Chapter Twenty
Victoria spied Louisa slithering around the outer edges of the crush. Her cousin had left the house earlier than she, in her own carriage. Louisa had not attempted to speak to her since she had arrived, for which Victoria was grateful. In mere days, her wretched relative would have no power over her whatsoever.
Wanting to avoid most of those present, who had been nothing but condescending and disdainful towards her, Victoria remained by Jane’s side. It was obvious society thought the Duke of Taviston was making a huge mistake, and they thought nothing of letting Victoria know it, in their most unsubtle of subtle ways.
But she and Taviston were doing quite well together, especially since he seemed not to notice that everyone thought she had duped him into marriage. As if she could ever have got away with such a thing. Outright blackmail had been so much easier.
Time to focus on things she could control. Her attire. “Jane, I must see about a dress tomorrow. Do you think you might be able to accompany me? Your advice would be most appreciated.”
Jane patted her arm. “I would love to! Since you have left most of the details to the duchess, this will be my only chance to insert my opinion into the affair.”
Victoria laughed but the frivolous expression on Jane’s face disappeared in an instant and was replaced with one of concern, just as Lord Northfield hurried up to them.
“Whatever is wrong, Edmund?” Jane asked, seeing the alarm on her husband’s face.
He glanced at Victoria, then back at his wife. In a low voice he said, “The inevitable has happened.” His eyes traveled back to Victoria, whose heart started to pound unmercifully hard. “Someone has started a rumor that Taviston is only marrying you because he compromised you. The gossip is flying around the room, from one set of lips to another.”
Jane’s only reply was a despondent, “Oh, dear.”
Victoria was more direct. “That’s hardly a rumor. Sadly, it is the truth.”
Exasperation spread over the marquess’s face. “Be that as it may, I am not sure Society needs to know the truth.” He turned and nodded his head toward Taviston, who was halfway across the room.
Victoria sucked in an audible breath. Taviston was conversing with an older woman she didn’t know. But it was the way he looked that set her heart to thumping even more wildly than it had before. His back was rigid and his skin was pale. His hands were clasped behind his back so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t break his own fingers. The gossip must have reached his ears and he clearly hated every syllable pouring out of that woman’s mouth.
Victoria squared her shoulders and headed across the room, Jane on her heels.
“What are you going to do?” Jane didn’t appear to have much confidence in her ability to do anything, but Victoria could think of one thing that might save the situation. She wasn’t above using deceit.
“YOU DISAPPOINT ME, Taviston.”
Taviston’s eyes burned with fury. When Victoria had refused to marry him, he had feared the story of their indiscretion would come out anyway. Now Lady Percival stood before him, letting him know the gossip circulating this very moment hinted that he had indeed compromised Victoria.
The viscountess smiled savagely and continued, “I always thought you had such iron control over your actions and emotions but someone
whispers otherwise.”
He smelled the lavender a mere second before the small hand slipped through his arm.
“His actions certainly, but never his emotions.”
Victoria gazed up at him adoringly (adoringly?) and slid so much closer to his side that her hip bumped his thigh. The intimate contact sent a rush of heat through his blood, but he forced himself to concentrate on Victoria’s words.
“I think my darling Taviston would agree that love is not an emotion many mortals have control over.” As she squeezed his arm, Victoria tilted her head back to bestow a look of utter devotion upon him.
Taviston blinked several times. He wasn’t sure he liked where she was headed with this. He had an idea of what she was trying to do, and he really didn’t think anyone, least of all cynical Lady Percival, would believe it.
“Won’t you introduce me to your acquaintance?” Victoria’s voice was sweet, but not overly so. He rather thought it was the same tone she used with Arthur.
“Lady Percival, my betrothed, Miss Forster.” He hoped his voice sounded normal enough. How many times was it now that Victoria had dragged him into some ridiculous situation? Perhaps once they were married, he should have her locked in a closet.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. Wouldn’t you agree that not many of us ever know when or how love will find us?” Victoria stroked his arm, nearly driving him to distraction once again.
The right side of Lady Percival’s mouth turned up into a half-smile. Raising her voice considerably, she asked, “Miss Forster, are you saying yours and Taviston’s is a love match?”
The absurdity of the whole idea was apparent to those around them, who were now listening avidly, but trying to appear not to.
Victoria raised her voice as well. “How could it not be, my lady? We have hardly been out of each other’s company these last three weeks.” A contemplative expression crossed her face and she sighed. “There was our first dance at the Northfields’ ball. And oh, dear me,” her right hand actually fluttered around her heart, “I do believe we spent nearly half the evening together at the Burtons’ ball. I did so have a lovely time, as well, having tea at Taviston House one afternoon. And my goodness” —here she looked enraptured— “I could never forget the jaunt we took in the park just a week ago.” His fearsome future bride returned her gaze to Lady Percival. “I shall not continue to bore you with all of our other encounters.”