stiffened at the unspoken insult. “Mister Bundles hires the scullery maids.”

  “I am an opera dancer not a maid,” the woman said, her voice haughty.

  “How may I help you?”

  “Tell His Lordship that Maeve is returning one of his gifts. The opera dancer gestured to the girl. “His daughter Fiona.” At that, the woman quit the foyer.

  Victoria didn’t bother to chase after her. Instead, she crossed the foyer to the girl, who clung to her nanny. Crouching down at eye level with the child, she said, “Your name is Fiona.”

  The girl nodded.

  “Fiona means light hair.” Victoria stared into hazel eyes that resembled her husband’s.

  “How old are you?”

  “Five.”

  Victoria glanced at Bundles, who appeared scandalized. “And who is this woman holding your hand?”

  “Nanny Hartwell.”

  “Do you know who lives in this house?” Victoria asked.

  Fiona shook her head.

  “Your daddy lives here,” Victoria said. “I am your daddy’s wife, and that girl is your sister.”

  “My wish came true.” Darcy began to dance around the foyer, chanting, “Fairies and pixies, I love you.”

  “Come here.” When Darcy approached, Victoria said, “Fiona, I present your sister Darcy, who is also five-years-old.”

  Fiona smiled at her sister. Encouraged, Darcy hugged the other girl and kissed her cheek.

  “Do you like vanilla pudding with strawberries?” Victoria asked.

  “Yes, she does,” Darcy answered for her sister.

  Victoria stood then and offered her hand to the older woman. “Welcome to our home.” She turned to the majordomo. “Send a footman to bring their bags upstairs. Then serve us vanilla pudding with strawberri
es in the dining room. Tell Pinky to help Hartwell settle.”

  Victoria and Darcy sat on either side of Fiona. Darcy kept up a steady stream of chatter.

  “Mama Tory is daddy’s wife,” Darcy told her sister. “She is our fairy godmother and even has a magic wand that makes wishes come true. I wished for a sister, and then you came. If you are a good girl, Mama Tory will teach you how to use the magic wand. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Darcy stopped eating her pudding to give her sister a sideways hug. “I am very happy you’ve come to live with us.”

  Fiona gave her sister a shy smile.

  Victoria looked over her shoulder toward the doorway. Alexander stood there. His expression said he was trying to gauge her reaction to Fiona.

  “My lord, come and see who has joined our domestic tranquility,” Victoria called, a sarcastic edge to her voice.

  Alexander crossed the dining room but paused to greet his daughters. “Welcome home, Fiona.” He kissed the crown of her blond head. Next he kissed Darcy. “I am glad that you have met at last.”

  Alexander glanced at the majordomo. “Deliver the girls to their nannies and close the door when you leave.” He sat down beside Victoria, gave her a sidelong glance, and ate the remains of his daughters’ pudding.

  “You have nothing to say?” Victoria asked.

  “I’m eating pudding because I don’t know what to say,” Alexander admitted. “Except, those affairs happened long before I met you.”

  “Two women gave birth to your children in the same year,” Victoria said. “How do you explain that?”

  “Virility?”

  “This is no joking matter.”

  “You are correct,” Alexander said, “but what has been done cannot be undone. I cannot fault you for being upset.” He lifted her hand to his lips and planted a kiss on it. “I had a wild year when I was twenty-three. Two mistresses informing me of my impending fatherhood was a bucket of cold water tossed in my face. I mended my ways and never took a mistress again.

  “I support them financially, of course. When I learned Charles Emerson wasn’t my father, I understood how heartbreaking it was never to know your own father. I began to visit my daughters a few times a year. I hope you will forgive me.”