Chapter Five
January 6, 1840
A ll in all , Victoria thought as she sipped her tea, it is going well. True, the conversation had not entirely flowed as she had hoped. Yes, there had been some quiet at the beginning. It could not be denied that there were lulls in the awkwardness in the room. But all in all—
“And what, precisely, are your intentions toward my daughter, sir?”
And it was all going so well.
Victoria managed not to snort into her tea and attract her mother’s ire for being unladylike, having placed her cup back in its saucer before anyone spoke. The trouble was, the silence elongated out and out, until it was obvious Thomas Chance, Duke of Cothrom, had not replied.
He caught her eye. Victoria flushed.
Well, it was a very direct question—and one accompanied by the incorrect term of address, to boot.
She suspected her mother knew about the carriage ride the other day. Surely, someone about the ton had spotted them and made Mrs. Ainsworth aware of the fact that when her daughter had claimed to want to rest in her room, she’d actually brazenly left out the front door. Nothing untoward had occurred during the ride, but the mere fact of the matter was, Victoria had been in the gentleman’s company unchaperoned.
Her mother likely thought, though, that it was best not to speak of the topic aloud. She knew her mother. If they didn’t acknowledge it, it was if it hadn’t happened.
But something had surely irritated her mother to this degree of restrained disrespect.
Besides, Victoria knew precisely what the Duke of Cothrom’s intentions were toward her. He wished to marry her dowry, and if she happened to come along with it, so be it.
He would marry her, spend her money on his family, probably gamble a great deal of it away, and then…
Probably get bored of me , Victoria could not help but wonder as her attention flickered once more over the elegantly dressed gentleman on the sofa opposite her. He had on a high collar, a cravat with more knots than the Navy, and a charming smile that made her go so weak at the knees, it was a good thing she was already sitting.
Not that her mother appeared transfixed.
“I said,” repeated Mrs. Ainsworth in a louder tone, “what precisely are your intentions—”
“I do apologize, Mrs. Ainsworth. I did hear you before, but I was considering my reply,” interjected the genteel words of the Duke of Cothrom. “You see, your daughter means…means a great deal to me.”
Victoria did her best not to snort.
Well, really! He barely knew her. How on earth could he say such a thing?
She, on the other hand, knew him. She had never believed in love at first sight, not until she had been introduced to the tall and painfully enthralling gentleman known then as Lord Thomas Chance.
Since that moment, she had… Well, not exactly obsessed . Obsessed was a strong word.
She had certainly been open to hearing information about the eldest Chance brother in the senior branch. Perhaps that was the best way to put it.
So she knew him. She knew how Thomas liked his tea—she had seen the widening of his eyes in surprise as she’d quietly instructed her mother to leave the slice of lemon in his cup. She knew where he bought his cigars, and who smuggled his brandy, and what sort of horses he liked to gamble on at the races.
She knew him.
Him, on the other hand? Victoria very much doubted he could have picked her out in a crowd…until someone, obviously, had mentioned her dowry.
He’d flattered her quite often these past few days, and she could hardly stop herself from reacting like a smitten fool, but she knew what he was doing when he spoke so prettily.
Intentions? Oh, his intentions were very clear, indeed. For now, Thomas Chance was only interested in her money.
For now . Victoria was determined to change that.
“Because there are gentlemen in the ton —I barely call them gentlemen, you understand—who would wish to court my daughter on account of her pair of immense—”
“ Mother !”
“—investments, which consist of her dowry,” finished her mother, her mouth agape. “Honestly, Victoria, I cannot think what else you were thinking I might say.”
Heat scalded Victoria’s cheeks as she looked at precisely what she had been thinking of. Both of them.
She wasn’t blind; she saw the way men grew distracted by a subtle heave of her chest. It was one of her greatest assets. Greatest pair of assets.
When she looked up, Thomas Chance was most determinedly not looking at her assets.
Victoria permitted herself a small smile. “I am sure His Grace could not be thinking of mere money, Mother. Goodness!”
