Chapter Three
I t was like being in a dream. Victoria had almost had to force her mother to admit that there was no harm in her attending the Assembly Rooms twice in a week, and she had spent most of her time fetching and carrying glasses of punch for Mrs. Ainsworth. She’d been so hurried the last time, Victoria had spilled a slosh over her gloves, now in her mother’s reticule. The moment she had managed to get away, she had seen him.
Just out of the corner of her eye. It had been the briefest glimpse, yet more than enough to get her pulse racing.
Tempting as it was to walk back across the open doorway to the card room, where she had spotted Lord Thomas Chance gazing out at the dancing in the Assembly Rooms, Victoria had managed to stop herself.
And now, here he was. Standing before her. Taller than her, dark eyes flashing with something she did not understand, saying…nothing.
Well, not entirely nothing.
“I… Uh…”
Victoria could not help but smile. This was something so far out of the ordinary that she hardly knew what to say herself. What was Lord Thomas Chance doing, staring like that? Like…
Well. Like he liked what he saw.
This rarely happened to her—and it certainly had never happened with someone as handsome and charming as Lord Thomas Chance. Oh, all the Chance cousins were charming in their way. It appeared to be bred into them.
But Thomas—Lord Thomas.
No, that was no longer his title. Her mother had informed her only moments before. Everyone was talking about it—the Chance family foregoing tradition yet again.
Steeling herself to be more forward than she had ever been in her life, Victoria swallowed. “Hello, Your Grace.”
The new Duke of Cothrom blanched. “I—I haven’t gotten used to that.”
Victoria nodded, uncertainty prickling at the edges of her mind. Was that too direct? She had not actually heard the full story, just that somehow, for a reason no one knew, the Duke of Cothrom had given the title to his son Thomas.
The man she had longed for, pathetically pined over for so long…was now a duke.
And she needed to say something, Victoria realized, as the silence eked out longer and longer. Lord Thomas Chance had already been a delectable enough prospect for any young lady in the ton , and now that he was the new duke, there would be plenty of ladies who would see the opportunity to become a duchess and would wish to grasp it with both hands.
What would it be like to grasp Thomas Chance with both hands? Her fingertips grazing his shirt, the heat of his—
Victoria cleared her throat and hoped to goodness the desire in which she had allowed herself to indulge had not been visible on her face. The very idea!
“I only just heard,” she said softly as Lord Thomas—His Grace—stepped to the left to avoid a footman carrying a silver platter of empty punch glasses. “I suppose you knew your father would—”
“No. No, it was all rather a horrendous surprise, to tell the truth.”
He spoke with such honesty that Victoria’s gasp got tangled in her throat.
Oh, this was what she had longed for—a conversation with Lord Thomas that was intimate, and open, one that suggested she was more to him than just any woman with whom he might converse.
But she must not get ahead of herself. It would not do to forget she was supposed to be seducing him.
As Victoria threw back her shoulders and took a deep breath, just like her mother had always told her not to, a flicker of delight soared down her spine as she watched the new Lord Cothrom’s eyes widen, drop to her not-inconsiderable bosom, then swiftly lift back to her eyes.
Pink seared across his cheeks, just for a moment.
There , Victoria thought, a strange new thrill roaring through her. She could flirt, even if her mother said that young ladies did not do such a thing.
Young ladies wishing to catch a duke had to flirt.
“Well, la! I suppose I should indeed call you ‘Your Grace’ from now on,” Victoria said as brightly as she could manage with her lungs so tight. “You’ll be ready for the finer things in life now, I dare say.”
The moment the words had escaped her lips, she regretted them.
What on earth was she saying? Did she not know that Lord Thomas—that His Grace had barely two pennies to rub together thanks to his own foolishness?
Victoria was still certain there was more to the story. The new Duke of Cothrom could surely not be so foolish. There was undoubtedly someone else involved, someone Lord Thomas was protecting.
Lord Cothrom, that was. Oh, Lord, this was getting complicated.
“I would rather you called me ‘Lord Thomas,’” he said quietly, taking a step closer.
So she could hear him, Victoria tried to convince herself, her pulse quickening with every inch he moved closer. Oh, she had never been this close to him, not outside of a dance. And that had only been once.
