Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
“What am I doing wrong?” Victoria muttered.
Her success with Melody was turning out to be pure luck. The baby was probably only making a statement in front of the nursemaid, if that could be a believable motivation for such a young child.
Perhaps it was the emotional tension and exhausting schedule of taking care of Melody that had the duchess completely depleted.
Days. It had been days since Richard sought her last. He had been out with the marquess to find some leads, but she had not heard anything.
At least, that was what she told herself when her mind flitted to him—that she only needed to know if he had discovered anything new. Still, something in her might be triggering Melody’s feeling of unease. The baby whimpered and fussed, and her mere presence did not work this time.
“Your Grace, perhaps a bit of fresh air and some gentle rocking will work for dear Melody. We can walk her in a stroller at the park,” Mrs. Hughes suggested.
“Oh, I would love to take a walk, too. I’ve missed the outdoors,” Victoria said, feeling a jolt of longing.
While she had wanted to get married and have her own household, she also missed the time when she was young and carefree.
She needed air. The house, which was always a place of refuge, had become a fortress. A gilded prison, even.
So, Victoria went to dress with utmost care, choosing a purple walking dress. It was tailored and severe, just enough to ward off the ton.
Perhaps the duke, as well.
After taking a long, deep breath, she knocked at the duke’s study door.
“Enter,” he commanded.
Such a voice would normally make her tremble with annoyance, but the way he said the word made her tingle all over.
Suddenly, she got the sense that approaching him was not a good idea. Still, she had to.
As she entered his study, her eyes met his for a brief moment, and then, Victoria tried to look at the study’s mahogany furniture, the leather-bound tomes on the shelves, the framed maps on the walls … anything but him.
Richard stood by the fireplace. She flushed when his eyes veered towards her once more and stayed there. His gaze was so intense that she almost felt it grazing her skin, softly, slowly, like a whisper of a question.
“I’m taking Melody to Hyde Park for a stroll,” she blurted out.
“What? No,” Richard replied, his body suddenly rigid. “We have not announced her presence to the public yet.”
“Mrs. Hughes recommended it. Melody has been fussing quite a bit. Not to mention that I would also love to see the sun.”
“Then I shall have to join you,” he said firmly.
“You will what?” Victoria spluttered. “No, that is entirely unnecessary. Besides, I can see that you have work to do.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he retorted. “It is necessary. Think about it: if you are seen alone with the child, the ton will speculate, as they’re wont to do. We need to show a united front. It must look like the natural order, as if we are used to this, and that we have nothing to hide.”
A united front? She snorted in her mind.
She found it a ridiculous notion. And yet, her mind wandered back to little Melody. If people gossiped about her at this age …
Even though Victoria had no idea what she’d do with Richard by her side during this promenade, he did have a point.
She sighed. “All right, then.”
Richard nodded. “Good. Now, I wanted to let you know that I’ve got some good news. Jonathan and I have made progress in our search. We found a name: Mrs. Tallow. Apparently, she was present at Melody’s christening. We believe she might know the baby’s mother.”
A soft, yet cold disappointment spread over her chest. Her brows furrowed. Why was she disappointed? Didn’t she want the little girl to be reunited with her mother?
Casting the peculiar feelings aside, Victoria plastered a polite smile on her face, the one she’d seen her mother use so often. It felt too stiff on her face.
“Oh. That is good news indeed. I’m glad to hear that you’re making progress,” she said at last.
“Yes. It seems we may be getting answers sooner rather than later,” Richard responded, yet his eyes narrowed, assessing her.
Had he been able to pick up her disappointment?
No. She must’ve imagined it.
“Very well,” she said, wanting to distance herself from his piercing gaze. “I shall see you at the entrance hall promptly, then, yes?”
He only nodded in return, and after a swift curtsy, Victoria marched out of his study.
Less than half an hour later, they were strolling through Hyde Park.
It was midday, and the ton had descended upon the gravel paths in full force, as though some unspoken signal had summoned them all at once.
Elegant carriages lined the perimeter, parasols bloomed like flowers in the sun, and every turn of the path offered another familiar face, or another curious one.
