A Chance in a Million (The Chances #5)

Chapter Twenty

February 28, 1840

T homas had never been so nervous in his life. Hopefully, he never would be again.

“You look like death warmed up,” said Alexander cheerfully, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Shoving his brother’s hand off him but managing to laugh through the tension, Thomas snorted. “You always do, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

“Oh, good. How wonderful to see that some things never change,” quipped their sister. “Now are you going to behave today, Xander?”

“ Me ?” The youngest Chance placed a hand on his heart and arranged his features into an astonished expression. “I can’t believe you would even have to ask.”

“Really?”

Thomas chuckled at their sister’s sardonic word. Anything to distract him from the anxiety prickling around his temples.

This was it. It really was. It had finally come—though arguably after making an agreement with the Archbishop for a special license, and unleashing his mother onto London to get it all organized within days, Thomas supposed he really shouldn’t be describing the time since Daltons’ ball and today as “finally.”

Still. As he stood there in the drawing room, his family happily chattering around him, Thomas could hardly believe it was happening.

His wedding day.

“—look very handsome,” his mother said fondly.

Thomas blinked. He hadn’t noticed his mother step forward. She was fiddling with his cravat, moving the pin to the left then the right as though attempting to decide which she preferred.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly.

Alice Chance flashed him a smile. “You look just like your father did on our wedding day.”

“I was less nervous,” came a serious voice behind him.

Thomas turned and tried to beam at his father as the Dowager Duchess of Cothrom said fiercely, “You were terrified!”

“Never been terrified in my life,” said William Chance, slowly stepping toward them. “Except once. May I have a word with my son, dear?”

Fear—no, not fear, but something very like—bristled up Thomas’s spine and neck. Oh, hell, what had he done now? There was always something. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, there was always something he’d done wrong.

His father had not been pleased with the fact that all of their money was gone—though he had softened when Thomas had finally admitted to the reasons behind that. The dowager duke had not been entirely unaware, it turned out, as the solicitors and banks had revealed the checks written to pay off expenses related to the orphanage. He had just been waiting for Thomas to admit what he’d done.

And his father was ready to work with him moving forward, to invest Victoria’s money—her own money—in such a way to afford both the estate’s expenses and everything the orphanage could need. The latter with help from others of the ton .

Still, Thomas had left the conversation feeling a bit scolded, like a helpless child. Of course he never should have taken on all those expenses on his own. Not just for his own family’s sake, but for the children’s. His coffers would only empty at some point without careful planning, and then where would that have left the orphanage?

Thomas’s mother gave William a knowing expression then meandered over to Leopold and started fiddling with her second son’s cravat.

“Perhaps just a little to the left,” she murmured.

“I know how to dress myself, Mother!”

Thomas grinned, then arranged his features into an expression far more grim. He would hate for his father to think he wasn’t taking today seriously.

“Never terrified except once,” said his father quietly. “Do you know when that was, Thomas?”

It’s going to be some sort of moral lesson , Thomas thought with a sinking heart. That was just what he needed the hour before his wedding: a teachable moment. An opportunity for his father to demonstrate there was still so much for him to learn, so many ways to make more mistakes.

“When?” he said aloud.

There was something twinkling in his father’s eyes. “When you were born.”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “When I was born?”

“It was a difficult birth, as your mother still delights in telling me,” his father continued, as though he had not spoken. “For a few hours, it looked as though I was going to lose everything precious, everything I wanted. My wife. My second child. I had Maudy, obviously, but the thought of being her only family…”

Never before had Thomas’s father spoken of this—but then, there were few times in Thomas’s memory that he and his father had had a conversation of this magnitude.

“Well, it all ended happily,” he said, more hoarsely than he’d hoped.

William Chance, the Dowager Duke of Cothrom, nodded sagely. “Yes, but I did not know that, in the moment. All I could think of was the idea of losing the woman I loved, and the child who was an emblem, a proof, of our affection. And here you are. On your wedding day.”

Thomas shuffled on his feet awkwardly. This was most definitely not what he had expected. “Father, I—”

“I will admit, this is not the day of yours that I am most proud of,” his father said quietly in that slow, steady voice Thomas depended on far more than he would like to admit.

“Not today?”

