by Gill, Tamara
Not as beautiful as you, he wanted to say. If he were a rogue, had the ability for pretty words and dark, hungry looks, he would tell Victoria all those things. Instead, he masked his feelings and said, "One of the finest in Hampshire. Although I'm very close to Surrey and it is often contested which county I live."
"We would love to attend and be your guests, but I must say, and please forgive my forwardness, but may we stay a night? I know it is some miles from Dunsleigh and may be too great a distance to travel in one day."
"Oh, of course. You are more than welcome to stay." The idea of Victoria being in his home, asleep under the same roof, where he would be even more at ease, able to speak to her without the worry of prying eyes was just the thing. If he studied up on his books regarding the opposite sex and what was expected of him as a man, maybe he could prove to Victoria that he was worth more than friendship.
That he was worth her giving up her widowhood to marry him instead.
"Then we shall come as soon as Josh has returned, and you write and invite us." The strains to the waltz started to come to a regretful end. Albert did not want to let her go, but then he had two other dancers with her yet, but both would not allow him such close intercourse.
The evening passed pleasantly after his dances with Victoria, and he was content to stand by and watch the play of guests. Some hours later, he left the ball, asking permission for the use of the library. Thankfully the duchess did not ask as to why he wanted to use the room. A little while later, he was scribbling away his words on a new book, the heroine, as all of his were, remarkably similar to Victoria in both appearance and temperament.
He wrote for hours, the sounds of the music drifting to a close, just as the ball did as well. The first signs of the new day broke across the land, and the house started to wake with the whispered words of maids and footmen. Albert wet his forefinger and snuffed his candle. He leaned back in the chair, stretching. He wrote a good amount of the book last evening, a scene where the hero required saving. His heroine coming to the hero’s rescue. He did not like weak characters and rarely wrote them. He supposed because he was that very thing in a lot of ways. Awkward, sheltered, and not the least fashionable. A weak marquess just as his father had always called him.
He collected his papers, placing them in his leather folder, and left the library. The guests wouldn't be up for some hours, and so he would rest and then say his goodbyes this afternoon before heading back to Rosedale, living in the hope that Victoria would do as she said and come to stay. The time would allow him to become worldly, a gentleman worthy of her hand, the hand of a daughter and sister to a duke.
Chapter 4
Victoria stumbled into the library just as the day after the ball was almost at an end. The previous night had been amusing and enjoyable, but she would be happy when the Season would be officially over, and Dunsleigh would be just for her family and herself to enjoy.
Some of the guests had departed early, one of them Lord Melvin, whom she had seen off just after lunch. She walked to the desk, needing some parchment to write to her brother, when she spotted a piece of paper, the scribbly, messy writing bold and rushed as if someone had to get the words down quickly before they forgot them.
She picked up the paper, reading the words, and couldn't quite grasp what she was holding. A marvelous story, similar in tone and ability to others she had read by one of her favorite authors, Elbert Retsek. His aptitude to throw the reader into his gothic romances was something of a dream. She had often fantasized about meeting the gentleman, having him sign the many books she had of his. In fact, she was eagerly awaiting his next release, which was rumored to be coming out next year.
She read through the words quickly, unable to comprehend how it was that these words were here. Was Elbert a guest at their home? She sat on the chair, reaching for the list of guests her mama had been checking and double-checking this past week.
She followed each guest's name, scrolling with her finger, and could not see anyone of that name on the list. Victoria frowned, slumping back in the chair. Was Elbert Retsek an alias, a pseudonym? How astonishing if he was a guest. Had she danced with him? Had she unknowingly been in the hands of one of England’s up-and-coming writers, in the league of Horace Walpose or even Ann Radcliffe? Excitement thrummed through her veins at the idea of a real-life author being in their presence.
Alice strolled into the room and, spotting her, shut the door. "Ah, there you are. I wanted to come and see you before we returned home."
Victoria waved her sister over, and she quickened her steps. "Look and read this. I think it may be some pages from Elbert Retsek."
Alice frowned, taking the sample and reading it quickly. She pursed her lips. "Well, it certainly reads like him, but what is it doing here?"
"I came in here this morning," Victoria said, standing and smoothing her dress as she paced back and forth to the window, "and found it. I think he may have been a guest at the ball last evening and left this here by mistake." Oh dear, which means he is missing an important piece of his story, for it looked like the hero was in great danger, not that she seemed too worried about the fact. A point for why Victoria loved Elbert's stories so much. She hated weak characters in any story being outsmarted or, worse, killed.
"He'll be wanting it back then," Alice said, sitting at the desk. "What shall we do?"
Victoria made a point of looking at Alice's baby belly. "We will do nothing, but I shall. I will have to do some investigating."
"Hmm," Alice said, staring at her. "Oh, I know what you can do. Check the acceptances for the ball. Maybe your mystery guest replied himself, and the handwriting may be similar."
