She laughed awkwardly, uncertain how the duke would react to such humor. Oh well, it seemed as if she were never able to do anything properly in the company of this exalted gentleman.
Surprisingly, she could have sworn she heard a fair amount of amusement in His Grace’s voice when he scolded Arthur, “You little devil! In what county might all these illegitimate issue be found?”
“Lincolnshire. A little village called Rippingale. Louisa and Mr. Browne left me to rusticate there. He because he forgot about me and she because she hasn’t been overly fond of me lately. I have no idea why; we got along famously as children.” Victoria swallowed and thanked the heavens the duke couldn’t see her blush. He’d asked about Arthur, not about her. “Anyway, Mr. Browne has a lovely manor house there. The household staff
treated me very well and they treated Arthur even better. He’s certainly the most spoiled feline I know.”
“Meow.” Arthur seemed to concur.
Afraid to allow a floundering silence to engulf them, Victoria rambled on. “The villagers were an interesting lot. Old Mrs. Crane was deathly afraid of Arthur. She said his orange eyes indicated an evil spirit. She actually tried to hang a cross around his neck one day.”
Taviston surely regretted his decision to accompany her.
“It sounds as if the two of you enjoyed country life. Why then, are you here in London?”
Yet he was full of questions.
What was the harm in answering? She’d never see the man again, especially after she bored him with her life story. “Mr. Browne suddenly realized how near the proverbial shelf I was. Needless to say, he is quite the rattlepate. He could have been rid of me years ago. But he finally comprehended that if I wasn’t married off soon, he would be stuck supporting me for the rest of my life. Once he realized his mistake, he immediately planned this Season for me. I am doing my best to make it a successful one. There is nothing I would like more than to be married and away from my cousin.”
Well, married and cherished with a family of her own but that was none of His Grace’s business. Surely the admission of eager husband-hunting would send the duke running in the opposite direction. Revealing her every feeling to a stranger. Whatever came next didn’t bear thinking.
“Am I to understand, then, that you have no other family?” he asked.
He certainly was inquisitive. He couldn’t possibly want to know her entire history. However, if he asked, she would answer. Who was she to question her superior, as Louisa always said.
“Yes. My mother died in childbirth when I was four. The babe as well. My father passed on ten years later. He had no siblings. My mother had one sister—Louisa’s mother. As I said, she and I got along well when we were younger. She was five years older, but I loved to follow her around and she seemed content with that. However, since her husband became my guardian, she’s treated me very differently.”
“You must miss your parents.” Not a question, but a leading statement.
“I miss the idea of having a mother, more than my actual mother. I don’t really remember her well at all. My father... I think about him every day. He was a good man, but he had a lot on his mind. We were always short of funds and he was forever contriving a new scheme to acquire them.” She couldn’t halt the flow of words. “In fact he died trying to do just that. On a particularly sodden night, he rushed to London on our last horse, hoping to make a last-minute investment to raise the family fortunes. The horse slipped on wet leaves, my father lost his seat, fell, and knocked his head against a large rock. A passing coach discovered his body the next morning.”
Victoria’s breath hitched but she focused on the pavement and was able to swallow her sadness. It threatened to return when the duke murmured, “I am terribly sorry for your loss.”
He grew quiet and made no effort to ask another question. They walked on, side by side, with only a few scant inches between them. As with when they danced, Victoria could feel something tingling between them. Almost like a sausage sizzling on the stove. A crackling, sparkling something that made her drift ever closer to him. She concentrated on resisting and decided to ask her own question since he seemed to have run out of them.
“Have you a large family, Your Grace?”
She sensed him stiffen and looked up at his face. He stared straight ahead, his expression blank and shuttered. Victoria wondered if he had been prying into her life in order to avoid questions about his own. He appeared to be a very private man. She returned her gaze forward and waited him out.
Eventually he sighed and answered with all due politeness. “In comparison to you, yes. I have an older sister, two younger brothers, and an assortment of cousins, aunts and uncles.”
Short and to the point, as if he were trying to dissuade her from continuing in that vein. He certainly didn’t know her well. If he was going to intrude on her private walk, then he would endure conversation.
“It must be lovely to have such a family.”
“Mmmm, I suppose it must,” he mused flippantly. But she noticed he cut a sharp glance her way and quickly spoke again, a measure of contriteness in his voice. “I beg your pardon. Yes, it generally is a comfort to have family one can rely on.”
“Who is your favorite sibling?” Did he have a favorite? Perhaps he disliked the whole lot of them. Though if he did, how sad.
“I am especially fond of my sister and my youngest brother. Harriet is married to the Viscount Dunstan and has two young daughters. James is a linguist; speaks five languages. I secured a position for him in the Foreign Office, translating documents. He enjoys it immensely.” Taviston paused but surprised her by continuing on. “Then there is Peyton. He plagues me more than I can say.”
If he was going to open a door into his private world she might as well peer in. “Oh, what does he do to annoy you?”
“He is completely worthless. He’s lazy and irresponsible, and he has absolutely no purpose in his life. He gambles; he drinks; he carouses. He categorically refuses to attend any respectable affairs. The worst of it is, he is forever trying to cajole me into joining him.” He ended this surely uncharacteristic rant with a hiss of disgust.
“Oh,” she said, unable to keep disappointment from coloring the one word. She hadn’t expected him to be so harsh in his judgment of his brother. Honestly, the duke might benefit from some time spent carousing. But surely Lord Peyton couldn’t be such a bad fellow. He must have some redeeming qualities.
He must have read her mind. “I suppose that is a rather severe assessment of Peyton, but he does try my patience. It’s as if he willfully seeks out any activity that will displease me.”