That was it—pretend she was foolish. Didn’t gentlemen like foolish women?
“Of course not, of course not,” said Mrs. Ainsworth quickly, waving a hand holding a teacup and threatening to spill tea over her own drawing room. “I speak naturally of other, lesser gentlemen. Not yourself, sir. My lord. Your Grace.”
Grimacing was not an option. Victoria had been raised with the highest etiquette of the noblest houses—not that her father had had a title, but still. There was no harm in learning about the manners of the class one intended to marry into, as he had so often said.
So she was able to prevent any discomfort appearing on her face at her mother’s words. By the looks of it, the Duke of Cothrom was doing the same.
“That is very kind of you, Mrs. Ainsworth,” he said quietly. “I am sure there are mercenary men in the world.”
Victoria watched carefully and saw a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. It was very slight. Unless one had been looking for it, she doubted whether it would have been noticed at all.
But it was there. So, he was having some qualms, was he, about pursuing her for the dowry alone? Well, that was progress.
It was certainly more honest than those ridiculous lines he had fed her during their barouche ride. Honestly—the ‘most beautiful view of all Bath’? What rot!
“I suppose your new title has given you a great deal of new responsibilities,” her mother continued.
“Oh, yes, a great many.”
“And you are enjoying the new role, I suppose?”
Victoria saw it; the hesitation, the carefully arranged smile. What was he hiding?
“Yes, very much. It is strange, as you can imagine, inheriting while one’s father is still alive, but I am hopeful he will be a great aid to me in this time of…of transition.”
The duke spoke calmly, levelly, as though he was interrogated in this manner every day of the week. Victoria could see the discomfort, almost feel it in his frame. The tautness of his jaw, the way his shoulders did not move.
“Transition, indeed, a period of great change,” said her mother slowly. “And I suppose during this period of change, you are thinking of the future. The responsibilities, I mean, to your line. In fact, you may be considering taking a w—”
“Madam, come quick!”
Just as Victoria was about to intervene to prevent her mother from being painfully blatant about her matrimonial hopes for her daughter, their housekeeper, Mrs. Stenton, burst into the room.
The new Duke of Cothrom spilled his tea on the carpet.
Mrs. Ainsworth cried out. “Mrs. Stenton, how many times have I—”
“I am sorry, madam, but a note just came from—from Lady Romeril!” their housekeeper said hastily. Her light, bulbous eyes were so wide, they almost popped out of her wan face.
Victoria almost laughed as she watched her mother freeze. Lady Romeril? Not a woman in their social circle. Though she had deigned to speak to them at events they had all attended, the woman was still far too high above them. A note from Lady Romeril? What on earth could that be about?
Her mother rose to her feet, spilled tea not worth thinking about when a note from Lady Romeril had arrived. “A note—from Lady Romeril? What does it say?”
“Oh, madam, I would not read a note addressed to you! Though… Well, it was not sealed, so a few words caught my eye…”
It was starting to become difficult to keep her giggles hidden, and it only became more difficult when Victoria happened to meet the duke’s eye. His lips were pressed together, clearly keeping his laughter in, but it brought her attention very much to his lips…
His very kissable lips.
“Mrs. Stenton, what few words did you—”
“Something about a charity concert, and needing your input, and would you please go along to her townhouse at your earliest convenience to assist with the decisions, if it would not be too much trouble,” said the housekeeper in a rush.
A small giggle managed to get past Victoria’s lips, but she transformed it into a cough as her mother ran out of the drawing room.
“Mrs. Stenton, fetch me my pelisse! Order the carriage! Make arrangements for dinner without me—where, oh, where is my shawl?”
The housekeeper had followed her mistress’s wake out of the room, and as the door swung shut, it muffled the chaos now erupting in the hallway.
Victoria’s smile faded. Well, it was not exactly pleasant to have it made so obvious that her mother was desperate to make the acquaintance of fine ladies like Lady Romeril. Not in front of a duke, anyway.
