To Catch a Countess

by Patricia Grasso

  “Get her out of my sight,” Alexander said to the others, though his voice cracked with emotion.

  “What about the girls?” Victoria cried, clutching his legs.

  “You are unfit to be anyone’s mother.”

  A shriek of unspeakable pain escaped Victoria, doubling her over, sending her brothers-in-law rushing forward. Prince Rudolf reached her first and lifted her into his arms. “Emerson, you are a very great fool.” He walked out the door, carrying his sobbing sister-in-law.

  “Venetia is behind this,” Robert said to the earl. “I told you—”

  “My sister had nothing to do with my pregnant wife giving herself to another man,” Alexander said. “You speak about Venetia as if she were Satan’s handmaiden.”

  “Perhaps she is,” Robert snapped, and walked out of the room.

  “Victoria is innocent,” Duke Magnus told the earl. “Whoever engineered this is now living on borrowed time, and as soon as he breathes his last, I will call you out as well.” Then he quit the study.

  * * *

  Hours later, Victoria lay on her bed in her old chamber at the duke’s mansion on Park Lane. She had lost Alexander and the girls. All she had left was her unborn child. Would the babe bring Alexander back to her? Or, at least, make him listen to her explanation?

  Wearily, Victoria rose from the bed and donned her robe. She took the note she had received and the note she had written from her reticule. The time had come to face her uncle and her brothers-in-law. They were waiting for an explanation.

  Victoria walked down one flight of stairs to her uncle’s office and took a deep, calming breath before knocking. For the first time in her life, she would reveal her stupidity to others. What she had tried to hide had brought her to this sorry moment.

  Hearing the duke’s call, Victoria walked into his office. The prince rushed across the room and helped her to the chair in front of her uncle’s desk.

  Thankfully, Aunt Roxie sat there, too. Her aunt could verify her stupidity.

  “Uncle, you must make Alexander listen to me,” Victoria said, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “I never did what he said.”

  “Alexander is too angry to listen,” Duke Magnus told her. “When time passes, he will be thinking more clearly. Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” she said, stifling a sob.

  “Were you at the Philbin house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you go there?”

  Victoria glanced at her aunt, who nodded at her to tell them everything. A sob escaped her at the thought of confessing what she had hidden her whole life. What else could she do? She would rather lose her pride than her husband and step-daughters.

  “I went to the Philbin house because I am . . . stupid,” Victoria admitted, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Aunt Roxie can verify this. I cannot read, write, or cipher. The letters and numbers get jumbled inside my head. I felt ashamed to admit my problem to Alexander and wanted to improve myself before I told him. I begged the Philbin brothers to teach me secretly. Both brothers were there for each lesson except yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry, child. Revealing your problem must be difficult,” Duke Magnus said, “but your problem does not explain your nakedness in another man’s bed.”

  “I received this note but couldn’t read it,” Victoria told him, passing it to him. “Diana Drummond offered to read—”

  “I knew Venetia was behind this,” Robert said.

  “Let Tory finish,” Duke Magnus said to his son.

  “I thought Alexander had somehow learned about my problem,” Victoria continued, watching the duke pass the note to the marquess and the prince. She gave her uncle a second note. “I wrote this for Alexander while Barnaby made me tea.”

  She couldn’t control a sob when the duke winced at her writing. Even worse, he handed the note to the prince and the marquess.

  “Go on,” the duke said.

  “The tea made me drowsy,” Victoria said. “Barnaby suggested I lie down in the next room, and he would call me when Alexander arrived. If you don’t believe me, ask Barnaby.”

  “The Philbin brothers have left town,” Duke Magnus told her.

  Victoria wrapped her arms around her middle, hung her head in defeat, and wept. She had never felt more miserable in her life.

  “Alexander will listen to reason once he calms,” Duke Magnus assured her. “Besides, I have more influence than your husband. My friends at King’s Bench could delay a divorce proceeding for months. I think I can persuade them to give us an informal hearing before they consider adultery charges. That would give you a chance to explain yourself to Alexander.”

