A Chance in a Million (The Chances #5)

Chapter One

December 30, 1839

T hey entered like a flock of swans.

Silly thing to think, really. Victoria’s cheeks blushed at the thought, but she had not been foolish enough to utter it aloud, so—

“‘Swans’?” her mother murmured, fluttering her fan before her lips to prevent anyone deciphering her words. “What are you talking about, Victoria?”

Victoria swallowed hard, her attention still fixed on the family that had just entered the Bath Assembly Rooms. “N-Nothing.”

She was not the only one who had turned to watch one of the ton ’s most prestigious families enter. Everyone knew the Chance family.

“Honestly, you must pay more attention to yourself if you wish to…”

The words continued, but Victoria’s attention did not. Her gaze was flickering over the elegant shawls across the shoulders of the Chance ladies, the way the Chance gentlemen stood so tall, so relaxed, so absolutely certain they belonged there, in the center of things.

It was intoxicating. Alluring, even. The way they moved about the world, as though each and every Chance family member knew that they would be welcomed with open arms. As though the world were holding its breath waiting for them. To be a Chance… Well, it would be the closest thing, outside of the nation’s young Queen Victoria herself, that she could imagine to royalty.

“Victoria Ainsworth, are you listening to me?”

Victoria started away from the Chance family—one particular member, really—and instead alighted on… Ah. The unimpressed look of her mother.

“You are staring,” her mother hissed, color high and dark eyes glaring. A ringlet of brown-and-silver hair bounced against her cheek as her lips moved. “Staring, in the Assembly Rooms! How many times have I told you—”

“I know, I know,” Victoria said wearily, trying to keep her expression neutral. It would never do for the world to see just what she thought.

“—and yet despite knowing, you intend on vexing me by—”

“I did not do it to irritate you,” Victoria could not help but say.

It was, of course, the wrong thing. Her mother’s high color was now turning an interesting pale white. “And who were you looking at with such interest, such—oh. The Chance family.”

Victoria forced down a smile as her mother’s feathers, significantly ruffled, started to calm. It was hardly her daughter’s fault, after all, if she was caught staring at the Chance family. Everyone stared at them any opportunity they got.

“Well. I suppose I can understand your curiosity,” her mother said stiffly. “Though they’re not the sort of people who would talk to the likes of us.”

It was Victoria’s turn for her color to heighten. Shifting her fan from one hand to the other, as though that would calm her nerves, she swallowed hard to ensure her voice was level when she spoke.

When she did, it was in a low voice. That barely mattered. The buzz of interest when the Chance family had entered the Assembly Rooms was more than enough to cover her words.

“I know that, Mother. But I thought—”

“Ladies of good family do not think,” her mother snapped. “Really, Victoria, sometimes I think—”

“Ah, Mrs. Ainsworth, how pleasant to see you.”

Victoria stiffened as a woman she vaguely recognized approached the pair of them. An impressive jaw, sparkling intelligent eyes, and a gown that spoke more of last decade’s fashion than this, she was more than a little imposing. Judging by her mother’s reaction to the woman, it was someone important. Only the very rich or the very noble made her mother beam so awkwardly.

“Lady Romeril, what a pleasure,” murmured Mrs. Ainsworth as she curtseyed low. “I had not realized you were in Bath. How does the Season treat you?”

“Oh, very ill, very ill. I find Christmas to be most tiring and I am glad to be almost rid of it,” said the older woman without curtseying. Her gaze raked over Victoria, then immediately pulled away. “Tell me, Mrs. Ainsworth, have you tried the waters?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” replied Victoria’s mother, fluttering her fan in her nerves. “In fact, when I first arrived here in Bath…”

Victoria took a slight step back, her heart starting to race against the boning of her corset. Neither of the women took the slightest bit of notice.

Another step. Still nothing.

Five steps later, Victoria was carefully positioned behind one of the resplendent columns by which she had been astonished in the Assembly Rooms, free from her mother’s careful eye and able to look at the room.

A gaggle of young ladies, around her age, giggling over the punch bowl. A pair of gentlemen, perhaps her mother’s age, debating something—politics, probably. A set of dancers, ten pairs, striding up and down the set to the pace of the elegant music created by the musicians positioned at the opposite end of the room. Smoke pouring from the card room just to her left and laughter pouring out with it. So many people milling about, feathers and jewels and canes and the flutter of gloves…

It took a great amount of self-control not to immediately look at the one family that drew her attention.