The nursemaid finished setting up the stroller, its heavy frame and intricate metalwork gleaming faintly. Victoria watched with a strange sense of detachment, as though the object did not yet belong to her life, though she knew it already did.
Richard stepped closer. He offered his arm, his fingers brushing the sleeve of her walking dress as he did so.
The contact sent an immediate and unexpected shiver through her.
Ridiculous, she told herself. Entirely ridiculous.
“Take my arm,” he murmured, his voice low, for her ears alone. “Eyes will be on us. They already are. We’ll walk together with the stroller.”
She did not hesitate. She obeyed at once, because she understood the stakes as well as he did.
The moment her hand settled against his sleeve, heat flared along her skin, sharp and disorienting. She hated how exposed it made her feel, how easily her body betrayed her composure.
Then they began to walk.
As expected, attention followed them immediately. Some merely glanced, pretending disinterest. Others stared openly, curiosity unashamed. A few did not bother to conceal their speculation at all.
“Is that the Duke and Duchess of Hawksford?”
“They are holding a baby!”
“But … the duchess hasn’t been pregnant. Who is this child?”
“More importantly, whose is it?”
The whispers came and went, but Victoria lifted her chin, straightened her spine, and placed her hand firmly on the stroller’s handle.
“Do not pay them any mind,” Richard muttered to her.
His hands were close, deliberately so. Near enough that she was acutely aware of their warmth, their steadiness, and she became painfully conscious of him.
Of his stride beside her. Of the breadth of his shoulder.
In a quiet way, he adjusted his pace to match hers.
The rest of the park blurred at the edges of her vision.
“Yes. I never have,” she could only reply, and with the corner of her eye, she noted his mouth curl up the tiniest bit.
It was a performance. What else could it be? She played her part. When people paused to smile and coo at Melody, she inclined her head politely and allowed herself a soft expression. Richard, to her surprise, was unerringly smooth.
“Oh, this is Miss Melody,” he said easily to a passing acquaintance. “My late cousin’s child. She is now our ward and a member of Hawksford House.”
“A beautiful baby,” a dowager exclaimed, peering down with delight. “But you two must not let her consume you entirely! Now that you’re both here, Your Graces, allow me to invite you to my upcoming ball. I’d be most delighted if you attended.”
“When will it be?” Victoria asked, summoning interest, grateful for the mundane exchange.
“In a fortnight.”
Things were going well. Almost too well.
Then Melody made a small, distressed sound.
Victoria and Richard looked down at the same instant, instinctively. Their shoulders brushed. A ripple of whispers seemed to pass through the nearby onlookers. Victoria held her breath, heart thudding, until the baby settled once more, lulled by the movement of the stroller.
Relief washed through her, which was quickly followed by unease.
“We’d be happy to attend, my lady,” Richard answered at last, and Victoria gulped, nodding along.
“Oh, capital! I shall send the official invitation swiftly. Good day, Your Graces,” she greeted with a curtsy and moved along.
Victoria let out a long breath.
She was going to have to attend an event with Richard. A proper event. Not at the park, where many convenient distractions could serve as an escape.
“Are you all right?” Richard asked.
“Yes. Quite,” she only mumbled.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man watching them.
He sat astride a black stallion, just within the carriage path.
The horse was magnificent, but it was the rider who unsettled her.
He was not observing them with idle curiosity, nor with the calculating interest of the ton.
His gaze was intent. Focused. Almost proprietary.
A chill traced her spine.
Before she could examine the feeling further, he turned his mount and rode away, disappearing into the crowd.
Victoria’s heart continued to pound long after he was gone.
They soon reached their carriage, Richard’s arm still close to hers, too close. She realized, with a jolt of self-awareness, that she liked it far more than she ought to.
And that was dangerous.
“Richard,” she whispered, her voice unexpectedly husky.
It was as though he startled awake. He stepped back at once, color rising in his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, almost under his breath, as they climbed into the carriage.
The ride back passed in strained silence.
Once they returned to Hawksford House, it was as if Hyde Park had never existed at all. The easy proximity vanished. The shared glances. The careful choreography.
Richard retreated to his study, closing the door behind him, once more placing distance where, only moments ago, there had been none.
