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“Truly fascinating, my lord, but I’m afraid that one kind of grass looks exactly like all the others to my poor uneducated eyes.” She gave him her back and turned to Withington. “My lord, would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the powder room? I fear these new shoes have begun to pinch awfully.” She lifted her skirts just enough to show him one dainty slipper.
Amelia’s eyes spat daggers at the brazen act.
“I shall lead you there myself at once, my lady,” said Withington, rising. “One of the maids can stitch a bit of padding in it for you.”
“I would not inconvenience you, my lord,” she cooed even as she stood and took hold of his arm. “I know you have other, more important guests.”
“Nonsense,” said Withington. “You are first among all here, and I would be remiss if I allowed you even a moment’s discomfort when I can so easily prevent it. Come. And please, do call me Withy. ‘My lord’ is so formal! Makes me feel like an old man—and I’m nowhere near decrepitude, I assure you.”
Victoria felt like clapping as Amelia stiffened.
“Once more, you prove yourself my chivalrous knight,” she sighed, gazing at him with calf’s eyes.
Behind her, Cavendish coughed.
Well, perhaps she was laying it on a bit thick, but it was simply too much fun seeing Amelia’s reaction.
Over the following weeks she proceeded as planned, making it look as though she and Withington were progressing toward an agreement. Her life became a mixture of terrifying near misses and brief moments of bliss.
She was afforded next to no time alone with Cavendish, thanks to Papa’s and Amelia’s interference. Papa insisted that the four of them do everything together, and Amelia stuck to her like honey—only she wasn’t nearly as sweet.
Even so, they stole moments together here and there, taking every opportunity offered no matter how brief. The more she was with Cavendish, the more she liked him and the harder it became for her to conceal. Then, too, there was the mounting desire between them. Every time he looked at her, she quivered inside. And she knew he felt the same.
Though it afforded them the means to be with each other when there would have been no other way, Victoria began to feel imprisoned, walled in by the charade. How long could they keep on like this? There was never enough time to have all of her questions answered, never enough time to satisfy the increasingly powerful longing to be with him, to feel his arms around her.
A MONTH LATER
BY THE TIME Victoria made it downstairs, both gentlemen had been shown to the salon, where Amelia was already serving them tea and scones. She rolled her eyes. Predictably, Amelia had cornered Withington.
Cavendish looked up, smiling broadly as she entered. Green eyes twinkling, he stood and bowed, alerting the others to her presence. “Lady Victoria, how pleasant to see you again. I trust you are sufficiently recovered?”
She flicked a glance at Amelia, who had apparently been hard at work. “Allow me to reassure you that I am the embodiment of perfect health, my lord. Please, do not let my sister alarm you with tales of my infirmity, for though she means well, she does have a tendency to be a bit of a mother hen.”
Amelia’s eyes went flat, though her smile did not waver. “Well, someone must fuss over you, for even when you are quite ill, you refuse to take care of yourself properly. I suppose it is merely a mark of your indomitable spirit that you decline to allow anything, even good sense, to stand in the way of your desires. I only wish I had such strength of will. With it, I should be able to move mountains.”
Victoria fumed as she saw Cavendish’s lips twitch. Amelia had all but called her a stubborn ass! “Dear sister, your many sacrifices are not unappreciated,” she replied in a honeyed tone. “Heaven only knows that if it were possible for me to impart to you a portion of my fortitude, I would certainly do so, for you’ve selflessly toiled away your youth taking care of Papa and me.” She watched in satisfaction as her opponent’s eyes narrowed.
“It is only because I care for you so that I make such a fuss, little sister,” said Amelia. “With Mother gone, someone had to see to your upbringing. Had I not taken your education seriously, you would be no better mannered than that Wild Boy they let run loose at court. I’ve done my best to make you into the kind of young woman Mother would have been proud of.”
Her tone suggested that she’d fallen woefully short of her goal, and Victoria had to concentrate on keeping her temper in check. “I’m sure Mama smiles from heaven over the good works you’ve done in her stead. Even so, it is high time you began thinking of yourself. You’ve sacrificed your life and happiness for duty and family for far, far too long.”
With that, she sat beside Withington and helped herself to tea, leaving her sister no choice but to swallow her bile.
But Amelia wasn’t done yet. “I need no pleasure but knowing that my loved ones are happy and secure,” she said primly, leaning over to drop an extra lump of sugar into her cup—providing everyone opposite, including Withington, a perfect view of her bosom as it swelled above the lace on her bodice.
Victoria winced as her faux suitor released an audible sigh of appreciation at the spectacular display. She nudged him with her toe.
Flinching, he tore his eyes away. “Lady Victoria, I believe I should very much like to see Richmond’s gardens,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “You spoke so highly of them that I fear I’ve anticipated seeing them almost as much as I have you,” he added with a rather desperate-sounding chuckle.
“I would be delighted to show them to you,” Victoria replied with false cheer, rising.
“An excellent idea!” chimed in Amelia, also standing. “I’m sure Lord Cavendish would like to see them as well,” she said, turning to him. “Though I’m fairly certain you’ll find our little patch of earth quite mundane compared to the exotic flora you’ve seen on your travels.”
“Not at all, Lady Amelia,” replied Cavendish, his eyes merry. “There’s nothing like a proper English garden.”
“Perhaps you’d like to show Lord Cavendish the roses?” Victoria suggested. “Papa added some new varieties recently that he might find interesting. And because of his particular interest in them, I shall show the Marquess our labyrinth.” She said it with deliberate emphasis, pausing an instant to allow the barb to sink in before turning to Withington. “We’ll go to the library and view it from the veranda in order to properly see the intricate pattern.”
“Yes, of course, my lady,” he replied weakly.
