A Chance in a Million (The Chances #5)

Chapter Fifteen

January 30, 1840

V ictoria lowered herself slowly onto the chair and made sure not to wince.

She could never have guessed just what an impact such intimacy would have on her body. The mind didn’t expect such…such delight. Such stiffness afterward. Such a strange medley of sensations in her body, making it feel as though it were not hers. That it was his.

“You look tired.”

Victoria managed a wan smile. “I suppose I do.”

It had been difficult, after all, to sleep in her bed after…after he had. It was the most unaccountable thing; Thomas had spent but one night lying beside her, his gentle breathing soothing her to sleep better than any lullaby, and now she was finding it almost impossible to sleep without him. Waking up in the middle of the night, her head jerking around, desperately searching for the man whom, when she awoke properly, she would remember would not be there. Should not be there.

Or rather, should be.

Her mother frowned. “I should never have left you on your own the other night. You must still be frightened! You’re still so young, my dear, sleeping here in the house all on your own, I don’t know what Cook was—”

“I am tired, but I am not a child, Mother,” Victoria pointed out, reaching eagerly for the teapot. Tea, that’s it. Tea will make everything better . “I can sleep perfectly well, I just… I had a strange dream.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. She had had a strange dream. A strange, wonderful dream. A dream that had made no sense, and did not need to, and had washed over her like the painful yet sweet memory of a loving touch.

Mrs. Ainsworth snorted. “You look exhausted , my dear. Those bags under your eyes, the red around your pupils—”

Victoria sighed. Well, she had never expected her mother to be charming all the time.

“—I suppose it is a good thing that you will not be seeing that duke of yours today.”

Stomach lurching, trying her best to keep her face as impassive as one not deeply in love with “that duke of yours,” Victoria lifted a teaspoon nonchalantly and stirred her tea. “Oh?”

“Well, you haven’t mentioned any such invitation to me,” her mother said, sipping her own tea. “And you would not do anything so indecorous as meet without a prior appointment, would you?”

Victoria tried to smile. “Of course not.”

No, that would be far too radical for her mother to comprehend. The fact that she had been soundly bedded by that duke, and in her own bedchamber while the house was entirely empty…that was neither here nor there.

A rustle. Her mother had opened up the newspaper.

“Ah, I see St. Thomas’s orphanage has taken on another tutor. Good on them.”

Victoria nodded vaguely as she helped herself to three slices of toast, lathering them in the softly melting butter and considering honey or marmalade with a tilt of her head. “Yes, very commendable.”

“More people should do such things,” her mother was saying behind the pages of the print. “Honestly, the world simply doesn’t support the orphans of the world anymore!”

“You mean like we don’t?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Victoria’s mother re-appeared in a flurry of newspaper and frowns. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Victoria said hastily, regretting her words immediately. “I just thought—”

“Ahem.”

Both Ainsworth women turned their heads in surprise. Victoria hadn’t heard anyone come into the breakfast room—she hadn’t even heard the door open.

Mrs. Stenton was standing there with boiling-red cheeks and a hand on her chest. She looked as though something awful had happened.

Victoria’s pulse skipped a beat. News had arrived; something terrible had occurred to Thomas. Bad news had been sent. A letter, a footman, perhaps. Couldn’t she see the lurking figure of a man in the hallway?

She rose, her napkin falling from her lap unheeded. “What is it? What happened? Is he—”

“The Duke of Cothrom for you madam, Miss Victoria,” said the housekeeper, stepping to the left as the looming figure stepped forward.

This time, Victoria gasped, her hand lifting to her chest.

What on earth was he doing here—uninvited, and this early, too? It was unheard of. It was, as her mother would put it, indecorous.

Her mother.

Victoria turned to see the reaction on her mother’s face. There was a twinkle in her eye, a softness in her shoulders. She was…delighted?

“Oh, Your Grace, what a delightful surprise. Come on in, help yourself to tea and toast and a chair—”

And my daughter , Victoria thought wryly.

Her mother could not have been more blatant if she had tried. The simpering giggle and the constant curtseying was a bit much, but the way she offered out her newspaper and apologized that she had already turned the pages…

Victoria shuddered, trying to keep the movement in her shoulders to a minimum. It was outrageous. It was embarrassing. It was—

“Come, Victoria, welcome our guest,” trilled her mother.

Doing her best not to roll her eyes, Victoria said, “Good morning, Your Grace.”

She had expected to have to hide the heat that would flare between them. She expected a shared knowing look and she would be forced to look away to prevent any awkward questions from her mother.