How did he do it? There was something about the man, something electric, something that grasped deep within her and demanded to be recognized. She became naught but a moth nearing a flame, unable to look away, unable to think when he looked at her like that. When his mouth curved. When his eyes flickered to her breasts again and—
Victoria swallowed. She was letting this opportunity get away, one she could never have dreamed of.
Lord Thomas Chance was always dining with the very best, attending balls with the finest of Society, invited to gatherings by the most elegant of the ton .
Tracking him down, she had thought, would be difficult. And now he was talking to her!
“Though as the duke, there are responsibilities and grandeur I had not expected,” the new Duke of Cothrom said airily, puffing out his chest in a way Victoria had never seen before. “I suppose I shall have to catalog the vast estates I now manage, speak to those who labor on the land…”
He continued in the same vein for a great deal of time, Victoria’s shoulders slumping with each passing minute.
This was not the Lord Thomas she knew. The man she had met just over a year ago…he had been charming, yes, but he made himself the butt of his jokes, was affectionate when speaking of his family, and had genuine interests. He’d had passion, a passion for justice. He had spoken powerfully on the poorhouses, spoke against criminalizing vagrancy.
Victoria remembered the moment she had made him laugh, and it had felt like…like the rest of the world had fallen away, and there had been only the two of them.
Just her, and him, laughing because she had been witty.
And now…
“—gems, and statues, that sort of thing,” the new Lord Cothrom said, waving an airy hand. “One can easily forget, you see, just how fabulous are the riches of one’s home if one does not catalog them. The Reubens, and the Gainsboroughs…”
Victoria tilted her head slightly as though that would aid in her understanding. What on earth had gotten into the man? If he had been anyone else, she would have said he was…
Well. Boasting .
It wasn’t natural, and the strangeness of his manner began to grate.
This wasn’t the man she had planned to seduce.
“—and… I’m boring you, aren’t I?”
Victoria did her best to lie with a winsome expression. “No! No, not at all. I—”
“I never expected to be a duke. Not really,” he muttered, all the bluff and bluster gone. Suddenly, the man with whom she had fallen so helplessly in love had returned, his cheeks red. “You don’t expect your father to die, do you?”
“No,” Victoria said softly, pushing aside the pain. “No, you don’t.”
Somehow, Lord Cothrom appeared to realize he had said something indiscreet. “I do apologize, Miss Ainsworth, I… Your father?”
Drawing herself up as best she could, Victoria nodded. “Five years ago. It was quick, and the doctors tell us it was painless, and that is all one can hope for.”
He looked stricken, his shoulders sinking—his evident pain that he had hurt her, undoing all the distance he had wrought with his speeches about gems and land. “I am so sorry. Please, forgive me, I did not intend—”
“I know,” Victoria said softly, reaching out and placing her hand on his. “I know.”
Then she looked down, her lips parting in astonishment.
She had not intended to do it. The movement had been one of instinct, of reassuring someone who had not intended to hurt her that she was not, in fact, much injured.
But she had not remembered that she had removed her gloves. And the new Lord Cothrom, he wasn’t wearing any gloves, either.
The whole world spun on the briefest of connections. Victoria could almost feel the earth changing its course as the attention of her mind focused on nothing but the caress of his fingers, the way they moved, almost imperceptibly, underneath hers.
And then she removed them.
Well, she could hardly keep them there, could she? There would be a scandal. Someone would see. Touching Thomas Chance like that for more than five seconds, she could not be held accountable for her actions.
Victoria swallowed. “You always were easy to talk to.”
She felt a fool admitting it but softened as she saw the wide smile she elicited.
“You think so?” The Duke of Cothrom leaned forward. “I am glad. I enjoyed our conversations last year—no, I suppose technically, now the year before last—very much. It is pleasant indeed to see you in Bath, Miss Ainsworth.”
Warmth rushed through her. How was it possible for such inane words to have such an effect on her?
But then, she had not intended to fall in love so quickly. She had not expected to one day meet a man who would touch her heart so instantly, so painfully.
And now here she was, talking to him!
“Yes, my mother and I are here for the winter,” she said, hardly sure how she was able to get one word out after the other. Now flutter your lashes, just like you see the coquettes of Society do… “It’s so important to be warm, don’t you think? Bath is so wonderful for warming oneself. And… And yourself?”
“The whole senior Chance branch is here,” he said with a snort that could have been laughter and could have been derision. “And my Uncle John and his family. My sister is determined to avoid finding a husband despite our mother’s best attempts, God help us, and my brothers… Well, the less said about my brothers, I fear, the better.”