When that duke was Thomas Chance…
He cleared his throat. “I am so sorry.”
Victoria stared. What on earth for?
The strong scent of tea reminded her. “Oh, the tea—Mrs. Stenton will get that out in no time, I am sure. She is a wonder with a—”
“No, I actually meant…Well. About Lady Romeril.”
Heat threatened to rise up her décolletage and neck, but Victoria attempted to keep her voice level and her demeanor calm as she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
Her words sounded colder than she had intended, and for a moment, she worried that she had offended the man who had suffered through three-quarters of an hour with her mother.
But Thomas Chance grinned. “No, I actually… Well. Lady Romeril is a friend of the family. I thought it might be pleasant for us to have time to ourselves, so I thought… She did me a small favor.”
It took a moment for the meaning of his words to settle in her mind. When they did, Victoria’s lips parted in astonishment. “You—You orchestrated this!”
“And I cannot believe how well it worked,” he said, rising from his sofa and stepping toward her own. When he sat beside her, heat seared Victoria’s whole frame. “Very well, though I say so myself.”
Fine. That was impressive, Victoria had to admit, though she did so silently rather than give him the satisfaction.
After all, he had doubtlessly performed the same clever trick on countless other ladies and their mamas. Many of the young ladies , she thought as she drew back, trying to prevent herself from leaning toward him, probably gave in immediately to the man’s advances.
Unlike her. Obviously.
“What were we speaking of?” she asked as blandly as she could manage.
“I believe we were discussing my genius in creating a chance for us to be alone together,” the duke said, his voice low and thrumming with possibilities.
Victoria swallowed. Hard.
It was not difficult to see exactly how the man once known as Lord Thomas Chance had gained his reputation as a charming gentleman. The man was attraction himself, paired with the devilishly clever conversation and the way he sat…
She looked away hurriedly. Dear God, did the man know he was doing that? Sitting like that, legs apart, making her look at—
“I actually think we were discussing the myriad and plentiful responsibilities you will now be undertaking as Duke of Cothrom,” Victoria said hurriedly, wishing for the first time in her life that she had a fan.
It is hot in here, isn’t it?
“Oh, I’m not worried about it,” he said lazily, leaning back and resting an arm on the back of the sofa. An arm that ended in a hand, with fingers gently brushing the velvet of the furniture. Brushing it mere inches from her face.
Victoria considered rising from the sofa and seating herself elsewhere. Then she looked at him, the affection she felt rising so potently, she could not move.
Perhaps it was time to stop playing the flirt. Her, that was. All this “la” business, it did not appear to be getting her anywhere.
“Not worried about it,” she repeated, her voice quiet. “I suppose that bluff works on others, Thomas Chance, but it won’t work on me.”
His smile faltered, his eyes creasing as he beheld her. Victoria forced herself to maintain eye contact, knowing this might be the first time that she saw the real him. The Thomas Chance that he was, for some reason, so eager to hide.
“I don’t know what you—”
“You know exactly what I mean,” Victoria said softly, refusing to break their gaze. “You can try to hide it if you want, but…but you should know that it doesn’t work on me.”
He stared. “It doesn’t?”
The front door slammed. That was it; her mother was gone. Aside from the servants, they were alone.
“No. It doesn’t.”
For a moment, she thought she’d gone too far, pushed him toward vulnerability too soon.
Then something changed. She could not have described it… A medley of a shift in his tension, a loosening of his jaw, an honesty breaking out in his eyes.
“You surprise me.”
“Yet I am not surprised,” Victoria said, hardly knowing where the bravery came from to say such things but unable to stop herself. “Gentlemen often underestimate a lady.”
“I certainly underestimated you,” he said seriously.
Somehow, he had gotten closer. Victoria had not seen him move, but there was a definite difference. From sitting right at the other end of the sofa, he was now but a foot away.
Well, that is sufficient , she attempted to tell herself. She was strong. She was not about to throw herself at him, after all.
Probably.
“I suppose you did,” said Victoria, trying to speak lightly. “But you won’t again.”
