Victoria took a calming breath and asked if one of the maids might help her change before they left. Now that they were staying in London, she would have to make inquiries into hiring a permanent lady’s maid sooner than she’d anticipated. She mulled over this and their abandoned honeymoon trip as she donned a more comfortable dress of sprigged cream and pale blue muslin. She tried not to sigh overmuch for all the missed adventures as her hair was unpinned, brushed, and twisted into a simple coil at the nape of her neck. As she waited for the tea she requested, she promised herself that she would stop her pining once it arrived. Despite what London Society might think of her, she was not the spoiled, vapid girl or ice princess they expected. She could allow herself to feel disappointment, but she could also overcome it and recognize that there were far more pressing matters requiring her attention.
Namely, three small children and a marriage teetering on a rather precarious ledge.
She considered how she might move forward as she prepared her cup of tea with a healthy serving of the fine sugar from the bowl. She noted with some curiosity that the service was mismatched. The difference in pattern was subtle, but there if one looked closely enough. The realization caused an unexpected dip in her stomach. Things must certainly be dire if the household could not even maintain a complete matching set of china. She set down her cup a little more forcefully than intended.
“Damn and blast,” Victoria muttered and slumped back into her chair. It was one thing for a man born to privilege who allowed his greed to overshadow his conscience and lure a woman into marriage to deepen his own pockets; it was another for a man who was so desperate to claw his way up from ominous—if genteel—poverty that he would befriend, earn the trust of, and then marry an heiress to provide his title and the wards he’d inherited with the security necessary for any sort of future. If she looked at it objectively, was it really all that different from what her own family had done?
If one could sip tea begrudgingly, then Victoria had discovered that ability.
Her tea finished, she perused the room and sorted through the trunks that had been brought up. She made a mental note to add to the list of items to have carted over from America. Most of her things would be given away or donated at her instruction, but there were some books and other trinkets, as well as a fur-lined winter cloak, she desired to have with her in London. She ran her fingers along the spines of the books still so neatly tucked away in the smaller luggage. Selecting one, she curled up near the hearth to read. It was another of the books recommended by Lady Morton, and Victoria was quickly drawninto the compelling tale of a woman who disguised herself as a man to forge a new path for herself.
Before she knew it, hours had passed, and still Rafe had not come looking for her. The light in the room had grown lower than was comfortable for reading, elongating the shadows and closing in the corners of the room. The chamber was utterly, eerily silent. This area of London seemed less busy as well, making the noise in the street noticeably less frequent.
Was she more relieved or irked by the fact that her husband had left her in silence, not seeking her out to speak further? She could not decide.
The fact was, Victoria was a woman unused to so much leisure and solitude. She knew she would lose her sanity if she stayed shut away in that room for much longer, no matter how compelling the book she held in her hand. She might have felt differently if it felt like home, but this place—this life—was still too new for her to feel settled in any way.
Finally, she crept from the room, glancing up and down the hallway and finding it deserted. She listened for several heartbeats, but there was not so much as the creak of a floorboard. She’d seen very little of the Townhouse, but she knew it was a fair size, even if it was not exactly a grand residence. Regardless, she did not think she’d become too lost if she attempted a bit of wandering. A quick count of the doorways reassured her that she would be able to find her own chamber later.
Her exploration of the second floor revealed several additional small bedrooms, as well as a family sitting room, which, unlike those bedchambers, actually seemed to see some use. It was interesting to her to note how the staff’s efforts were concentrated on the spaces her husband might use. The entryway and parlor below, for example, were lovingly and carefully cleaned to make them as presentable as possible;the same could be said about that private sitting room. The unoccupied bedchambers were similar to the state her own had been in upon arrival: barren of fripperies, sparsely furnished, looted for any pieces which might be more beneficial elsewhere, and forlorn, cleaned just often enough to prevent them from smelling musty.
Victoria purposefully avoided the final bedchamber on the floor—the one directly adjacent to her own—suspecting she’d find it in fine repair and most certainly occupied. Instead, Victoria headed back up the hallway in the direction of the stairs, knowing there was a decision to be made once she reached them. She could either make her way downstairs to the main floor or up where she believed the nursery was likely to be located.
Rafe or the children.
The decision was not all that difficult for Victoria to make.
She ascended the carpeted staircase and found the nursery door ajar. Tilting her head, she listened to the silence for several heartbeats before she nudged it open. The door swung on quiet hinges to reveal a bright, airy room that spanned the length of the front of the Townhouse. Several large windows overlooked the street and filled the space with the warm glow of the early sunset, making the sky-blue walls appear even more like the open air of the country. Along one wall were two child-sized beds covered in lovingly crafted quilts; a small lump in the middle of one indicated it was occupied. Opposite of those was a narrow iron bedframe for the night nurse beside a draped bassinet. The polished wood floor was covered in a thick rug woven in a pattern of warm colors. It had likely been quite vibrant at one time, but time and use had worn it into more muted tones. Despite the large size of the space, it felt cozy and brimming with love—far more comfortable and welcoming than what she’d seen of the rest of the house.