He had always had a way of putting her at ease—putting anyone at ease, she supposed, but Victoria felt whenever she was with him that she was the only person in the room. In the world. Even that time the other day when he’d seemed so distracted. Nothing else had mattered.
“I would have loved siblings, but alas, it was not to be,” she said, looking up through fluttering eyelashes. Was this working? How did one tell?
Thomas Chance most definitely laughed this time. “And in my view, you have made a lucky escape! Siblings are not all what they are cracked up to be, and I have three—and goodness knows how many cousins. To be honest, I lost count. My father, he always said…”
Something of the charm died away in the man’s expression and Victoria felt the lack of it immediately. It was like stepping outside into the cold Bath streets without a pelisse just as the first flakes of snow started to fall.
Blast . Well, there was nothing for it now. She could hardly ignore the obvious, and it was best that they deal with it head on.
“I am sure your father is confident in you. I mean,” Victoria added as Thomas raised a quizzical eyebrow and her body threatened to explode with heat, “he would not have given you the title, and in such an odd manner, if he did not believe… Well. That you could do it.”
“‘Do it’?”
“Be the Duke of Cothrom,” said Victoria, flushing at the intimacy with which she spoke. It had been so long since they had spoken, spoken properly. This was the sort of conversation that he would surely be having with a trusted friend. Not a woman who had foolishly fallen in love with him then never done anything about it.
“The whole of Bath appears to know all about it, far more than even I do,” he said wryly. “But it’s astonishing how quickly news can get about the place and be twisted in the telling. I heard a ridiculous story once about…about your dowry, for example. That it was five and forty thousand pounds.”
The Duke of Cothrom’s dark eyes met hers, unwavering, yet with a tinge of uncertainty.
Victoria’s lips parted. If it had been anyone else, she would have reprimanded them in no uncertain terms, before tapping him with her fan and sauntering away! The very idea of bringing up such a topic, and in public!
But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Lord Thomas Chance. It did not matter that he was the new Duke of Cothrom—he was the man who had made her laugh, who had put her at her ease, who had danced with her and discussed Shakespeare and Marlowe and the poets.
And the casualness of his manner made Victoria realize just what the brigand was up to.
She almost laughed aloud.
“—and I heard most of the Chance money is gone!”
She should have guessed—it certainly should have struck her when Lord Thomas had made a beeline for her after he’d left the card room. This wasn’t a seduction. At least, not from his side. This was not even a wooing.
This was all part of his plan to restore his family’s fortunes.
Perhaps if it had been another man, Victoria would have been offended. That nasty Colonel Lloyd, for example, or the odious Lord Zouch.
Any other gentleman speaking to her like that in an attempt to woo her merely for her dowry? She would have been swift to return to her mother, and hope to goodness she would never have to see the offender again.
But Lord Thomas Chance?
Victoria forced aside her grin and considered, her mind racing, as she thought what to say in reply.
Well, it was hardly a secret. Her father’s death had left her mother a wealthy woman, and a separate pot of money had been put aside for when Victoria was married.
And Lord Thomas Chance needed a pot of money, did he not?
The Chance family fortunes were spent and it was all his fault, if the rumors were true. He needed to marry, and marry well. Marry extremely well.
Marry someone like her.
“Miss Ainsworth?” Lord Cothrom said, concern puckering a line between his eyes. “I have not offended?”
Victoria tried to keep calm. “Offended? N-No. Not offended.”
Because it was so obvious, wasn’t it?
Lord Thomas Chance, now Lord Cothrom, was considering her, Victoria Ainsworth, for his wife because of her money .
She, Victoria Ainsworth, was already in love with Thomas Chance, Duke of Cothrom.
So…why not? Why not permit him to woo her? Why not encourage him, even, to pursue her, flirt with him, give him the show that every young eligible woman offered a courting gentleman—the very thought made her stomach lurch—all the way to the altar?
She could pretend to be a coquette, with nothing more impressive in her mind than the next visit to her modiste. She could chatter gowns, and parties, and all the sorts of things eligible ladies of the ton spoke of. And she could lull him into a type of affection, dangle her dowry before him, and…marry him.
Her mother would not approve.
Mother will never have to know.
“Miss Ainsworth?”