In truth, she almost hoped for it.

Yet she was to receive nothing of the sort. Thomas looked at her coldly, gave a stiff bow, and muttered something that sounded like, “Read the newspaper this morning.”

Victoria swallowed, hope sinking as swiftly as it had risen.

This was not like him. She knew Thomas, knew him perhaps better than he knew himself, and this was not right. It was not natural. He was holding himself awkwardly, his gaze never settling, that charm she so loved utterly absent.

What was wrong?

What was he doing here so early in the morning?

And perhaps most importantly, what could be done about her mother?

“—have my own cup. It’s perfectly seasoned with lemon and—”

“Mother, Thomas— His Grace does not want your cup of tea,” Victoria said hastily, hating that she had to correct herself, but not nearly so much as she hated the triumphant look her mother gave her. “Come, sit down. You too, Your Grace.”

“I would prefer to stand.”

Victoria halted halfway into her seat in astonishment. Preferred to stand? For breakfast?

Perhaps there were still a few things she did not know about him…

“How… How unusual,” said Mrs. Ainsworth quietly as she finally sat, still clutching her cup of tea. “Invigorating, I suppose, though. I have never considered taking a meal while standing. I suppose it has many great beneficial—”

“Mrs. Ainsworth, I was wondering whether you would permit a short conversation between myself and your daughter,” Thomas said stiffly, his eyes not leaving the Japan cabinet resting against the wall behind them.

Victoria’s cheeks burned, and for once in her life—the one time she needed her mother to be quick on the uptake—the older woman seemed utterly oblivious.

“Oh, please do not mind me,” her mother said brightly, picking up her newspaper and immediately hiding behind it.

Thomas cleared his throat, and Victoria’s attention was inexplicably drawn to the strength of his throat, the curve of his jaw, the way it made her want to—

Well. Perhaps not so inexplicably.

“I actually meant… Well. Alone.”

Mrs. Ainsworth could not have leapt up from her chair at a greater speed. “Yes, yes, of course. What was I thinking—alone, far more pleasant. Who wants to stay here listening to you two natter on? I’ll just head to the—”

Victoria groaned as her mother’s words became incomprehensible.

“—library. So good, much better read library. Newspaper belong library—”

“Yes, thank you, Mother,” Victoria said eventually, halting the stream of consciousness. She rose and took her mother’s arm, whispering close in her ear, “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Mother.”

“Am I?” Her mother’s eyes sparkled in obvious delight as Victoria was shepherded to the door. “Or am I hearing wedding bells?”

Hoping to goodness Thomas hadn’t heard her mother’s words, Victoria pushed her out into the hallway and came close to slamming the door behind her.

She didn’t. But it was a close thing.

Sighing heavily and almost sagging against the door, she turned around and looked straight into the face of Thomas Chance, Duke of Cothrom.

Goodness. When had he stepped across the room? And so quietly too…

“Victoria,” he said softly, mere inches from her, preventing her from leaving the door. “Miss Ainsworth.”

Victoria swallowed.

Well, this was what she had wanted. What she had hoped for—planned for. After abandoning the delicate, simpering, giggling facade, she had been bold and revealed her true self. She had aimed to seduce him—she had succeeded.

And it had all led to this. And yet…

Something was wrong. There was a strange expression on Thomas’s face, his cold eyes not matching the plastered smile across his lips. It was all a little… Well. Forced.

He’s nervous , Victoria told herself sternly. And what gentleman wouldn’t be? It was a very important moment in a man’s life, and he couldn’t be expected to just immediately know what to say.

What would she say, after all?

The thought tickled her, and an impromptu smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Your Grace.”

She had expected him to correct her, to remind her that he preferred “Thomas” when addressed by her.

But he did not. His jaw tightened as he nodded tightly. Then he dropped to his knees.

“Miss Ainsworth, the last few weeks have been the happiest of my life. Make me even happier and consent to be my wife.”

Victoria blinked. She had almost missed it.

Was that… Was that all? Surely, there has to be more than that.

Thomas was looking up from his kneeling position, his wan face a picture of…of boredom.

Something twisted painfully in Victoria’s stomach. Surely, it was not meant to feel like this? Like… Like rote, following lines from a play. As though all the emotion had somehow been pulled out of his chest. As though Thomas were merely following instructions, allowing himself to be swept away by what ought to happen, rather than what he wanted.

She bit her lip, the silence elongating most painfully. This wasn’t what she had thought would happen. This wasn’t what she had wanted.

