“Single-minded.”
“See? There is your answer.” Luke popped another berry into his mouth and chewed. “Become single-minded and nothing else will bother you.”
Victoria rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, but a smile tugged at her lips.
Chapter Two
Over the nexttwo weeks, Victoria was swept up into the world of social calls, soirees, and other events deemed vital by Society’s elite. Women asked her what the fashions were in New York—What did they eat at dinner parties? Which dances were popular? Would she teach them the steps sometime?—but, as keenly intelligent as she was, she very quickly learned these people were more interested in America, her family’s wealth, and what she could provide them rather than actually becoming her true friend. This made the Duchess of Morton’s friendship all the warmer and more welcoming.
As promised, Lady Morton had delivered to her a copy ofLady Chaste. It was a slim book bound simply and cleanly in brown leather. She held it in her hands and wondered what made it so special to be the duchess’s chosen book.
Two chapters in, however, and Victoria no longer wondered.
She hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly hadn’t been the liberal tale of a woman exploring what it meant to live unashamedly and unapologetically. Lady Chaste smoked cheroots, drank whiskey, rode astride in breeches, and—good heavens—she even took lovers.
Face burning, Victoria had set the book aside to press cooling hands to her cheeks, contemplating just how inappropriate even her indulgent father and brother would find the literature tobe. Then she promptly picked it back up and read well into the night.
At its heart, the story was a commentary on societal restrictions placed upon females. It begged the question of what would happen if a woman simply acted as a man would. It was brilliant.
The next morning, she was so engrossed in reading the final chapter that she didn’t realize Luke had entered the library until he was practically standing beside her.
“What has you so enraptured?”
His voice came as such a shock that she jumped in her seat and actually tossed her book into the air. “Good God, Luke!”
Being the unfairly agile man he was, he managed to snatch the book out of the air. “Lady Chaste, hm?” he commented, reading the title. “No author?”
“The author wished to remain anonymous,” Victoria huffed and reached to snatch back her reading material before he could thumb through the pages.Dear Lord, what if he stumbled upon the scene in the carriage? She felt the skin of her throat burn at the thought.
“Interesting title.”
“It was sent by Lady Morton,” she said truthfully, clutching it to her breast.
“Oh? You two seem to be getting along well.”
Victoria made a thoughtful sound in reply, fully intending to write a letter to the duchess as soon as she finished the final few pages of the book, eagerly inquiring as to when the next Reading Society meeting would be held. Victoria wished to be a part of any group that read such fascinating (and titillating) material.
She tilted her head and truly looked at Luke’s face for the first time since he’d entered the room. Though he smiled at her, there was a weariness to his jaw, deepening the lines around his mouth; it lessened the intelligent gleam in his eyes.
As rough a go as Victoria had been having with the invasive tabloids and the snobbishton, she suspected Luke might have been experiencing his own difficulties assimilating into this English world. She knew him well enough to recognize the fissures beginning to form in his normally unflappable façade. The poor man was practically mobbed by desperate marriage-minded mamas and their daughters—or at least the ones who didn’t turn their noses up at the “unrefined” American. Luke was caught in an awkward place of having access to more wealth than a great many peers, but no title or breeding to lend it the necessary credence. Victoria could practically see the gold glinting in women’s eyes as they appraised her brother. She always made sure to steer him far, far away from them. He deserved much better—as did she.
Unfortunately, there was a darker side to the discrimination against him, and he would have been greatly displeased if he knew Victoria was aware of it. Whereas many Englishmen of Luke’s age were going to their clubs or raising hell, he was left out, not granted admittance to the same clubs. She’d even witnessed him being treated with thinly-veiled contempt by some men. She suspected his method of coping with the loneliness was to throw himself into his work for their company even more than usual. If he wasn’t careful, Rockford Shipping would become his entire personality.
The plan had always been a three-month visit to England before returning to New York, but if it was determined that Rockford Shipping could benefit from expansion, then Luke would stay behind alone to oversee the venture. He’d always been one of the most driven men of Victoria’s acquaintance, but the treacherous waters of this new life in London, coupled with the desire to prove to their father that he could manage an English branch of the company, drove him to new heights. That made Victoria worry for her brother. Without her nearbyto arrange outings, distractions, and social obligations, it was entirely possible he would never speak to another being not directly involved in the shipping business.
When it became apparent that Luke was viewed as either a target or a rival in most of London’s social situations, he began sitting more and more of them out, leaving Victoria to bear the brunt of the curiosity-seekers and parties inquiring after her handsome, eligible elder brother. At nine-and-twenty, possessive of an imposing build, dark chocolate hair and light hazel eyes, objectively, Victoria couldn’t blame them. He’d have been a catch even if he had only half the brains and wealth he did.
“How are you, Luke?” she finally asked, tuckingLady Chastebeneath the folds of fuchsia pink fabric at her hip.
His eyes softened further; he didn’t even attempt to redirect her because he knew she could read him too well and wouldn’t stop until she received a satisfactory answer. “I won’t be accompanying you to the ball tomorrow evening.”
Victoria deflated. “Why not?”
“I have a meeting with some accountants for—”
“I thought Papa already met with the accountants,” she interrupted him, not caring if she was beginning to sound like a petulant child.
“He did,” Luke replied patiently. “But there are some new documents and figures to go over. A supper has been scheduled, and I will be attending instead of going to another ball.”
