by Joan Avery
“You loved someone here in England?” She rose from her seat and took two steps to close the distance between them. She needed to be closer to see his face and take his measure.
He didn’t speak, but she had her answer. His face had softened, making him unbearably attractive.
“What happened?”
Pain washed across his face and disappeared once again.
“She died.”
Unthinkingly, she reached out and placed her hand on arm of his tweed jacket. “I’m sorry.”
He looked down at her hand and then back to her face. His eyes were searching for something.
“There is no need to be sorry. I have survived.”
“But at what cost?”
He turned away from her, and her hand fell from his arm. She couldn’t leave it alone. Not now.
“Is surviving enough?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. But he heard. She knew he heard.
“It has been.” There was something in his voice that carried doubt and hope at the same time.
“You have to desire more.” It was an order as much to herself as to him.
He faced her again. “What more is there?”
She didn’t think, didn’t reason, she just acted. She closed the gap between them and, cupping his face in her hands, she kissed him. His response was hesitant at first and then strong. She pulled away and looked at him.
“There is much more. Much, much more.” Lifting her skirts, she slowly made her way back across the damp lawn toward the house. He didn’t follow her. Didn’t call out.
He remained where she had left him.
Chapter Sixteen
The house was quiet. No doubt everyone was dressing for dinner. Victoria walked slowly through the beautiful rooms. What had she been thinking? What had possessed her to kiss him? He had just seemed so open and vulnerable.
She didn’t really know the man. Perhaps he sought her favors, thinking she would gladly give him what he wanted to win her case. That’s what Lord Stanford would do. That kind of man took advantage of every opportunity. She was glad she hadn’t seen her ex-fiancé.
She stopped at the door to the state dining room. The huge table was being set for the numerous guests who would attend tonight’s dinner. There was ample room to avoid not only her ex-fiancé but the Earl of Montgomery as well at dinner. She was, nevertheless, regretting her attendance. Coming here had been a mistake. Despite the beauty of the place, she had stepped into an awkward position. She would have been wise to have avoided it. Lord Stanford would be here and she had chosen to ignore that fact. Why? What had been the attraction? The breathtaking house? She would have liked it to be that simple. But the real reason she had come was to run into the very man she had just encountered. She had intended to delve into his views and intellectually take his measure and then objectively consider her odds of winning.
Yet, what had just passed between them wasn’t that at all. She couldn’t remember the last time she had acted against good sense, against her best interests. Where had her sanity fled?
She climbed the steps to the second floor and headed down a dim corridor to her room. Halfway down the hallway, a door opened behind her. She was too distracted to give it much notice.
“I need a word with you, my dearest.”
A strong hand grabbed her upper arm and threw her against the wall. A large vase in an adjoining alcove wobbled precariously.
Lord Stanford was drunk and angry. He pressed his hands into her shoulders. His mouth was inches away from hers. He was breathing heavily and his breath smelled of Scotch whisky and cigars. His bloodshot eyes were half-closed as if he lacked the strength to open them, and yet the force he applied to her shoulders made it impossible to break away.
Surely he wouldn’t attempt anything here in the hallway? She could scream and a dozen people would appear within moments. But screaming was the last thing she wanted to do. She would handle Stanford herself and avoid any further embarrassment for herself.
“I see you have offered the favors you denied me elsewhere.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She was forced to inhale, and she almost gagged from his breath.
“I just met the Earl of Montgomery. He seems to be your protector. Surely such loyalty comes at a price. One which you seem more than willing to supply to him rather than me.”
“Are you insane? What are you implying?” Victoria’s voice was a hoarse whisper.
“You’re nothing but a rich whore. If I can’t have you, I’ll have your money. You owe me that.”
“I owe you nothing.”
“I have friends. You think it’s only your good name that I can destroy? I swear if you win this case, I will destroy not only you but his mightiness the Lord Chancellor of the Exchequer as well. He will never set foot in a courtroom again. The law only forbids him to benefit financially from a case, but I doubt an intimate liaison with one of the parties in a trial will be received well. I suspect it won’t be forgiven. Do you understand me?”
“You are mistaken,” Victoria hissed. “We have not been together. I swear it.”
“Then the kiss I witnessed out in the copse was just a…?”
What had he seen? What could she say to stop this horrid man from assuming the worst?
“You cannot hurt him. There is nothing between us. Hurt me, if you will, but he has done nothing wrong to deserve you destroying his life.”
A slow smirk crossed his face. “You could always marry me, my dear Victoria. That would solve everyone’s problems.”
Victoria was more horrified by this than any other threat he could make. She couldn’t marry him. Not even to save Lord Montgomery from harm. She had to think of another way. There had to be another way.
“I will never marry you. You are a man with no honor, no shame. I will never, ever marry you!”
“It is your decision to make, but I warn you there will be consequences. Dire consequences and not just monetary ones.”
He forced his lips onto hers and pressed his soft body into her. He moved one of his hands from her shoulder and grasped her breast. She tried to scream but his mouth covered hers. He was forcing her hard against the wall. She tried to move her head to pull her mouth from his but he had her pinned so tightly she couldn’t free herself.
