A Chance in a Million (The Chances #5)

Chapter Eleven

January 23, 1840

T he cold weather was finally thawing and the streets of Bath were subsequently heaving.

“Oi, careful there, miss!” said a man as he marched past Victoria, bumping into her so heavily she almost lost her balance.

Her , be careful? The cretin!

Not that she would have said anything—and even if she had intended to, the man had hurried out of sight too fast to catch her words.

Victoria sighed. It was turning out to be that sort of day. The haberdasher had still not gotten the ribbon her mother wanted, which Mrs. Ainsworth was going to be furious about, and the bookshop was still waiting on the order Victoria had made over a week ago. The warmth had brought out the louts of Bath, people jostling on the pavements and carriages hurtling by far too fast.

And worse… She had not seen Thomas Chance, Duke of Cothrom, for two whole days.

“Gentlemen don’t kiss like that.”

“This one does.”

Victoria shivered, hoping any passerby would presume a chilly breeze had precipitated the movement. Only she had to know it was because of the chilly silence from a certain gentleman that had made her tremble.

What more could she do? No more, as far as she could tell. Seducing a duke with a tarnished reputation was turning out to be far more difficult than she had imagined.

As she walked down the street, Danvers loaded up with packages beside her, the two of them pushing past a few people in her path, Victoria tried studiously not to look at the brick wall beside her. It just happened to be the wall where he—

“Your first time, your first pleasure… Damn it, Victoria, that deserves to be in a bed surrounded by candles, with rose petals strewn about the place…”

Victoria swallowed, her mouth dry. Never, in all her wildest dreams, had she imagined something so wonderful, so decadent, so absolutely scandalous.

The man had started undressing her! Had touched her…her her !

Yet still Thomas Chance had not been willing to ravish her.

It was most provoking.

The worst of it is , Victoria thought irritably as she waited for a gaggle of schoolchildren to cross the street, shepherded by a haggard woman in a gray coat, I arrived home that night aching in all sorts of surprising places. The man had… Well. Riled her up, was that the right term?

She hardly knew. All she knew was that she would give anything, absolutely anything, to see Thomas right now and—

Victoria halted in her steps abruptly.

“Watch out, miss!”

She ignored the startled comments behind her, her feet flying likely faster than Danvers could follow, weighed down as she was with packages. What did it matter if she was now in the way of other pedestrians attempting to get past? She had just seen…

Thomas Chance.

A smile crept across her face that she did not attempt to fight. He was looking remarkably handsome, bundled up in that great coat, a knitted scarf—a badly knitted scarf—around his neck and finishing over one shoulder. He was talking to…to a gaggle of children.

Victoria blinked. That was unexpected. What was Lord Cothrom doing speaking to a group of children? They were all dressed in red, the same sort of red as the Chance livery, and they were…warm. Wrapped up in clothes far more elegant than their general appearance would have suggested.

There were quite a few Chance cousins, weren’t there? That must have been it.

After a final word from him, the children grinned then scampered away, leaving just Thomas and…a woman.

She’d been a fool. There she’d been, thinking she would have given anything to see him, and how was she rewarded?

By spotting the tall, handsome, and laughing Duke of Cothrom on the other side of the road…arm in arm with the most beautiful woman Victoria had ever seen.

The world spun. Her mind whirled, her sense of balance leaving her breathless. Victoria put out a hand dazedly, almost blindly, hoping to grasp on to something solid to prevent her falling.

The roughness of the brick beneath her gloved fingertips almost mocked her. The same sensation had covered her back when Thomas had been kissing her. Now there he stood, arm in arm with another woman.

Tears threatened to fall as they prickled in the corners of her eyes. How had she been so stupid?

Of course she was not the only woman Thomas Chance was pursuing. What a fool she had been. She’d heard enough of the rumors about his brothers, the ladies they chased after, the scandal after scandal hushed up.

Why had she thought Thomas, the eldest, would be any different?

The woman had the sort of beauty men sighed over and women desperately craved. Her elegant blue pelisse matched her bonnet, the felt seamlessly crafted with a matching ribbon. Her gloves also matched, as did her reticule. Victoria had never seen a woman look more put together and in control of her own life.

Her stomach lurched. And Thomas was smiling at her. The woman.

It was not a crime. Not officially, at any rate—but the jealousy that rose in her was insupportable.

She had to get away.

The thought flashed through her mind like lightning, but it made enough of an impression to force Victoria’s feet into a juddering pace.

She had to get away—get home. Away from the sight of Thomas Chance, away from the reminder that she was not special, not important.

Had he kissed that woman like he had kissed her?