William shook his head. “No, the other day. When you finally told me just how you’ve been putting the family money to good use. Of course, your sister came to me with her suspicions long before that.”

Thomas snapped his head around to glare at Maude, who was studiously not looking at him but instead gazing at Leopold. Just for an instant, she met his gaze and grinned. Then she returned hastily to her conversation.

“I should have known,” Thomas muttered. “First Victoria, then—”

“I wish you had come to me earlier. When you had the idea. When those expenses started piling up. I should have paid closer attention and stopped you as soon as the solicitors and banks contacted me about your withdrawals instead of just waiting for you to confess. I was in charge of the household at the time, and I should have taken responsibility.” His father cleared his throat. “I don’t think I made that clear when we discussed how best to handle the finances going forward.”

Thomas’s neck ached from whipping it back to his father, but Thomas could pay that no heed. Had he just said… Had his father, of all people, just said…

“I’m proud of you, son,” William said, grasping Thomas’s shoulder. “I may not be the most approachable father in the world—”

“Father—”

“—but I have created some remarkable sons,” his father continued quietly. “And I am proud of you.”

Thomas blinked back burning tears. It wasn’t supposed to be like this; he wasn’t supposed to be so affected by such a small amount of approbation from his father.

But any man would be a liar if he said he did not long for such a thing. Long for a connection, long for the knowledge that one’s life had not only purpose, but approval.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “I-I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you.”

For a moment, just a heartbeat, William nodded and squeezed his shoulder. “I know.”

The moment passed. His father released him, both he and Thomas cleared their throats loudly, and Thomas tried to grin.

“You don’t have to worry about Victoria’s funds, by the way. After what I discussed with you, our solicitors are putting together a plan, an investment plan, with additional funds from others throughout the ton . The future Duchess of Cothrom herself gave her approval. We’ll make St. Thomas’s self-sufficient.” His father nodded with a knowing look. “And if I weren’t impressed enough with you, I would have to be with that wife of yours. Which reminds me. Weren’t we supposed to be going to a church?”

Thomas started, turning to look at the clock. “Oh, hell!”

They weren’t quite late. Late would suggest that the wedding had attempted to start without them, and it hadn’t. Still, Thomas did not relish the idea of parading his entire family down the aisle full of wedding guests because they hadn’t paid enough attention to the time.

“Really, Your Grace,” hissed the vicar as he snuck them through a side chapel and across the vestry. “I was about to send a note!”

“I know, I know,” said Thomas, his pulse hammering. “Is she here?”

The vicar raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Not officially.”

Thomas discovered, later that day, that what the reverend meant was that Victoria had arrived—at her mother’s insistence—over an hour before the wedding ceremony was supposed to take place. The vicar had taken pity on her and hidden her in one of the side chapels and then taken even more pity on her and encouraged Mrs. Ainsworth to sit in the church to welcome their guests.

And so it was that when the organ began to play and Thomas rose, it was Mrs. Ainsworth who tapped him on the shoulder.

“Your Grace,” she said in a whisper and with a wide grin. “Congratulations.”

Thomas’s mind was whirling with so many thoughts and emotions that he blurted out, “Congratulations for what?”

Leopold, standing beside him as his best man, groaned.

“Congratulations,” Mrs. Ainsworth said with a knowing look, “on a one-in-a-million bride.”

Thomas would have replied. He had intended to, but his attention had meandered from Mrs. Ainsworth to the figure walking up the aisle. Both of them.

His mouth fell open.

Oh, she is a vision. Dressed all in white, as was the newest fashion due to Queen Victoria’s famous dress during her recent nuptials to Prince Albert, there was an elegant simplicity to her attire that made her all Victoria Ainsworth, even with the bridal veil partially obscuring her face. Her breasts—and Thomas’s manhood lurched just to think of them—were delicately covered by reams of lace, but there was no disguising that delicious figure.

Beside her, walking her sedately and serenely down the aisle, was Alexander.

“I still don’t know why you asked him to give her away,” muttered Leopold in his ear. “The boy is an absolute menace.”

Thomas chuckled, pushing aside the memory of what their younger brother had said.

“I’m here to fix your life. I’ll fix my own another day.”

Menace, yes, but boy ? Not any longer. He would have to remember to ask the scallywag more about what he’d meant later.

