“Shall I go to their heads, my lord?” the groom asked from behind them.
“Thank you, no. I have them well in hand.”
They followed behind the line of carriages parading along the Row. Some of the gentlemen passing in the opposite direction acknowledged them, while some, high-sticklers probably, refused to see them at all. Travis appeared unaware of any slight. Victoria noticed several ladies ogling him surreptitiously, before turning up their noses at Victoria. Like cats, their mean glances clawed at her and she lifted her chin. No doubt they were jealous because she rode beside one of London’s most handsome and eligible of bachelors, even if he was thoroughly disreputable.
“Well done, Miss Yelverton.” His soft murmur shimmered down her spine and sent heat flooding to her face. He knew the curious stares had made her squirm. While he seemed oblivious to all, apparently he missed nothing.
A rider caught them up and drew alongside. The warm, friendly smile of the Marquess of Deveril filled Victoria’s vision. Travis eased out from behind a smart, red Tilbury and pulled over onto the verge. A fashionable matron with two fair-haired daughters glared up at them from their barouche as their coachman maneuvered around the curricle.
Deveril bowed. “Good afternoon, Miss Yelverton. Travis.” The marquess looked over his shoulder. “We appear to be very much impeding progress here, Travis. Perhaps you should move?”
Travis shrugged. “If they are too cow handed to go around us, let them wait. Miss Yelverton, I’m not sure if I told you, Deveril is joining us for dinner tonight and will accompany us to the theater afterwards.”
Victoria smiled at Deveril. “How exceedingly kind of you, my lord.”
The marquess briefly rolled his eyes in Travis’s direction and grimaced. “No indeed, Miss Yelverton. The pleasure is all mine.”
He looked so out of countenance, Victoria couldn’t resist teasing him. “I’m sure Miss Allenby will be delighted to have another gentleman in the party.”
The marquess tugged at his cravat. “Allenby? Dash it, Travis, you didn’t mention your cousin.”
Travis cast a sharp look at Victoria. “I did. You must have forgotten. Would you like me to refresh your memory?”
The marquess’s fair skin flushed and he forced a smile. “Gad, no. If you say you told me, d’ye think I’m going to give you the lie?”
Victoria repressed her laugh at his obvious discomfort.
A shadow flitted across Travis’s face and disappeared in an instant. “I will be Miss Allenby’s escort tonight, not you. You will have the pleasure of bearing Miss Yelverton company.”
Deveril glanced down and pulled at his gauntlet like a man girding himself for an unpleasant duty. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Begging your pardon, gentlemen,” called a voice behind them, “you’re holding up the traffic. Let her ladyship pass, please.”
Victoria swiveled in her seat. She almost tumbled out of the carriage when she saw the woman driving the curricle trying to get by them. Lady Julia Garforth in a mannish green coat and with a jaunty shako perched atop her auburn curls, grinned and waved. Her vehicle, almost as high as Travis’s and pulled by a pair of handsome grays, squeezed in alongside. “Victoria. What are you doing here? I can’t believe I’m really seeing this. Let me in, Travis.”
Travis edged his horses closer to the verge. “Be careful, Lady Julia,” he called out. “You’ll turn that thing over.”
“Fie,” she retorted. “You’re not the only notable whip in London.”
“I don’t run my horses into the backs of others,” Travis muttered as he gave her space.
Victoria listened in amazement to their banter. The hard edges, which made Travis generally unapproachable, seemed to dissolve around his friend Deveril, and now also with Julia. But she was too pleased to see her friend to puzzle about it now. She leaned across the gap to touch Julia’s hand holding the whip. “Julia, I had no idea you had returned. I am so glad to see you. I have a great deal to tell you. May I call on you?”
Julia, her gaze stuck on Deveril, did not respond.
“Oh, excuse me,” Victoria said. “Lady Julia Garforth, have you met the Marquess of Deveril?”
“No, I don’t believe I have had the pleasure,” Deveril said. He leaned across the curricle to take Julia’s hand while she let her bold appraising glance ran over him. Her green eyes filled with appreciation.
