by Kate Allure
“Diana said he wants you to be his perfect princess. But maybe it’s just that he already thinks of you as perfect. And that’s a nice thing.”
“I suppose you’re right. But being treated like a princess in bed is not all that exciting. Not that it should matter at my age.”
“You’re only—”
“Forget I said that. I’m just too picky. Did I tell you he showed me the family heirlooms at Bridlington Castle? There’s this gorgeous emerald tiara, a gift from King George II, if you can believe it. That doesn’t affect how I feel about him, of course, but his showing it to me seemed important. I think, maybe, I’ve found my forever with him.”
“That’s beautiful, and if he meets your needs and makes you happy, that’s what matters.”
After hanging up, she set her mobile on the nightstand, turned off the light, and lay there in the dark.
Did Rupert meet her needs? All of them?
Unlike her two friends, Tori didn’t come from wealth and prestige. Her working-class parents, still living in Reading, had provided a solid if modest upbringing that focused on the importance of getting an education. Her intense personal drive had made the most of her basic public schooling, earning top A-level scores and, more important, a place and a privately-funded scholarship to study law at Oxford, where she worked even harder.
In some respects, she had less in common with Rupert than with the young barrister. They were both hardworking and driven to excel. Like her, he must have graduated with top honors, because he’d completed his pupilage at a prominent set of law chambers, second in prestige only to hers.
Stop it! Stop thinking about him. Ian King is not part of your life.
And if he became a part of her life, that could ruin her career. Nothing good could come of having a dangerous liaison with him. Not after how hard she’d worked to get to the top.
Her tireless work ethic had propelled her quickly through the ranks, first as a junior barrister in plain black cloth robes, then as she took silk ahead of her peers—thanks to a splashy high-profile case she’d won—and later as a young judge in a lower court. Having catapulted ahead of her classmates, she’d now achieved her dream, the pinnacle of success in the High Court of the Royal Courts of Justice. The youngest appointee ever.
“My career matters,” she told herself firmly. “Not flirting with a guy who only wants to get inside my knickers.” She giggled. “Maybe I should get a cat if I’m going to start talking to myself. Then, at least, I can pretend somebody’s listening.”
An image of Ian’s sexy mouth grinning up at her filled her mind.
Her eyes snapped open. “Argh! Stop thinking about Ian! And stop calling him Ian. You don’t even know him.”
A sigh escaped her. If Rupert had been in town, she’d have eagerly engaged in the boring sex he provided and been grateful for it, too. That would have been enough for her…before Ian had made her amorphous yearnings for more into something tangible and impossible to ignore any longer.
She snorted, realizing that earlier, when fighting her desire to accept his invitation, she hadn’t remembered she already had a boyfriend. Rupert hadn’t surfaced in her thoughts, not even once.
She didn’t want to think about why—because if she did, it would mean she’d actually have to deal with her discontent.
And then she might find herself truly alone.
Chapter Six
On Thursday, Tori emerged from the ornate archway of the Gothic-style Royal Courts and spotted Rinaldo waiting by Rupert’s black Mercedes. She waved, and he bowed in that old-world way of his.
“Good evening, Dame Victoria.” Even though the elderly man had been living in modern London for nearly thirty years, his formal manner remained as firmly entrenched as his thick Italian accent. But Rupert demanded such prim ceremony in all his employees.
Rinaldo tipped his chauffeur’s cap.
“Good evening,” she responded, offering a friendly smile. He opened the limo door for her, and she frowned at the empty expanse of black leather inside.
“Lord Bridlington is delayed and will meet you at the restaurant.” Renaldo fidgeted, looking like a man thinking fast. “He asked me to apologize on his behalf and looks forward to celebrating your birthday with you.”
She nodded and climbed inside. Although it was not unusual for Rinaldo to retrieve her, she’d hoped Rupert would make a special effort for her belated birthday dinner.
Before he shut the door, Rinaldo added, “And allow me, milady, to wish you a very happy belated birthday, as well.”
Once the limo began to move through the thick traffic, she leaned forward so the chauffeur could hear her. “Sometimes it seems like we should be dating, since I see more of you than Rupert at times.”
Rinaldo laughed dutifully at her quip.
“What’s holding him up?”
“I’m-a not entirely sure, milady, but it must be important, because Lord Bridlington wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”
She smiled wryly. “You should go into politics, Rinaldo. You’re quite the diplomat.”
Sliding back against the buttery leather, she groused about the fact that Rupert insisted his driver call him by his title, even though the man had worked for him for nearly twenty years. In many ways, Rupert was a dinosaur.
She pulled out her mobile to check if he’d texted.
He hadn’t.
But she grinned anyway. She had a naughty surprise planned for him. Her subtle campaign to make their physical relationship more exciting had met with little success thus far, but tonight she’d give it another go, and the sexy lingerie she wore would surely help. The salesclerk had promised he’d be thrilled.