“I didn’t ask him,” Thomas muttered, unable to take his eyes from his upcoming bride.

“Then why—”

“Victoria asked him. Said it was all his fault the wedding was delayed,” said Thomas with a grin, “so she would make it his fault if she was late to the altar.”

All speaking had to cease at that moment. Victoria and Alexander had reached Thomas and Leopold, her lavender scent making Thomas weak at the knees, and the vicar began his welcome as Thomas’s heart thrummed.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God…”

The wedding definitely happened. Thomas was sure. When he looked at his left hand hours later, the wedding celebrations at the Ainsworth house in full flow, there was the proof. A golden ring.

“You don’t have to wear one, you know,” Victoria had said to him only two days ago. “It’s quite unheard of for a man to wear a promise ring. Most gentlemen would balk at the idea.”

And he had smiled, and said, “Most gentlemen don’t have the chance to marry Miss Victoria Ainsworth.”

So, the wedding had happened. He’d been there. But the moments had mingled and rushed through his mind, every moment a shock to the system. Repeating his vows, hearing Victoria return them in a clear voice, the lifting of her veil, the desperate need to kiss her and scandalize the whole wedding party…

Thomas blinked, shaking his head. It was all like a dream. A dream he had longed for. Just like that, they were married.

Victoria squeezed his hand and the strangeness of the ring on his finger tightened. “Thomas?”

He looked up from their intertwined hands. This was where he belonged. This was whom he belonged to.

“You know,” murmured Thomas, reveling in the way her hair fluttered at every movement of her head, “everyone seems to be entertained.”

Victoria arched a brow. “Yes, they do.”

“So much so that they don’t really need us.”

Both of her brows were now raised. “Thomas…”

“Well, no one would notice,” he said, giving up all pretense. “And after all, your bedchamber is right—”

“We are not sneaking out of our wedding reception to—to go and ravish one another!” Victoria hissed, her cheeks pink.

Thomas grinned. He could see the desire in her eyes, hear it in her voice. His eyes trailed the pink rising up her décolletage as her lips parted, her tongue darting out to wet them.

Dear God, but if she didn’t say yes , he wasn’t at all certain how he was going to hide the stiffening in his trousers.

“ Please ,” he begged in a low whisper.

Victoria’s eyes widened. Then she was pulling him by the hand through the crowd of well-wishers, smiling at their guests, nodding her thanks but not halting. Not even for a moment.

Aching need poured through Thomas’s body as anticipation started to rise. Christ, they were going to do it. They were going to march out of here and upstairs and then they would—

They did not march upstairs. To Thomas’s utter bewilderment, Victoria pulled him into a room in the Ainsworth house he had never been in before. It appeared to be a—

“A storage room?” he said, blinking around him. “What on earth?”

There were mops and brushes and a few console tables in need of repair. A pot of paint had crusted over and there were several chairs and a stepladder pushed up against one wall.

Thomas’s shoulders sagged. Ah. So this isn’t a clandestine encounter, then . “Victoria—”

“They’ll suspect if we go upstairs,” she said, and she was pressing up against him now, her fingers scrabbling at the buttons of his trousers as though craving what was inside. Perhaps she is. “But here—”

“No one will think to look for us,” Thomas breathed, surrendering immediately to his wife’s intoxicating desire.

Christ, was there anything more attractive than a woman attempting to undress a man?

“Hurry up,” she said impatiently, her fingers struggling to release him. “How on earth do you—ah!”

Her sigh was exquisite. The sound was the nectar of the gods, and Thomas’s body responded in the only way it knew how. The trouble was, his trousers were slipping down and pooling around his boots now, so the very physical response to her was… Well. Front and center.

“I’ve wanted you all day,” Victoria said fervently. “How are we going to—”

“Here,” Thomas said hastily, trying his best to walk a few steps forward with his trousers around his ankles and his manhood leading the way. “Come here.”

His wife halted for a moment. “You—You’re sitting down. Where am I going to sit?”

It was difficult not to grin at such an innocent question. Oh, this wife of mine. I still have so much to teach her, just as I have so much to learn.

“Right here,” he said pointedly.

