Without a second thought she whirled on her heel and headed toward the door.
She halted briefly as Thomas rose to his feet with a frown. “Victoria, are you leaving me?”
“I must speak with Claredon.”
“But what of my letter?” he complained in shrill tones.
The urge to tell him precisely what she thought of his absurd letter was hastily swallowed before she could tempt fate. Instead she forced a stiff smile to her lips. “I think it would be best if you wrote to your mother on your own.”
“Oh no, I could not possibly . . .”
Victoria’s patience could endure no more. She had truly attempted to be kind to Thomas, not only because of their past friendship, but, more importantly, to hide from Claredon the realization that he had been so horribly right.
She would have been miserable tied to the childish man. More than that, she would have been a virtual prisoner to his endless demands. Her pride, however, had demanded that she hide her disillusionment from the one gentleman who seemed to know her better than she knew herself.
Now she had more important thoughts upon her mind than pacifying Thomas or even hiding her changing feelings from Claredon.
Moving at a near run, she flew down the stairs and out the door the butler barely managed to pull open in time. From there she angled directly toward the stables to step into Claredon’s path as he left the gardens. “Claredon.”
He came to a startled halt at her sudden appearance, his expression swiftly smoothing to unreadable lines. “Good morning, Victoria.”
“Where are you going?” she demanded in sharp tones.
Not surprisingly, his lips twisted at her peremptory manner, a faintly mocking glint entering his eyes.
“Good morning, Claredon,” he said in sardonic tones. “How did you sleep? Well, I hope. How handsome you appear on this fine day.”
Only days ago his provoking words would have sent her into a fury. Today, however, she found a ridiculous glow of happiness enter her heart at his taunting. Anything, anything was preferable to that cold aloofness.
“Forgive me,” she said with a faint smile. “How did you sleep?”
His eyes swiftly darkened as he glanced down at her simple muslin gown, which was molded to her curves by the summer breeze. “Very poorly.”
She frowned in concern, unaware that the sunlight filtering through the thin fabric offered a tantalizing outline of her slender body. “Is your shoulder troubling you?”
He drew in a deep breath. “You know quite well what is troubling me, my love.”
Victoria could not halt the sudden rush of color that filled her cheeks, nor her instinctive desire to shift the conversation to less dangerous topics. “You have not told me where you are going.”
He smiled wryly at her swift retreat, but thankfully followed her lead. “Lord Vernon has a field that marches with our land that he is considering selling. I wished to familiarize myself with it before making an offer.”
She planted her hands on her hips and regarded him in a stern fashion.
“Alone?”
He shrugged. “It is not far.”
“You made me a promise,” she reminded him.
With deliberate movements, he crossed his arms over the width of his chest and regarded her with a brooding gaze. “I did, indeed, but I must admit that I did not presume you would thank me for dragging you away from your precious Mr. Stice.”
“He is not my precious Mr. Stice,” she informed him tartly. “He is simply a friend in need of my help.”
“What he is in need of is a backbone,” he muttered in disgust.
Not at all anxious to discuss Thomas or his disruptive presence in their household, Victoria tilted her chin to a determined angle. “If you will give me a few moments, I will change into my habit.”
His brows arched in disbelief. “You intend to join me?”
“I do not wish you to be on your own.”
“What of Mr. Stice?”
She heaved an impatient sigh. “Will you wait?”
His gaze openly roamed over her upturned countenance before a worrisome smile curved his lips. “Forever, if need be, Victoria.”
Her breath seemed to be sucked from her body at his low words. Just for a moment she wondered if she was being completely wise in deliberately seeking time alone with her husband. Did she not already know how vulnerable she was becoming to his persuasive seduction? Had she not already accepted that she cared far more than she had ever intended? Was she not increasingly aware that her supposed love for Thomas was no more than a fraud that could no longer protect her heart?
The thoughts swiftly passed through her mind, only to be easily dismissed.
Although they had seen nor heard anything of Mr. Smith in the past week, it did not mean the danger had disappeared. She would not allow Claredon to risk himself again. “I will be only a few moments.”
* * *
With a resigned shake of his head, Claredon continued his path to the stables to have their mounts saddled. Dash it all, he had been determined to remain stoically composed when in the presence of his wife. It was bad enough to have Stice connected to her side like a leech, without him storming about like a jealous fool.
She would never suspect that he had every servant in the household keeping a careful watch on their movements, he had told himself. Or that he spent his nights pacing the floor, consumed with the dark need to gather her from her room and place her in his bed, where she belonged.
He would simply pretend to above such childish emotions.
Eventually he would catch the gentleman in the act of something devious, or more likely the fool would simply crawl back to his mother. In either case, he would be gone from Longmeade and Victoria would have to accept that her life was here with him.
At least he could hope for such an outcome if he did not ruin it all by infuriating Victoria beyond forgiveness.