Victoria’s breath caught in her throat as she finally permitted herself to look again at the Chance family. A few of the younger generation, her generation, had disappeared. The daughter of the house appeared to be dancing, and one of the brothers was arguing with his mother—seemingly over the way he had tied his cravat.

The temptation to walk over there to overhear them was strong. Victoria managed to force it down.

Only then did she look at the eldest brother. Thomas Chance. Lord Thomas Chance, eldest son of the Duke of Cothrom.

“—leave him alone,” Victoria managed to catch before someone’s laughter drowned out his words until, “—take it up with his valet, not Leo.”

Victoria leaned against the pillar, the cooling marble necessary as the heat of the room—and the effect of Lord Thomas Chance—worked on her, skin prickling.

She was not going to obsess over the man anymore, she told herself firmly. A year was more than enough. He probably does not even remember you.

“—and I heard most of the Chance money is gone!”

Victoria froze.

The voice was a young man’s, not a person she knew, and he was talking loudly just on the other side of the pillar—the pillar hiding her from view.

“No! Surely not. The Chance family is one of the wealthiest—”

“They were one of the wealthiest,” chimed in the voice again, a certain smugness in every syllable that Victoria did not like. “You know there were four brothers, and they’ve all grown and married and had children—”

“They don’t look like children to me,” returned his companion, his voice deeper and with a dark tinge to it. “Why, Lady Maude looks ripe and ready for picking if you ask—”

“She’d never have you, so don’t even think about it,” snapped the first voice. “Didn’t I just tell you there’s no money? Dowry’s all gone—”

“Oh.” The second voice sounded disappointed.

“—and all because that Lord Thomas doesn’t know when to stop playing cards, I heard!”

Victoria gripped the pillar, using it mostly to keep herself upright. Thomas— her Lord Thomas, the reason the Chance family was ruined?

Not that he was her Lord Thomas, obviously, she attempted to correct herself as her frantically beating heart fluttered, her lungs tight, her fingers white as they gripped the pillar. Obviously.

“—the old spendthrift is nothing like the old block,” the gentleman’s voice continued, almost gleeful as he recounted the disaster that had obviously hit the Chance family. “Old Cothrom had never done anything but keep the family under control and solvent, and in just the last year—”

“So you’re saying he’ll be up for a flutter later, then?”

Victoria closed her eyes for a moment in horror.

“Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Come on, you’ll find much better victims in the card room—less willing, but more solvent. Anyway, don’t you owe John Knight a hundred pounds?”

“The man cheated, I tell you, and what’s more…”

What was more, Victoria never knew. The voices moved away; two gentlemen older than herself appeared in view as they strode past her pillar, Victoria pressing herself foolishly against the marble to hide.

Their absence did not end the ringing in her ears.

“Didn’t I just tell you there’s no money? Dowry’s all gone and all because that Lord Thomas doesn’t know when to stop playing cards!”

It was foolish of her, Victoria knew, but to hear such words spoken about the man she…

But she was being ridiculous. Young ladies did not fall in love with gentlemen they met a few times over the Christmas season just over a year ago.

Yes, they had danced together. He had looked at her, Victoria thought dreamily as she leaned back against the pillar, and held her hand, so lightly yet so warmly. He had smiled, laughed at something she’d said—what, she could not remember. It probably had not been that amusing. But Lord Thomas Chance had laughed, and red-hot wax had poured through her center, and she had known she would never be the same again.

He had complimented her shawl. Or was it her headband—a ribbon?

It did not matter. Victoria could still feel the connection, one borne of knowledge that there was something between them, something greater than anything she had ever shared with anyone.

“You dance most elegantly, Miss Ainsworth.”

That had been it. Victoria smiled, oblivious to the dancers before her as they meandered up and down the Assembly Rooms. She was no longer in Bath. She was in Almack’s, in London, and it was Christmas Eve, and she was being led back to her mother by Lord Thomas Chance.

“Why, thank you. I must say that you are hardly shoddy in your footwork yourself.”

She had been bold to say such words, and her cheeks burned even now recalling them. And Lord Thomas had laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his pupils sparkled, and he had said…he had said…

“You give me vitality, Miss Ainsworth. It is thanks to you that I dance so well, if I do at all.”

Her spirits had lifted then and they lifted now. Victoria could feel heat pooling inside her again, falling through her stomach and resting between her hips. That sensation only Lord Thomas had ever sparked, a discomfort that had blossomed when his gaze had darted to her mouth then back to her eyes.

