Rafe watched Victoria’s unabashed smile in awe as she and Dominic exchanged a few more amiable verbal parries. Warmth bloomed from his breast at the domesticity of the scene—something foreign and unexpected in many ways, to say the least.
That was, until her eyes fixed on him and she realized he’d been watching her. A stony mask slipped over her lovely face, and it felt to Rafe as if all the heat had been blown from the room on a gust of animosity.
Accepting his fate, Rafe cleared his throat, pressed the door open fully, and entered the room. Pasting a smile upon his face, he asked, “And what are we up to here? Waging a bit of war?”
Victoria turned her eyes down to focus on the child in her arms. She spoke as she adjusted the wrapping more tightly around her. “With May still abed with her cough, I thought I would take Dominic and Faith off of Nan’s hands for a spell.” Her tone was as chilly as the Thames in winter.
“Victoria thinks the Americans can beat the British,” Dom complained with all the righteous indignation of a child convinced of his own knowledge as law.
Rafe smiled regretfully at his nephew. “She is correct in this instance. It happened. Once. And it’ll never happen again.” He finished it with a cheeky wink and strode over to where Victoria sat on the floor. He crouched down to look into his niece’s face to see for himself how she was faring.
He’d spent the better part of the night pacing back and forth with her, striding through the halls of the Townhouse like a lost specter of yore, speaking to her in hushed tones and telling her nonsense tales concocted from sleep-deprived fantasies. The motion and sound of his voice seemed to soothe her somewhat—to calm whatever part of her heart that ached so deeply from the loss of her parents that it refused to allow her any peace or solace. He could have left the inconsolable child to Nan and the wetnurse they also employed to help out in the kitchens, but that felt cruel to Alice’s memory, and that was the last thing Rafe ever wished to do. Instead, he habitually took it upon himself to console the child as best he could, listening to tips provided by Nan and the other maids, and making up some techniques along the way. His weeks had been filled with trial and error, but he’d do it for eternity if it meant giving Alice’s ghost peace to know her children were well cared for.
While Faith was quiet in Victoria’s arms and her eyes were closed in slumber, the child was far from peaceful. Her pert little nose was wrinkled, and her smooth brow was furrowed in discomfort. Rafe’s heart ached powerfully at the sight. He stroked a gentle finger along the child’s forehead and she relaxed slightly, some of the tension leaving her frail body. If only it were that easy to banish whatever ailed her innocent soul.
Victoria watched herhusband intently, taking her opportunity to examine him in such proximity. Even his high cheekbones, the aristocratic slope of his nose, the sensual curve of his mouth, could not detract from just how beleaguered he was. It was irksome how he could remain attractive in such a state. What was worse…he smelleddivine…like leather and mahogany. She injected steel into her spine and valiantly resisted the urge to sway toward him.
Remember what he said last night, she reminded herself over and over like a fortifying chant.
She turned her attention back to the weary lines bracketing his eyes and mouth. She wasn’t vain enough to hope Rafe had lost sleep over her and the argument they’d shared the previous evening. The infant in her arms cooed, and Victoria recalled how Nan had told her he would often check on the babe during the night. Was it possible that was what had happened after Rafe had left her chamber? She did not want to picture him sitting up all hours of the night with the child; she didn’t want to feel her heart softening toward him all over again.
How could he do this to her time and time again?
What was it about him that made her do this?
Because, even for all his mistakes and faults, there was a heart beneath the polished façade that was so much more complex than he was given credit for. And, even if he believed himself incapable of love, she just couldn’t believe it.
There was no doubt in Victoria’s mind that this child and her siblings meant a great deal to Rafe, and, as much as she wanted to loathe him, his heart was not a part of him she could force herself to dislike.
Everything else…well…that was another story entirely.
Seeming to realize where he was and what he was doing, Rafe retreated a step and straightened. “Have you broken your fast?” he asked, his voice deep and rough. Victoria could only nod in reply. “I have not forgotten my promise to you. Would you still care to do some shopping today?” When Victoria hesitated, he heaved a sigh and leaned back in, so Dominic would not overhear. “We do not have to if you do not wish to, but I would like to do this for you.” When she remained silent in indecision, his mouth flattened into a line of resignation and he turned to leave.
Just before he quit the room, Victoria piped up—against her better judgment, of course. “I should be ready to leave shortly, just as soon as I have the children settled once more with Nan.”
A dramatic groan floated up from where Dominic was sprawled on the nearby floor, and Rafe’s attention turned toward the lad. “Unfortunately, it seems as if you are not going to escape your studies for the entire day. Your tutor should be arriving soon anyhow,” he said lightly before swiftly stooping and scooping his nephew up beneath his arm like a sack of flour. Victoria couldn’t hide her smile when she listened to the boy’s giggles as he was carted down the hall and up the stairs to the nursery.
