by Gayle Callen
“Yes, I am.”
“A shame about his passing,” Mr. Hutton said, shaking his head. “And to think—a fall from his horse can take a man just like that.”
Victoria’s practical sister Meriel had thought of that lie should anyone glimpse the bruising at their father’s neck during the funeral. But no one had noticed—that they knew of.
“Now Mr. Hutton,” his wife said in a scolding tone of voice, “let Miss Shelby enjoy the day without reminding her of such tragedy. Lord Thurlow is giving her the chance to begin a new, exciting life!”
After their maid had gone off to the kitchen, Victoria and Lord Thurlow were led upstairs to the drawing room, where every inch of wall space sported a magnificent painting and every table overflowed with collections of bric-a-brac.
Two couples rose as they entered. There were plenty of curtsies and bows as introductions were exchanged, and finally they all sat down on the comfortable furniture, facing one another. Both sofas were already taken, so Victoria found herself in a chair alone.
As they talked, the men monopolized the conversation with their discussion about the railways, a discussion that surprised her at an elegant luncheon. It didn’t take Victoria long to realize that the men were investors, as Lord Thurlow obviously was. Miss Damaris Lingard, the only other unmarried woman in attendance, spoke just as freely as the men, and Victoria admired her knowledge of business.
“Lord Thurlow,” said Mr. Staplehill, a younger man dressed in the very height of fashion, “do you really believe there’s a market for a railway line so deep into Cornwall?”
Victoria watched the men defer to the viscount in a way that seemed beyond his noble title. Was it the fact that he was a future member of the House of Lords, whose patronage would help their business interests?
“In the Commons,” Lord Thurlow said, “we had a discussion of this subject, when members of that very shire brought us letters of complaints.”
Good heavens, she’d forgotten that he was already in Parliament.
She felt like a fool, and wished she could think of a thing to say. Besides Miss Lingard, none of the ladies interrupted the gentlemen’s discussion. Victoria found herself wishing she knew something of the subject. But all she could do was look at her betrothed, so very comfortable among businessmen not of the ton, and worry. She had thought she was leaving this society behind, and had been glad because of how she had embarrassed herself in the past, and the secret that weighed on her soul.
But by this mysterious involvement in the railway, he was creating a new scandal of his own. And he’d worried about her starting one?
When they all went into luncheon, Victoria found herself seated with young Mr. Staplehill on one side, and a Mr. Blake on the other. Mr. Blake concentrated solely on his food, and Mr. Staplehill turned his back to listen earnestly to something Lord Thurlow was saying farther down the table.
Victoria sighed and looked down at her carrot soup.
“He can be a bore, can’t he?” Miss Lingard said politely from the other side of Mr. Blake.
Surprised, Victoria leaned back, where she could meet Miss Lingard’s friendly eyes behind Mr. Blake. “Who can, Miss Lingard?”
“Why, Mr. Staplehill, of course. Not you, Mr. Blake,” she said to the man who continued eating as if he hadn’t seen food in several days.
Miss Lingard studied Victoria. “Did you think I meant Lord Thurlow?”
Victoria slowly smiled. “Not really, because I don’t consider him a bore.”
“Very admirable,” the woman said dryly.
She was very pretty, with a tall elegance that Victoria had always admired in woman.
“But you have to say that, don’t you,” Miss Lingard continued.
“My betrothal would not bind me to speak lies,” Victoria said mildly.
Behind Victoria, someone laughed loudly, and she looked over her shoulder. She saw Lord Thurlow’s attention settle on her. He studied her with narrowed eyes, then relaxed and turned back to Mrs. Hutton.
And it was in that moment that Victoria knew he was not marrying her just to rescue her or to give him an heir. He needed her for situations like this, where he would not have to be a single gentleman anymore. She sensed mysterious under-currents to him, but how could she question him about his business dealings?
“So are you attending the dinner?” Miss Lingard asked.