For a few heartbeats, Victoria just stood there, staring. Thomas had selected what he considered to be the most sturdy of chairs—after all, it would need to be—and he lay against its back languidly, holding out a hand.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Victoria said hesitantly, stepping forward and halting just before him. “You want me to sit on your lap, you mean?”

Thomas bit down the groan her na?ve question heralded. “Here, like this…”

It was easier to show her than to explain. Victoria’s eyes widened as he pulled her toward him, nudging her legs apart with his free hand so she straddled him and the chair. When he tugged her down, his manhood pressed against her hip, she squealed, a noise quickly halted by his passionate kiss.

“Oh, Victoria,” he murmured.

He couldn’t help himself. The feeling of her astride him, the closeness of her, the fact that they could do this now without any fear of discovery or scandal—

Well, perhaps a little scandal. Brides and grooms were not supposed to consummate their wedding in a storage room.

But there was no time to think about that. Not with Victoria’s hands in his hair and her thighs pressed against him and his manhood desperate to reach her core and his hands cupping her buttocks under her skirts…

“That feels so good.” Victoria panted, squirming in his lap and making stars appear in the corners of his vision. “But I don’t understand. How will we—”

He claimed her mouth again, thirsty for the sweet nectar of her tongue, and as his lips played with hers, eking little squeaks from his wife, Thomas’s hands were not idle. Her skirts, her petticoats, all of them were moved aside until his fingertips brushed up against—

Victoria ground her hips forward and welcomed him in, Thomas moaning at the unexpected closeness.

Christ, he could pump into her just a few times and find his release at this point…but he mustn’t.

The thought sharpened his resolve. He was not going to begin this marriage by leaving his wife unsatisfied.

Trying desperately to control himself, willing himself to stay resolute, Thomas lowered his mouth to the swell of Victoria’s breasts and laved along the top of her décolletage as his left hand clasped her buttock and his right thumb slipped inside her wet folds.

All the saints in heaven, but she was ready for him. How long had she been wanting this?

Probably as long as he had.

It wasn’t enough—he had to taste her. Ignoring her shocked gasp and reveling in the way her head immediately fell back in uncontrolled passion, Thomas tore the front of Victoria’s gown with his teeth and pulled at her corset.

There wasn’t a great deal of movement, but there was sufficient for one nipple to peek out and Thomas claimed it with his teeth and growled.

The thrumming vibration through her body made Victoria shudder, or perhaps it was the way a finger had joined his thumb in stroking her. Gritting his teeth and praying he could prevent himself completing against her hip, Thomas concentrated on nipping her breast, feathering it with soft kisses then aggressively demanding her nipple.

“Thomas, more! More…”

And he gave her more. He gave her everything, everything that was in him. Thomas’s thumb brushed against her nub and Victoria jolted in his arms, and he knew she was close. Ready to be pushed over the edge.

Without mercy, his thumb, finger, and tongue worked in harmony until Victoria cried out his name.

He could weep, she was so beautiful coming apart in his hands. Thomas captured her mouth, allowing her to scream into his lips as she quivered, until all the aftershocks had subsided.

Victoria looked up with bleary eyes. “But, Thomas, you haven’t—”

“Not yet,” Thomas rasped through gritted teeth. “But give me a moment.”

She allowed him, through a lust-sodden gaze, to gently lift her up. When he lowered her onto his manhood, Victoria hissed at the sudden intrusion.

It was all Thomas could do not to come right away. Oh, she was wet, and dripping, and ready for him, but there was so much more than that. She was sweet, and hot, and designed somehow to perfectly fit him. The squeeze of her inner muscles as she sighed was almost too much and Thomas burrowed his face against her neck, breathing her in. He wished to goodness this was the rest of his life.

It is the rest of my life.

“And now I-I ride you, I suppose?”

Thomas barely had the strength to give a reply, but it appeared Victoria did not need one. Her expression curious as she explored this new sensual territory, she pushed herself up on her toes, slowly threatening to release his manhood, then spurted down, sheathing him.

Thomas juddered. “Yes, yes, yes…”

Whether anything else he said made sense, he did not know. How long it took for Victoria to ride him to the very edge of ecstasy then push him off into bliss, Thomas could not have said.

All he knew was that if someone had happened to walk past the Ainsworth storage room for the next hour and a half, they would have heard some very interesting noises indeed.