After entering La Cossette, Rupert’s preferred restaurant, the maître d’ informed her that Lord Bridlington had telephoned. He was unavoidably delayed and asked that she be seated without him. The restaurant manager himself escorted her to a prime table—prime that was, if you wanted to see and be seen. She’d hoped for something a little more private for her outrageous plan.
The manager said, “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly, and in the meantime he’s requested a bottle of his usual Château Margaux be waiting. May I offer you a glass?”
Rupert couldn’t be bothered to call her directly, or even to text, while he seemed to be in direct communication with everyone else.
Abruptly, she sat upright, a small smile turning her lips. Maybe he was planning a special surprise. Maybe that was the real reason for his delay. A curl of excitement twirled in her belly.
“Yes, thank you. A glass would be lovely.”
She glanced again at her phone. Still nothing.
After the manager departed, she sipped her Bordeaux and waited. Refusing to watch the door like a lonely puppy, she tossed her hair—which was down tonight for this special occasion—and stared off into the distance, attempting to look alluring. Whatever that was.
It always felt uncomfortable sitting by herself in a posh restaurant. She’d every right to be here, and it shouldn’t matter whether she had a gent by her side or not. It shouldn’t matter that paparazzi would love to snap a photo of the recently promoted Justice Whittingstall dining alone with the caption, Where’s Her Baron? Mean society gossips would tweet, She could have been an MP’s wife if she’d chosen the right life. Alluding, of course, to her failed marriage.
Were the trade-offs she’d made worth it? To most she appeared a huge success, from a nobody to a somebody, but the posh set knew she hid a less-than-successful private life. Marrying while still in college, her upper-crust husband had sought a life in politics and had expected her to become his pretty and poised political wife. Instead of serving him and his goals, she’d wanted her own success and had kept working hard at her career.
Their six-year marriage ended abruptly when James announced he wanted a divorce, but she found out later he’d already lined up someone to take her place—a woman only too happy to be nothing more than a politician’s obligatory accessory.
But free to do what, and with whom?
With Rupert, you dolt. Remember what matters!
She downed her wine, and the tuxedoed waiter refilled her glass.
And still she waited.
She sipped her wine and held her head high.
“Good evening, Victoria.”
Her gaze swung upward, and there stood Rupert. He looked fresh, almost as though he’d come straight from the shower. He leaned down, and she dutifully tilted her cheek for his perfunctory peck.
“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, dear,” he said in his clipped, overly aristocratic manner.
“Mmm. Busy day in the House of Lords?”
“Always.” He smiled indulgently, as if she’d asked a stupid question.
However, she knew that on days when they weren’t in session, like today, his hours were flexible and short. So, unless he pulled a rabbit out of a hat—and he wasn’t wearing a hat—there’d be no special surprise for her tonight.
Hiding her growing irritation, she worked to keep her expression neutral.
“Have you ordered yet?” he asked.
“No.” It came out louder and harsher than intended. Softening her tone, she added, “I was waiting for you. Wouldn’t want to be rude, you know, and get started eating without you.” She threw down the barb on purpose.
“Oh, excellent. You are such a fine lady, my lady,” he said, smiling. “Always gracious and proper. That’s one of the many things I like about you.” He picked up his menu. “Now let’s figure out what we’re going to order, because”—his voiced took on a weighty tone—“I have something special to discuss with you later.”
A spark of hope fluttered inside her. Maybe he did have a surprise planned.
She smiled, remembering the wicked treat she had for him. It wasn’t the most daring thing in the world, but she hoped it would get a reaction out of him—a rise, if you will.
“What’s got you grinning so? Good day in court?”
Unbidden and undesired, an image of Ian’s cocky, naughty grin flashed through her mind. Without a doubt, Ian would love it—love it!—if she did something this naughty. Would the buttoned-down Rupert love it or find it coarse?
A small worry blossomed within her. “Um, not really.”
“I want tell you again how sorry I am that I could not be here for your birthday. I trust you had a nice evening with your friends.”
“Yes, thank you. It was lovely. How was your trip?”
He launched into his usual long-winded description of the repairs needed at his northern estate that now also functioned as a money-making hotel, and it occurred to her that in many respects, he was as uptight as her ex-husband. How had she managed to avoid seeing the obvious for so long?
She had to admit that Diana had nailed it. Rupert always tried to rein her in to fit his ideal, both in public and in private. After three years of living separately but sleeping over often, they’d developed a pattern of having regular, efficient sex, but it was as bland and boring as it had been with her ex. Nothing had really changed, just the leading man.
Neither James nor Rupert could even begin to light such a hot flame inside her as Ian had with a few naughty words, let alone the fiery arousal when he’d touched her hand. What would it be like to kiss him and—
“Victoria? Are you there?”
“What?” Dazed, she snapped back to reality. “I apologize. What did you say?”
He looked annoyed. “Nothing important. Obviously.”
Forcing herself to give him her full attention, she asked him about aspects of his work. She smiled and nodded encouragement, and he happily monopolized the conversation.