Victoria gave a start and turned back. “I beg your pardon?”
“All of the railway directors that Lord Thurlow has assembled for the Southern Railway will be attending a dinner at Mr. Bannaster’s home next week.”
Victoria smiled. “I’ll be married by then, so I imagine I will accompany my husband.”
But more and more she found herself unsettled. Why was Lord Thurlow so immersed in the world of commerce? She would not ask Miss Lingard, only to look like a fool whose betrothed didn’t confide in her.
But that was exactly what she felt like. A woman easily forgotten.
She was determined to speak up and question Lord Thurlow—but not until after the wedding.
“I still can’t believe it,” Meriel Shelby said after taking a sip of wine. “Our Victoria getting married.”
“And to that man next door,” Louisa added in her demure voice, her demeanor always so at odds with the flame red of her hair. Her eyes fixed on Victoria. “Though he’ll be an earl someday, I can’t help worrying.”
Victoria sighed. It was the day before the wedding, and they were celebrating the reunion of their small family at a special luncheon prepared by Mrs. Wayneflete. Victoria’s sisters, whom she hadn’t seen in six months, were making her the center of attention.
Victoria was the eldest, but always she had gladly stood in their shadows, allowing them to face the world while she had immersed herself in her music and her needlecraft. She had enjoyed the stories of their friendships and parties and adventures, and had not realized how much she would miss their companionship until they’d gone.
“You didn’t explain anything in your letter about how you managed this feat,” Meriel scolded. Her golden curls did not seem tame enough for how Victoria had always pictured a governess. “Did she tell you, Lou?”
“She said nothing to me, Mer. Vic, surely you must confess everything.”
Victoria smiled with relief at their childhood nicknames, and was glad to see her mother smile in return.
Victoria put down her fork after finishing her stewed apples. “You must promise to keep it a secret. I don’t wish my…betrothed to be embarrassed.”
“Mrs. Wayneflete, perhaps you should tell us,” Meriel insisted. “You’ll say more than Victoria. Didn’t you warn her about—”
The housekeeper put up both hands. “I have dishes to see to. You young ladies talk. You too, Mrs. Shelby.”
Victoria shook her head. “There really isn’t much to say. Do you remember the boy I used to write to?”
“How did that lead to an earl?” Louisa asked.
“A viscount,” Victoria corrected.
Meriel groaned. “Future earl. You’re trying to distract us.”
“No, I promise I’m not. For strangely”—Victoria took a deep breath and looked at her mother, who was watching in bewilderment—“Viscount Thurlow was Tom all along.”
There were gasps from her sisters, but her mother simply looked stunned as she said, “Victoria, you intruded on an earl’s family with letters?”
“I didn’t know his father was the earl,” Victoria said. “He lied to me. I thought he was the cook’s son. And it was a journal we shared, not letters.”
Meriel frowned. “So he lied to you even then, proving himself just as dubious as his father.”
“Tell me what you know about the earl,” Victoria said. “There’s always been talk of scandal, but nothing in fact.”
Meriel and Louisa exchanged glances, which only made Victoria angry.
“Why would you two know something and not tell me?”
“Because we really know nothin
g,” Louisa said softly.
Meriel took over. “All of our friends knew a scandal had happened within the ton, at the earl’s house, but none could give any details. We whispered over it, but the subject soon died down as far as we were concerned.”
“I keep telling myself that unsubstantiated rumors are not a reason to condemn a family,” Victoria said with frustration.
Meriel gave her a guarded look. “I hope you have considered that he can’t be trusted.”
“I considered that, yes. But it could not play much into my decision, now could it?” she asked pointedly. “If he knew everything, he could say the same about me.”
Her sisters exchanged a glance, and Victoria knew no one wanted to speak about their father in front of Mama.
Louisa sighed and spoke in her soft voice. “Our positions are at least temporary, but marriage is permanent.”