Shaking his head, Claredon led the horses to the courtyard. Perhaps it was beyond hope to remain aloof from his wife. The moment she was in his presence, he was assaulted by a myriad of emotions—impatience, lust, and the oddest sense of tenderness. He was torn between wanting to toss her upon the nearest bed and holding her in his arms to protect her from the world.
Such confusion was bound to make him crazed, he assured himself wryly. For the moment all he could do was hold onto the knowledge that she at least worried over him. It was a beginning.
He discovered Victoria awaiting him in the courtyard attired in a lovely cinnamon habit, and after helping her into her saddle, he mounted his own horse. “Are you ready?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“Then let us be off.” Urging his horse down the path that would lead across the parkland, he covertly studied the woman who had haunted his thoughts for far too long. She rode well, moving with a lithe grace that was incredibly enticing. Too enticing, he acknowledged as he wrenched his gaze toward the distant tree line. “I trust Mr. Humbly will keep Mr. Stice suitably entertained?”
“Mr. Humbly is visiting our local rector, while Thomas is writing a letter to his mother.”
“Ah, the dutiful son,” he mocked before he could halt the words.
He was swiftly punished for his impulse as she sent him a flashing gaze. “Do you intend to be provoking for the entire morning?” she demanded in exasperation.
“Absolutely not.” He slowed his horse, gazing deep into her wary eyes. “It is far too rare for me to have you all to myself. I intend to be on my best behavior.”
Thankfully, her lips gave a reluctant twitch at his solemn promise. “Why do I find that difficult to believe?”
“I haven’t the least notion.”
She shook her head before attempting about distract his unwavering gaze. “Have you discovered any further information about Mr. Smith?”
His lips briefly tightened at the unwelcome reminder that he had not yet found a trace of the scoundrel. Even calling in the magistrate had not turned u
p any clues. “Nothing beyond the fact that he has not returned to the inn since the night he attempted to do away with me.”
“Perhaps he was frightened when he discovered he had wounded you. He might very well have fled Kent,” she suggested.
Claredon was not nearly so certain. It was just as likely the culprit had decided to send Stice to the house to search for the jewels while he laid low.
This time, however, he possessed the wisdom to hold his tongue. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “I still wish you to take care until we have gotten to the bottom of this trouble.”
“If you will recall, you were the one attempting to sneak away on your own,” she retorted in pointed tones.
“As I said, I did not believe you would desire to be interrupted.” Claredon paused, cautiously considering his words. He ached to know precisely what Victoria felt of Stice’s arrival at Longmeade at the same moment he feared her response. A fine dilemma for a gentleman who had always preferred casual, temporary affairs to the complications of relationships. “Have you enjoyed Mr. Stice’s visit?”
Her hands abruptly clenched upon her reins until her mount tossed his head in protest. With an obvious effort, she loosened her grip and even managed a thin smile. “It is always nice to see an old friend,” she said in determinedly bland tones.
Instantly intrigued, Claredon shifted closer, watching her features for any sign of her inner thoughts. “He was more than a mere friend.”
She deliberately studied the well-scythed parkland, almost as if determined to avoid his gaze. “I thought you promised not to try and provoke me,” she accused.
“I am not attempting to be provoking for once,” he assured her. “I do not believe that anything improper has occurred since his arrival. I am merely interested in how you are bearing to be with the man you once loved now that he is beyond your reach.”
There was a taut silence before she gave a restless shrug. “It has been . . . difficult.”
Claredon felt as if he had been punched in the gut. “Your feelings toward Stice have not altered?”
“I would really prefer not to discuss the subject, Claredon.”
His features tightened as that horrid wave of jealously rushed through him. Gads, he was surely being repaid for a lifetime of frivolous affairs. “I do not mean to distress you, Victoria, but I would think as your husband I have a right to know if you are still attached to one another.”
Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips before she at last responded to his low command. “I suppose my feelings have somewhat altered.”
“In what way?”
“I . . .” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I have begun to wonder if I had not been mistaken in Thomas.”
As swiftly as the jealousy had attacked, it was abruptly pierced by a shaft of hope. “Mistaken?”
She still refused to meet his searching gaze, but Claredon did not miss the tension etched upon her features. Clearly something was troubling her. “When we were together in London, it was for only very brief visits, and those were usually marred by his overbearing mother. She was so determined to see him wed to an heiress that she did everything possible to keep us apart.”
Claredon smiled wryly. “Thereby ensuring that your meetings were secretive and spiced with the pleasure of outwitting her?”
She sent him a startled glance. “Yes.”
He gave a shake of his head. “It never fails to amaze me that those determined to keep lovers apart persistently do the things that are bound to bring them together. Few of us can resist the forbidden. And, of course, by keeping a couple separated, it allows them to weave the most ridiculous fantasies, rather than seeing each other as they truly are.”
Victoria drew in a deep breath. “I had little opportunity to fully understand Thomas’s nature, or to question his reasons for wishing to be with me.”
“And now?” he prompted softly, unconsciously holding his breath as she reluctantly met his gaze.
“Now I realize that I never loved him.”