“And I hope, if I may be so bold,” Lord Thomas Chance had said in a low voice, his tone muzzy with need, or at least she had thought so at the time, “that you and I may dance again, Miss Ainsworth.”

“Oh, yes…”

And they never had. Not in all the days of the following year. Never again had Victoria found herself standing opposite the man who—

“It’s Miss Ainsworth, isn’t it?” came a voice.

Victoria smiled. At some point in her remembrances, her eyelashes had lowered, losing herself in the memories of the delectable Lord Thomas—

“Miss Ainsworth?”

Victoria froze. Her eyelashes fluttered open. Her lips parted.

It was Lord Thomas Chance.

“I never forget a face,” he said cheerfully, inclining his head lightly and glancing about the room. “Never thought I’d see you here. Been in Bath long?”

Victoria opened her mouth. Not a single syllable left it.

“It’s getting awfully hot in here, I must say,” said Lord Thomas, pushing back his sandy hair with a careless hand, a gold signet ring on his smallest finger, making himself even more handsome than Victoria had thought possible. “Don’t you think?”

Say something. For the love of God, say something!

“H-H-Hot,” Victoria managed to stammer.

Yes, he was making her ridiculously hot—but he didn’t need to know that.

Her fan. She was holding a fan!

Relieved to find something to do with her hands, Victoria snapped open the fan and fluttered it before her eyes. She ceased immediately, as it had replaced Lord Thomas in her view, and she knew which one she’d rather look at.

Oh, this was foolhardy. The man probably had no memory of her at all—though he had recalled her name.

“I told my mother it would be too warm in here, but she would not listen,” Lord Thomas was saying with a wry look that spoke of charming eldest sons and their devoted mothers. “She was the one who reminded me of your name. Said I should come over here and see if you required any assistance.”

Victoria wilted, her shoulders slumping and the hand clutching her fan falling to her side.

He…He was only here because his mother—his mother —had asked him to approach her? Hadn’t even remembered her enough to recall her name? Had to be reminded of it…by his mother?

Oh, this was mortifying. From such heights of delight to such depths of shame, how was she ever to survive it?

Victoria tried to swallow, tried to recollect herself, but her mouth was dry and the thought of her mouth had made her look at Lord Thomas’s lips, and now she was thinking what it would be like to kiss him and—

“I say, you do look warm, Miss Ainsworth,” said Lord Thomas quietly, stepping toward her. “Do you feel quite well?”

I could throw myself into your arms , Victoria could not help but think, her mind racing. He would have to catch her, and she could pretend she had sunk into a faint—a swoon, because of the heat. His hands would press into her arms, and he would draw her into him and—

Pull yourself together, Victoria!

“I am quite well,” she said aloud, though how, she was not sure. “It…It is a tad warm.”

“My sister, Maude, always says public balls are far too crowded,” Lord Thomas said with a casual flick of his head over his shoulder.

Victoria looked past him and saw the elegant and refined Lady Maude Chance chatting animatedly to a young lady she did not recognize. “I…I quite agree.”

“Yes, most people agree with Maude—it’s safer,” said Lord Thomas with a chuckle.

Victoria’s pulse skipped a beat as she joined him in merriment.

To an outsider, perhaps, a casual observer, it would have appeared that she was flirting— flirting!— with Lord Thomas Chance.

Not that I am doing such a thing, more’s the pity , Victoria thought, trying desperately to put together a coherent enough thought that she could say out loud. She would love to flirt with the man, but she was hardly the flirtatious sort, and when one had spent the last year thinking about the man before oneself, and then he stood there, proud and tall in his brushed wool coat, carefully fitted across a broad chest—

“And you are enjoying yourself in Bath?”

Victoria had just been about to ask what happened to people who did not agree with his sister—a clever ruse, she considered, to get to know the Chance family a little better as well as to insinuate herself into said family—and she had to make such a quick change of topic that her tongue tumbled over the words.

“And what happens to people who—enjoying myself. Yes, yes. Bath. Nice place.”

“Nice place”? What on earth had happened to her brain?

The part of Victoria watching this in horror was sobbing in a corner, but try as she might, the part of Victoria standing before Lord Thomas Chance and looking like a complete fool did not seem to be able to move.

Oh, he was handsome. And charming. Delightful company, and an excellent dancer—

That was it. What if she asked him to dance?

It was not the sort of thing of which her mother would have approved, but from what Victoria could see, her mother was out of earshot and would likely as not never hear about such a thing.