Victoria swallowed. Perhaps she should be concerned—it was hardly the best way for a marriage to begin. But then, how many arranged marriages began with less chance of success? She would be a duchess. She would be his duchess. It wasn’t as if he had nothing to offer her, even if his aim was clearly her fortune. Why not be happy, if she could?
Why not, indeed, grasp happiness?
Not that she would be grasping Thomas anytime soon… Not in public, anyway.
“Miss Ainsworth?” The Duke of Cothrom was frowning, guilt searing across his face again. “I have offended you, after upsetting you about your father. Oh, hell, whom I’ve just mentioned again. And now I’ve cursed. Miss Ainsworth—”
“You were asking about my dowry,” Victoria said, cutting across him as nerves danced up her. “Five and forty thousand pounds, I think you said.”
His eyes met hers. “Yes.”
“Well, I am afraid I will have to disappoint you,” she said as lightly as she could manage. The musicians were starting up again, and though a part of her wished they could be dancing, it was perhaps safer to have such a conversation here, out of the way. Where they could talk privately.
The Duke of Cothrom’s smile faltered. “Disappoint me?”
“My dowry is not five and forty thousand pounds,” Victoria continued, a giddy sensation flickering inside her.
His posture drooped. “Ah, I see. Well, that’s a shame—”
“It’s actually closer to fifty thousand now,” she interrupted, watching his face carefully.
Yes, there was the relief and the delight. Was there desire there? What could she do, in the next few days and weeks, to transform that mercenary interest into something so much greater?
His eyes blinked rapidly. “Fifty—fifty thousand?”
Victoria nodded airily, as though she discussed her dowry all the time. “Yes, my father made some good investments just before he died and they have already started to prove fruitful. Wonderful, isn’t it?”
And she did not miss the calculating look that disappeared almost in an instant as Thomas Chance nodded. “Yes. Yes, very wonderful, in fact.”
Victoria tried to tell herself this was no different than any other courtship. Fine, so Thomas only wanted to woo her for her money. She knew that—an advantage not every woman had in her situation.
He would woo, and she would simper. He would corrupt her, and she would seduce him. We will fall in love , Victoria thought with a surge of excitement, a grin unbidden on her lips. And they would be happy.
“Tell me, Miss Ainsworth,” the duke said, taking another step closer to her, now almost pressed up against her.
Victoria closed her eyes, just for a moment, to imagine it. His breath warm on her neck, her fingers in his hair, all alone, the two of them indulging in the desire they both—
She almost jumped when he next spoke. Her eyes snapped open.
He was a great deal nearer than she had thought—a great deal. Just as she had imagined, Thomas Chance’s breath blossomed on her neck, making her skin tingle.
“Tell me…have you ever explored the environs of Bath?”
Victoria looked up into those dark eyes and saw desire…but for her money, she told herself firmly, not for herself.
Not yet.
“Y-You know, I haven’t,” she said, trying not to think about what this must look like. Honestly, it was a miracle her mother hadn’t stormed over there and demanded the man propose on the spot.
Now she came to think about it, that wasn’t the worst idea in the—
“In that case, I would be honored if you would accompany me on a carriage ride tomorrow,” said the man she adored.
“Why, thank you, Your—”
“My barouche is very comfortable,” Thomas Chance continued, a wolfish grin on his lips. “I think you will find it more than adequate for our needs.”
Victoria swallowed.
Dear God, the man moves quickly. When he had said a carriage ride—well, any well-bred lady like herself would presume he meant a chaise and four, large enough to encompass herself and a companion, likely as not her mother. To keep it all aboveboard.
Clearly, Thomas Chance did not wish to keep things aboveboard.
How would she explain this to her mother? The prospect of her daughter becoming a duchess might not even be enough to sway her to allow the encounter without a chaperone.
That would be a problem for the next day.
Attempting as best she could to push aside all the images of what a barouche ride with a scoundrel like him would be like, Victoria forced herself to nod. “That… That sounds adequate, yes.”
Adequately scandalous. Adequate to start a thousand and one rumors through Bath. Adequately small enough for his knee to brush up against hers, to feel his heat, to—
“In that case, I shall call upon you at eleven o’clock, Miss Ainsworth,” said the new Lord Cothrom brightly. “I…I admit, I look forward to it.”
And there’s no need to look so surprised , Victoria thought wryly as Thomas Chance took one further look at her bosom, then bowed so low, his mouth almost came into contact with her breasts, then departed.
Oh, he thinks he’s so clever…