Chapter 12
What am I doing here?
Victor had not intended to go to the Vauxhall pleasure gardens. That was the irritating truth of it.
After the opera, after Charlotte’s flushed cheeks and furious eyes and scandalously soft mouth lingering far too vividly in his thoughts, Victor had attempted to bury himself in work.
Unfortunately, every ledger on his desk had begun transforming into recollections of Charlotte glaring at him whilst breathless from his kisses.
It was intolerable… especially since she was in the same house. I had to get out.
Thus, several hours later, he found himself striding through the crowded entrance of the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens beside Morgan Harding, the Marquess of Whitemore, who looked entirely too delighted with life.
“You look foul,” Morgan announced cheerfully.
Victor adjusted the cuffs of his dark evening coat. “And yet you still invited yourself along.”
“Of course I did,” Morgan replied. “Misery is far more entertaining when shared.”
Victor snorted softly as they entered the gardens proper.
Vauxhall glittered magnificently beneath hundreds of hanging lanterns suspended through the trees like fallen stars. Music drifted through the warm evening air while elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen wandered the gravel paths, laughing over wine and supper.
Performers sang upon illuminated stages, servants hurried through the crowds carrying trays of drinks, and somewhere nearby, a woman shrieked with laughter loud enough to frighten birds from the trees.
Morgan inhaled deeply. “Ah. Sin and poor decisions.”
“You say that as though it were poetry,” Victor scoffed.
“It is poetry, my kind of poetry. I've missed our entertaining outings. In fact, I have not seen much of you at all at the card tables,” Morgan said.
“I have not had the taste for it lately, but tonight I remedy that,” Victor replied with a smirk that Morgan approved of as he patted Victor on the back.
Victor followed him through the bustling crowd toward a quieter table near one of the pavilions. Couples danced nearby while musicians played lively tunes beneath glowing lantern light, and the scent of wine, roses, and summer air mingled pleasantly together.
Morgan dropped into his chair. “Now then. Explain why all of London believes you are engaged.”
Victor accepted the glass of brandy that a passing servant handed him. “Because society lacks intelligence.”
Morgan barked out a laugh. “That is the truth of it. But, truly…why?”
Victor took a long drink first. “My grandmother mistakenly introduced Miss Brown as my betrothed during a promenade.”
“And now?” Morgan asked as he took a sip.
“And now apparently the entirety of the ton has lost its collective mind,” Victor said.
Morgan looked delighted rather than sympathetic. “This is the best news I have heard all week. What a good joke.”
“It is not news, nor a joke. It is a complication. An annoying one at that,” Victor said.
“You are seen escorting a beautiful woman everywhere whilst your grandmother announces the engagement publicly. That is precisely how news begins.”
Victor grimaced slightly.
Beautiful.
That word came far too easily now where Charlotte was concerned. Morgan leaned back lazily in his chair. “So… marry her, be done with it.”
Victor nearly choked on his drink. “Absolutely not.”
Morgan shrugged. “Why not? Nothing about your life has to change. Marry the woman, bear children as intended, and you can still come here with me. Our lives will not change.”
Victor stared at him as though he had lost sense entirely. “Because I have no desire to chain myself eternally to another person.”
“Most people call it matrimony, not chains.” Morgan grinned.
“I call it a mistake,” Victor said.
Morgan laughed again, entirely unoffended. “You protest too much. Tis the most natural thing. You are a duke, and you need heirs. This scandal is as good an excuse as any to marry. If you get on pleasantly enough with the woman, I see no reason not to.”
Victor’s jaw clenched faintly as his gaze drifted toward the crowds moving beneath the lanterns. Normally, places like this soothed him easily. Noise, drink, women, gambling, everything uncomplicated and pleasantly shallow.
Tonight, none of it is working properly.
Because every time he looked at a woman smiling at him from across the gardens, he found himself comparing her to Charlotte.
It was deeply irritating. What troubled him most was not merely the attraction itself. Victor had desired countless women before. Desire was easy. Fleeting. Controlled. Charlotte, however, made him reckless.
At the opera, he had kissed her neck in a crowded box like some youth overcome by lust for the first time. Worse still, he had enjoyed the startled little breath she made afterward far more than he ought to have.
Victor despised losing control.
Morgan watched him carefully now. “You are thinking.”
“A terrible accusation. Another bottle!” he shouted to a passing servant.
