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Chapter Thirteen
Vicky was more than ready for her bed by the time the dancing drew to a close. Even though it was far earlier than a ball would end in Town, the exertions of the day were catching up with her. Added to that were her constantly conflicted feelings about Ashford Northcott, and she was ready to hide in her bedchamber for at least a fortnight. That would never do, so she would make good her escape for the night at the very least.
Watching him seemingly enjoy his time with the other ladies present had done inexplicable things to her equilibrium. Vicky wished she could talk the entire matter over with Georgia, but that good woman was preoccupied with her other guests. And Vicky was reasonably sure her dear friend would tell her she was being daft to not want the gentleman for herself but then to be irritated when he seemed to enjoy the company of others. Georgia would likely tell her she was being selfish. And Vicky wouldn’t be able to argue with such a declaration, as she had already realized it about herself. She only hoped the morrow would bring a bit of clarity to her many dilemmas.
Since it had been a later night, when Vicky arrived in the breakfast room it was to find that she was again the only female, but Georgia soon arrived and it was a delightful repast. The day had been set aside for outdoor pursuits such as archery, croquet, and battledore and shuttlecock. The weather appeared to be perfect for the pursuits, and Vicky was looking forward to the exertions and fresh air, things she had been lacking in London.
“Isn’t it strange what a year out of the social whirl will do to you? I had thought I loved the Town life but after only a few weeks, I’m delighted to be here, pursuing more simple but also more physical activities rather than making morning calls and sipping tea.”
Georgia laughed over her words. “Don’t worry, there will still be plenty of tea.”
Vicky laughed along with her friend but knew there was truth in what she had said. It told her something important. While she wouldn’t mind visiting London occasionally, perhaps for part of the Season, she wouldn’t particularly care to be there for its entirety. So, marrying a politically minded gentleman might not be the best idea.
She rather suspected Lord Bertram was very much of a political bent. She had never had any intention of allowing that gentleman to court her, but her new realization was all the more motivation to do all she could to avoid him. She couldn’t decide how she felt with regards to his suspicions about Ashford Northcott, but she had no desire to be involved in his agenda, whatever it might be. In fact, she decided with alacrity, she would prefer to avoid both of those gentlemen as much as she could manage.
It took a bit of effort, but Vicky managed to remain happily occupied in all the outdoor pursuits of the day while steering clear of both gentlemen. She had felt their assessing gazes throughout the day but had not allowed that to interfere with her enjoyment of the various games she participated in. She even managed to win the game of battledore and shuttlecock she had played with Georgia and Delilah. Georgia had, of course, dropped her hand to her midsection with a significant arch to her eyebrows as though to excuse her loss due to her pregnancy. Vicky had merely rolled her eyes at her friend and laughed.
“The babe cannot be your excuse for everything the entire time, George,” Vicky had exclaimed.
“Sure it can,” Georgia had laughed. “It’s very important work producing the possible heir, surely I can use that for an excuse for anything I please.”
Vicky entwined her arm through Georgia’s elbow. “Very well, my dear, but he or she is barely even visible, so you cannot say that it interfered with your game.”
Georgia shrugged and laughed, not bothering to argue. “I never was very good at losing.”
After an evening of music and charades where Vicky managed to still avoid both of the gentlemen in question, she retired to her room with a satisfied sigh of contentment. She may not be any closer to finding a husband, but she was having a delightfully diverting sojourn with friends.
The next day had another quiet start. Many of the other young women seemed to be the sort who slept far later than Vicky was accustomed to. She had already written to everyone she corresponded regularly with and hadn’t yet received replies from any of her family, conspicuously not her brothers-in-law that she was particularly anxious to hear from. Being thoroughly sick of her current needlework project and not wishing to disturb Georgia, who had closeted herself with the housekeeper, Vicky found herself wandering toward the library.
“I had hoped to speak with you. Thank you for making an opportunity for us to be private.”
Vicky nearly yelped with her surprise over the sudden appearance of the oily viscount.
“I had no intention of being private with you, my lord. You know it’s highly inappropriate.”
“The door is open, the proprieties are covered, my lady, do control your fidgets.”
“They are not fidgets, Lord Bertram, they are valid concerns.”
“Well, then tell me what you have found out, and I’ll leave you to your own pursuits, if that is your wish.”
Vicky sighed. “I have found out nothing, my lord. Not that I believe there is truly anything to find out. Mr. Ashford Northcott seems to be just a regular gentleman like anyone you might meet. I truly do not think he has any nefarious intentions toward His Majesty, and I couldn’t discern anything questionable about his business dealings.” She paused for a moment before reluctantly admitting, “I’m afraid, though, it is truly as I told you. I have no idea how to question someone. I’m far too conventional. While every instinct inside me urges me to do all that I can to protect my family, I truly cannot fathom how I might do so.”
“You disappoint me,” he said in a tone that sounded almost like a growl. He was advancing toward her with a menacing pace when another deep voice intruded upon them. Vicky wasn’t sure if she was relieved or terrified of where it all might end.
“Bertram, that is enough of you,” Ashford said, calm and assured, bringing the viscount up short. “Clifton is awaiting you for your match.”
Vicky didn’t think Lord Bertram was going to listen to him but after another growl and a muttered expletive, he swung away from her and stormed out of the room. She wasn’t sure if she had even blinked since Ashford had entered the room, it had all passed in such a blur.
“Are you all right?”
The deep voice was low and gentle, almost like a caress, and it nearly brought Vicky to tears as the entire situation flooded into her consciousness. He strode toward her and clasped her hands warmly in his.
“Tell me what happened. I’ll help in any way possible.”
Her laughter sounded watery as she tried to regain her composure and figure out what she ought to do. But Ashford was there and sounded so kind and understanding, she couldn’t help but pour out the entire sorry tale.
“He told me you were plotting something against King George and that if I didn’t find a way to stop you, my family would be implicated in the scandal that would erupt around you.”
