“The lady will never consent to becoming your mistress, no matter how charming or rich you are. It would ruin her reputation. A marriage proposal would be more appropriate.”
“Marriage? To an Ashton? I thought to destroy the family name, not marry into it.” Blake walked to a tall window and stared at the busy street below. “But then, I’ve always had a soft spot for Victoria. I’m not wholly opposed to marriage, but I’d prefer not to pay such a hefty price to have the lady. I’d rather entice her to accept my offer of mistress.”
“What if Charles Ashton refuses?” Justin asked.
Blake chuckled. “It’s not the father’s consent I’m worried about but the daughter’s. Knowing Ashton, when I explain his situation, he will hand Victoria over to me quite willingly under any terms.”
“You plan to attack Ashton socially as well as financially? Your conscience may bother you where the lady is concerned.”
Blake’s eyes were like chips of stone. “I lost my conscience years ago when I killed a man to escape the same poorhouse I saved you from.”
Victoria stretched on her bed and studied The Times with concentration.
Stock prices were high this month. Based on her calculations, they would rise even more. Investing in companies that traded sugar, tea and spices from the East Indies had proven to be lucrative. But the new London Bank and several other money-lending businesses caught her eye. Such investments involved risk but offered the opportunity for large returns. No doubt the Prince Regent’s outrageous spending habits, resulting in the Crown’s enormous debt, were a major factor in the recent success of such lending establishments.
“Are you going to make as much money as I need, Vicki?”
Victoria’s brows knit at Spencer’s interruption. “I don’t know. You’ve accumulated more debt than ever before. Investing takes time to turn a profit. You cannot become rich overnight.”
Only Spencer knew her secret, and at times like this, she regretted sharing it with him.
Spencer sighed and fell into a chair in the corner of Victoria’s bedchamber. “I know. I’m just desperate to keep my debts from Father.”
Victoria rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and returned to the paper before her. She wondered for the hundredth time that evening how she had become her brother’s salvation.
A knock on the door startled Victoria. She had just enough time to hide The Times beneath her pillow before the door opened and her mother entered.
“Your father requests your presence in the library, Victoria.” Mary Ashton stood in the center of the room. A petite woman with dark hair and assessing green eyes, Victoria had inherited her mother’s physical traits. The black velvet of her mother’s dress heightened the translucence of her face and neck. Her hands were folded in front of her and her wrists were small, her fingers slim. She appeared delicate and dainty, the epitome of a lady.
A sense of uneasiness swept over Victoria. “Is Jacob Hobbs downstairs?”
Mary looked first at Spencer, then at Victoria, a frown marring her features. “You know better than to question your father’s request. You’re a constant worry to him…near twenty and no closer to being married. You have done yourself and this family harm by refusing every decent proposal of marriage. You have earned your reputation as difficult. No man will risk rejection by offering for you now. You should be thankful that your father has your best interests at heart.”
Victoria sat on the edge of the bed. “I hardly call Jacob Hobbs in my best interest. Such a match would benefit only Father by keeping the business profits in the family.”
Her mother raised trembling fingers to her temple. “Whatever am I to do with you, Victoria? You know a daughter must obey her father, just as I must obey my husband. Men provide for us and in return we must follow their dictates. It’s nature’s course for women. Just ask your brother.”
Spencer rose from his seat and took their mother’s arm, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Of course, Mother. A woman is not capable of earning money for herself, and thus a man must provide for her.”
Victoria almost choked in rage at the twinkle of mischief in Spencer’s eye. She jumped to her feet and confronted her mother. “All I want is the freedom to choose my own spouse!”
“You cannot. You know very well that women of our station seldom pick their husbands.” Mary sighed and continued to rub her temples. “I don’t like to argue, Victoria. Such discussions always bring on a terrible headache.”
Victoria swallowed her disappointment. Mary Ashton was never able to deal with her headstrong daughter, and guilt washed over Victoria for upsetting her mother’s fragile disposition.
“Don’t fret, Mother. I’ll go downstairs right away.”
As soon as Victoria opened the library door, Jacob Hobbs was on his feet to greet her.
He raised her hand to his lips and bowed formally. “My dear Victoria, you look lovely, as always.”
Before he straightened up she observed the top of his head where his hair was thinning. He looked in her eyes. Jacob was not unattractive, with silver hair, pale-blue eyes and his expensive choice of dress.
But she was not in love with him.
“You flatter me, Mr. Hobbs.”
Jacob’s brows drew together. “Please call me Jacob. We have known each other for some time, and I’m certain your father would approve.” Jacob glanced over his shoulder at Charles Ashton, seated behind a large desk.
Victoria turned to her father, who looked up from his papers to study her. For a man who recently celebrated his sixtieth birthday, he appeared much younger, with a full head of steel-gray hair and a stocky, muscular build.
“I gave Jacob my permission to take you for a carriage ride in Hyde Park this afternoon, Victoria,” Charles said, his mouth spreading into a thin-lipped smile.
