The next morning Victoria spent a couple of hours polishing the silver. With the threat of being locked in her room and banned from any further social engagements, she had followed her cousin’s orders. She honestly didn’t mind the work. There was some satisfaction in seeing the pieces gleam once again. She minded that Louisa so disrespected her, a member of the family.
Once finished, she worked on sketches from the Northfields’ ball. She had no idea what scenes Mr. Ripley might be interested in, so she simply drew whatever she remembered. Which wasn’t as much as usual because she’d been preoccupied. First with unsuccessfully avoiding the duke, and second with awkwardly dancing with him.
Arthur arrived around noon, borne in a gingham-lined basket by a footman splendidly garbed in livery of blue and gold. Unfortunately, the footman left so hastily Victoria didn’t have a chance to question him about Arthur’s stay. Though she demanded answers from the feline, he resolutely held his ground and refused to gossip about his time at Taviston House.
Louisa rose soon afterwards. Victoria decided to avoid her cousin and vacate the house. She snatched up some books and set off for Hookham’s circulating library. A maid should be accompanying her but Louisa would never allow her to “waste the household resources.” The only reason Timothy accompanied her on her nighttime walks was because he was off-duty and the kind young man insisted she shouldn’t go alone. However, propriety would not stop her from acquiring new books. Hopefully ones that would keep her attention off the Duke of Taviston. How could one person so occupy her mind?
Of course, as she made the three-quarters of a mile journey, she thought of nothing else but Taviston. A small part of her brain had been trying to convince her he had been about to kiss her last night. What utter nonsense. Of course he hadn’t been attempting to kiss her. She did know enough about his character to know he would never want to do such a thing. Although, what experience did she have with such matters? She had never been kissed in her life. Well, not by a grown man anyway. Two village boys, on separate occasions, had grabbed her by the arms and pecked her on the lips when she was a young girl. Both had received black eyes for their efforts.
Her midnight stroll with the duke had been lovely—and disturbing, at least to her emotions. They had talked like old friends. Or, she had. She had noticed his reticence about speaking of himself or his own life. Such a private man. Except for the startling laugh he had given to her evening gown jest, she hadn’t seen a smile or any merriment from him.
Her unruly mind returned to the moment when he had stroked her hair. Unless she came right out and asked him, she would never know if a kiss had been imminent. The Thames would have to freeze over before that would happen, so she banished the thought and concentrated on her other concern. He insisted she call on his mother. She didn’t even have calling cards. And the duchess had just been being.... Protective? The woman didn’t know Victoria from Eve. Kind? Perhaps. Victoria had only been in her presence for a minute or so, but she seemed like a benevolent lady. After these last few days she couldn’t afford to offend someone like the duchess so she would have to gather her courage and call upon that fine lady.
Decision made, she decided to enjoy the sunlit day and put the Duke of Taviston and his mother from her mind. Oh, what had her life become! All because of one overly curious cat.
Once arrived on Bond Street, she entered the circulating library. It was crowded as usual. London ladies loved to read their novels. She returned the three books she had brought with her and then maneuvered her way toward the back shelves. She quickly found the one book she had been hoping to find. Now she needed to browse and search for a few others. She discovered one that held promise and as she moved along the row, she perused it. Until she accidentally rammed the book into someone’s arm.
“Good afternoon, Miss Forster!” the Duke of Taviston said with more enthusiasm than she would have thought him capable.
Blast. “I apologize, Your Grace, for my clumsiness,” she whispered as she moved out of the way of another patron. The duke took her gently by the arm and led her a few feet away, to the back corner of the store.
“I do wish you would dispense with the formality.”
His eyes narrowed as if the words had been spoken by someone else. They certainly sounded foreign to her ears. If she knew nothing else, Victoria knew the Duke of Taviston was all about propriety and formality. Just what did he expect her to call him, in public no less? Were men always this difficult to understand?
She said, rather tentatively, “I beg your pardon. Would you prefer ‘Duke’ or ‘sir’?”
“Neither,” Taviston replied with a certain amount of impatience while looking her up and down.
She certainly wasn’t so intimate with the duke that she felt comfortable addressing him as Taviston. Though she would admit—to herself—she had probably seen more intimate parts of him than any other member of society who addressed him as Taviston. That unnecessary thought sent a flush of heat across her face. Victoria now had a few choice names for him running through her mind, but she was certain he wouldn’t react well to any of them, so she decided to forgo addressing him by name, title, or courtesy at all.
“I do hope Arthur behaved himself last night.”
A smile slowly lit his face. Victoria swallowed some air and tried to discreetly cough behind her hand. My goodness, but he was a handsome fellow when he smiled. Perhaps he refrained from smiling all too often so as to prevent all the ladies from swooning in his presence.
The smile stayed on his face as he said, “Oh, His Majesty did well actually. Arthur spent the better part of the night sleeping beside but not, thankfully, atop me and I am told he thoroughly enjoyed cook’s meal. However, my mother did report, with some alarm, that she had encountered a very large, grey rat with glowing eyes in her dressing room.” His own grey eyes positively gleamed with a devilish light.
Who was this merry man and what had he done with the staid duke? “The poor duchess,” was all she could think to say.
“Don’t trouble yourself about the duchess. She raised three sons, not to mention my sister Harriet who was given to bring every stray animal or child running about the estate.”
Victoria wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she focused on a more concerning issue. Like what, pray tell, was his jolly mood all about? He seemed a completely different person. Thoughts of madness drifted through her head again. What was he doing here?
“What are you doing here?”
she said out loud, rather rudely, and instantly regretted it. The smile quickly left his face. Well, bother.
“I had some errands to run in this part of town and my mother asked me to pick up a book for her,” he explained.
“Oh.” A perfectly reasonable explanation. What had she expected, that he had followed her again?
“What current novels are you reading?” he enquired as he reached for one of the books in her hand. She instantly tightened her grip on it. He was still able to pull it from her hand with little effort.
“The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume Two.” He scowled and grabbed the other book from her. “Travels in Italy by James Peter Mann. No novels? You surprise me, Miss Forster.”
“I have a fondness for learning,” she replied defensively. Especially given the fact she hadn’t been afforded an education at all. The family finances had been so strapped that a governess was out of the question. Victoria had taken it upon herself to read any book she could, thus educating herself.
She glanced up at him and saw admiration in his grey eyes. No, she didn’t like to think of them as grey. What was that word she had been searching for?