The agony accompanying the thought made Victoria stumble, her world still not yet righted from the shock of seeing such a sight.

“Victoria—Miss Ainsworth?”

And it doesn’t make sense , Victoria thought as she fought back tears. She had been the one tricking him , hadn’t she? After all, she’d known his intention had been to merely take her dowry and solve his family’s problems with it. She knew that—had known it from the very beginning.

So why did this hurt so much?

The affection she felt was to blame, but then, it had hurt to be apart from him in the year they’d spent apart. Why was this any different?

Because it cheapens what you thought you had , Victoria thought dazedly as she attempted to keep walking. Because it negates every good moment that you shared together. Just when you…when you thought—

“Miss Ainsworth!”

Finally, the words shouted across the crowded street registered in Victoria’s mind. Looking up, she turned to see who was calling after her.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Thomas Chance.

Absolutely not. Her feet moved without instruction, speeding up in the opposite direction. Where was Danvers? Had she lost her in the crowd? If Thomas Chance thought Victoria was just going to stand there and allow him to talk to her with another woman on his arm—

“Miss Ainsworth, wait!”

Panic flaring in her lungs, Victoria tried to pick up her pace, but her legs weren’t obeying. Why was this happening to her? It had to be a million-to-one chance, the streets of Bath so packed today, that she would even see him. Why did it have to be—

A hand on her arm, a sudden jolt, and Victoria was no longer moving forward.

Oh, no…

“Victoria—Miss Ainsworth, I mean,” said Thomas with a wide grin. “I thought it was you!”

Victoria wrenched her arm away as the hordes of people meandered past them, like waves encircling a rock in the ocean.

She was going to be calm. That was all—calm. She was going to be calm, and relaxed, and utterly prepossessed. She was not going to reveal just how much seeing him with her—the beautiful woman staring with unabashed curiosity—was hurting her.

She was not.

“Who are you?” Victoria blurted out, glaring at the woman.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “How interesting.”

“ Victoria !” hissed Thomas, as though she were the one who had acted indecorously.

Heat was pouring into Victoria’s cheeks, but there was nothing she could do about it—it was Thomas who should have felt ashamed!

“I trusted you,” Victoria said in a low voice, ignoring the woman for now and concentrating her attention on Thomas. “I-I thought… I mean, it seemed to me as though—”

“Shall I introduce myself, or should I wait for you to get around to it, Tommy?” asked the woman with a frown at Thomas.

Victoria’s stomach lurched as she saw the intimacy between them. Oh, this was far worse than she had expected. “Tommy”?

“Victoria, I can explain—”

“You know, I don’t think you can!” Victoria hated how high her voice was, how she could feel the stares of strangers on the back of her neck, but if it was going to end, here and now, it was going to end on her terms. “You, Thomas Chance, are a complete rake! You are a liar, and a cheat, and a—”

“You know, I quite agree,” interrupted the woman in a bored voice. “He always has been.”

Victoria gaped at the woman. Well, this was far more ridiculous than she had expected!

“You… You don’t care?” she spluttered at the woman.

The stranger raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Why should I? Marrying one’s cousin may be deemed acceptable by many, but I would never consider it myself.”

Marrying one’s…one’s cousin.

Victoria realized her mouth was still open. She shut it hurriedly, then looked up at Thomas. He was grinning. She glared, and his face immediately fell.

“Liliana, Miss Victoria Ainsworth. Miss Ainsworth, Lady Lilianna Chance. I was trying to tell you, Victoria. She’s only—”

“‘Only’? Well, thank you very much, Tommy,” snapped the woman. She pulled her arm from his and sniffed. “Don’t ask me for a favor again, please. If this is how it’s going to end up, I would rather stay at home with Frank, even if they are dull as ditchwater at the moment. Miss Ainsworth.”

“Let me walk you—” started Thomas.

“No need. My lady’s maid awaits me in the carriage. It was too cold for her out here.”

Dropping into a graceful curtsey that Victoria hastily attempted to reciprocate, though hers was in no way as elegant, the woman swept away in a rush of fashion.

Victoria stared. Cousin. Right.

And lady’s maid. She glanced around and realized she really had lost sight of her Danvers.

All the better. She would not have liked her to have witnessed this.

She turned on Thomas. “Well, you could have said!”

“I attempted to!” Thomas said, lifting his hands in mock surrender as he was buffeted by a crowd of young boys. “Lilianna is a menace, but she is my cousin and I had asked her for a favor. Blast it all. She won’t help me now.”

Victoria deflated just as swiftly as she had been riled.

