by Liana Lefey
“Ah, yes. I understand she is quite the avid equestrienne,” Pembroke said, a smile in his voice. “No doubt we shall get on superbly. I’m quite happy to accept the value of horseflesh in lieu of a portion of her dowry. I do wish her to be happy here, you know. After all, a happy bride will give us an heir more quickly than one who is not.”
Julius backed away, not really wanting to hear any more of the conversation. The fact that they were discussing such things at this early juncture did not bode well. He’d known Pembroke was keen to make a match for Withy, but planning a wedding for the end of the Season before they’d even known each other a month was rushing things.
He truly hoped things went well between Withington and Amelia. If they did not, there would be hell to pay when the truth came out. Even though his own family was firmly established at court, Pembroke had a great deal of influence with the king and could find ways to make life quite difficult for a person, should he so desire. The scandal of it would likely necessitate a bit of quiet living away from London for a while, which suited him fine.
After a few more minutes of fruitless searching, he gave up. They must have been delayed. He went back to the appointed place and waited, trying to maintain his patience.
They arrived just as he was about to leave and look for Amelia to be sure she wasn’t the reason for the delay. “Where have you been?” he whispered. “I’ve spent the last half hour looking for you.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” said Withington, looking a bit worse for wear. “She insisted on—”
“I refused to cooperate until he explained what was going on,” interrupted Victoria, leveling a hard stare at him.
“I would have told you in advance, but—”
“I know,” she said, forestalling further explanation. She turned to Withington. “If you would excuse us, my lord. I wish to speak with Lord Cavendish privately.”
Giving him a worried look, Withy bowed. “Of course. I believe I shall go and find Lady Amelia. Being so rudely dismissed from this conversation has wounded my poor pride, and I fear I shall require consoling.”
Julius saw a shaky smile form on Victoria’s lips before she nodded consent. “I understand your concern,” he began as soon as Withington was out of earshot.
“How can you?” she hissed. “How can you possibly begin to understand? My way would have allowed Amelia a means of escape with her dignity intact, but you leave no such option. If you abandon her for me and she does not accept him in your place, she will be called a jilt and no amount of denial will stop people saying it.” Her hands balled into fists. “Amelia may be a fire-breathing tyrant, but she is still my sister!”
“It was the only way,” he told her. “As you explained it to me, I could see no other option. This is still your plan, Victoria—it’s just been modified a little.”
She snorted. “Your modifications are anything but minor.”
“Withington has a part in this as well. He chose to do this for his own reasons.”
“Yes, I am aware. Though I am still uncertain as to why he has decided to attempt the impossible.”
“It is not impossible,” he countered, smiling a little. “It is merely a challenge.”
“You don’t know my sister.”
“Well, actually, I’ve spent a little time talking to her, and I know a bit more than you think.”
She shook her head. “I’ve spent my entire life with her. She has told you what you wished to hear so that she may use you to achieve her ends. When your usefulness has come to an end, she will be rid of you. You will only be tolerated as long as it is to her benefit. The moment she is sure of Withington’s affections…”
“He knows what he is up against.”
Her lips thinned and she shook her head. “He is enamored of her, and that makes him vulnerable to manipulation. Amelia is very good at getting what she wants.”
“Yes, he is quite taken with her,” he agreed. “But he is also aware of her ulterior motives. He will not let her believe she has won him over until the time is right.”
“You place a lot of faith in him. And you are taking an enormous risk for something that is very uncertain. What if we do not suit after all?”
“You question it?” he said, taking a step closer and watching as her eyes darkened to smoke.
“How can you be so sure this is what you want?” Her voice shook. “That I’m what you want?”
“I have never been more certain,” he said, reaching out to caress her face.
“And if it turns out that we are not truly suited?”
He smiled, knowing it was about as likely as finding a unicorn. “Then we can end the charade. You can release Withington so that he can still try to win Amelia, if that is his wish. And I will remove myself from his path. Please, Victoria. At least try it my way.”
Tears formed in her eyes. “I am flattered by your determination, and I want to think that this will come to a happy end, but too much can go wrong, the risk of being discovered is—”
“Trust me, Victoria. I will not fail you. Either way, I will not fail you.”
His lips were warm and gentle, and his arms felt so good around her. It was insane, she knew, to allow herself to feel this way for a man who had done nothing but cause trouble for her. Desire pounded through her, obliterating her reason, her excuses, her guilty conscience.
He pulled away and looked down at her with sparkling eyes the color of moss. “You worry too much, you know. Everything will be fine. And once we are married, things will change between you and your sister. You’ll see.”
Marriage. She’d wanted it for so long, had worked so hard to attain it, but now the prospect seemed almost daunting. She looked at him, at his strong form and handsome face. She wanted him, it was true, but she wanted to feel more for her husband than just desire. “We must both be in accord for that to happen,” she said carefully. “I want to be absolutely certain before I agree to such a commitment. I’m sure you must feel the same way. It is a decision that will affect us both for the rest of our lives.”
“By the time we must decide, there will be no doubt for either of us,” he promised.