Hope rushed through Victoria. "Alice, that is brilliant. I shall do that straightaway." Not that she was an expert at comparing handwriting, but it was at least one way forward. What would she do when she found the gentleman who had attended? She wasn't sure. How does one approach a famous, if not closeted, author and tell them you knew who they were and that they had left part of their manuscript in one's library? He may be unsettled knowing that one of his own class knew of his profession. Not that she would ever tell a soul, not if that is what he wished. To remain anonymous would be his choice, and she would respect that.
Victoria strode over to the sideboard and opened the drawer. It was where her mama kept her invitations and responses for the current entertainments. She found the acceptances and picked them up, not willing to let them out of her sight. "I shall take these to my room and go through them. I should think it will take me several hours."
"Do come and see me when you think you've found a match. I would like to help you if I can. You know how much I love a good intrigue."
Victoria chuckled, remembering the many intrigues her sister landed herself in while being courted by Lord Arndel. Many of which Victoria was dragged into and made an accessory.
"I will, I promise." Victoria helped her sister stand and walked her to the door, bussing her cheeks before seeing her off with her husband.
Her mama came to stand beside her, waving off her daughter, and Victoria linked arms with her parent. "Only a few more guests to go, and we shall have our house to ourselves again."
Her mother led her back inside, a small smile playing about her mouth. Her mama was still a beautiful woman for her middle age, and since their father had died, had become a lot less strict with rules and etiquette. She was more carefree, let her children live the lives they wished, within reason, and be happy. Victoria wasn't sure why their mama had mellowed. Perhaps it simply came with age.
"Did you enjoy yourself last night, my dear? From what Lucy told me this morning, you were up all night dancing."
That was true. She had stayed at the ball longer than she normally would, but then, it was a send-off to the Season, and now she could enjoy riding about the estate, looking after her dogs. Some, she knew, spoke about her behind her back, snarled that she did not mourn her husband respectfully enough, but she had. She had spent a y
ear mourning a man who had not shown an ounce of honor during their six-week marriage. That society would judge her for his actions irked. It was one of the reasons she wanted to throw their ideals in their faces and remain a contented widow for the rest of her life.
"It was very enjoyable. Several gentlemen asked me to dance, which was nice of them, " she lied to keep her mama happy. “I was able to catch up with several friends, some of whom I shall not see again until next year.”
Her mother chuckled, her eyes bright with amusement. "I shall live in the hope that the right gentleman is out there for you, my dear. You cannot allow what Mr. Armstrong put you through to tarnish your opinion on marriage.”
Too late for that…
"Just so," Victoria said. "In fact, I wanted to let you know that I have borrowed the acceptances from the ball. I want to match up some writing samples if I can."
They walked up the stairs and into her mama's private parlor, where they would not be interrupted by other guests still staying at the house. "Really, why would you need to do that?" Her mother pulled the bell for tea. "Did a gentleman leave you an inappropriate note to rendevous with him? As a widow, you must protect yourself against such rakes."
Heat kissed Victoria's cheeks, although the idea of a wicked rendevous with a willing gentleman may not be so bad. One thing she would give Paul credit for was his bedroom abilities, and she had enjoyed the short time they had been together. Even if the idea of him with other women now soured that memory. "Of course not. You should know very well that is quite inappropriate. I would not think anyone would dare to try such things with Josh watching my every step. I do believe he still thinks me an unmarried maid."
Her mother raised one disbelieving brow. "Josh darling is not here to keep vigil. I would think many gentlemen would try such tricks. You’re a beautiful woman, an heiress, and a widow."
"Well, that is not why I’m researching penmanship, Mama. I found a written page on the desk in the library and merely wanted to return it to its owner. After reading it, I should imagine it's quite important."
Having sat and picked up her sewing, her mother looked up at Victoria at her last words. "A note, you say? Left on the desk in the library overnight?"
"Yes," Victoria stated, her stomach a little in knots seeing her mother mull over the issue.
"You do not need to search the acceptances, my dear. I know who worked in the library last evening, as he sought my approval before doing so."
Victoria tried to school her features. Her mama had never been too accepting of her reading gothic romances or horror, and to find out that one of her guests could be England's latest on dit and had used the desk would never do. She would be scandalized.
"Who was it?" she asked in the most bored tone she could muster.
Her mama threaded a needle, her mouth pinched in concentration. "Lord Melvin requested use of the room late in the evening. He said he has some correspondence to finish."
Lord Melvin!
"Do close your mouth, dear. You're gaping."
Victoria shut her mouth with a snap. Lord Melvin? How could it be him!? He was so quiet, and some would say a little droll, but handsome, so handsome that every time she saw him, a little devil sat on her shoulder, and she wanted to tease him, not that she ever did. Last evening he had invited her family and herself to his estate. Could she wait until then to confront him with this idea of hers?
His written words, folded and safe in the pocket of her dress, weighed heavily on her conscience. No, she could not wait. He may need this part of his story. If she did not return it to him, he would wonder what happened to it. He would have to rewrite it.
The horror!
She was not a writer, but to think of losing any part of a manuscript would surely send fear to shiver down one's spine.
"That reminds me, Mama. Lord Melvin invited us to stay at Rosedale when Josh has returned from abroad.”
