At least, she thought it was rage at first. However, the clearing was very well lit, and she might have detected a tiny little bit of amusement in his eyes. If she tried hard, she could imagine it was laughter that was making his voice shake.
So she said, “It was, wasn’t it?”
He stood with his arms crossed now and tried to look fierce. “I should be furious with you.”
She walked around the pool of glistening water, towards him, and said merrily, “You most certainly should be.”
At this point she could see that he was having trouble keeping his lips from turning up into a smile. He finally gave it up and succumbed to a hearty laugh. Victoria joined him. After a few minutes they were both laboring to drag in a breath but eventually their mirth trailed off into the cool night breeze.
“Victoria, that really was beyond all. How could you?”
“How could I not? Lord Northfield informed me of the gossip circulating. I had to do something. You were brilliant, by the by. I have never heard a more romantic proposal.”
Taviston sat down on the stone ledge of the fountain. “I appreciate your quick thinking. But may I ask when did you ever visit my garden?”
Victoria continued to walk, circling the fountain. The exercise kept the chilly night air at bay, but she also wanted to keep her distance from Taviston right now. The smoldering looks and electrical touches that had passed between them earlier in the night had a strong tendency to beguile her. Though she had enjoyed playing her charade inside, the entire scene had left her oddly unsettled.
She looked over at him. “I haven’t visited your garden. Why do you ask?”
“I only wondered how you knew it contains a gazebo.”
“It does? Excellent.” She snapped her fingers. “I made that up, hoping against hope you did have one. Truly, the gazebo was the only part of the whole story that might not have been true. It slipped out of my mouth before I even thought about whether it existed or not.”
Leaning back, he crossed his legs at the ankles then shook his head slowly. “You are a menace,” he said with a grin. “They are a gullible bunch, aren’t they? Ours, a love match?” He laughed again but this time the hearty sound grated on her.
“Why did you have to do something?” he asked, all seriousness now.
She stopped pacing. “I beg your pardon?”
“You said you had to do something about the gossip. Why?”
She began strolling again, mostly so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “You aren’t overly fond of scandal. This seemed like a way to make it disappear.”
Victoria stopped again, about ten feet in front of Taviston. “Something puzzles me. You have no trouble flouting some of Society’s conventions, such as walking to social affairs and wearing brightly colored waistcoats with your evening kit,” she nodded towards his outlandish orange waistcoat, “and yet you loathe scandal. I must say I find it disconcerting that it matters to you what Society thinks.”
Taviston shifted uncomfortably on the stone, but he didn’t hesitate in answering.
“Those first things you mentioned are trivial matters. I don’t let Society dictate to me on matters of personal preference.” He looked down at the ground. “I am concerned with upholding the distinguished name and reputation of my family, but I do not think that is anything out of the ordinary. In truth, Society’s opinion of me is inconsequential. If there is a scandal, however, it means I have—” He abruptly stopped speaking but didn’t look up from the trampled grass he stared at.
Victoria felt as if a garden rock had landed in her stomach. The duke’s thoughts were so clear to her she might as well have been reading his mind.
“It means you have made a mistake, doesn’t it? If you are involved in a scandal, then you have obviously erred.” She surprised herself by saying those words calmly. It was disheartening—no devastating—to learn she was just a huge mistake to him.
Taviston still refused to look up. He could probably see the tips of her slippers, but nothing else. “We all make mistakes,” he said defensively.
True enough, but it was obvious his mistakes, especially that night with her, ate at his soul. She stared at the top of his head, remembering how drawn he had looked on the day she demanded marriage. The urge to run again overwhelmed her but she kept her feet rooted to the grass. A swell of raw emotion built up inside her. Why did this revelation hurt so much? She had recognized his proper and upright behavior from the beginning.
She ignored the unknown feeling clogging her chest and addressed the black hair on the top of his head, “Yet you are also very concerned your brother might cause a scandal. How could his actions be a mistake on your part?”
Not a sound came from Taviston, but he stabbed his fingers through his hair and raised his head to look at her with apprehension in his eyes.
Then it came to her. Again. She pinned him with her eyes, hoping he couldn’t see the wreckage his words, and her enlightenment, had wrought.
“If Peyton caused a scandal then it would indicate you are not in control.” Victoria closed her eyes briefly. “Am I right?”
She didn’t trust herself to say anything more. She understood Charles Danforth, the Duke of Taviston perfectly now. He wished to control every aspect of his life. Would that include her, once they were married? She did not think she could submit to such a way of life, no matter how much she loved him.
She loved him.