A statuesque woman herself, Julia’s idea of the perfect male was large and muscular. Travis, though tall and broad shouldered, looked almost slender beside his veritable Viking of a friend. Victoria watched as Julia’s lips curved and a dimple appeared beside her mouth. Deveril stared back, an apparently mesmerized and confused mountain.
Victoria slid a glance at Travis. He seemed unaware of his friends’ reactions to each other, which struck her as odd.
“Will we see you at the theater tonight, Lady Ju?” Travis smiled, and Victoria’s breath caught in her throat. He could be so charming when he wished. Charming, attractive and dangerous to her peace of mind.
Julia grinned at him. “No, not this evening. Mama is exhausted from our travels.”
Deveril looked disappointed and Julia’s wicked half-smile said she’d noticed. Interesting.
“I will be at Vauxhall on Tuesday.” Julia said her eyes full of mischief. “Are you going?”
“We are,” Victoria said. It was on Maria’s list of things she must do. Up until now she had not been looking forward to it at all. “You remember, Lord Deveril,” Victoria said with an encouraging smile. “You agreed to accompany us.”
Deveril tore his puzzled gaze from Julia’s face. “Why yes. I had almost forgotten. That is,” he flushed again, “now you mention it, of course, I recall.” His gaze drifted back to Julia. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Pointless you wearing a domino,” Travis jibed. “Your size gives you away.”
“’Tis true.” Deveril grinned good-naturedly. Suddenly, his warm expression fled and he leaned closer to Travis, his quick, softly spoken words inaudible. The direction of his focus drew Victoria’s attention to the pretty blonde in a pink and white striped morning gown walking toward them with an older woman in tow. Miss Eckford. Victoria winced. Hopefully the girl would not mention the picnic to Lord Travis.
Cassandra Eckford gave Travis an anxious look, as if she wasn’t quite sure if she should stop or not.
Travis frowned. “Excuse me, ladies. I see a friend. Take their heads,” he directed his groom.
After leaping nimbly from the phaeton, he moved casually through the jostling pedestrians and slow-moving carriages to reach Miss Eckford’s side. A delicate blush greeted him as he bowed over her hand.
Victoria forced her attention to her companions. Deveril looked uncomfortable and Julia raised her eyebrows in question.
Victoria pasted a bright smile on her face. “Do you also go to Almack’s with us on Wednesday, my lord?”
“If you’ll have me, Miss Yelverton.” Deveril had a courtly style, but there seemed to be little enthusiasm in his words.
“Famous.” Julia smiled at him, her green eyes sparkling with interest. “I shall also be there. Mama says I’m to get serious about making my mark this season.”
“It seems to me, Lady Julia, you would always make your mark, serious or no,” Deveril responded.
Julia dimpled. “Why, my lord, how gallant. I shall very much look forward to our next meeting. Victoria, call on me tomorrow. Better yet, let me take you for a drive. Then can talk all we want without fear of interruption. I want to hear all your news.” With a flourish of her whip, she edged her carriage into the slowly moving traffic.
Victoria frowned. Julia must not have received Victoria’s letter, for she had not offered her condolences. It didn’t matter. They could discuss it tomorrow. At last she had someone with whom she could open her heart. Someone she trusted.
When Travis return to the carriage a few minutes later, his pleasant mood seemed to have evapo
rated. His mouth had returned to its habitual hard lines and his expression was distinctly aloof. He bade a brief farewell to Deveril after confirming their arrangements for later and since he remained deep in his own thoughts as they turned for his house, Victoria used the respite to plan how she would request Julia’s help to escape his clutches.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Simon’s party arrived at his Covent Garden box as the bell clanged fifteen minutes to curtain time. A lackey took Maria’s cloak, while Deveril removed the velvet cape from around Victoria’s shoulders.
Simon stifled the urge to snatch it back and wrap it around her. The damned gown had been designed by a devil incarnate. No virile male could ignore the delectable sight of her creamy skin above her dove-gray bodice, despite that a gentleman was not permitted to notice.