"Oh, did I not tell you, my dear? Josh darling will be home next week. I received a letter from him this morning. He's in Paris right now but will start his movement back to England within a day or two."
What wonderful news. Her trip to Hampshire could be sooner than she thought. "Do you think Josh would agree to travel and stay at Lord Melvin's so soon after returning from abroad?"
Her mother set down her sewing, meeting her gaze. "I do not see why not. The Season is over, and we're now rusticating in the country for several months. I'm sure he will agree."
Victoria flopped herself down on a nearby settee. And if she were to hint to Josh that Lord Melvin may be a possible suiter, she was certain he'd have them bundled up in the carriage within the hour. Not that she was looking at his lordship as a possible match, but she was certainly curious about this story she had in her pocket. Had he written it? Was he the mysterious Elbert Retsek the whole of England was talking about? Victoria crossed her legs, grinning. Something told her he was, and what a find that shall be. What would he have to say for himself about his double life in society?
Only time would tell.
Chapter 5
As expected, her brother rumbled up the drive in the duke’s carriage several days later. Victoria and her mama went out the front of the house to greet him. The carriage was sprayed with mud, and the two drivers and footmen accompanying Josh looked tired and worn.
Victoria turned to the housekeeper standing behind her and requested a light repast and drinks for the travel-weary duke and servants.
Josh jumped down from the carriage, and Victoria hardly recognized him. Gone was the boy they had always teased growing up. The only boy in the family, it was only right that he suffered a little bit. Not that they were ever cruel, but he had been the future duke, and it was always fun to remind him that although he would care for them all one day, he was still the youngest.
Victoria ran up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him. "You're home. Finally."
He kissed the top of her head, pulling their mama into his arms as she joined them. They walked inside, arms linked. They were a close family, and she knew that Alice would be around later today when she received word he was home. Isolde and Elizabeth had returned to their estates, but Josh would undoubtedly visit with them soon enough.
"Ah, Dunsleigh. How I have missed our home and everyone in it. Tell me all that has happened while I was away." Josh turned and looked down at her, and Victoria marveled at how much of a man he appeared. He was taller, broader across the shoulders, his hair lightened by travel and a little too long for what was fashionable. His eyes were bright and merry, and he required a shave, his whiskers a little too long.
Had the ladies in London seen him this past Season, Victoria knew he would have been swamped. How fun next year would be when he returned to town.
"I see that you are not yet married," he teased, bussing the top of her head again as they stepped into the foyer. "Remind me to put another bullet in Armstrong, even though another husband has already beaten me to it."
"Never mind Paul is nothing but a figment of my past. And do I need to remind you that unlike you, I have married and did my duty, even if it did turn out so very poorly. I hoped you might bring back a Russian princess or an Italian heiress to be our duchess. How boring your stories will be to endure, now that we know that is not the case," she teased, electing a chuckle from her brother.
He winked. "There were many beauties, but none that I can tell you about, Lady Victoria Worthingham. The lady you are, it would not be appropriate."
"Come, my dears. We shall have tea in my parlor upstairs," their mama said.
They headed upstairs, her brother taking in the house, seemingly remembering its beauty. It was the same for all of them when they traveled, even if just to town for several months. Dunsleigh was their home, the seat for the Dukes of Penworth, and they adored the house and estate. It was home, no matter where their lives took them.
Victoria allowed their mama to sit beside Josh. She sat across from them, excited to hear everythi
ng he had to say. They spoke of his trip, the people he met, and those he caught up with from England while traveling. The places, sights, and countries sounded amazing, and Victoria craved to make a similar trip. Supposing she could convince Josh to help her, that was. With her mother determined to see her wed again, she did not think traveling was in her future unless it was with her husband.
The thought of Lord Melvin floated through her mind as Josh recounted his amusing and very wet details of falling off a gondola in Venice. She smiled but only half-listened as she thought of a way to bring up the invitation to Lord Melvin's home. If she were to raise it, her mama would be curious indeed and start to gain ideas she had no right to.
"We've been invited to several house parties. The first is closest, just over the border with Hampshire. Lord Melvin has invited us to stay."
Josh raised his brow, a look of confusion crossing his features. "I did not know Albert liked to host guests. Are you sure it's a house party?"
Their mama looked to Victoria, and she shrugged. "He invited us three to stay with him when you returned from abroad. That is all he said. I do not know if there will be others in attendance."
"Hmm," Josh said, a mischievous light entering his eye. "Mayhap my old friend has set his sights on my sister. A trip to Hampshire would be welcome, and I haven't seen Melvin for some time."
Victoria did not want to come across as desperate, but she also was eager to travel to his estate. If he was indeed the famous author, one whom she loved to read, well, she wanted to know for certain. To discuss his works and those that were yet to be written.
"I shall write to him this week and seek a date that is suitable for him."
Victoria couldn't help but smile at the idea. What would his lordship say when she confronted him with the page of writing? Would he deny it? The idea that it wasn't a work of his hand dampened the idea of traveling to his estate, and yet, he wasn't so very bad. Certainly not to look at. If only he wasn't so awkward and standoffish.