Then, as suddenly as it began, he released her. She gasped for air. He laughed, and it sent shivers down Victoria’s arms. He didn’t say another word but walked silently down the hallway. She watched until he turned the corner and left her sight.
She hadn’t moved. She couldn’t move.
Voices on the stairs forced her to pull herself together. It was Emily and her husband Edward.
“Victoria, there you are. We were looking for you earlier. Edward offered to take us on a short tour of the grounds before dinner.”
Emily’s bright smile suddenly disappeared.
“What is it? What’s happened? You look like you have just seen a ghost.”
Victoria dropped her head and shook it. She took a deep breath and looked up.
“Not a ghost, Emily. A very different nightmare, I’m afraid.”
Emily didn’t need any further information. “You’ve seen Lord Stanford?”
Victoria nodded.
“Did he threaten you?”
“What has he done?” This time it was Emily’s husband who spoke. “If he has acted in any way not befitting a gentleman, I will ask the duke to send him off.”
“No, please, it would only cause further embarrassment for me. Thank you, though.”
“I don’t see why it should all fall on your shoulders,” Edward went on. “He was vile enough earlier that if Montgomery hadn’t struck him, I would have done it myself.”
Emily let out a little gasp. The information was evidently as new to her as it was to Victoria.
“What are you talking about?” Emily asked the very question on Victoria’s lips.
“I was going to tell you, my dear. I just hadn’t
gotten to it yet. While we were out hunting, Stanford made some offensive remarks. No doubt he was drunk, but still the man had no right to besmirch a woman’s name.
“He referred to Miss Westwood in the most despicable terms. I actually thought Montgomery showed considerable restraint before he hit the man. Stanford was left floundering in the brush. And it was well deserved. He had no right, no right at all, to suggest what he did. It was totally deplorable.”
“Lord Montgomery hit Lord Stanford?” Emily clarified.
“Yes. With a strong fist and stronger heart. There wasn’t a man there who believed Stanford undeserving.”
“Then what happened?” Victoria asked.
“The duke spoke up and that was the end of it. I believe His Grace would have sent Stanford packing were he not obligated to do the same to Montgomery, whom he likes and respects.”
Likes and respects. The two words haunted Victoria.
What had Lord Stanford just said to her? That he would ruin not just her, but the earl as well.
She couldn’t let that happen.
She just had to figure out how to stop it.
Chapter Seventeen
The dancing had begun. Dinner was hours long and included guests who had arrived from London just for the evening of dinner and dancing. The white-and-gold formal dining room at Syon had been a refreshing change from some of the more colorful rooms. Very French in design, its walls were finished in stucco and decorated with marble statues of mythological gods and goddesses of food and wine. The long rectangular table had been set in the finest damask and gold-rimmed crystal. The place settings were stacked with beautiful gold-trimmed English bone china. To this was added sterling silver flatware and serving pieces. Enormous centerpieces of exotic white lilies were dusted with something closely resembling snow, acknowledging the holiday season.
The table was large, and Victoria had been seated next to Edward, with Emily across the table. Neither the Earl of Montgomery nor Lord Stanford was in sight. Victoria found herself enjoying Edward’s lecture on the finer points of Syon House. She longed to see the conservatory before she left and made a mental note to do so.
After dinner, the party moved on to the great hall. It resembled a Roman Basilica, with a beautiful dome and fine Roman columns. It was austere and breathtaking.
A quartet began to play, and she sought out a small alcove to survey the room and get her bearings. She wanted no more surprises.
Lord Montgomery was talking to Mr. Gladstone, whom everyone expected would replace Mr. Disraeli as Prime Minister of England in the new year. Lord Stanford had yet to make an appearance, for which she was grateful.
She had chosen to wear an Emile Pingat gown again. This one was a wonderful dusty yellow with jet-black trim. The designer had created beautiful black panels down either side of the front that suggested Roman or Greek decorative work. Her waist was circled in black as well, and a small black flower marked the front. She seemed to meld into the room’s decor and she was pleased with that.
“Why is such a beautiful woman hiding in the corner?” A dark-haired man with a bushy mustache surprised her. She had not seen him approach.
“Not hiding, sir. Just admiring.”
“You are American?”
“Yes, sir. As are you.”
“Ah, I cannot entice you by being exotic then?”
Victoria laughed lightly, pleased to be in conversation with such a well-renowned man. “No, Mr. Clemens. I recognized you from pictures I’ve seen in the newspapers. You can, however, impress me with your wisdom.”
“Ah, if I only could. If I only could.” The bushy-haired man, more popularly known as Mark Twain, stood beside her.
“If I were only twenty years younger, I would take you for a spin on the dance floor.”
“Sir, you are not yet old. And I hope you live many more years. Your writing is a gift to us all. “
“How kind of you, Miss—”
“Westwood. Victoria Westwood.”
Recognition crossed his face. “My dear wife Olivia should only be here. She would trumpet your cause far and wide, until not a man standing would be ignorant of the injustices you face.”
