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“Why?”
“Never you mind.”
“He’s not right for you.”
Amelia’s softly spoken words were a simple statement uttered without emotion, yet they elicited so much of that intangible force in Victoria’s breast that she could not contain it. Her blood boiled. “And how would you know what is right for anyone?”
“Because I know you, Victoria, and Withington is the wrong man for you. You’ll be miserable if you marry him!”
Withington. She was speaking of Withington. The frantic racing of Victoria’s heart slowed, her blaze of anger replaced by a knot of icy anxiety. She’d just come dangerously close to revealing the entire deception. Keeping her voice level and cool, she reestablished control. “Thank you, but I’ll be the one to decide who is right for me. I don’t need you to tell me whom I may love.” Did I just say love?
Amelia let out a dry chuckle. “You’ve no idea what men are really like. And you know absolutely nothing of love.”
“And you do?” Victoria shot back, her temper beginning to rise again. “You’ve no right to say such things. You, with your poison tongue. You wouldn’t know love if it bit you on the arse—not that it would ever dare bite you, for fear of breaking its teeth on your frozen heart.”
She turned and began tending her mount, pointedly ignoring her sister’s unwelcome presence. She wanted nothing more than to run to her room and cry in frustration, but she’d rather die than let Amelia see such weakness. Today had been a disaster of monumental proportions.
After a moment’s tense silence, she heard the blessed sound of retreating footsteps. Relief flooded her until she heard a soft call from the doorway.
“Victoria, I know you think me interested only in preventing your happiness, but I assure you that is far from the truth. If you should ever need a friend, someone to talk to, I—”
Victoria whirled, filled with disbelief. “Do you actually think that I would ever confide in you? You’ve done everything in your power to take and destroy whatever joy I find, to keep me caged and alone. I would sooner confide in a serpent than tell you the secrets of my heart. A serpent would be more trustworthy!”
A flicker crossed Amelia’s face, but in an instant it was gone and her ever-present calm was back in place. “One day, you will understand why I have gone to such lengths to protect you.”
“I understand well enough, sister dear,” Victoria sneered, advancing on her. “Your motives are certainly no mystery. Ever since Mama died, you’ve done your best to discredit me with Papa. You’ve always been first in his heart, Amelia! You’ve never needed to make me look bad to earn his favor. You’ve had it since you were born. I know I’ll never be good enough in his eyes—and I could have lived with it, had you not forced it down my throat at every turn.”
“That isn’t true. You know it isn’t!”
But Victoria was not done yet.
“And if that’s not enough, you’ve all but ruined any chance of my having a life of my own. I would have happily left you to rule here unopposed, but having his heart isn’t enough for you, is it? You have to have everyone else’s, as well.” She fought back tears. “Jealousy wears green on any face, Amelia, and yours is no exception. It’s a very bad color for you, by the by. I should consider washing it off, if I were you, lest the stain become permanent and everyone see it!”
With these words, Victoria hurled the curry brush at the stable wall and strode past, uncaring that her tirade had upset every horse in the stables. Whistling shrilly, she met Charlie as he came running up.
“Finish grooming him, please,” she said, not bothering to stop. She broke into a run, heedless of the stares of the servants she passed as she entered the house.
That evening at the table, she sat in silence, pushing the food around on her plate and avoiding everyone’s eyes. Amelia, she noted, was just as stubbornly quiet. It was the one thing they had in common: neither of them would give in.
It wasn’t always this way, though. Tears started in her eyes. How she longed for the days when Mama was alive!
Finally, their father threw down his napkin. “Enough of this. I’ll have it from one of you or there’ll be hell to pay in this house tonight.”
Victoria sat stiffly and stared at her sister, waiting for her to tell him.
Shifting nervously, Amelia spoke, her voice hesitant. “I know you don’t approve of entertaining people in our home, Papa, but…”
“Yes?” he prompted, the cleft between his brows deepening ominously. “Get on with it, girl!”
“Well, we wondered if…” Amelia glanced at her, but then quickly looked away. “That is to say that we thought it might be nice to host a hunt.”
What? Victoria nearly fell from her chair in astonishment.
Amelia continued in a rush. “It’s been a long time since we hosted anything, and we just thought that perhaps we might invite Lords Cavendish and Withington…” She trailed off as he continued to stare at her. “I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, no!” he said, his expression turning mild. “I just didn’t think such things were of interest to you.” His eyes became shadowed with sudden grief. “Had your mother lived, there would have been such events planned all along to help usher you both into the appropriate circles. It simply never crossed my mind. I’ll ask Mrs. Wiggins to see to the arrangements.”
Victoria blinked, astounded. What ruse was this?