“I know,” Victoria said, attempting a reassuring smile. “Lord Thurlow explained to me that he’d been ten years old when he’d thought of the lie of his identity, and that later he couldn’t find a way to tell the truth without hurting me.”
Louisa looked about the table at her family. “Perhaps he cares about your feelings.”
As usual, she wanted to see the good in people, and Victoria appreciated the comfort of that.
Meriel was still scowling. “Not enough to tell the truth. You must have been horrified.”
Victoria hesitated. “It was…a sobering experience. But it has all ended well. He asked me to marry him, and he will welcome Mama into his home.”
Their mother should have looked relieved, yet there was still so much worry in her lined face.
“Why did he ask you to marry him?” Meriel asked.
Victoria was beginning to regret her sister’s logical nature. “Because he needed a wife. He remembered me from our journal, and felt that gave him a good idea of the woman I was.”
“But you bring him no dowry or bloodlines.”
“He says he has enough money, and doesn’t care about the other. And he’s already escorted me to a luncheon where my purpose as his future wife was made very clear. I make a suitable dinner companion.”
“But surely you asked him about the scandal?”
“Meriel, of course I could not do such a thing. Don’t you think I say these things to myself every night while I lie in bed?” Victoria’s voice had begun to shake.
Louisa’s eyes shone with tears while Meriel just looked worried.
“I refuse to regret this decision,” Victoria said firmly. “Don’t you see? It solves all of our problems. Banstead House is so enormous, that I’m certain Lord Thurlow would allow both of you to live there.”
There was suddenly an uncomfortable silence, and Victoria’s secret hopes began to fade. “Don’t you understand? You could both cease working.”
Meriel began to cut her meat with determination. “I can’t abandon my pupil just yet. He has no mother, and his father—” She broke off, taking a bite of lamb and chewing vigorously. “His father is not much help.”
“But you could stay until you find someone worthy for the position,” Victoria insisted. She’d never imagined that her sisters wouldn’t come back to London to live with her.
Meriel shook her head, meeting Victoria’s eyes with regret. “I can’t do that to a little boy. He needs me.” She lowered her voice, as if someone might overhear. “There’s something about his father that seems…unusual to me. He’s a duke, but he’s ill at ease, though I don’t understand why. I certainly can’t leave until I’m positive little Stephen is protected.”
“Meriel,” Victoria said firmly, “you always see plots where there are none. You should have been the writer in the family.”
“I’ll leave that to you, Vic,” Meriel said.
Her smile seemed forced, and she wore her most closed-off expression. Nothing was going to change Meriel’s mind. Victoria turned to Louisa, who gave her a gentle smile.
“I’m sorry, Victoria, but I, too, must stay where I am for a little while. Lady Margaret is depending on me. She is quite ill and confined to her bed. And I am the only one she has to talk to.”
“Constant talk, from what you’ve implied,” Meriel said, her brows lowered in a scowl.
Louisa sighed. “She’s a dear old lady, whose children do not visit her enough. I promise, if the viscount will have me, I’ll join you when I’m able.”
“But Louisa, living here would give you the chance to meet society,” Victoria said earnestly. “You would surely meet a suitable man to marry. Hasn’t that been what you’ve always wanted?”
Louisa’s distress was palpable. “Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is,” she whispered.
Victoria sat back in her chair, knowing that she had to accept her sisters’ decisions. Louisa and Meriel were adults with responsibilities they couldn’t abandon—which they didn’t want to elaborate on. Victoria realized that by trying to persuade them to live with her, she was selfishly making herself another responsibility to them. She wouldn’t do that anymore. She would be the mistress of her own household now, responsible for herself.
But the worry that was never far from her thoughts crept closer. She would just have to concentrate on the fact that Mama and Mrs. Wayneflete would be with her.
And Lord Thurlow.
She shivered and presented a bright smile to her family.