But it was, wasn’t it? When she had pictured Thomas Chance, the man she had desired above all others for over a year, proposing to her, she hadn’t really thought of the details. It had been Thomas himself whom she had cared about. As long as they were together, what did the proposal itself matter?

This is just one moment , Victoria reminded herself as she reached out and took Thomas’s hand. One moment that will lead to years of wonderful moments .

That was all. She must not overthink this.

“You love me?” she said softly before she could stop herself.

A flicker of something she did not recognize across his features: not pain, not discomfort, but something altogether most unpleasant.

Then it was gone, Thomas’s face calm and smooth once more. “Yes.”

Victoria swallowed. It would have been nice if he had said it, but then, perhaps Thomas was not a particularly expressive man when it came to matters of the heart. Not everyone was.

She had won, hadn’t she? Won him, won his heart. Allowing him into her bed had been a risk that had paid off.

She had seduced Thomas Chance.

“Yes.”

A frown puckered in the corners of Thomas’s brows. “Yes?”

“Yes, I will be your wife,” she said, her voice stronger. “Yes, I will marry you.”

His shoulders sagged, the relief sweeping across his face astonishingly clear. And then he was standing up. A box appeared in his hand. “This is for you.”

She knew what it would be, but that did not halt the gasp of astonishment as he opened it. “Sapphires and emeralds.”

“I had hoped that you would select a favorite,” Thomas said wryly, slipping the ring off the velvet bed in the box and taking her left hand. “But you never made things easy for me.”

Perhaps not, but it had been worth it, all of it. Victoria gazed in amazement as the sapphire-and-emerald ring, surrounding a large diamond on a gold band, was slipped onto her finger. It sat there, glittering in the early morning night. Her promise ring.

She had barely much time to look at it before he was pulling her into his arms. This was what she had expected: passion and closeness.

“Oh, Victoria, you have made me so happy,” Thomas murmured close by her ear.

And she could believe it this time. She could feel the tension leaving his body as he held her, feel the soaring elation that was his racing pulse.

Nerves, that was all, Victoria told herself sternly. And she could hardly blame him. It was a monumental moment in a man’s life.

In a woman’s life. Her life.

Good lord. She was going to marry Thomas Chance.

That wasn’t something anyone could just go about thinking every day.

“You make me happy,” she said, clutching around his shoulders and breathing him in. There was something so Thomas about the way he smelled, that rich sandalwood—and she’d never have to worry about missing it, because she was going to be his wife. They were going to be together, they were going to be happy.

She’d done it.

“I-I can hardly believe it,” Victoria said shakily, pulling away to look him in the face, then lifting up her hand to look at the ring. Her ring. The ring he had chosen. This wasn’t a dream, was it? “Lady Thomas Chance.”

“Your Grace, Victoria Chance, Duchess of Cothrom,” he said, the teasing voice she knew so well finally returning.

Her mouth dropped open as he began to laugh.

Oh, Lord. Yes, of course. When she had fallen in love with Thomas—at least, what she had thought had been love at the time, and now that she truly knew him, she wasn’t sure if it had been love or lust or infatuation—he had been merely Lord Thomas Chance.

And now he was the Duke of Cothrom. And that would make her—

“Duchess.”

Suddenly, the room span. Just for a moment, she was able to gain her equilibrium almost immediately, but there was a sudden sway.

Duchess of Cothrom—a duchess! How could she have forgotten, even for a moment?

“I’m amazed you hadn’t put that together,” he said jovially, his soft voice stroking along the base of her spine, making her want to sit down. Or lie down. Or lie down with him . “When you become my wife, you will become one of the most important people in the ton .”

“I-I knew. I just forgot.” She really needed to sit.

“What a whirlwind,” Thomas was saying, his voice somehow speaking from far away and very close at the same time. “It’s strange to think that just a few months ago, we hardly knew each other! Well, there was that series of dinners we both attended a year ago, as my mother reminded me, but we did not speak much then, did we?”

Victoria blinked, her future husband—husband!—coming back into view.

Should she tell him?

She had never considered what she would do after Thomas had proposed and she had accepted. All her thoughts, all her hopes and dreams, everything she had wanted was leading up to this moment. The moment when he requested her hand in marriage, and she offered it wholeheartedly.

But what was she supposed to do now?

She could admit the truth.

Victoria pushed the thought away immediately, not giving it a second look. Admit the truth? Tell Thomas she was perfectly aware he had squandered the family fortune, and more, that he was on the hunt for a rich bride, and even more than that, that her dowry was the only reason he had pursued her?

