“Perfectly. Are we dining at home?”
“I am,” she replied, deliberately noncommittal.
“In that case, naturally, so am I.”
He was playing the role of husband already, she realized dazedly. “I’ll inform Mrs. Craddock then,” she said, and turned away in a trance of confusion. Jason said he was attracted to her. He wanted to marry her. Impossible. If Uncle Charles died, she would have to marry him. If she married him now, perhaps Uncle Charles would find the will to live. And children—Jason wanted children. She wanted them too, very much. She wanted something to love. Perhaps they could be happy together; there were times when Jason could be charming and engaging, times when his smile made her feel like smiling. He had said he wouldn’t hurt her. . . . She was halfway across the room when Jason’s calm voice stopped her.
“Victoria—”
Automatically, Victoria turned toward him.
“I think you’ve already made your decision about our marriage. If it is yes, we ought to see Charles after supper and tell him we’re setting the date for our wedding. He’ll like that, and the sooner we tell him, the better.”
Jason was insisting on knowing if she intended to marry him, Victoria realized. She stared across the room at the handsome, forceful, dynamic man—and the moment seemed to freeze in time. Why did she think he was tense as he waited for her answer? Why did he have to ask her to marry him as if it was a business proposition?
“I—” Victoria began helplessly, while Andrew’s sweet, formal proposal suddenly tolled through her mind. “Say you will marry me, Victoria. I love you. I’ll always love you. ...”
Her chin came up in angry rebellion. At least Jason Fielding didn’t mouth words of love he didn’t feel. Neither, however, had he proposed to her with any show of sentimental affection, so she accepted his proposal in the same unemotional way it had been offered. She looked at Jason and nodded stiffly. “We’ll tell him after supper.”
Victoria could have sworn the tension seemed to leave Jason’s face and body.
Technically, it was the evening of her engagement, and Victoria decided to use the occasion to try to set a better pattern for their future. The morning of the duel, Jason had said he enjoyed her laughter. If, as she suspected, he was as lonely and empty inside as she herself often felt, then perhaps they could brighten each other’s lives. Barefoot, she stood in front of the open wardrobe, surveying her loveliest gowns, trying to decide what to wear for this mock-festive occasion. She finally decided on an aqua chiffon gown with an overskirt dusted with shimmering gold spangles and a necklace of gold-encrusted aquamarines Jason had given her as a gift the night of her come-out. Ruth brushed her hair until it shone, then parted it at the center and let it fall in gleaming waves that framed Victoria’s face and spilled over her shoulders and back. When Victoria was satisfied with her appearance, she left her room and went down to the drawing room. Jason had evidently followed the same impulse, for his tall frame was formally clad in an immaculately tailored claret velvet coat and trousers with a white brocade waistcoat and ruby studs winking in his shirtfront.
He was pouring champagne into a glass when he looked up and saw her, and his bold eyes moved over her with unhidden masculine appreciation. Pride of ownership was evident in his possessive gaze and Victoria’s stomach jumped nervously when she saw it. He had never looked at her like this before—as if she were a tasty morsel he was planning to devour at his leisure.
“You have the most disconcerting ability to look like an enchanting child one moment, and an incredibly alluring woman, the next,” he said.
“Thank you,” Victoria said uncertainly, “I think.”
“It was intended as a compliment,” he assured her, smiling slightly. “I’m not usually so clumsy with compliments that you can’t identify them. I’ll be more careful in future.”
Touched by this small indication that he intended to try to change to please her, Victoria watched as he deftly poured the sparkling liquid into two glasses. He handed her one and she started to turn toward the settee, but he put a restraining hand on her bare arm and drew her back. With his other hand he opened the lid of a large velvet jeweler’s box lying beside his glass and withdrew a triple strand of the largest, most magnificent pearls Victoria had ever seen. Wordlessly he turned her toward the mirror above the side table and pushed her long hair aside. His fingers sent tiny tremors down her spine as he removed the aquamarines and laid the wide, heavy pearl choker around her slim neck.
In the mirror, Victoria watched his expressionless features as he fastened the diamond clasp at the back of her neck, then lifted his eyes to hers, studying the pearl choker at her throat. “Thank you,” she began awkwardly, turning around, “j__”
“I’d rather be thanked with a kiss,” Jason instructed patiently.
Victoria leaned up on her toes and obediently but self-consciously pressed a kiss on his smooth, freshly shaven cheek. Something about the way he gave her pearls and coolly expected a kiss in return bothered her very much—it was as if he was purchasing her favors, beginning with a kiss in exchange for a necklace. That notion was rather frighteningly confirmed when he said about her kiss: “That isn’t much of a kiss for so beautiful a necklace,” and took her lips with sudden, demanding insistence.
When he let her go, he smiled quizzically into her apprehensive blue eyes. “Don’t you like pearls, Victoria?”
“Oh, I do—truly!” Victoria said nervously, angry with herself for her inability to control her foolish, fanciful fears. “I’ve never seen such beautiful ones as these. Even Lady Wilhelm’s weren’t so huge. These are fit for a queen.”
“They belonged to a Russian princess a century ago,” he said, and Victoria was oddly touched that he apparently thought her worthy of such a priceless necklace.
After supper, they went upstairs to see Charles. His delight when they quietly told him of their decision to go ahead with the wedding plans took years off his face, and when Jason fondly put his arm around Victoria’s shoulders, the bedridden invalid actually laughed with joy. He looked so happy, so confident that they were doing the right thing, that Victoria almost believed they were, too.
“When’s the wedding to be?” Charles asked suddenly.
“In one week,” Jason said, earning a surprised glance from Victoria.
“Excellent, excellent!” Charles averred, beaming at them. “I intend to be well enough by then to attend myself.”