She looked the complete fool now, she supposed. Getting all hot and bothered because the man she loved—a man who did not love her, and wouldn’t even be tempted to ravish her when offered her body on a plate—had been walking about in public with his cousin. A cousin, moreover, who clearly had absolutely no desire to be the next Duchess of Cothrom.

Mortifying did not quite cover it.

“I’m annoyed at you,” she muttered to the tall, handsome man whom she loved beyond anything.

“And I have no idea why!” Thomas said, eyes wide as he dropped his hands to his sides. “It is not as though I have done anything wrong!”

He was right. Somehow, that made it worse.

“I have to return home,” said Victoria, turning and walking away.

Trying to walk away.

The bounder had caught hold of her arm once again. “Victoria, I—”

“I’ve just made a complete fool of myself, and I would rather go away and hide than be looked at by you,” she said fiercely, tugging her arm ineffectually from his grip. “And people are staring—”

“Let them stare,” said Thomas quietly. “I don’t care who knows how I feel.”

Victoria stopped attempting to escape. When she turned around slowly, arm still in his grasp, she was almost certain she could feel Thomas’s pulse through her pelisse.

“You… You don’t?”

Victoria could not think what else to say.

How did he feel? If the man had been anyone else, she would have presumed he was in love with her. He certainly was in lust with her—no man could falsify the stiffness in those trousers.

But why hadn’t he asked her to marry him? What was holding the man back, even though he clearly so desperately needed her money?

“It’s not a secret. I may not say it in words, not…not yet. But I am hardly hiding it, am I?”

Somehow—Victoria wasn’t sure how—Thomas had closed the gap between them. Despite standing together in broad daylight in the middle of a pavement, where anyone could see them, he was standing… Well, close. Too close. Or not close enough.

Victoria’s voice caught in her throat. “N-No.”

Her whole body was on fire for him, heating with every passing moment the longer he stood that close. Oh, he was so handsome. And charming. And kind. And idiotic, sometimes, yes. Losing all that money had been a foolish thing indeed.

But there was no harm in him. He wasn’t a cruel man.

Victoria swallowed. “What… What favor was your cousin doing for you? May I help?”

It was a foolish thing to suggest, she knew, and her hopes sank as Thomas hesitated, glancing about as though suddenly aware he was standing very close to a young lady to whom he was not related, her chaperone nowhere in sight.

He took a step back. “I… Well, I am not entirely…”

“Please, forget I said anything,” Victoria said hastily. “I should return home myself. I must find Danvers. She’ll be worried, and my mother will be wondering—”

“Yes.”

She blinked. “I-I beg your pardon?”

Thomas shifted on his feet, inexplicably uncertain. “It’s a small task, but I would really prefer a woman’s eye. If you do not mind.”

Victoria’s shoulders relaxed. Oh, it’s that sort of favor. The man must have needed to enter a haberdasher, or a tailor, or something of the sort. He must have needed advice on colors, or a fabric, or perhaps the right button choice.

“Lead on, then,” she said boldly, though without being bold enough to slip her hand through his arm. “I am more than willing to help.”

Poor Danvers would just have to keep worrying.

Still, she had the foresight to tug down the brim of her hat.

Victoria and Thomas walked in companionable silence down two streets. Victoria had never known anything like it; conversation was the adornment of good Society, and she had been brought up to always have something witty, or amusing, or charming to say—preferably all three. The idea of walking with a gentleman, a gentleman to whom she was not engaged, without saying a word was ridiculous.

Yet it felt so right. Being silent with him was better than inane chatter with anyone else.

“It’s just down here,” said Thomas quietly. “I’d meant to come a few days ago but found myself dazzled by the choice. I thought… Well, I asked Lil if she could help.”

“I am sorry to have made her abandon you,” Victoria said, attempting levity. Strange, she did not recall any haberdashers along here. Or tailors, for that matter. “Where is the—”

“Here we are,” Thomas said, halting suddenly. “Mepham and Sons.”

Victoria swallowed.

Oh. Goodness. Saints above.

It wasn’t a haberdasher. It wasn’t a tailor. In fact, it had nothing to do with men’s tailoring at all.

“These are the best jewelers in Bath, according to my mother,” said Thomas, calmly peering through the window at the display of fabulous jewels and carefully crafted jewelry. “And you know a duchess has good taste in jewelers. What do you think?”

Think? She thought she was going to have a heart attack.

This was the favor Thomas had asked his cousin to assist him with…to select some jewelry?

If she was not too careful, she was going to expire on the spot. Why, anyone could see them! See them, the new Duke of Cothrom who had come into a title in a most odd way, the penniless Duke of Cothrom who had a reputation as a spendthrift and no ability to hold on to his family’s money…and a woman. A lady. Looking at jewelry!