This time when he kissed her, Victoria let go and simply experienced the pleasure of it. His hands roamed over her back, spreading fire across her flesh through the silk of her gown. Her breasts began to ache pleasantly, and her body began to move of its own accord, pressing into him.
The sound of laughter from around the corner ended the embrace far too soon. Her legs were as unsteady as her heartbeat as he quickly led her away. All it had taken was five minutes, perhaps less, for every bone in her body to become molten. Had desire been the only factor to consider, she would have married him that instant.
How on earth was she to conceal her feelings from her sister? Or from anyone else, for that matter?
“Remember now, you find me intolerably dull,” he whispered in her ear as they rejoined the gathering.
She bit back a giggle and concentrated on her countenance rather than the tingling of her ear. He was right. She needed to look like someone who’d been subjected to unendurable tedium—not irresistible kisses.
Across the room, Withington sat with her sister, his expression rapt. That is a disaster waiting to happen, she thought unhappily. But even as she approached, he looked up and gave her a quick wink.
Her spirits rose, and she smiled back. Perhaps Amelia had finally met her match. Only time would tell. Withington, should he ever manage to get under her sister’s carefully crafted facade, would have to decide whether he actually liked the person beneath it. Surprisingly, she rather hoped he would, and not just for her own sake.
“I do hope I haven’t monopolized too much of your time, my lady,” said Cavendish, jarring her from her reverie.
“Not at all, my lord,” she said, keeping her voice flat. “I so enjoyed learning about the various grasses of the world. I had no idea there were so very many.”
He picked up the thread effortlessly.
“Indeed, and only a few grow properly in English—”
“Truly fascinating, my lord, but I’m afraid that one kind of grass looks exactly like all the others to my poor uneducated eyes.” She gave him her back and turned to Withington. “My lord, would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the powder room? I fear these new shoes have begun to pinch awfully.” She lifted her skirts just enough to show him one dainty slipper.
Amelia’s eyes spat daggers at the brazen act.
“I shall lead you there myself at once, my lady,” said Withington, rising. “One of the maids can stitch a bit of padding in it for you.”
“I would not inconvenience you, my lord,” she cooed even as she stood and took hold of his arm. “I know you have other, more important guests.”
“Nonsense,” said Withington. “You are first among all here, and I would be remiss if I allowed you even a moment’s discomfort when I can so easily prevent it. Come. And please, do call me Withy. ‘My lord’ is so formal! Makes me feel like an old man—and I’m nowhere near decrepitude, I assure you.”
Victoria felt like clapping as Amelia stiffened.
“Once more, you prove yourself my chivalrous knight,” she sighed, gazing at him with calf’s eyes.
Behind her, Cavendish coughed.
Well, perhaps she was laying it on a bit thick, but it was simply too much fun seeing Amelia’s reaction.
Over the following weeks she proceeded as planned, making it look as though she and Withington were progressing toward an agreement. Her life became a mixture of terrifying near misses and brief moments of bliss.
She was afforded next to no time alone with Cavendish, thanks to Papa’s and Amelia’s interference. Papa insisted that the four of them do everything together, and Amelia stuck to her like honey—only she wasn’t nearly as sweet.
Even so, they stole moments together here and there, taking every opportunity offered no matter how brief. The more she was with Cavendish, the more she liked him and the harder it became for her to conceal. Then, too, there was the mounting desire between them. Every time he looked at her, she quivered inside. And she knew he felt the same.
Though it afforded them the means to be with each other when there would have been no other way, Victoria began to feel imprisoned, walled in by the charade. How long could they keep on like this? There was never enough time to have all of her questions answered, never enough time to satisfy the increasingly powerful longing to be with him, to feel his arms around her.
A MONTH LATER
BY THE TIME Victoria made it downstairs, both gentlemen had been shown to the salon, where Amelia was already serving them tea and scones. She rolled her eyes. Predictably, Amelia had cornered Withington.
Cavendish looked up, smiling broadly as she entered. Green eyes twinkling, he stood and bowed, alerting the others to her presence. “Lady Victoria, how pleasant to see you again. I trust you are sufficiently recovered?”
She flicked a glance at Amelia, who had apparently been hard at work. “Allow me to reassure you that I am the embodiment of perfect health, my lord. Please, do not let my sister alarm you with tales of my infirmity, for though she means well, she does have a tendency to be a bit of a mother hen.”
Amelia’s eyes went flat, though her smile did not waver. “Well, someone must fuss over you, for even when you are quite ill, you refuse to take care of yourself properly. I suppose it is merely a mark of your indomitable spirit that you decline to allow anything, even good sense, to stand in the way of your desires. I only wish I had such strength of will. With it, I should be able to move mountains.”
Victoria fumed as she saw Cavendish’s lips twitch. Amelia had all but called her a stubborn ass! “Dear sister, your many sacrifices are not unappreciated,” she replied in a honeyed tone. “Heaven only knows that if it were possible for me to impart to you a portion of my fortitude, I would certainly do so, for you’ve selflessly toiled away your youth taking care of Papa and me.” She watched in satisfaction as her opponent’s eyes narrowed.