Eleven
Victoria averted her gaze and stared grimly ahead as the taut silence stretched to an almost unbearable length.
It had not been a simple matter to confess the truth to Claredon. Not only did she appear a fool for so grievously mistaking her tepid sympathy for love, but she had lowered one of the stiff barriers that kept her husband at bay. Now that she could no longer hide behind her loyal feelings for Thomas, it left her vulnerable and decidedly ill at ease.
Still, she discovered herself unable to lie any longer. Claredon had proven to be far more loyal and dependable than she had ever allowed herself to hope. He had risked his life to ensure her safety, something Thomas never would have considered. He deserved to have the truth, if nothing else.
For what seemed to be an eternity there was only the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of dogs barking as they entered the thick woods ringing the property.
Then, bringing his mount even closer to her own, he studied her features with an oddly intense gaze. “I see,” he at long last murmured.
“I care for him as a friend, of course,” she hastily said, unable to halt the faint flare of panic that raced through her.
“Of course.”
She wetted her dry lips, almost able to feel his probing gaze as it watched her betraying movement. “And I do wish to help him stand up to his mother. No gentleman should be so easily browbeaten.”
There was another faint pause. “Victoria?”
“Yes?”
“Will you look at me?” he demanded softly.
She slowly drew in a deep breath before forcing herself to turn and meet his searching gaze. For a breathless moment, she felt lost in the impossible blue of his eyes. They seemed so compellingly tender and filled with gentle understanding that her heart nearly melted.
“How can you be so certain of your feelings?” he asked, his voice oddly uneven. “You believed you loved him for a very long time, and it has been only a week since he arrived.”
“I . . . I think I was more in love with the notion of being in love,” she reluctantly answered, barely paying heed to the narrow path they were following. “You were right when you said that I was very lonely after Anne wed. She had been so much a part of my life I suppose I did not precisely know what to do with myself when she no longer needed me.”
Thankfully, he showed no arrogance at her grudging admittance that he had been right all along. Instead, a gentle smile curved his lips. “So you found a new cause to sponsor?”
Victoria thought back to her determined support of Thomas and her rather shameful delight in besting his mother. In retrospect, it appeared more a challenge of her skills at helping another than a true courtship. “Yes.” She gave a lift of her shoulder. “Thomas was so helpless and incapable of defending himself I naturally attempted to assist him.”
“Perfectly understandable, Victoria,” he said in low tones. “You have a very caring heart. It is what I admire most about you.”
Victoria could not help the pleased blush that rose to her cheeks. Despite the knowledge that any successful rogue must have a smooth tongue, she felt as susceptible as any other maiden to his flattery. “I feel like a naive fool,” she said, in an effort to distract him.
“Do not.”
She raised her brows in surprise at his suddenly sharp words. “What?”
His gaze narrowed. “Never apologize for your giving nature. If we all possessed such kindness, it would be a far better world.”
Victoria caught her breath. A smooth tongue, indeed. “That is easy for you to say.” She attempted to ease the suddenly thick atmosphere. “I doubt you ever mistook sympathy for love.”
Without warning, his lips twisted in a self-derisive fashion. “Perhaps not, but I do know what it is like to be disillusioned when I discovered a person I cared for could not live up to the image I had created.”
It took her a long moment to realize what he meant by the cryptic words. Then a twinge of sympathy plucked
at her heart. “Your father?”
“Yes.” The old but lingering disappointment could be detected deep in his eyes. “When I was young, I put him on a pedestal. He was handsome, charming, and such a wonderful father I thought no gentleman could possibly equal him.”
Victoria offered him an understanding smile. She was very aware that it was not easy for him to confess his long held sense of betrayal, and she found herself deeply touched that he possessed enough faith in her to speak of his distress. “When did you discover the truth?”
He abruptly turned his head to study the path ahead of them. No doubt he was as reluctant as she to reveal his vulnerability.
“I suppose I always knew that he enjoyed the company of other women,” he slowly admitted. “He rarely made a secret of his visits to the village, where he sought to seduce whatever pretty maiden captured his attention. But not until I awakened early one morning and watched my father slip into the house did I witness my mother standing in the door to her bedchamber with tears running down her face. I realized then just how deeply my mother felt my father’s betrayal.”
Victoria experienced a flare of fury at Claredon’s father. How could he possibly treat his wife with such disrespect? And, more importantly, how could he disappoint his adoring son? She could easily sense that Claredon had been devastated at the realization his father was not the paragon he had thought. And perhaps even torn between loyalty to the man he loved and the mother who was being hurt. It was a horrid position to put a child in.
“Did you ever confront your father?” she asked in cautious tones, not wanting to push his confidences, but eager to know more of this man she called husband.
His features hardened in an alarming manner. “Once, when I was seventeen. My mother had just been approached by a local barmaid, who demanded money for the child she was carrying that belonged to my father. I overheard the confrontation and was furious that my mother had been put into such an embarrassing situation.”
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