A masterpiece of a dollhouse sat in one corner. A variety of dolls—porcelain, wood, and rag—toy soldiers, carved wooden blocks, and a miniature wooden horse with what appeared to be a real horsehair mane and tail were scattered around the room. A small area for lessons had been set up near the door, with books and writing tools strewn across a small table. Additional books had once been neatly organized on the bookcase positioned nearby, but they were now stacked haphazardly, as if small hands had wrought destruction in a moment of curiosity.
A board creaked beneath Victoria’s slipper. The nurse—Nan, was it?—looked up from her mending of the hem of a tiny pink dress. Her eyes widened, and she stood abruptly, sending the rocking chair swaying.
“My lady!” She greeted her a little breathlessly and dropped into a proper curtsey. She must have guessed Victoria had perused the space because she instantly launched into an apology. “The little ones only just went down for their naps, and I was about to tidy up as soon as I finished the mending.”
Victoria brushed away the woman’s anxious words. “I am sure with three children and a skeleton staff, it must feel as if the work is never done—especially the laundering and mending.” Nan accepted her offer of a warm smile and returned it with a grateful one of her own. “I did not mean to disrupt anything and only wished to look in on the children.”
“Of course,” Nan replied with a hopeful smile and set aside her work. For the first time, Victoria considered what these new circumstances must be like for Rafe’s household staff. It was evident to her that they were all doing what they could, even though a home of that size required at least double the staff she’d already seen to maintain the minimum standard of living for a peer’s residence. She took the obvious effort and care performed in the more visible and oft-used rooms in the Townhouse as evidence that the staff were trying their best and doing what theycould, but so few hands could only do so much. Additionally, it was natural that they regarded her sudden arrival with a mixture of nervousness and optimism.
Would she view the home’s shabbiness as laziness or shortcomings on the part of the staff? Certainly, some women might, but Victoria was not one of those women. And she did not doubt that the staff were entirely aware of just what she brought to the marriage, even if they were not privy to the exact sum. More funds could mean more staff, better wages, and more comfortable accommodations for all. Servants such as Nan would have assistance and would no longer be responsible for a dozen tasks at once. Many hands would make lighter work.
Nan showed her over to the bed where the sick little girl was curled on her side, her curls a wild mess of reckless abandon. Victoria couldn’t find it in herself to be disappointed with the cancellation of her honeymoon trip when faced with the child’s cherubic features and pouty lips. May’s tiny chest heaved in a barking cough, and she rolled to her side. The sound tugged at her heartstrings almost as much as recalling how distraught Rafe had been upon seeing the ill child. A wave of tenderness threatened to eclipse her annoyance with her husband once and for all.
“And the littlest one is over here,” Nan whispered and walked Victoria over to the bassinet holding the child Victoria had yet to meet.
She didn’t expect to find a swaddled infant, impossibly tiny and frail, her coloring even less healthy than that of her ill elder sister. There was no roundness to her cheeks and only sadness in what should have been a sweet curve to her lips. A lump instantly formed in Victoria’s throat.
“How old is she?” Victoria whispered, barely able to keep herself from touching the sleeping baby to confirm she was real and not an incredibly lifelike and tragic marble carving.
“Nearly nine months,” Nan replied and adjusted the swaddling. The answer surprised Victoria. She did not profess to know a great deal about children, but she’d have guessed the child was half that age. “She was such a happy child until her parents passed,” the nurse continued. “Since then, she eats very little and does not sleep well. She is still so young, but that does not mean she hasn’t felt their loss as keenly as the others—mayhap even more so, since they were all she knew.” Tears began to burn the backs of Victoria’s eyes. “It bothers his lordship a great deal,” Nan added softly, sadly, tearing Victoria’s attention from the sleeping child. “Sometimes, he’ll come in in the middle of the night just to check on the babe…the nights are particularly difficult for her.”
The mental image that was created was unbearably heart wrenching. “And where is his little lordship?” Victoria asked, forcing the words through her tight throat as she inquired after the third and eldest of her husband’s wards.
The maid gestured to the corner near the door where Dominic sat facing the wall, hunched over on a tiny stool with his chin cupped in his hands. Nan led her away from the sleeping girls and explained, “He is in punishment for running through the hall and breaking yet another vase after Lord Blackwood specifically warned him against running so carelessly indoors.” Nan crossed her arms beneath her ample bosom. From her expression and the shake of her head, it was clear that this was far from the first—or even the second—time this situation had occurred. “We’ll be out of vases by the end of the month at this rate,” she groused candidly. Nan’s eyes widened as she remembered to whom she was speaking. “Apologies—”
Victoria offered her another reassuring smile. “I have an elder brother, and I know firsthand how destructive little boys can be. All that energy they possess is quite disproportionate totheir deceptively small size, is it not?” This appeased the nurse, and the corner of her lined mouth twitched.
Victoria looked back at the sullen lad, the sight tugging at her heartstrings. He’d been so silent that she’d entered the room and walked right past him without noticing. Resolute, she crossed the room and bent at the waist, so their heads were closer. The boy eyed her warily. “How long are you to remain in punishment, my lord?” she asked with all seriousness.