“—come here each year for Christmas, along with a few other families,” Lord Thomas was saying, “and I must agree that—”

“Dance?” Victoria blurted out.

There was a tightness paired with rising heat from being in the presence of a man over whom she had obsessed for the last year, and it sadly meant that the carefully constructed sentence had descended to a single word.

“Dance?” Lord Thomas blinked. His long, golden eyelashes were awfully delicate. Then he glanced over his shoulder and nodded as he turned back to her. “Yes, they’re dancing.”

Victoria almost rolled her eyes. I’m not an idiot! she wanted to shout. I’m a clever, witty, usually charming woman!

Except when I’m with you. Apparently.

“Y-Yes,” she said, hating that her voice failed her at such an opportune moment. Well, this was it. She had to say it. “Do… Do you… Would you like to dance, Lord Thomas? With me, I mean?”

It had taken every iota of bravery she possessed to say such a thing. Out loud! To a gentleman! In public!

Ladies simply did not ask gentlemen to dance. It did not happen. Until it did. Until she had said those words.

Victoria looked up into those dark eyes, deep and passionate as they always were…and found they were not looking at her. They did not appear to be looking at anything. Lord Thomas had that vague, faraway sort of look in his eyes that Victoria recognized as utter distraction. It was the expression her mother fell into whenever Victoria attempted to tell her about an interesting new play that had debuted on the London stage.

Looking surreptitiously over her shoulder just in case there was something Lord Thomas was looking at— not a woman , Victoria thought to herself, and that was her main concern—she took a deep breath as she turned back to him.

“I said, Lord Thomas,” she repeated, hardly knowing from where her bravery came, “would you like to dance?”

“Mmm?” said the tall gentleman, clearly not listening to a word.

Victoria bit her lip. She was hardly going to ask a third time—not when it had been so mortifying the first two times, and there did not appear to be a way to make the man pay attention.

What on earth could have distracted him? He did not appear to be looking at anyone in particular. Perhaps it was these debts she had heard talked of—the money troubles he had apparently managed to get the family into.

It was most unlike him, though. At least, unlike the little Victoria knew of him. But then a few conversations, a dance that had utterly changed her life but Lord Thomas barely remembered… It was hardly a deep connection, was it?

“Well, I hope you have a pleasant time in Bath, Miss Ainsworth.” Lord Thomas Chance gave her that smile—that smile Victoria had seen him give countless other young ladies, the one where he wasn’t even properly looking at the person to whom he was speaking. “Good evening.”

It was about to become too late—she needed to do something, say something, anything to catch his attention—anything to make him stay here, talking to her.

Fear pounding through her veins, Victoria swallowed hard then managed to splutter, “M-My lord—”

“Leo, you foul fiend, don’t tell me you’ve gone into the card room without me!” Lord Thomas Chance laughed as he slapped one of his brothers on the back. He was somehow several feet away and as he continued talking, he strode forward and the crowd swallowed him up. “What did I tell you, never risk a hand of cards without…”

Victoria remained, fixed to the spot by the pillar. She watched as Lord Thomas and his brother laughed together, pushing through the growing crowd easily, until they turned into the card room and slipped out of sight.

Only then did she realize her lungs had not moved for what felt like an age.

The air burned in her lungs as she drew in a long, gasping breath and it mingled with her disappointment.

A year. Over a year, just, a year spent wondering exactly what she would say to Lord Thomas Chance when she next saw him.

And now it had happened, and…

Well, she had not quite made a complete fool of herself. That , Victoria thought fiercely, would have required me to have actually made any sort of impact upon the man at all.

But she hadn’t. He would go home tonight, she knew, barely having registered that they’d conversed.

Oh, it was all so foolish. Why had she managed to let the opportunity slip through her fingers? Half the ton was interested in making the acquaintance of Lord Thomas Chance, and the other half wished to marry him. There she had been, unsurrounded by other young ladies, with his full attention…

And she had said nothing more interesting than… Victoria could not recall having said anything interesting, now that she came to think of it.

Leaning heavily against the pillar, the cool marble doing nothing to calm the frantic thoughts in her mind, Victoria took another deep breath.

Well, it was a new year in a few days—and wasn’t there that tradition of making a resolution as one entered a new year? Something to improve in oneself, or the determination to do something different?

Victoria drew herself up and swallowed, hard.

That was what she would do. The upcoming year, the year of 1840…she would seduce Lord Thomas Chance.