It did nottake Rafe long to regret his offer of shopping. He was rather quickly reminded of the reason he’d avoided it at all costs in the past. In fact, he’d grown quite adept at concocting excuses with no notice whenever a woman attempted to coerce him intoescorting her to the shops. He loathed sitting around like a puppy waiting for his mistress’s attention.
However, he also knew better than to say anything to that effect as he watched Victoria select new papering for the walls, fabric for draperies and bed hangings, and even furniture for her bedchamber. Biting his tongue was likely the safest thing he could do since his marriage was precarious at best; the disaster of the last forty-eight hours needed to turn around lest it set the tone for the rest of their lives. He didn’t think either of them would survive a future beneath such a pall.
So, he did his best to swallow his distaste for the activity and dutifully escorted his wife through one after another of London’s premier shops. He had to admit, the speed with which Victoria spent money was astonishing. To place such large and extravagant orders was a new experience for Rafe, who, while he’d always had the relative safety of an old title and credit upon which to fall back when it came to necessities, had been forced to choose a priority rather than spend indiscriminately. He’d needed to decide whether it was more important to spend his limited funds on the image he presented to Society, or an excess of comforts behind closed doors. So, the staff had been whittled down to the bare necessities, unnecessary rooms had been closed up, he’d quietly sold off whatever holdings were not entailed, and he’d opted, instead, to keep up on his outward appearance. Rafe had purchased the best clothing he could afford, kept the most elegant carriage, and maintained a membership at Duke’s, the most exclusive gentleman’s gambling club. The generations of estate mismanagement had left him in dire straits, and it was a never-ending task to disguise. This shopping excursion was proof that Victoria had never experienced such concerns or deprivation. She was like a fairy who simply had to point at something she enjoyed and knew without a doubt that it would materialize in her home.
Knowing what he did about the increasing number of impoverished peers desperately grasping onto old ways while struggling to maintain unattainable façades, Rafe wondered if women such as his wife were the way of the future for the English aristocracy. In a world gradually beginning to shift away from the old agrarian ways of tenant farmers, ancient titles with undiversified holdings were not accruing the same income they had in prior decades. Rafe was far from the only aristocrat in need of a rich wife, but his needs had been made more immediate by the adoption of his wards. Lord knew Rafe would have been in serious trouble in a matter of weeks had he not convinced Victoria to wed him.
Victoria said little to him as she made her purchases, never once bothering to question a price or haggle with a shopkeeper. In fact, she hardly looked in his direction. At first, he’d been content to watch the sway of her hips, the tilt of her head, the shape of her bosom and arms beneath the blue spencer she’d added to her outfit, but, as pleasing as she was to behold, he found he missed the sound of her voice and the curve of her smile when she did converse with him.
Oh, yes, he’d wounded her.
Of course, Rafe regretted damaging her feelings, but he was unsure how to make things right. What he had said had been the truth.
Theirs had not been a love match.
Victoria may not have known just how much money and dowry had played into his proposal at the time, but neither of them had ever professed to be in love with the other. Her notions of fidelity in such an arrangement were simply unrealistic in today’s Society. He could count on a single hand the number of men he knew who were still faithful to their wives. And call him cynical or whatever you would, but those marriages had not been all that long-lived as of yet. He did not wish themill, but he believed himself a realist. There was plenty of time for both those husbands and wives to seek pleasure outside of their marital beds when the novelty of explosive emotions wore off. He never understood why people prided themselves on honesty, but only when it pertained to the admission of such impermanent and damaging emotions as love. Why was it any less welcome when he attempted to set realistic expectations for the future of his marriage? He’d always felt Victoria was more levelheaded than most Englishwomen, so why had she taken such exception to his words? Love was not in his repertoire. Love was not something to which he ever aspired. He’d only ever seen the wreckage left in the wake of those who claimed to feel love. Even if he believed himself capable of experiencing the emotion, why in God’s name would he ever wish to? As he saw it, he was saving both of them a great deal of pain and heartache.
Rafe remained contemplative and complacent as they strolled through the streets, shadowed by their footman who carried the smaller packages and occasionally ducked back to the carriage to deposit them. The rest of the purchases would be delivered directly to the Townhouse later that day or would arrive in the coming weeks, after they had been crafted to Victoria’s specifications.
Though she touched him as little as possible, she could not refuse to link her arm with his as he guided her along the street. He had to admit, he enjoyed her nearness more than was reasonable. She was lovely that day—even beautiful. She was effortlessly graceful and elegant, confident in her place, and he found it enchanting.