She had expected a quip of a reply, something along the lines of “Absolutely not” or “I won’t be so foolish.”
But instead, Thomas quietly said, “I need a woman beside me with that sort of quality. The ability to surprise me. To be underestimated, to be sure, but then to…to use it as an advantage.”
Stay calm , Victoria told herself sternly. He wants your dowry, remember, and you want to seduce him and make him fall in love with you. You both have your plans. He’s just progressing down his own.
Now, what was her next move?
Dipping her shoulder ever so slightly to ensure that the duke gained an excellent view, Victoria said, “That is a rare quality indeed.”
“Yes, and my future wife, for that is of whom we speak, must have other…qualities.”
Yes, qualities like pots and pots of money.
“And you have a great number of those qualities,” Thomas continued, his expression meaningful. “Almost all of them, I would say.”
Resisting the urge to ask what on earth she did not have to offer him, for Victoria knew she would immediately attempt to demonstrate to him that she had it, she said instead, “I would rather you found a wife you liked. Respected, admired. Qualities or no qualities.”
“You think a duke’s wife should be merely charming?”
“I think a duke should be charmed by his wife,” Victoria said, tilting her head. “I think he should be so charmed by her that any other qualities become secondary—”
“And do you intend to charm your husband, Miss Ainsworth?”
The way his lips curled around her name made Victoria want to rip off all her clothes. She managed to resist. “As a beginning.”
Thomas shifted, his fingers brushing the velvet just in her eyeline. Oh, to be under those fingers, those gently stroking fingers…
“I think your future husband will be very fortunate indeed.”
“Yes, he will,” said Victoria softly, her cheeks pinking ever so slightly. “I can promise you that.”
Was this still flirting? It didn’t sound or look like the flirting she had seen. She had certainly never spoken to a man like this before. The way he smiled made a coiling ache settle between her thighs. Dear Lord, who was swindling whom here?
“Well, thank you,” he said, his tone low and grave. “I do not think I have had such a…a refreshing conversation in a long time, Miss Ainsworth.”
Victoria tried to ignore the frantic beating of her pulse. “It was my pleasure, Your Grace.”
It was the word “ pleasure ” that did it, she was certain. She should not have been so bold, so direct. The word itself was incendiary, likely to spark something outrageous at the best of times.
Thomas Chance reached out and took her hand.
It could have been an innocent movement, one not likely to cause alarm in even the most austere of societal occasions, and so Victoria attempted not to allow her breath to shorten, her lungs to tighten. Tried not to focus on the softness of his fingers, skin on skin, reminding her of that moment at the Assembly Rooms that had become such a part of her dreams.
When Thomas raised her hand to his lips, however, Victoria found herself gasping, unable to stop herself.
“Miss Ainsworth,” he said softly, pressing a kiss onto the back of her hand. And then a second. And then a third.
“I…I…”
Hating how inane she sounded, Victoria willed herself to do something, say something—but the trouble was, her instinct was to do something so extreme that the man would certainly not be returning for anything like afternoon tea again.
She was not in possession of herself, and before she could think about it, she had twisted her hand around so that when Thomas lowered his lips for another kiss, it was this time in the middle of her palm.
This time, her gasp was audible, laced with longing, and Thomas’s gaze snapped up to meet hers.
“Miss Ainsworth?”
Victoria’s breasts heaved, and though she attempted to say something, she found she could not for two very good reasons.
Firstly, she could not conceive of a single thing to say.
Secondly, because Thomas Chance’s lips were on her own.
Whether he had been overcome by her boldness at turning over her hand, or the movement of her bosom, or something else, Victoria did not know. She did not know anything. Not with the heady pressure of his lips on hers, pleasure roaring through her body as heated prickles reminded her of every inch of her skin.
He had leaned forward, capturing her mouth with his own in a possessiveness that melted her core. Victoria could do nothing but accept the kiss, accept the indiscretion, accept his tongue as it laced along her lips, begging for entrance.