“That is most kind of you. I take it you, yourself, find sympathy with my possible fate?”
“Miss Westwood, my dear Olivia has introduced me to socialists, abolitionists, and activists for women’s rights and social equality. In all of them I have found merit and enlightenment.”
“I am pleased to hear that.”
He nodded before adding, “Miss Harriet Beecher Stowe is now my neighbor and I admire her efforts immensely. My contributions, I’m afraid, are more entertaining than informative. She, on the other hand, is a remarkably capable and influential woman. I would never underestimate the power of women to change the world for the good.”
“I must say that is a truly enlightened position, Mr. Clemens.” She smiled. “How long have you been in England?”
“I’ve only just arrived here. I have been on the Continent writing essays along the way and sending them home to be published.”
“I hope you have enjoyed your time in Europe.”
“I am just an innocent abroad, with no expectations and no prejudices. Finding a little good and bad in most places.”
“I believe that to be true. Well, I wish you a safe journey.”
“And I wish you only the best, my dear woman. Only the best.” He raised the glass in his hand as a toast. “But I’m afraid I must leave you. There are far too many people here that I must see before I return to our homeland.”
He sighed before leaning in to speak to her more quietly. “We all must do what we must do. It should matter little to us what others think. Don’t you agree, Miss Westwood?” He smiled and gave a courteous bow, then headed off toward the duke.
Victoria watched him walk away. She was beyond flattered to speak with such an open-minded man. The small praise and encouragement she received from her celebrated countryman gave her courage. She stepped out into the room and smiled. It was beneath her to hide.
Chapter Eighteen
She searched the room for Emily and her husband. Lord Montgomery was still in earnest conversation with William Gladstone, who listened attentively. This was no mere social conversation but rather some deeply felt issue. As Lord Montgomery finished his argument and looked up, there was a nod of agreement from the older man.
But the earl didn’t see it. He was staring straight back at Victoria. Propriety would have called for her to smile sweetly and look down demurely, but she could do neither.
He was handsome, no doubt, but it no longer mattered. What mattered was who he was. Was this a man she could respect? Was this a man who would respect her? Not just in the frivolous ideals of heraldry, the bows, the simple courtesies, but in the world of ideas. As one equal to another. Neither praising her for being a woman nor belittling her. How would she ever know? Lord Stanford’s threat had created a situation that endangered this man as well. How could she protect him?
The earl’s attention shifted toward the entrance of the ballroom. He quickly excused himself from Mr. Gladstone. Suddenly her heartbeat quickened. He was heading straight toward her.
“May I have this dance, my dear? Surely you wouldn’t deny me a dance and make an unfortunate scene.”
Victoria didn’t have to turn around to recognize the speaker. Lord Stanford had arrived. His clammy hand on the bare skin of her upper arm made her shiver.
She turned to refuse his request, betting he would not push her to where she did not want to go. To be confronted twice in one day was almost too much to bear. She should excuse herself to the duke and duchess and leave this very minute.
“I’m afraid the lady has promised this dance to me.” Lord Montgomery stepped between Victoria and Stanford. He seemed to challenge the man to make a scene. After a moment, when it seemed all eyes in the room were on them, all anticipating a confrontation, Stanford bowed slightly and left the room. There was no d
oubt in Victoria’s mind he would seek out liquor once more.
Lord Montgomery turned away from Stanford to face her.
“Thank you.” She was angry and embarrassed and scared all at once. She looked for a means of her own safe escape. She didn’t know how much longer she could maintain her equilibrium. She was shaking and needed to get out of the room.
“I’m afraid I should go,” she said.
“You’ve forgotten, then?” The earl reached out and took her hand in his.
Dazed, Victoria asked, “Forgotten what, my lord?”
“Forgotten you promised me this dance.” He pulled her gently toward him and circled his free arm around her waist, pulling her closer than was necessary for the waltz. Slowly, he drew her out onto the dance floor. They moved smoothly and, for a moment, she let the room and its occupants become a blur. She was tired, oh so tired.
His closeness buoyed her emotionally and physically. At this moment she never wanted to leave his arms. She was failing terribly at being brave and courageous. She just wanted to be held and comforted. But in reality this man was as inappropriate as Lord Stanford, for entirely different reasons. She couldn’t drag him any further into her mess. Couldn’t use him as support or comfort. To do so would be his ruin.
“Please, your lordship, I need to go.” His grip tightened slightly as he twirled her around the floor.
“Go where?” His low tone of voice indicated he sensed her distress.
“Anywhere. Anywhere but here.” She broke away from him. It took all her strength and purpose to pull away from his warmth and intelligence, from his care and concern. She couldn’t mislead him like this. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair.
She bolted from the room, no doubt shocking the other guests. She didn’t care. She didn’t belong here, in this house, in this country. All of it was wrong for her. Maybe there was no place where she could be happy.
He caught up to her before she reached the stairs. “Victoria.”
He had never used her given name before. On his lips it sounded too personal, almost intimate. She shook her head to rid herself of the sound.