This afternoon? she thought. However will I get to Capel Court to place my stock order for the month?
“But Spencer is to take me shopping at the new silversmith’s in Town—”
“You can go another time.”
Victoria gazed at her father’s starched cravat and forced a smile. “Spencer and I shall go tomorrow, then.”
“Of course you will, my dear.”
The cynical tone in her father’s voice and the glint of satisfaction in his eyes grated on her.
She clenched her fists, her nails forming crescent shapes in the flesh of her palms. The same physical reaction arose whenever her father forced Jacob upon her. She had escaped the marital web so far, but she knew her time was expiring.
For the rest of the meeting, Victoria sat in the rear of the library while the men discussed their joint ventures.
On many previous occasions her father had summoned Victoria while he talked of business affairs with Jacob. No doubt Charles Ashton had seen these times as opportunities to put his strong-minded daughter and Jacob in the same room.
Victoria stirred in her chair and feigned interest in a porcelain figurine of a shepherdess which stood on a nearby bookshelf. It was during these meetings that she had discovered she had a head for figures.
At first Victoria had been bored and confused with the talk of profit margins, price fixing and dividends. But as time went by, she had begun to listen and learn how to invest. She had started to predict which stocks would earn money, and she had known she had a gift when she had been correct more often than both her father and Jacob.
With her newfound knowledge came enlightenment, and she had realized that the wealthy men in society held the power that enabled them to control their own fate. Wives were dependent upon the charity of their husbands and could not spend a shilling without their spouse’s permission. Such was the situation between her parents. Only the widows whose deceased husbands had left them fortunes were free to choose how to spend their own money and, more importantly, that of their second spouse.
Her father grew impatient, and Victoria knew her true desire in life—to marry a man for love, a man who would recogniz
e her intelligence without crushing her independent spirit—was unrealistic. By creating an income stream for herself, Victoria hoped to gain a bit of freedom from the oppression of a loveless marriage.
At the end of the meeting, Jacob stood and took Victoria’s hand.
Careful of her father’s close scrutiny, she smiled as she rose from her seat.
“I apologize if our talk bores you,” Jacob said.
Victoria lowered her lashes. “Oh, I think of other things. I don’t pretend to understand business matters, and anything to do with the Stock Exchange confuses me.”
Jacob patted her hand like one would a small child. “Women aren’t expected to comprehend even simple money matters.”
He escorted her out of the library and paused by the front door. Jacob looked down at her in the dark hallway, a serious expression on his face. “I intend to handle the finances and provide for my future wife. It’s no secret that I wish that woman to be you.”
Victoria stiffened, her arm still resting on Jacob’s sleeve. “I don’t know what to say, Jacob.”
“I’ve already discussed my proposal with your father and have his consent.”
She stared up at him, her heart pounding. “I’m not sure I’d make you a good wife.”
“Your father has spoken with the church to arrange the reading of the banns next month.”
A soft gasp escaped her. “But I must consent! My father cannot take the marital vows for me.”
“You must obey your father, Victoria. We have decided what is best for you.”
Her vision blurred with the desire to lash out at him.
He dismissed her by turning his back and opening the door himself, not waiting for the butler. “I’ll arrive later in the afternoon for our ride in Hyde Park. Be ready, Victoria.”
She shut the door behind him. Leaning her back against the frame for a moment, she tried to gather strength. She had not expected things to progress with Jacob with such speed. She hated the way he treated her like a child and never considered her own intelligence or desires.
Victoria jumped at the sound of a knock on the door.
Whirling around, she yanked open the door, expecting to see Jacob, returning perhaps for his hat, cane or some other personal item he had left behind.
She instead discovered Blake Mallory standing on the porch.
“Good afternoon, Victoria.”
She merely stared, tongue-tied.
He leaned to the side and looked around her. His dark hair was ruffled by the breeze in the doorway, and he smiled, showing even, white teeth that contrasted pleasingly with his tanned skin.
“Do you always answer the door so quickly, or were you expecting me?”
Without waiting for her response, he haughtily walked past her and into the house.
Stunned at his forwardness, she rushed to catch up with him and grasped his forearm.
“What do you want?” she blurted out.
He looked at her hand, then arched his dark eyebrows. “I’m here to speak to your father.”
She pulled away. “My father?” she asked, surprised.
Biting her lip, she looked up at him with an effort. “Does this have anything to do with Spencer?”
“Your family owes me quite a bit of money.”
There was a cold edge of irony in his voice which increased her uneasiness.
“Spencer is good for every shilling,” she said. “There’s no need to speak with our father.”
He ignored her and strode forward as he studied the interior of the house like an appraiser at a foreclosure sale.
Victoria watched him, acutely conscious of his tall, well-muscled body. He carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence that added to his arrogance. He looked stunning in his finely tailored clothes, and the broad outline of his shoulders strained against the fabric of his coat.
Blake turned toward her. His gaze met hers, then moved over her body lazily. “I find that my patience with your family has worn thin, and I’ve come to collect what I’m due.”