Victoria swallowed, hard. Looking, in fact, at rings. That was the part of the window that Thomas was peering into.

Rings .

“Now, a lady like yourself will have excellent taste, I have no doubt,” came Thomas’s voice from a long way away. “What do you think—sapphires or emeralds?”

Not for the first time in Thomas Chance’s company, Victoria wished to goodness it was the fashion to carry fans about one’s person at all times. It would not necessarily have made much of a difference to the heat scalding through her body underneath the pelisse, but she could have at least hidden her face behind it.

As it was, when Thomas glanced up over, he surely saw the way her face was flushed and her lips were parted.

“Victoria?”

“What?” she said hurriedly.

“Sapphires or emeralds,” he repeated, turning back to the rings. “I know in a way, it is only a choice between blue and green, but I have to imagine that young ladies think a great deal about this sort of thing.”

Victoria leaned forward to place her gloved hand on the glass. It was that or keel over. “‘Young ladies’?”

“I have never purchased jewelry for a woman before,” Thomas mused, appearing to only be half-listening to her as she was barely able to concentrate on his own words. “My sister much prefers books, or music, or a treat to a concert. She’s never been one for finery.”

Her pulse was thundering so loudly, Victoria was a little surprised he had not mentioned it.

“And I do want to impress the recipient of this…this present,” he continued quietly, not looking at her. “It’s important to me. She ’s important to me.”

The tightening of her lungs was accompanied by a slight dizziness in her mind, and Victoria focused everything in her being on the most important thing: not falling over.

He was talking about her, wasn’t he?

There was no other explanation. Fine, she had presumed he’d been courting more than one woman when she had seen him across the street arm in arm with Lady Lilianna Chance, but that had been a terrible blow, hadn’t it? And she’d been wrong.

She, surely, was the only woman Thomas Chance was courting—and that meant this gift was for her.

A ring. To mark their betrothal.

Victoria swallowed. It wasn’t the norm, but it was becoming fashionable. A ring, a promise, a deposit, as it were, ahead of the coming together of two people.

It was a physical sign of an ephemeral promise, and here she was, standing beside a man whom she loved and who did not love her in return—for surely, he would have said so—while he attempted to choose a ring for her.

“So?” Thomas came back into view. His head tilted and his eyebrow arched. “Emeralds or sapphires?” he said.

Drawing herself up and deciding she was not going to let the moment overcome her, Victoria looked in the direction he had been perusing. There lay a line of gold rings, each adorned with different stones. One had a single, large, square emerald, another a trio of smaller oval sapphires, and a third had a sapphire surrounded by small diamonds.

All of them were beautiful.

“It’s… It’s difficult to choose between such beauty, isn’t it?”

Thomas shifted beside her, and suddenly, her arm was pressed against his, the man far too close to ignore. Not that she had managed that for the past year or so.

“Beauty deserves beauty,” he said softly. “Which do you want?”

“I beg your—”

“I said, which do you like?” Thomas’s voice was steady. There was no hint he had changed his wording at all.

Victoria hesitated. Perhaps she had dreamed that first phrase. It was easy to do, as the man’s presence was so heady. “I…I like all of them.”

“But if you had to choose one.” His voice pressed into her, insistent.

It some ways, it was like a dream. The sort of dream in which she had indulged those first few weeks after meeting Lord Thomas Chance, eldest son of the Duke of Cothrom. Dreams about declarations of love, and jewels, and the careful choice of one piece of jewelry in particular.

Victoria straightened up and Thomas mirrored her, and she smiled. This was it.

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

Her smile faded.

What was she doing? She knew, better than he understood, just how little money he and his family had. Surely, their creditors would be calling in debts soon, the Chance ball an expense they could ill afford. The whole reason Thomas had started to woo her, after all, had been for her money.

How was he going to afford a pretty bauble like these rings?

“Will you walk me home?” Victoria asked lightly, walking away from the jewelers. “Perhaps Danvers has gone there to look for me.”

“Victoria—Victoria? Where are you going?”

She continued to walk along the pavement.

Soon, Thomas was beside her. “I don’t—I don’t understand. You don’t like them? You don’t want a ring?”

It was almost exactly what she had hoped for. Only now that the moment was here did Victoria realize that perhaps what she wanted was different. “I want lots of things, Thomas, but they can’t be found in that shop. They can’t be found in any shop.”

Victoria slipped her hand into his without thinking. Thomas squeezed his fingers around hers.

Right. She was so in love with him that she had just refused the offer of a promise ring. Now what?