They got along companionably, as always, but it didn’t feel like enough anymore. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted, having never before explored her sensual side, but the yearnings inside were growing stronger every day.
At his suggestion, she ordered a rare dessert.
“We are celebrating your birthday, so of course I don’t mind you indulging in a sweet treat,” he insisted. “No need to worry about your weight this one night.”
How generous of him.
Otherwise, their meal progressed no differently from any other evening together. Had she mistaken the importance of his comment that he wanted to talk with her?
Finally, over coffee served in dainty teacups, he turned serious. “Victoria, we have been a couple for nearly three years now, and I hope you will agree we are well suited.” He paused.
Feeling the obligation, she nodded her agreement.
“I hope you know I admire you deeply. Your intellect and beauty are twin spires of inspiration.”
She sat up straighter. Was this…? Was he about to…?
“Knowing how hard you worked to elevate yourself from your humble childhood makes you eminently worthy in my mind.”
Worthy?
She opened her mouth to ask of what, when he reached over and took her hand.
“Your position in society, achieved all on your own, and your faultless reputation mean a great deal to me.”
She pulled her hand back. Seriously? Was this really his idea of a proposal?
“Dearest, I feel I am making a terrible mess of this, but you know…flowery romance is not our way. And that is part of why I think we are so well suited. We are friends, foremost, partners in life, and we understand each other. We are an ideal couple, an example to be emulated, and I feel it is time we moved toward a more official arrangement.”
Good heavens. He really was—
He paused, giving weighty import to the moment. “So, Victoria, dearest, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”
She could hardly believe it. Rupert had finally done the one thing that she’d both anticipated and dreaded.
He watched her, smiling but not overly eager. That would be outré.
“Well… Wow. Quite an unexpected— Quite a surprise.”
“Oh, please forgive me.”
He reached into his pocket and drew out two small jewelry boxes, but in the process something else fell out and dropped to the floor, rolling under the table. A flash of unease crossed his face as he bent down to look for it.
Joining him, she saw the object near her foot.
“I’ve found it,” she called, brightly.
“That’s okay. I can—”
She scooped it up and returned to sitting. “This is…unusual,” she murmured, gazing at the strange ring. It featured an abstract commedia dell’arte mask in burnished silver.
“It’s nothing.” He reached out to take it back.
After giving it one more look, she handed it over. “It’s beautiful.”
He slid it into his inner breast pocket. “Just an old ring I found among my things recently. A memento of times past, but it did get me thinking about my future. Our future.”
She almost missed how deftly he’d redirected the conversation. Almost.
He picked up the presents and held them up. “This is for your birthday.” He placed a small leather jewelry case embossed with Boodles on the table before her.
She picked up the box and opened it to see a dainty brooch of five green stones in the shape of tilted cross—his barony’s coat of arms. “Emeralds? How beautiful, and from Boodles! Thank you.”
He leaned forward, looking concerned. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t use the crown jewelers, but Boodles has been our family’s source for bespoke pieces for more than two hundred years.”
Her mouth fell open, taken aback that he thought her so status conscious. She fingered the expensive brooch. “No, of course I don’t mind. This is an incredibly generous gift, Rupert. Too much.”
He held out the second tiny satin box. “This has been in my family for generations. If yo
u like it, we can get it sized to fit.”
So this was it, then. With this box, she would become engaged…if she accepted his proposal.
Her heart pounded, and her pulse raced.
More tense that she would have expected, she slowly lifted the lid to see what her future might be.
Inside on a plush bed of green velvet gleamed a truly stunning ring—a large square emerald surrounded on all four sides by smaller round diamonds. Old and priceless, this represented his station in society dating back centuries.
“Rupert,” she breathed in awe, the shock of it hitting her. He wasn’t only offering her a companionable partnership, he was elevating her beyond anything she’d ever really imagined. She would become a baroness. The stepmother to his two sons from his first marriage. She would be the lady of his castle, however small its dimensions and obscure its locale.
She stared at the magnificent ring, tracing the diamonds with her finger.
He waited patiently, his pleased expression that of a man sure of her answer.
She gazed at him, trying to make sense of what he offered—not exactly a marriage of convenience, but not one of desperate love, either. “I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting—”
“I know, dearest, but I could not wait any longer. We are perfect for each other. We will enjoy a companionable life together, and what more could anyone hope for in a marriage?”
At least he sounded sort of eager and hopeful this time as he repeated his reasoning.
“Yes, I agree. We get along well in many areas. It’s just…”
“What is it? Tell me so we can resolve it.”
“Well…”
How did one tell a fiancé he was boring in bed?
“It’s just, sometimes our…” She leaned in and whispered. “I mean, I love that we’re so compatible together. It’s part of our strength. It’s just that our lovemaking is just as…comfortable.”
He laughed. “Oh Victoria, you are priceless. Of course it is comfortable—everything about our relationship is comfortable. That is what I love about it.”
“I mean, you know, it’s not wild or overly—” She barely stopped herself from saying exciting.