  “Someone set a trap to make Tory appear unfaithful,” Prince Rudolf said. “Apparently, Barnaby Philbin helped whoever it was.”

  “Venetia and her sister-in-law conspired against Tory,” Robert said. “No one will ever convince me otherwise.”

  “The widow wants Alex for herself,” Victoria said. “Venetia and she will use this time to poison my husband against me even more. What will happen if he won’t listen or doesn’t believe me?”

  “I’m sorry, Tory, but I believe being prepared for the worst is wise,” Duke Magnus said. “According to the law, your baby belongs to his father. No doubt Alexander will take the baby away, and society will shun you for the rest of your life.”

  Victoria burst into tears again and needed her aunt to help her upstairs.

  Chapter 13

  There was a hole in her world where Alexander had stood.

  Victoria passed the first miserable week in bed, unable to face her empty existence. She alternated between sleeping, weeping, and wondering what her husband and stepdaughters were doing.

  During the second week, Victoria roused herself enough to dress. She walked like a sleepwalker through lonely days, her mind traveling through space to journey from Park Lane to Grosvenor Square.

  Several times she had almost asked Tinker to read her the Times gossip column. Fear of learning her husband had Diana Drummond by his side had kept her from making the request.

  On the fourteenth morning after her banishment, Victoria decided to visit Alexander. Sufficient time had elapsed for him to calm himself. Her husband might be more amenable to listening to her explanation.

  Victoria donned her black woolen cloak. After pulling the hood up to cover her red hair, she left her uncle’s house. The chill in the air announced the end of autumn. A brisk wind blew dead leaves across her path, and branches showed as stark silhouettes against a dark gray sky.

  The gloominess of the November day drained the optimism out of her. The closer Victoria got to Grosvenor Square, the more pessimistic her outlook grew.

  Was seeking out her husband the correct course of action? Should she wait until he asked for an explanation? If she waited, would he ever ask for one? Or would he divorce her and take her baby?

  Alexander had never cared for her. He only agreed to her aunt’s proposed match to make up for Charles Emerson’s crimes against her family.

  Victoria stared at the mansion as she neared it. Reaching the front stairs, she lost her courage and decided that appearing nervous would not help her credibility. Victoria tried to calm herself by walking down the alley that bordered the rear garden.

  And then she heard the sound of little girls giggling. Darcy, Fiona, and Aidan were playing in the garden.

  The irresistible sound of their laughter drew Victoria like a magnet. She entered the garden through the rear gate and stood in silence watching them. The three nannies sat together on a stone bench and stared at her, apparently uncertain of what to do.

  “Mama Tory,” Darcy shrieked, and dashed across the garden. Fiona and Aidan ran two steps behind her.

  Victoria knelt to receive their hugs. She drew all three girls close within the circle of her arms.

  “I missed you,” Darcy said.

  “I missed you, too,” Victoria told her. “I missed all three of y
ou.”

  “Where did you go?” Darcy asked.

  “I’m staying with Aunt Roxie because she’s been ill,” Victoria lied.

  “Will she die?” Fiona asked.

  “No, Aunt Roxie will soon recover.”

  “I’m happy,” Aidan whispered. “I love Aunt Roxie, but I love you more.”

  Again, Victoria clutched all three protectively to her breast. Wondering if she should enter the mansion by the garden door, Victoria raised her gaze to the window of her husband’s study, and her heart sank to her stomach.

  Diana Drummond stared down at her.

  The garden door crashed open, drawing her attention. Wearing a grim expression, Alexander marched in her direction.

  Victoria stood to face him and knew that coming here had been a mistake. She forced herself to smile. “Alex, I—”

  “Come, girls.” Ignoring her, Alexander ushered the three little girls away from her. “Your nannies will take you inside for cider.”