On the eve of the wedding, Victoria retreated to her room after convincing her sisters that she needed her rest. She stacked her notebooks on her desk: a book on her latest artistic endeavors, so that creative ideas wouldn’t leave her mind; a household journal, where she wrote out the daily things she had to accomplish; and a journal where she wrote her most private thoughts. It was this last one she opened now. She hadn’t written in it since the day Lord Thurlow had proposed. She’d been too busy with all the preparations.
Now, as she stared at the blank page, she realized that she didn’t want to see her fears put into words. She would wait until after the wedding.
Then she opened the lowest desk drawer and withdrew her childhood journal. Something had been bothering her about it all day, and the reason kept eluding her.
Victoria touched the words written in Lord Thurlow’s boyish hand.
Now that she knew his true identity, she could see the gaps in his writing, the way he’d avoided the subject of family, except for his mother. She had always thought it simply meant he was almost alone in the world.
She felt her uneasiness rising, and once again she forced away thoughts of betrayal. She was just as guilty of lies now as he was, and it did not sit easily on her conscience. So he was going to use her as his partner in social events—every wife fulfilled that function.
She closed the book and put it in a crate to be moved to her new home.
Home. She couldn’t imagine another one than this, but she reminded herself that she hadn’t always been happy here, that it was no idyllic place she’d pine for.
Could she make a new home? Would Lord Thurlow welcome her, give her a real chance, or would he treat her like the property she’d become upon marrying him?
Of course, marriage took two people, and it was equally up to her to contribute to its success. She wasn’t sure how to do that; she’d spent so many years settling into the role of spinster that tomorrow’s ceremony seemed like the start of someone else’s life.
And she would be someone else—Lady Thurlow.
Victoria could make Lady Thurlow’s life a success. She was no longer that naive girl who’d written in that childhood journal. She had experienced hard realities, and knew how close she’d come to seeing poverty firsthand.
And she’d survived. She’d fed her small family, kept them warm and clothed for as long as she could. And then she’d found a man to marry—well, he’d asked her, of course, but that didn’t negate the fact that she’d initiated it. Even a year ago, that would have seemed impossible.
And now she had to keep a se
cret from a man who was trusting her in marriage, a man whose own father had tainted their family heritage. She had promised Lord Thurlow that she would commit no scandals during their marriage. She rationalized to herself that this was the truth, that she’d told no lie.
For how could she risk that her father’s remains be moved to unholy ground because of suicide? How could she risk the ton thinking their finances must have been mishandled, since her father was so obviously mentally unbalanced? There were good reasons to keep this terrible secret.
But there was also the sanctity of a marriage—and she was betraying it.
Chapter 5
In the vestibule of the church, Victoria fingered the diamond necklace that Lord Thurlow had given her. Outside a light morning shower was turning steadily heavier, denying her cheerful sunshine on her wedding day. Her sisters had gathered in front of her at the partially opened door and peered inside the church.
“Can you see him?” Louisa asked.
Meriel gave Louisa an unladylike elbow. “I could if you’d move your big head.”
Victoria waited behind them for their judgment. They were suddenly very quiet, then turned to stare at her in unison.
Oh God, had the bridegroom changed his mind? Had he remembered that she would never be the Perfect Wife of their childhood imaginations?
Victoria was looking for something to brace herself on, when Louisa began to nod.
“He’s quite handsome,” Louisa breathed, reaching back to squeeze Victoria’s hand.
Victoria gave a sigh of relief.
Meriel frowned. “He looks overpowering. Is he as large up close as he seems from back here?”
Not trusting herself to speak, Victoria just nodded and waited for the light-headedness to pass.
Louisa put an arm around her. “It’s normal to be nervous, dear.”
“It’s not normal to be frightened,” Meriel said. “You don’t have to go through with this, Vic. We’ll tell him you changed your mind.”
“No.” Victoria gently pushed Louisa away and stood on her own. “I’m fine. I know him; I trust him.”
“You know his lies,” Meriel pointed out.