Her blood pounded; her face grew hot. Her mood veered sharply from unease to anger.
“A true gentleman would give my brother more time. Had you not loaned him the money, he never would have gambled for such high stakes. You seduced him by acting as his friend. My father was right. Your father was deceptive, untrustworthy and a coward to kill himself after—” She stopped suddenly as she realized with dismay that digging up the past could only hurt her brother’s situation.
“Forgive me.” She backed up a step. “I’ll tell Father you are here to see him now.”
His fingers wrapped around the dark fabric of her sleeve, stopping her. “Do you always speak your mind so freely?”
She tried to remove his hand, but when her fingers brushed against his she froze. He stood so close she could feel the heat from his body and smell his masculine scent. Her heart thumped erratically at an unknown emotion that rose within her.
She boldly met his eyes. “I believe in speaking my mind.”
His lips twisted into a cynical smile. “Good. It shall provide endless hours of entertainment.”
She glared at him, baffled. “What do you really want?”
His cobalt eyes were dark and unfathomable. “I’m glad you asked. Let there be no lies between us. I want you, Victoria.”
Chapter 3
“What?”
Blake watched as all hint of color drained from Victoria’s face. “It will be a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“I’m not sure what arrangement you speak of. But I’m certain you’re insane.”
“You hold in your hands the power to save your family, Victoria.”
“I told you Spencer is good for every last shilling.”
“It’s not Spencer to whom I refer.”
She raised her chin. “Then you are mistaken. My father is an established businessman and paid well as one of the six Lords Commissioners of the Treasury.”
Blake gazed down upon her face. He reached out to touch a loose tendril of hair brushing her cheek. Its silky texture mesmerized him. She appeared momentarily stunned when he grazed her face.
Emboldened, his fingers fluttered to her neck.
As if coming to her senses, she moved away. Nervously she moistened her dry lips. “You presume much, my lord.”
“You cannot deny the attraction between us. Do you feel the same when Jacob Hobbs touches you?”
She looked at him in surprise, and then her breath burned in her throat. “Your arrogance is astounding. I’ll tell my father you’re here to see him.”
Victoria hurried to the library door and knocked.
A moment later, the door jerked open. Charles Ashton looked down at his daughter, a frown on his face.
“What is it? You know not to disturb me unless I ask for you.”
“There’s, uh—”
Blake cleared his throat. “I requested Victoria to fetch you.”
Charles’s head snapped up. At the sight of Blake standing in the vestibule, he inhaled a deep breath. His features smoothly transformed from astonishment to masked indifference with the skill of an experienced politician.
“I had heard you had returned,” Charles said. “How many years have passed?”
“Ten, to be exact.”
Charles stood tall and rigid in the doorway. “I’ve also heard you’ve done quite well for yourself.”
“The Indies proved quite profitable. Which is why I decided to visit. I’m here to discuss a business proposal.”
Charles’s eyebrows lifted.
Blake read curiosity warring with caution behind his enemy’s hard eyes until inquisitiveness and greed won, just as Blake had anticipated.
“Do come inside, then.” Charles stepped aside and opened the library door wide. “I have excellent brandy we can share before we discuss your proposal.”
Blake stood still. “Victoria should be present as a witness.”
Charles’s eyes darted to Victo
ria. “I do not involve the women in my household with business affairs.”
“Perhaps you will make an exception today.”
Without waiting for a reply, Blake entered the library and strode to a bay window overlooking the gardens. Behind him, he heard Charles usher Victoria inside and close the door.
Charles poured a glass of brandy and handed it to Blake. “What type of business do you have in mind?”
Blake accepted the drink and sat in a leather chair. “Tobacco.”
He watched Victoria sit on the edge of a chair across from him. With what he suspected was great effort, she avoided meeting his gaze. Her breathing was rapid, and her breasts rose and fell temptingly against the low neckline of her gown. Her eyes shone like emeralds, and the ivory skin at her throat contrasted with the inky darkness of her hair.
He felt the stirrings of desire, and annoyance rose within him.
He needed to have his wits about him for the initial meeting with Charles, to set the trap. He could not allow his enemy’s daughter, no matter how desirable, to distract him.
“Tobacco?” Charles asked. “You’re mistaken. The market is currently flooded. I have a warehouse stacked to the rafters with the weed. I can’t find a shipping company willing to transport it. Even Crown Shipping, London’s largest company, refused.”
“I know,” Blake said. “I own Crown Shipping.”
Charles looked at him with surprise. “You understand tobacco is perishable. I would consider it a good faith gesture for any future business relationship if you would reconsider. As I said, other shipping companies have refused me.”
“I know. I instructed them to do so.”
Charles’s face reddened. “You haven’t forgotten the past, then. And you’re here on some crusade to avenge your father’s—”
“I didn’t come here to discuss how you would ship your tobacco but how you will pay for it.”
“How I afforded the crop is none of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is.”
Lady of Scandal Page 2