It was not exactly the opening for a joyful conversation.

Yet they could not progress like this, could they? Victoria was hardly an expert in matrimonial affairs, but her gut told her it was not the best idea to enter into a marriage with secrets and lies.

Well. Not lies. Not exactly.

Victoria swallowed. “Thomas, I…”

Her voice trailed away as her gaze flickered over his impossibly-handsome face. He was so charming. So ridiculously lovely. There was so much good in him, good that the world didn’t see because all they cared about was money.

Oh, money. What good had it done her?

Other than attract her a husband, she supposed.

“—tell your mother at some point—”

Victoria’s focus sharpened and her lips parted in astonishment. “I suppose we have to tell her now?”

“Soon, certainly,” said Thomas airily as he stepped over to the breakfast table and picked up a buttered piece of toast from her plate. He shoved it in his mouth hungrily as though he were starving. Perhaps he had been too anxious to eat that morning. Perhaps that was why he was here so early. “Won’t she start to get suspicious if we remain in here alone for too long?”

Suspicious, yes…or hopeful. Aloud, Victoria said, “I suppose so. Then there is your family to tell—”

“Oh, they already know. I told them weeks ago,” Thomas said with a grin. Then he saw her face. “I mean…what I was considering. Perhaps. Maybe. I’ve certainly not been thinking about this for weeks.”

Victoria stifled a smile. He really wasn’t a very good actor. It was a good thing he had been born into money and nobility. He wouldn’t have lasted five minutes on the stage.

“Of course not,” she said smoothly. “And the announcements in the newspapers… The church must read the banns. It will take a good few months to plan the wedding, I presume.”

“I think we should get married next week,” Thomas said conversationally, finishing off her piece of toast.

Victoria reached out for the wall. “Next… Next week?”

He could not have been serious. Heat tingled through her body, tingling at her collarbones and whirling through her fingers. Next week?

“As soon as possible, then.” He shrugged, as though weddings could be put together in five minutes. “I can procure a special license for us. I don’t see the point in waiting.”

The look he gave her was one of heat and longing and deep-rooted attraction, and at first Victoria was delighted. He couldn’t wait, could he? Well, that was a positive sign and no mistake. One never knew, did one, whether one was adequate in bed. It was nice to receive a positive review.

But that wasn’t the only reason he wanted her to become his wife so quickly, was it?

The thought was subtle, but it swam up through the recesses of her mind and presented itself to her as a fait accompli .

She had loved him for a year. He had wanted her dowry for a month.

Now they were engaged to be married.

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t the most resounding confirmation of love she had ever heard. Victoria tried to think back, to when she had been younger and her father had been alive. How had her parents shared their affection?

With kisses. With lingering looks. With laughter, and hands clasped under the table as though no one could guess their fingers were intertwined. With squabbles that ended with her father on bended knee, begging comically for forgiveness, and her mother dropping to her own knees in peals of laughter and begging for forgiveness in turn.

A smile lilted Victoria’s mouth. That was love. That was what she wanted.

Was that what she had?

Thomas was chattering on about how easy it would be for them to get the wedding preparations sorted, especially with their two mothers involved, yet she could not quite grasp each word, each phrase. It washed over her like a tide slowly creeping up a shore.

Had he truly fallen in love with her? Or was this still all part of his plan, Thomas’s plan, to get his hands on her dowry?

And did she care?

Victoria swallowed. “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. How long does it take to bake a cake—”

“No, I meant about—about getting married as soon as possible,” Victoria said, trying to keep her voice level, as though she had not just agonized over whether to entrap the man into marriage before he realized he did not truly love her. “Next week, or the week after. Why wait?”

Thomas beamed, stepping toward her and cupping her face with both hands. “My beautiful Victoria. My beautiful wife-to-be.”

Victoria tried to accept his kiss—which was remarkably chaste—with exultation and hope.

She had been certain that allowing Thomas to bed her would make him fall in love with her, and perhaps she was right. Perhaps his nerves had just gotten the better of him. He would not be the first.

Perhaps once they were married, it would be different. Perhaps he would truly fall in love with her when they lived together, or when they explored each other’s bodies every morning, or perhaps—

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

Thomas clasped him to her. “You’re all I want, Victoria.”

All he wants. But was she? Was she all he wanted…or was it the dowry?

The words of Thomas’s proposal echoed in her ears, and Victoria could not help but notice that all the words of love, or rather the only singular mention of love, had come from her lips.

“You love me?”

“Yes.”