Who was she to deny him?
Victoria could not prevent a whimper as her tongue met his, a cascade of desire burgeoning inside her as her hands, suddenly freed, twisted up to his neck to pull him closer.
Closer—she needed him closer. She needed everything, all of him, all he would give her—
The kiss ended.
Panting, Thomas leaned his forehead against hers, just for a moment, then released her, leaning back onto the other end of the sofa as though he had been scalded.
Perhaps he had. She certainly felt a little warm.
She was also panting. Victoria placed a hand on her décolletage in an attempt to slow her breathing, but it had the unintended effect of drawing Thomas’s attention to her breasts.
Not that she minded, particularly. The look of longing in his face was most agreeable.
“I…I did not intend that,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes with an apologetic look.
There was no longer any time to steady herself. Victoria tried to keep her voice level and calm as she said, “I did.”
The boldness with which she met his look of astonishment was mostly bluster, but she had no choice—he had to know, did he not, just how much she welcomed these attentions.
How much further she was willing to go.
After all, a woman did not seduce with heaving bosoms alone.
“You—You did?”
Victoria answered with a flicker of her eyelashes, hoping it came across as coquettish and charming, rather than as a woman still struggling to get her breath back after a kiss that had threatened to end her life.
“Dear God, I want to kiss you again,” Thomas murmured, reaching out for her again.
And she wanted him to. But she could not just be one of those women who gave away kisses, could she? She wanted a proposal. A wedding.
A marriage.
Rising suddenly on legs that threatened to give way, Victoria said brightly, “Yes, I am sure you do, Your Grace—”
“Cothrom, woman, the least you can call me is ‘Cothrom.’” He groaned, falling back against the sofa with lust in his eyes.
Victoria swallowed, reminding herself that though her mother had left the house, any servant could walk into the drawing room at any moment to clear the tea things away. It would not do to be found pressed against the sofa with the Duke of Cothrom ravishing her.
Probably.
Actually, now she came to think about it, that would certainly speed things along. A wedding to hush up a scandal. Yes, that would—
“You are far stronger than I,” said Thomas in a low voice, rising and advancing with only one thing on his mind so clear, it was almost written on his face. “Victoria—”
“Miss Ainsworth,” she said, taking a step back, only half knowing why she was retreating from this temptation.
“Victoria,” Thomas repeated in a low, seductive voice. “You liked that kiss—”
“I didn’t say I d—”
“And you would quite like another, wouldn’t you?”
“Your Grace, I am a lady, and as you so cleverly pointed out, you have arranged to see me again without my chaperone present—”
He was advancing again and Victoria retreated step for step—until the back of her heel met a most inconvenient wall. “Wouldn’t you?”
Victoria tried to catch her breath, but it was impossible—the man was impossible. The man was only feet away and if he kissed her like that again she would—
“Tomorrow.”
Thomas halted, crossing his arms as though it was that or clutch her to him. “Tomorrow?” His gaze dropped a few inches, just for a moment.
Victoria watched him. “Tomorrow. I…I will kiss you again tomorrow.”
His focus sharpened. “Is that a promise, Victoria Ainsworth?”
Oh, I would promise you a great deal more than that , she wanted to say, the words so desperate to be said, she had to press her lips together to keep them inside.
“I don’t make promises to dukes,” she said lightly.
Thomas frowned, a possessive look shadowing his face. “What other dukes are you talking to?”
“So lovely to have you here for afternoon tea, Your Grace,” Victoria said breezily as she sidestepped him and advanced hastily toward the cracked-open door leading to the entryway. “We must do this again some—”
“Tomorrow, you said.” Thomas’s long stride meant he swiftly reached her, and it was only thanks to foresight that Victoria stepped away from the front door.
The front door that, it appeared, he had wished to pin her against.
Don’t think about it , Victoria told herself sternly as her stomach started to churn and her knees quivered. Don’t think about it—
“Tomorrow,” she said quietly, hoping her eyes communicated far more than her tongue would permit. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”