“You only brood that intensely over three things. Family, guilt, or women,” Morgan said.
Victor’s expression cooled slightly. “Careful.”
Morgan grinned without fear. “Ah. So it is women.”
Victor drank again instead of answering. Unfortunately, silence only encouraged Morgan further. He had known Morgan for a long time, and he knew him well. A consequence of getting deep into their cups and confessing all manners of inner shadows they grappled with.
“It is the companion then,” Morgan mused aloud. “Miss Brown.”
Victor’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass.
Damn Morgan and his inconvenient perception.
“She is merely troublesome,” Victor said finally.
Morgan looked unconvinced. “You say troublesome. Your eyes say something else entirely.”
Victor ignored him. Or attempted to. The truth sat heavily beneath his ribs tonight in ways he disliked examining too closely. Charlotte had somehow breached walls Victor spent years carefully constructing around himself.
And that terrified him.
After his parents died, grief had hollowed him out so completely he thought it might consume him whole. One carriage accident. One cruel moment. That was all it took for people to vanish forever.
Victor still remembered standing beside their coffins, feeling as though the world itself had split apart beneath his feet.
Afterward, he made himself a promise.
Never again. No attachments deep enough to destroy him. No love. No dependence. Nothing permanent.
Women remained simple when one kept emotions absent. Charlotte threatened that simplicity.
Morgan interrupted his thoughts abruptly. “You look as though you witnessed a murder. Come now, let's have some merriment for God's sake.”
“I am contemplating throttling you,” Victor said.
“That is much healthier. Continue…” Morgan grinned.
Victor exhaled slowly. “Fine. If you must know… Miss Brown, she vexes me.”
Morgan looked triumphant. “Excellent. We are making progress. I assume you have kissed her, did you not? I mean, when can you not kiss a woman?”
Victor’s eyes narrowed immediately. “How precisely did you arrive at that conclusion?”
Morgan leaned back smugly. “Because you are behaving like a man who has kissed someone he ought not to.”
Victor hated how accurate that sounded. Before he could respond, applause suddenly erupted nearby.
A singer stepped elegantly onto the illuminated stage across the gardens dressed in pale blue silk. Her rich voice floated smoothly across the crowd almost immediately, drawing admiring attention from every direction.
Victor recognised her at once.
Miss Diana Reed.
Morgan followed his gaze curiously. “Well, now. That woman keeps staring directly at you.”
Victor smirked faintly into his drink. “We were once… acquainted.”
Morgan burst out laughing. “Acquainted. I see. Good for you. She is a beauty.”
“She sings well,” Victor said.
“She wants you...” Morgan said with a laugh.
Victor watched Diana, narrowly glaring in his direction between verses.
Perhaps she does, or she hates me.
The memory rose unexpectedly then. Charlotte storming into the forbidden room, clutching a candlestick like an avenging angel, only to see him with Diana Reed half clothed.
Victor nearly laughed aloud, remembering Charlotte's horrified expression afterward.
Morgan noticed immediately. “There. You are doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Victor snapped out of it.
“That ridiculous smiling thing, what are you thinking of?” Morgan asked.
Victor’s amusement faded slightly. Because Morgan was correct. Charlotte invaded his thoughts constantly now. Her sharp tongue. Her stubbornness. The way she looked at him as though she wished equally to slap him and kiss him.
No woman had ever resisted me quite so fiercely before.
It fascinated him far more than it should.
Morgan leaned forward curiously. “What happened?”
Victor shook his head once. “Nothing worth discussing.”
“Which means something absolutely worth discussing occurred; do share before you bore me with your brooding,” Morgan said.
Victor ignored him entirely. Across the gardens, Diana finished her song to thunderous applause. She bowed gracefully before disappearing from the stage, though not before throwing Victor one final knowing look.
Morgan whistled softly. “You truly are chaos incarnate.”
Victor smirked faintly. “Says the man banned from three country estates.”
“Unfairly banned,” Morgan grinned.
“You released hunting dogs into a ballroom,” Victor said.
“It improved the evening enormously. It had grown rather dull,” Morgan laughed.
Victor laughed despite himself. The sound surprised him slightly.
Morgan studied him quietly afterward. “There. That is better.”
Victor shook his head faintly before looking back out across the glowing gardens. Lanterns swayed gently overhead while laughter echoed warmly through the summer night. Ordinarily, he would have disappeared into the crowd hours ago in search of distraction.