Chapter 4
Chapter Four
One thousand pounds.
One thousand pounds to take away her freedom. Her choice.
And if her father’s reaction to the offer meant anything, he didn’t value it even that highly. Tried to talk the duke—the duke—out of bidding such a price.
Victoria hadn’t spotted the man immediately, but as soon as the bidding had begun in the gentlemen’s club, she had been frantically scanning the crowd for anyone who could save her. And there he was, his dark blue eyes locked onto her. The very man whom she had saved that same night.
A duke, apparently.
One who was more than happy to bid for the hand of a woman who had confessed to him that she never wished to wed. He bid so high that no other man dared to challenge him.
And now she was his purchase, his property.
She didn’t even know his name.
There was a pit in her stomach that she was given no time to process.
One moment, the club was overrun with the shouts of men of status clamoring to pay her father for the chance to marry her.
And then she was back out in the night air, her father’s grip tighter on her elbow than it had been so far that night.
She hardly registered getting into the carriage; only came back from her stupor once the door was shut and the wheels were rolling. Once the motion had snapped her back to herself, she began to shout.
“How could you do that to me?” Her voice sounded shrill to her own ears, and she hated it. How weak it felt. “Of all the manipulative, controlling things I imagined you could do to me—how long have you been planning this? Why would you do this?”
Her father sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the carriage wall. “Enough, Victoria.” There was no emotion to his voice, though she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Was she expecting remorse? The man’s heart held none. It never had.
“Your own daughter,” she said, her voice cracking. “Sold like livestock. And the worst part? You do not even seem happy about it.”
“Enough, Victoria!” he snapped. She recoiled, ducking her face toward her shoulder as if bracing for impact. “I did what I had to do. Hate me if you will, but I will have no more of your childish whims. It is time you acted like a proper woman.”
Silent, angry, ashamed tears rolled down her face, dripping off her chin. She continued to face away from him for the remainder of the carriage ride home. Her father said nothing, apparently lost in his own thoughts.
Planning what to do with the duke’s money, I’m sure, she thought bitterly.
When at last the carriage came to a stop, she did not wait for her father to exit first. Instead, she threw herself out the door and made haste toward Corvin House, her speed all but a run.
It was late, and fatigue dragged at her bones, but the emotions of the night ran hot through her blood, spurring her onward.
She burst through the front door and into the entryway. Her stepmother and Ivy, now joined by Daisy, the youngest of her half-sisters, were pacing the floor, looking worried. Victoria did not stop to greet them, just brushed past them and toward the stairs.
“Victoria!” Lady Corvin said in surprise. “Where have you been? We’ve been so worried about you.”
Daisy almost caught her by the arm, but Victoria skirted her grasp and ascended the stairs. “Hey, what’s wrong?” her sister asked. She must’ve caught a glimpse of Victoria’s face.
“Ask him,” Victoria spit without looking back.
Two sets of footsteps followed after her; her sisters, no doubt. Behind her, she could hear her stepmother greeting her husband, asking about what had taken them so long in coming home. She didn’t want to stick around to hear him give his excuses.
Victoria entered her bedroom. She was not able to get the door shut before both Ivy and Daisy slipped in after her; Ivy closed it for her.
“What’s going on?” Ivy asked.
And Victoria burst into tears.
Immediately, the two younger girls came to her side, guiding her toward her bed.
All three sat down on the mattress together, and her sisters looped their arms around her waist and held her tightly.
Victoria buried her face in her hands, feeling waves of embarrassment and shame wash over her.
It had been a long night, and now here she was, crying in front of her younger sisters. Pathetic.
Shouting began outside in the hallway. She felt Daisy jump, startled at the sudden volume. They couldn’t make out any of the words just yet, but the anger was clear enough without them.
Ivy rubbed soothing circles against her back, and slowly, Victoria began to take deep breaths and calm herself down. “He took me to a gentlemen’s club,” she finally managed to say.
Ivy gasped; Daisy’s eyes were wide. “He what?”
“To allow men to bid for my hand.”
“Your hand?” Daisy’s expression was one of outrage. “But you do not wish to marry!”
