“Not even then,” he said shortly.
Abruptly he made a move to stand up, but Victoria impulsively laid her hand on his sleeve. His gaze narrowed on her long fingers resting on his arm, then lifted to her wide, searching eyes. “Mr. Fielding,” she began, awkwardly trying to maintain their short truce and to strengthen it if possible. “I know you don’t like having me here, but I won’t be staying long—only until Andrew comes for me.”
“Stay as long as you like,” he said with a shrug, his expression cool.
“Thank you,” Victoria said, her lovely face mirroring her bewilderment at his abrupt changes of mood. “But what I wanted to say was that I would like it very much if you and I could be on, well, friendlier terms.”
“What sort of ‘friendlier terms’ did you have in mind, my lady?” Mellowed by the brandy, Victoria missed the sarcasm in his voice. “Well, if you don’t put too fine a point on it, we’re distant cousins.” She paused, her eyes searching his enigmatic face for some sign of warmth. “I haven’t any relations left, except Uncle Charles and you. Do you suppose we could treat each other like cousins?”
He looked stunned by her proposal, then amused. “I suppose we could do that.”
“Thank you.”
“Get some sleep now.”
She nodded and snuggled down under the covers. “Oh, I forgot to apologize—for the things I’ve said to you when I’m angry, that is.”
His lips twitched. “Do you regret any of them?”
Victoria lifted her brows, eyeing him with a sleepy, impertinent smile. “You’ve deserved every word.”
“You’re right,” he admitted, grinning. “But don’t press your luck.”
Suppressing the urge to reach out and tousle her heavy hair, Jason went back to his own room and poured a brandy for himself, then sat down and propped his feet up on the table in front of his chair. Wryly, he wondered why Victoria Seaton should bring out this odd streak of protectiveness in him. He had intended to send her straight back to America when she arrived—and that was before she had disrupted his household. Perhaps it was because she was so lost and vulnerable—and so young and dainty—that she made him feel paternal. Or perhaps it was her candor that threw him off balance. Or those eyes of hers that seemed to search his face as if she were looking for his soul. She had no flirtatious wiles; she didn’t need any, he thought wryly—those eyes could seduce a saint.
Chapter Eight
“I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW SORRY I AM ABOUT LAST night,” Charles told her at breakfast the next morning, his face lined with worry and contrition. “I was wrong to announce your betrothal to Jason, but I had so hoped the two of you might suit. As for Lady Kirby, she is an old hag, and her daughter’s been dangling after Jason for two years, which is why they both came galloping over here to have a look at you.”
“There’s no need to explain all that again, Uncle Charles,” Victoria said kindly. “No harm was done.”
“Perhaps not, but in addition to all her other unpleasant qualities, Kirby is the worst of gossips. Now that she knows you’re here, she’ll make certain everyone else does, which means we’ll soon be deluged with visitors eager to have a look at you. That, in turn, means a suitable chaperone will have to be present so that no one can cast aspersions on you for living with two men.” He glanced up as Jason walked in, and Victoria tensed, praying that their truce of last night would hold up in the light of day.
“Jason, I was just explaining to Victoria the need for a chaperone. I’ve sent for Flossie Wilson,” he added, referring to his maiden aunt, who had once helped care for little Jamie. “She’s a complete peagoose, but she’s my only female relative, and the only acceptable chaperone for Victoria that I know of. Despite her lack of sense, Flossie does know how to go about in society.”
“Fine,” Jason said absently, coming to stand beside Victoria’s chair. He looked down at her, his expression unfathomable. “I trust you’re suffering no ill effects from your foray into deprivation last night with the brandy?”
“None at all,” she said brightly. “Actually, I rather liked it, once I became accustomed to it.”
A lazy smile slowly dawned across his tanned face and Victoria’s heart skipped a beat. Jason Fielding had a smile that could melt a glacier! “Beware of liking it overmuch—” he said, and teasingly added, “—cousin.”
Lost in hopeful plans to make Jason her friend, Victoria paid no further attention to what the men were discussing until Jason spoke directly to her. “Did you hear me, Victoria?”
Victoria looked up blankly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“On Friday, I’m expecting a visit from a neighbor who has just returned from France,” Jason repeated. “If he brings his wife, I’d like to introduce you to her.” Victoria’s momentary flash of pleasure at his ostensibly friendly overture was doused by his blunt explanation for it. “The Countess of Collingwood is an excellent example of how you ought to conduct yourself in society. You would be wise to observe her behavior and emulate her.”
Victoria flushed, feeling like an ill-behaved child who has just been told she ought to follow someone else’s example. Moreover, she had already met four English aristocrats— Charles, Jason, Lady Kirby, and Miss Johanna Kirby. With the exception of Charles, she found them all very difficult to deal with, and she did not relish the prospect of meeting two more. Nevertheless, she stifled her ire and set aside her dread. “Thank you,” she said politely. “I’ll look forward to meeting them both.”
Victoria spent the next four days pleasantly occupied with writing letters or in Charles’s company. In the afternoon of the fifth day, she went down to the kitchens for another plate of scraps for Willie.
“That animal is going to be fat enough to ride if you continue feeding him this way,” Mrs. Craddock warned her good-naturedly.
“He has a long way to go before that,” Victoria said, returning her smile. “May I have that large bone over there, too—or are you planning to use it for soup?”
Mrs. Craddock assured her she was not, and gave the huge bone to Victoria. Thanking her, Victoria started to leave, then remembered something and turned back. “Last night, Mr. Field—I mean, his lordship,” she corrected herself, watching the servants freeze at the mere mention of Jason, “said the roast duck was the best he has ever tasted. I’m not certain he remembered to mention it to you,” Victoria explained, knowing perfectly well that Jason would probably never bother to do so, “but I thought you would like to know.”