“I would be most appreciative. Now, stop fussing over my wardrobe.” She laid a hand on his sleeve, her touch feather-light, though it was enough to thaw his fury at Louisa Browne.
He allowed a small smile to turn up his lips. “Don’t tarry over it, though, only five days remain until the wedding.” Only five days until the wedding night. That, at least, he could look forward to. Victoria Forster had shown him her passionate side in that gallery, and he was not immune to her. Hadn’t been for many weeks now, he must admit.
Taviston took the cream-colored shawl from her and draped it across her back. He allowed his hands to linger on her shoulders as he steered her toward the front door. As he opened it with one hand, the chilly air that washed over him should have frozen any lusty desire. It did not. He lowered his mouth to one of those tiny ears and felt her shiver.
“I hope you realize that this will not be a marriage in name only. I intend to finish, in exactly five nights, what we started last week.”
By the coy smile she threw over her shoulder he gathered she took his words as an exciting promise, exactly as he intended. Suddenly five days seemed an overly long time to wait for a wedding night.
They were soon enough settled inside, and the coach slowly rumbled down the street.
Taviston settled his gaze on her face, his eyes narrowing slightly as he asked, “Should I expect any inappropriate face-pulling at this event?”
Victoria replied gaily, “It wouldn’t be quite so amusing if you expected it, now would it?”
She would always surprise him. Taviston couldn’t decide if that would be good for him or terribly bad. The carriage suddenly pulled to a stop. He shifted the velvet curtain and peered out the window. With a mutter of disgust, he let the curtain fall back. “Now, we wait.”
Victoria tilted her head. “It is generally like this, you know.”
He sighed and leaned forward, forearms on thighs. “I know. That is why I usually walk.”
She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decode his very essence. Taviston shifted slightly, more wary that he would ever admit. At last, her gaze focused on his in the dim interior light. “Well then, let’s walk.”
Surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“’Tis a dry night. I have no qualms about walking.”
After a brief hesitation, he thumped his cane on the ceiling to alert the driver and then swiftly opened the door and hopped out, without saying a word.
As they walked past the line of carriages Victoria commented, “We will arrive at the party much sooner this way.” He mumbled his agreement and then she leaned against his arm, looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and murmured, “I cannot imagine how we would have passed the time alone in the carriage.”
He nearly gagged on his own tongue and found he couldn’t speak for the rest of their short walk. Once inside the Kennewicks’ residence and amidst the large gathering of society, he found himself able to breathe and think again. For an innocent, Victoria certainly knew how to tie a man up in knots. If she continued to entice him, he would be a mangled mess by their wedding day. But here, he could relax in the knowledge that his future wife had to behave herself in public.
Wife. It had come to this.
At this point there wasn’t much he could do. Except be extremely grateful that as yet, there was no gossip attached to their impending nuptials.
He and Victoria danced the first set together and then took a turn around the room, where they received congratulations punctuated by surprise, astonishment, shock, and even unmitigated horror. The ton, it seemed, had expected him to make a match of much more consequence. They had, most likely, presumed he wouldn’t settle for anything less than the daughter of an earl, and only then if the earldom was ancient and well-respected.
Taviston had to admit he had told his mother essentially the same thing, just...how long ago had it been? Just three weeks? It seemed like a lifetime. He was having a difficult time remembering exactly what his life had been like before the whirlwind that was Victoria Forster had entered it.
Nevertheless, he wasn’t such a nob that he held his betrothed in lower regard because she wasn’t the daughter of a peer. Or because she was an orphan. Or because she had such a small dowry. In truth, none of those things really mattered to him, and yet he was still uneasy about their impending nuptials.
“Taviston? Taviston! Your presence is requested in the present!” Northfield’s voice yanked him back to the overly decorated grand salon.
Victoria by his side, Taviston greeted Northfield and Jane. Jane looked exquisite in a blue gown, a beaming jewel that should have overshadowed Victoria in her dull dress. Instead, he had to admit her merry personality added a measure of beauty not many women could match.
“Congratulations!” Jane said with enthusiasm. At last, someone who wasn’t astounded by their wedding plans. If he looked closely, he could even see a certain amount of smug satisfaction in Jane’s eyes.
“I, too, am extremely happy for the both of you.” Northfield paused and then shrugged his shoulders. “I must amend that. I am happy for you, Taviston, but alas, Miss Forster, I am not quite sure you know precisely what you have taken on. I can only wish you luck.”
“Thank you, Northfield,” Taviston said dryly.
“I do hope, Lord Northfield, I may count on your support, if I should ever need it,” Victoria replied smartly.
Taviston’s histrionic friend took Victoria’s hand in his, squeezed it and said with all seriousness, “It is not a matter of if, but when. I shall do all in my power to be of assistance to you, my dear.”
Taviston didn’t roll his eyes, though he certainly wanted to, for it would only have encouraged Northfield all the more. Instead he declared, “I find I have lost my appetite for food and developed a need for a drink. Will you please excuse us, ladies?”