He swallowed and glanced at her face. Damn. She had seen him staring at her breasts like a lusty schoolboy faced with his first set of tits. “Take your seats. The first act is about to start.” His words came out far more brusquely than he had intended.
“Unlike you to worry about missing what is on stage, Travis,” Maria said with raised eyebrows.
He shot her a glare. “I don’t care for myself. Miss Yelverton expressed an interest in this particular play.”
Victoria smiled. “I did indeed.”
Charmed by her candid expression of enjoyment, he allowed himself a brief smile in return. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at a visit to the theater as anything but foreplay. A need to be met, before getting down to the business of visceral pleasure with his chosen companion for the evening. Victoria’s countenance, full of eagerness for the words of the bard, rather than a gift of diamonds or pearls a paramour would expect of him in reward for her time, unaccountably lifted his spirits.
Utter rot. This evening was not about his pleasure. The only purpose was to throw her into his friend’s path, make him see what a prize lay beneath his nose. A chill settled in his gut as he ushered them to their seats.
A step or two in front of Simon, Dev stopped short and muttered a curse under his breath that only Simon heard, before raising his voice. “Pardon me, ladies. I will return in a moment or two.” He thrust Simon aside and disappeared.
Now what? Simon glanced across the auditorium and bit back a groan at the sight of Genevieve Longbourne ensconced in the Duke of Rockingham’s box. Genevieve looked as she always did, tall, blonde and frigid. No sign of Rumplestiltskin, Simon’s private name for the short, fat duke to whom she was betrothed. Typical of a woman, Genevieve had stolen Dev’s heart, leading him on until he believed she loved him, then had dropped him for a man with a higher title.
Simon loathed the deceit, but he’d seen it coming and tried to warn his friend, to no avail. He toyed with the idea of going after Dev and bringing him back, but he could hardly leave his party to their own devices. It would look deuced odd.
He slid into the seat next to Victoria and watched her gaze around in wide-eyed appreciation. “Does Covent Garden Theater meet with your expectations, Miss Yelverton?”
He sucked in a breath at her devastating smile. “Yes, my lord. I love Shakespeare, don’t you?”
The urge to make her smile at him again raced in his veins. Several platitudes came to mind, but the words died on his lips. Her refreshing honesty deserved the truth. “I like some of his work. I must admit Romeo and Juliet is not among my favorites.”
She turned to meet his gaze. “My lord, have you no romance in your soul?”
Romance. The very idea made his stomach curl. As far as he was concerned love was a myth that led to the ruination of good men. Dev proved the point.
“Be realistic, Miss Yelverton. What would you say if a man you barely knew climbed through your window in the dead of night? If you had any sense, you’d send him to the right about. More than likely, he’d end up in the bushes with a broken neck.”
She laughed out loud, her piquant face alive with amusement. “You might be right.”
He imagined climbing in through her window and seeing her asleep in her bed, her black hair spread around her, her soft curves barely disguised by some flimsy nightrail.
Blood rushed from his brain to his cock. He shifted, widening his thighs to ease the pressure of the tight satin fabric on his groin. What the devil was wrong with him? He never responded to women in such a visceral, uncontrolled way. He stared down into the crowd, counting ostrich plumes, anything to avoid thinking about Victoria and the delicious scent of her jasmine perfume, and the spot where dark curls brushed her nape. A place he would like to taste with his tongue. Need spiked, hard and urgent.
He inhaled a deep breath, reaching for his legendary control. Where the devil was Deveril? No doubt off drowning his sorrows and after he’d promised to remain sober.
Restless and irritated beyond endurance, Simon stood. At the very least, he ought to make sure Dev didn’t make a complete ass of himself. “Forgive me, I must make arrangements for refreshments to be served at the intermission,” he murmured to Maria.
“Thank you, Travis,” Maria replied. “Sherry for me, please.”
Fortunately, it wasn’t necessary for Simon to run the gauntlet of the queen of glaciers. He met Dev marching back along the corridor on the other side of the auditorium, his face full of rage.
Simon planted himself before his friend, forcing him to stop. “What in hell’s name are you doing?”
“She wouldn’t speak to me.”