“It is only because I care for you so that I make such a fuss, little sister,” said Amelia. “With Mother gone, someone had to see to your upbringing. Had I not taken your education seriously, you would be no better mannered than that Wild Boy they let run loose at court. I’ve done my best to make you into the kind of young woman Mother would have been proud of.”
Her tone suggested that she’d fallen woefully short of her goal, and Victoria had to concentrate on keeping her temper in check. “I’m sure Mama smiles from heaven over the good works you’ve done in her stead. Even so, it is high time you began thinking of yourself. You’ve sacrificed your life and happiness for duty and family for far, far too long.”
With that, she sat beside Withington and helped herself to tea, leaving her sister no choice but to swallow her bile.
But Amelia wasn’t done yet. “I need no pleasure but knowing that my loved ones are happy and secure,” she said primly, leaning over to drop an extra lump of sugar into her cup—providing everyone opposite, including Withington, a perfect view of her bosom as it swelled above the lace on her bodice.
Victoria winced as her faux suitor released an audible sigh of appreciation at the spectacular display. She nudged him with her toe.
Flinching, he tore his eyes away. “Lady Victoria, I believe I should very much like to see Richmond’s gardens,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “You spoke so highly of them that I fear I’ve anticipated seeing them almost as much as I have you,” he added with a rather desperate-sounding chuckle.
“I would be delighted to show them to you,” Victoria replied with false cheer, rising.
“An excellent idea!” chimed in Amelia, also standing. “I’m sure Lord Cavendish would like to see them as well,” she said, turning to him. “Though I’m fairly certain you’ll find our little patch of earth quite mundane compared to the exotic flora you’ve seen on your travels.”
“Not at all, Lady Amelia,” replied Cavendish, his eyes merry. “There’s nothing like a proper English garden.”
“Perhaps you’d like to show Lord Cavendish the roses?” Victoria suggested. “Papa added some new varieties recently that he might find interesting. And because of his particular interest in them, I shall show the Marquess our labyrinth.” She said it with deliberate emphasis, pausing an instant to allow the barb to sink in before turning to Withington. “We’ll go to the library and view it from the veranda in order to properly see the intricate pattern.”
“Yes, of course, my lady,” he replied weakly.
“Wonderful! This way, my lord,” she said, taking his arm and shooting her sister a cat-that-ate-the-cream smile.
“I believe your sister is contemplating murder,” he said as soon as they were safely away.
“I do not doubt it,” she replied. “She has spoken to me very little since your party.”
He chuckled. “You certainly know how to upset her composure. Still, she handled it well on the surface.”
“She handles everything well on the surface. It is what lies beneath that has me worried. Withy,” she said, stopping to face him. “I hope things go well for you with Amelia. But if they do not”—she paused, feeling awkward—“well, I only ask that you give some warning if in the end you decide not to pursue her. Enough time so that we may find a way to—”
“You’ve no need for concern,” he interrupted gently. “I would sooner cut out my own heart than do her harm. My only wish is to show her a happier world than the one in which she now lives. If I do, perhaps she will want to share in it with me. She deserves to be happy.”
A lump formed in her throat. “If only she would relax and allow herself to enjoy life again, to enjoy people. She tries to make it appear as though she’s content being an untouchable island, but I know better.”
“Life is indeed about relationships,” he said, nodding.
“Exactly. Without them, what is the point?” She thought back to happier days, days when
their house rang with the laughter of friends. “Amelia doesn’t have any close friends. Not anymore. She used to have quite a tight circle, but they’re all married now and have gone on with their lives. They left her behind when she no longer seemed to care about them. Those she now calls friends are really only acquaintances. I am ashamed to say that I am probably no closer to her than that lot. It saddens me to think that I don’t know my own sister anymore.”
“People handle grief differently,” he offered. “For some, comfort is found in the company of friends. For others, it is found in solitude. Amelia has simply grown accustomed to her self-imposed isolation.”
“When our mother grew ill, Amelia began to shut me out. I have never been able to get back in. If I cannot, then what hope have you?”
“There is always hope. You see only a closed door, but I’ve had a glimpse of the room behind that door through the keyhole. There is joy and light there, a whole world of it just waiting to be unlocked. I have but to find the key.”
She shook her head. “I wish I could see what you see.”
“It is all a matter of perspective.”
Perspective…“We must get to the balcony!” She grabbed his hand and ran. Upon reaching the balcony, she rushed over to the balustrade and sure enough, there they were waiting directly below.
“Did you show our guest the entire house?” pounced Amelia.
“Oh, dear!” Victoria exclaimed, clapping a hand to her chest. “Were you waiting for us? I vow the minutes have never passed so quickly, but such is the nature of time when one is in good company, I suppose.”
Her sister’s face darkened, but her tone remained cheery. “Come and join us in the rose garden. It’s far too lovely out here for anyone to remain indoors.”
Turning back, Victoria gave Withington an I-told-you-so look and led him back down. “Remember now, it must appear genuine,” she whispered as they crossed the lawn. “Your behavior should be suitably bold—but not so alarming that it launches any premature wedding plans.”