  Her husband didn’t want her near his daughters. She was carrying his child, and he acted as if she were a leper. He had treated his three former mistresses with more respect.

  “Alex, you said a husband and wife belong to each other, no matter what,” Victoria said, following him across the garden. “I must speak with you.”

  After his daughters disappeared inside, Alexander turned the full force of his displeasure on her. “You are trespassing on private property,” he warned her. “The nannies will be instructed to take my daughters inside if you show yourself here again.”

  “Please, Alex, I beg you to listen to me,” Victoria pleaded, beginning to weep.

  “Speak to me through my barrister,” Alexander said, and slammed the door in her face.

  Stunned by his vehemence, Victoria stared at the door for a long time. Finally, she turned away and left the garden.

  * * *

  Five excruciatingly long weeks passed. Five months pregnant, Victoria had begun to feel her baby’s movement, especially at night when she lay in bed. Each time she felt that fluttering, the baby banished the loneliness from her heart for just a little while, and she wished her husband could share the moment with her.

  Christmas Day. Victoria peered out her bedchamber window at the dusting of new-fallen snow. She thought of her stepdaughters and wished she could see their excitement at the season’s first snowflakes.

  Though she despised attending church services, Victoria was determined to attend that morning’s service at Audley Chapel. She felt certain that Alexander would take the girls to the Christmas service.

  Victoria promised herself that she would not approach them. In fact, she planned to arrive late and to sit in the back of the chapel to feast her eyes on her family.

  An hour later, Victoria slipped into the chapel and sat in the last pew. Alexander and his daughters sat in the front of the chapel. With them were Harry, Venetia, and Diana.

  Victoria noted the girls sat between Alexander and Diana like a real family would, only the widow had replaced her. She should have been sitting there, not Diana Drummond.

  The service neared its conclusion. Wanting to remain unseen, Victoria left the pew and stood in the shadows. Her bottom lip trembled as they passed by, and she heard Darcy saying, “I asked God to bring Mama Tory home.”

  “So did I,” Fiona told her sister.

  “Me, too,” Aidan said.

  Giving them a chance to climb into their coach, Victoria waited several long moments and then left the chapel. She pulled the hood of her fur-lined cloak up to cover her hair lest its brilliant color draw their attention.

  Too late.

  “Mama Tory.” Darcy dashed toward her.

  Alexander caught Darcy, lifted her into his arms, and put her in the coach. Then he turned around and walked toward her.

  Victoria stood her ground.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to see you again,” Victoria answered. “And the girls, too. I never intended them to see me.”

  “Why would you want to see me?”

  “I love you,” she told him, her gaze fixed on his.

  Alexander seemed to falter. He hesitated, his expression softening.

  “Alex, are you coming?” Diana Drummond called, drawing his attention. “The girls are cold.”

  “Merry Christmas, Alex,” Victoria said, her vision blurred by tears, her voice aching with raw pain. She turned and started walking down the street.

  “Victoria.”

  She turned around.

  “Where is your coach?”

  “I walked from Park Lane.”

  “Your aunt allowed you to walk here in the cold in your condition?” Alexander asked in obvious surprise.

  “My aunt and uncle are passing the holidays in Newmarket,” Victoria said.

  Alexander snapped his brows together. “What about your sisters?”

  “My sisters and their families are with my aunt and uncle,” Victoria answered.

  “You’re alone today?”

  “I’m alone every day.”

  “Why did you remain alone in the city for Christmas?”

  “I told you, I wanted to see you again.” Victoria gave him a wobbly smile. “Goodbye, Alex.” At that, she walked in the direction of Park Lane.

  “Wait.”

  Victoria halted and turned around. Her husband was walking toward her.

  Alexander hesitated for a long moment before speaking. “We’ll drive you to Inverary House.”

  Victoria glanced at the coach. “No, thank you.”

  “Then I’ll walk you there,” Alexander said. “A fall could injure you and the babe.”