Victoria stood alone, the echo of his presence lingering far longer than she wished it to.
And she could not decide which troubled her more: the performance itself, or how easily it had begun to feel real.
“WHERE IS HE?”
Daniel burst into Hawksford House like a thunderclap, red-faced and furious.
Victoria rose from her chair in the drawing room, still cradling Melody in her arms.
Oh, no, she thought. He must have already heard of our stroll at the park.
News travelled swiftly when a scandal was involved. His arrival sent servants scattering, and Victoria rushed to meet him at the drawing room’s threshold.
“Hawksford!” he roared. “Where is that bastard?”
Victoria startled, her heart lurching. Before she could answer, Richard appeared in the corridor, drawn by the commotion.
“You scoundrel!” Daniel bellowed, striding forward without hesitation. “You dared to shame my sister!”
He swung wildly, aiming a punch at Richard’s jaw.
“Daniel, no!” Victoria gasped.
Richard had already avoided the blow, stepping aside just in time. He raised his hands, not in surrender, but in restraint. He would not strike back.
Panic surged through Victoria. Acting on instinct, she thrust Melody into Mrs. Hughes’s arms. The nursemaid fled the room at once, clutching the baby close.
Victoria stepped between the two men, skirts swishing, heart hammering.
“Enough!” she commanded.
Daniel froze, chest heaving, his gaze snapping to her. “Why on earth are you this calm? This man has brought a child into your household! He’s broken his vows!”
“He has not,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice. “You must listen. It may appear as though—” she swallowed, “—as though your fears are justified, but they are not. The child is not Richard’s.”
“What?” Daniel arched a skeptical brow, his fury cooling only slightly.
“The baby was left at our doorstep,” Victoria continued quickly. “We are searching for her parents. We have a lead. Until then, we must tell society that she is Richard’s niece. A child of a cousin who’s passed. It is the only way to shield her. And ourselves.”
Daniel’s eyes flicked between her and Richard, suspicion lingering.
“And you expect me to believe,” he said harshly, “that while you lived apart from my sister, you did not take some woman to your bed? A child appears, and I am meant to ignore the obvious?” His gaze hardened. “Surely you know what people would think. What I would think.”
Richard’s expression tightened. “I have explained this to your sisters already, Grisham,” he said, fatigue heavy in his voice. “You are free to believe what you wish of me. But I will not continue to defend myself against an accusation I did not earn.”
“Is your word supposed to be enough to convince me?” Daniel gritted out, clenching his fists.
“I believe him, Daniel,” Victoria said, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them.
She knew the danger of public ruin. She knew how easily the ton could destroy them both. And though doubt still flickered within her, she also knew, somehow, that this was not a lie.
Daniel exhaled slowly. His shoulders sagged.
“Very well,” he muttered. “If my clever sister believes you, Hawksford, then I do, too. Excuse my violence. It is my duty to protect her.”
“I understand,” Richard replied quietly. His posture eased, though weariness lingered in his eyes.
“Do you?” Daniel asked, still uncertain.
Richard only nodded, evidently too tired to argue further.
“What you must do, brother,” Victoria said then, forcing a brightness she did not fully feel, “is properly meet Melody.”
Daniel hesitated, then nodded. “All right. Lead on, sister.”
She led him upstairs to the nursery. The room was warm and softly lit. Victoria lifted Melody from the bassinet and brought her close. The baby’s face brightened instantly, lips parting in a gummy smile as she babbled happily.
Victoria’s heart stuttered.
“You’re quite good with her, Vicky,” Daniel said softly, his voice transformed. “She likes you.”
“I’m only happy she’s comfortable. We will find her mother,” Victoria replied quickly, even as her arms tightened around the baby. “I am only keeping her safe for now.”
She told Daniel that, but she was reminding herself just as much.
She looked down at Melody’s face, her defenses weakening despite her resolve. The baby had a way of doing that, of burrowing beneath reason and caution alike.
Somehow, Victoria’s mind went back to Richard.
For a year, he had kept his distance to protect her from the enemies of his past, from danger, from himself. Now he was here again. Present. Exposed.
And they were both risking everything.
All for a child she was beginning, terrifyingly, to love.