Suddenly Louisa burst through the door, also huffing and puffing. “What is in the package, Victoria?”
Arthur jumped down from the window and let out a long hiss at Louisa. Victoria used the distraction to surreptitiously close the book without looking at the note.
She gave Louisa an innocent look and said in her sweetest voice, “They are just books from Hookham’s, Louisa dear.” She held them up for her cousin to see, making sure to clutch the one with the note tightly.
Louisa repeated, “Books?”
“Yes, one is about the Roman Empire and the other is about traveling in Italy.”
Looking displeased and confused, her cousin shrugged inelegantly and exited the room, closing the door loudly.
Victoria returned to her favorite spot, the thin window seat overlooking Somerset Street. There was enough room for her and Arthur to curl up on the cushion. She settled herself, ignored her mutilated embroidery, and slipped the note out. Clouds capped the city, but a thin ray of sunlight had found a gap and now shone weakly on the heavy vellum note in her hands. Just looking at the bold and precise pen strokes gave her gooseflesh.
Miss Forster,
You left these with me yesterday. Rather abruptly, I might add. I borrowed them for you, under my own name. Please see they are returned within a fortnight. I do hope you enjoy your “studies”. Perhaps we can discuss the downfall of the Roman Empire when next we meet.
Yours,
Taviston
P.S. I trust you are feeling much more the thing this afternoon.
She smiled to herself. The note was exactly like the man—contradictory. But how on earth had he known she was “ill” the night before?
She read the note through twice more, warmth suffusing her veins. An image of the writer floated through her mind. With his black hair and smoky eyes, he perfectly portrayed the serious and brooding lord. But then he always seemed to do something just the opposite. Such as yesterday when he insisted she was too formal in her address. Or later when he made the quip about her clearing the shop. Or especially on the night when he had almost kissed her, but they had been interrupted and instead he had left that lingering kiss on her hand.
She sighed and folded up the note. What a silly daydreamer. Hadn’t she already convinced herself there was no imminent kiss? She tucked the note into the front of the book and then began reading about the demise of the Roman Empire.
After reading for an hour, she made an appearance at dinner with Mr. Browne and Louisa. For all the attention they paid her, she should have had a tray sent to her room. Louisa said not a word to her, but did throw her piercing, suspicious glares every other bite. Mr. Browne bid her good evening and asked if she had any suitors. She replied in the negative and he didn’t favor her with another question or comment the rest of the meal.
After dinner she headed upstairs to her room to begin getting ready for the evening’s ball at the home of Lord and Lady Burton. It had dawned on her that perhaps the duke had run into Louisa last night at the Langstons’ party and had asked after her, explaining how he had known she was “ill”. S
he hadn’t been thrilled about attending this evening’s entertainment, but she was suddenly buoyed by the idea of Taviston’s presence.
“Miss?”
“Yes, Molly?” Victoria answered as she entered her room.
“Might I curl your hair tonight, please?” Molly pleaded for all she was worth. Scullery maid though she was, Molly had a way with dressing hair and she loved to curl Victoria’s straight tresses.
Knowing it would give her more time to read about the Roman Empire, Victoria told Molly to start heating the curling tongs. Then she fetched her book from the sitting room.
TAVISTON GLANCED AROUND the Burtons’ ballroom with displeasure. This was the second ball he had attended this week. He passionately disliked balls. If one were unmarried, the sole purpose of the ball seemed to be to find a mate. If one were married, to find a lover. This wife-finding business was tiresome. Luckily, he had, once again, overhead someone remark about the presence of Lady Tessa Colvin. Diving into the crowd, he vowed this night he would make her acquaintance.
Thirty minutes later he made it to the other side of the ballroom without encountering Lady Tessa or anyone who could introduce him to the young beauty. It seemed all anyone could speak of were the new sketches in Hither and Yon. As if a scandal rag interested him, he who had no acquaintance with scandal and never intended to.
Taviston looked toward the terrace doors with the thought of escaping into the fresh air for a while. And there she was. Fingering the leaves of a potted plant and... Was she talking to it? No, how absurd. But her lips were moving. Before he knew it, his feet were moving as well and he stood before her.
“Miss Forster. Are you feeling better, then?”
She turned from the plant and settled her gaze on him. Her slow, innocently seductive smile brought his dulled nerves to life.
“Oh, good evening. Yes, I am quite well, thank you.” This time she didn’t address him formally, or at all really.
He stood like the fool he was, staring at her. Her ball gown again left much to be desired. It was white, entirely appropriate for a young, unmarried lady. However, the style was more in keeping with something an ancient widow would wear. The neckline actually came all the way up to her chin and ended in a ruffle. He had never seen such a thing on a ball gown. The sleeves were long and also ended in ruffles. The rest of the gown was unadorned, though she had tried to add a little color by tying a dark blue ribbon around the high waist.
He dragged his gaze back up to her face and hair. If he ignored the gown, she looked delightful this evening. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a mass of curls with a matching dark blue ribbon wound through it. Her blue eyes were sparkling and there was a hint of color in her cheeks. Had he really once described her as plain?