  “You’re going to walk your pregnant wife to her aunt’s house and then celebrate Christmas with the witches who destroyed our marriage?”

  “I would not use those words.”

  “Don’t bother yourself.”

  Again, Victoria walked in the direction of Park Lane. She heard him call her name but refused to look back.

  Watching her disappear around the corner, Alexander knew he’d lost something valuable. Banishing Victoria from his mind and heart had proved more difficult than banishing her from his home. Should he have listened to his wife’s explanation? What explanation could she have given? He had the note she’d received and the memory of her naked and drunk in another man’s bed.

  Several hours later, Alexander sat at the head of his dining table. Diana Drummond sat at the opposite end where the lady of the house should sit. On one side of the table were Harry Gibbs and Venetia. His daughters sat together on the other side.

  “My lord?”

  Alexander focused on the widow. “Did you say something?”

  “You seem preoccupied.”

  “Seeing that woman upset him,” Venetia said, before he could speak.

  Harry Gibbs steered the conversation in a different direction. “What did Father Christmas bring you?” he asked the girls.

  “He didn’t give us what we wanted,” Darcy answered.

  Diana Drummond smiled. “All three of you wanted the same thing?”

  Fiona nodded. “Yes.”

  “We want Mama Tory to come home,” Aidan added.

  “Mama Tory is a bad influence,” Venetia said.

  “Mama Tory is not a bad influence,” Darcy said.

  Fiona leaned closer to her sister. “What is that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Aidan looked at her father. “Daddy, what is a bad influence?”

  “She is a bad woman,” Venetia spoke up, “and she should never be allowed near children.”

  Aidan turned from her father to her aunt. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Alexander covered his mouth to smother his laughter. Muffled chuckles sounded near the sideboard where Bundles stood.

  “I’ll handle this,” Darcy told her sister. “Mama Tory is not a bad woman.”

  “We love her,” Fiona said.

  Aidan nodded. “And she loves us.”<
br />
  Diana Drummond gave Alexander a rueful smile. “My lord, the girls need discipline.”

  “Return them to their mothers,” Venetia said. “When you remarry, your second wife—”

  “We don’t need discipline,” Darcy interrupted her.

  “We need Mama Tory,” Fiona said.

  Aidan pointed her finger at Venetia. “We don’t like you.”

  Darcy looked at the widow. “We don’t like you, either.”

  “You don’t know any games,” Fiona said.

  “Or stories,” Aidan added.

  “Enough, daughters.” Alexander looked toward the sideboard. “Bundles, escort the ladies to their nannies.”

  “Yes, my lord. To which ladies do you refer?”

  Alexander gave his majordomo a long look and then beckoned his daughters closer. “You must respect adults.”

  “Mama Tory said respect is not free,” Darcy told him.

  “Everyone must always do the right thing,” Fiona added.

  Aidan glanced at Venetia and Diana. “Even old people must earn respect.”

  Alexander suppressed a smile. “Mama Tory taught you that?”

  “Mama Tory knows nothing about—”

  “Venetia,” Harry Gibbs interrupted, “you are arguing with five-year-olds.”

  “Come, girls.” Bundles herded them toward the door, but their conversation drifted back.

  “Sisters, let’s look for Mama Tory’s magic wand,” Darcy said.

  “We’ll make the witches disappear,” Fiona said.

  “Let’s ask the fairies and pixies to bring Mama Tory home first,” Aidan said.

  “Good idea,” Darcy said. “Then Mama Tory can make the witches disappear.”

  Alexander was silent until he was certain his daughters could not hear his words. “You will not speak disparagingly about Victoria in the presence of my daughters. Do you understand?”

  Venetia inclined her head. “We meant no—”

  Alexander looked at the widow. “Refrain from sitting in the countess’s place unless I invite you.” He stood then. “You will excuse me, please.”

  At that, Alexander quit the dining room.

  * * *

  Weeks slipped by. January’s lengthening days drew to a close, and the gray skies of February arrived.