Victoria pressed her lips into a thin line, biting back another sob. How had things gone so horribly wrong? One moment, she was living a happy, solo life, and now —
“So you were right,” Ivy said quietly. She squeezed Victoria’s hand. “And Mother and I tried to tell you that you were being suspicious for nothing.”
Victoria sighed and squeezed her sister’s hand back. “You couldn’t have known,” she said, and tried to smile. “From the sounds of it, your mother didn’t realize, either.”
They paused for a moment, ears straining.
Less shouting now, but they could still make out the low murmur of parents who didn’t want their children to know they were fighting.
Victoria tried to soothe herself with the knowledge that Lady Corvin appeared to be just as upset by this turn of events as she was.
“So, who won?” Daisy asked. Ivy shot her a look; Daisy held her hands up in surrender. “What? It’s an important question.”
Victoria shook her head and sighed, reaching her hands up to begin unwinding her hair from its braid. It was an utter mess, knotted in many places. “I do not know his name,” she said, unable to disguise her misery. “He’s a duke, and that is all I know.”
“A duke?” She didn’t appreciate the slight tinge of delight in her youngest sister’s voice. “At least you’ll be marrying well—ouch!”
Ivy had pinched her.
Victoria almost laughed. “I suppose misery with money is not the worst.” But she didn’t believe her own words, and from the looks on the girls’ faces, they didn’t believe her, either.
“What’s he look like?” Ivy asked. “How old?”
Victoria thought back to the two encounters she’d had with him in the last several hours. “Young,” she said. “For a duke, I mean. Probably thirty or so.”
“Better than that old Duke of Wembley,” Daisy said. “I hear he’s in the market for his fifth wife.”
“Very tall, dark hair, blue eyes…” She was trying to think of other ways to describe him, but really, she hardly knew the man. “I met him earlier, at the ball, actually; one of the debutantes was trying to trap him in a scandal.”
Ivy’s eyes widened. “The Duke of Arden!” she said. Daisy gasped.
Victoria looked back and forth between the two of them. “You know him?”
Daisy shook her head, speaking for her older sister. “We know of him, at least,” she said. “He’s quite the talk among the young women coming out this season.” She grinned. “A rake, if the stories are true.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “Just what Victoria needs.”
A cold sense of dread began to seep through her veins; her fingers tightened around the fabric of her gown. “He planned this,” she said quietly.
Of course he had. How else could she explain him being at the gentlemen’s club that night, ready to bid on her?
And after she had confessed her desires to him, he was having a laugh at her!
Her father had gotten to him ahead of time, perhaps before the ball had even occurred, and together they had hatched a plan to make a spectacle before the other men of the ton.
No doubt stories were already swirling about what had happened that night.
They had humiliated her into a marriage she didn’t want—that he knew she didn’t want. She was a fool to think this was just a random chance. She knew better.
Slowly, the misery and embarrassment began to melt into nothing but solid anger. She gripped her gown tighter, tight enough to worry about tearing fabric. She didn’t care.
“What do you mean, he planned this?” Daisy asked.
Quickly, Victoria explained her thoughts to her sisters. Ivy looked skeptical, but it didn’t take much to convince Daisy. “That pig,” she said with a scowl. “You should have let that debutante force that scandal and marriage on him.”
If only I’d known, she thought with palpable disappointment.
Outside, the arguing had stopped. Either Lord and Lady Corvin had resolved the conflict, or they had gone their separate ways for the evening. The three young women stared at the bedroom door in silence for a few minutes, waiting to hear any other sounds. There were none.
Daisy squeezed Victoria’s shoulder, a confident smile on her face. “Don’t despair, Victoria,” she said. “Things will be all right. The Duke of Arden will wish he had thought twice before entering into such a foolish arrangement with Father.”
Victoria almost smiled. “I wish I had your confidence.”
The younger girl grinned. “Have no fear, sister; I have enough for both of us.”
Nicolas stood with his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, waiting not-so-patiently for his knock to be answered.
This home is hardly large enough to take so long to answer a door, he thought bitterly, then shook the thought away. No matter. He could be patient.
By the time the front door swung open, he had already plastered his signature confident smile on his face. The butler answered. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he said, inclining his head in greeting. “Lord Corvin is waiting for you in his study. If you follow me.”