Simon saw what he had failed to notice at dinner. “You’re foxed. For God’s sake, you promised to stay sober tonight. Come back and watch the play.”
“No.”
A black cloud of misery hung over Dev. Short of hitting him over the head and dragging him to his seat, Simon had little hope of forcing him to finish out the evening. “You gave your word.”
“And I told you it was a bad idea.”
“You’re an imbecile to let her do this to you.”
No doubt too distraught to recall the reason he had agreed to accompany Simon in the first place, Dev shoved past him.
Simon heaved a sigh. Deveril was useless to anyone in this state. Simon followed him down the stairs and into the lobby. “Come on, old friend, let me put you in a hackney carriage.”
Dev ignored him, but Simon followed him outside where carriages lined the street waiting for their owners. Ragged street urchins held the horses in hopes of receiving a groat for their pains. Simon gave a driver Dev’s address and the money for the fare, but whether the fool would actually go home was anyone’s guess.
While he watched his friend start out in the right direction, he lit a cigar and savored the burn of smoke in his throat.
Damn it. Why couldn’t Dev see past Genevieve, to the real beauty of Victoria Yelverton?
Disappointed, yet somehow relieved, he returned inside. The task of entertaining Victoria for the rest of the evening now fell to him and for some reason, he found himself looking forward to it.
Spending time with Victoria was certainly less of a chore than he’d expected. He’d delighted in her company on their drive through Hyde Park. Unlike Miss Eckford, Victoria’s wit and understanding were needle-sharp. He could be himself, never needing to explain what he meant. He also liked her teasing laugh, her smile, her delicate, slender body. He pushed that thought away. That way led only to madness. Dark shadows of memories swirled through his mind. He shrugged away a sudden sense of foreboding.
Perhaps Dev had done him a favor, after all. Just this once, he would make the most of Victoria’s charming company, before someone worthy snapped her up.
Victoria couldn’t believe she was really was here at last. Her brother had considered it dull stuff and had never once offered to bring her. Since it was likely to be the only time she’d attend the theatre, she intended to make the most of every moment. She gazed around her, taking in every detail. Plush velvet drapes closed off the stage from view. Row upon row of white and gilt private boxes crowded with ladies and ge
ntlemen in glittering finery lined the walls. The scent of smoke from the oil lamps filled her nostrils. And the noise! The auditorium reverberated with the racket of conversation and the exchange of ribaldries from the noisy throng in the pit. Victoria even recognized some of the patrons as those she had met at Lady Corby’s ball or seen on her outing in Hyde Park.
She leaned across the seat vacated by Travis to speak to Maria. “Who is she?” She nodded at the lovely blonde woman who held herself like a queen in one of the boxes on the other side of the auditorium.
“Genevieve Longbourne,” Maria said. “Soon to be the Duchess of Rockingham.”
Diamonds flashed fire in her hair and at her throat with every regal motion of her head. She looked like every girl’s dream of a fairy princess. “She’s beautiful.”
“And ambitious. Rockingham gave her a king’s ransom in family diamonds on their betrothal. That’s her mother behind her. The Longbournes certainly made the match of the century there. The duke is yonder, one row down and a little to the left. The man with orders on his chest. He just arrived.”
Following Maria’s glance, she identified a large-girthed, bald man with a buxom brunette in red perched on his knee. “But surely...”
Maria chuckled behind her fan. “His mistress. Genevieve’s is a marriage of convenience. She gets the title and he gets her plump dowry and connection to one of England’s most powerful financial houses.”
The diamonds lost some of their glitter in view of the man she had agreed to take as a husband. Poor Miss Longbourne. Was that to be Victoria’s own fate? She shuddered. Not if she had anything to say in the matter.
The bell rang.
“Five minutes to curtain,” Maria muttered. “Where on earth is Travis?”
As if he’d heard her, Travis dropped into the chair between them.
Victoria raised an eyebrow and glanced behind him. “Is Lord Deveril coming back?”
“He isn’t feeling well,” Travis replied. “He went home.”
“Hmph,” Maria muttered.
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