She thought he might say more. Surely he would blast her for selling her sketches to a scandal rag, for bringing shame to him and the dukedom and the family name. She waited for him to say more, so she said nothing.
Instead, he simply exited through the connecting door into his own chamber. The latch caught softly and then she was alone.
Victoria went about her day in a stupor. Her annoyance with herself caused her to rip some linen and break a teacup. Did Taviston’s annoyance with her outweigh her own? It rightly should, but then she was irritated with herself twofold. Why had she succumbed to her uncontrollable urges? Had she no dignity? Certainly, she needed to provide Taviston with an heir, but did she have to enjoy her duty quite so much? Why did it require so little effort to convince her heart, at those intimate times, that he loved her? In the bold light of day, she knew there was no hope for it. Not after he’d discovered the sketches.
She successfully avoided Taviston for the entire day, greatly assisted by his absence from the house. Only two more days until the dinner party. Then surely he would not stop her from running off to Taviston Hall.
Chapter Thirty
“Your Grace.”
Victoria did not look up from the flowers she was arranging. “Yes, Halston?”
“His Grace requests that you accompany him on an appointment. The carriage waits.”
She stifled a huff of displeasure. She had so much to do for the party tonight. Didn’t Taviston understand that she didn’t have time to accompany him anywhere?
“Where is he, Halston?” She would make Taviston understand she couldn’t take the time. Today, even her husband the duke would have to wait. Her stomach had been flipping and flopping on a regular basis as she tried to keep her thoughts focused on the last-minute details of the party. Moreover, her mind kept straying to what would happen after the party. She intended to confront Taviston about their marriage, each of their expectations, and her deal with Ripley. Knowing that the situation could be unpleasant was keeping her mind muddled and her nerves taut.
“He is already in the carriage,” Halston informed her as he waited patiently.
She had no recourse but to nod and follow Halston, fetching her bonnet and spencer from the maid who waited in the front hall.
The footman handed her into the carriage, and she sat opposite Taviston, a clearly superior look on his face.
Victoria simmered. She had no time for his nonsense.
With a small smile he said, “I apologize for the distraction from your preparations.”
“What do you think you are doing?”
He cocked his head to the side. “I have some information concerning your kidnapping. We aren’t going far.”
She tamped down her anger—he had apologized, but she had to get through this dinner party first before dealing with Taviston on a personal level. She had to. Holding her head up regally, Victoria stared out the window at the passing buildings.
“How do you do that?”
She gave an inward sigh, turned to face him and looked down her nose. “Do what?”
He gaped at her in amazement. “You have acquired the most incredible ability to put me in my place with just a look or a tilt of your head.”
She bit her lip to keep an unwanted smile from forming. “Do not look so surprised. I learned it all from you.”
The carriage pulled to a stop and he dragged his eyes from her, but not before she saw the ghost of a smile. Taviston exited the carriage and turned to help her down. She placed her hand in his. His heat snaked all the way from her fingertips to her toes. She tried to pull her hand back, but he kept a firm grip and tucked her arm through his.
Victoria looked at their surroundings. “Oh, no, no, no. I do not want to visit Louisa. Absolutely not, Taviston!” Her cousin was the last person she needed to deal with right now. “I have no time for this.”
Despite her protests, he led her up the steps and pounded on the door of No. 6 Somerset Street. She tried to pull away, but he whipped his arm around her waist and held her tight.
Morgan threw open the door with flare. At the sight of them, he made to close it again. “Mr. and Mrs. Browne are not at home.”
Taviston used his forearm to force the door open and hustled her inside. “Inform your master and mistress of our presence. We will await them in the drawing room.” He spoke brusquely, commanding Morgan as if he were his own servant. “Oh, also, I have footmen stationed outside both the front and rear of the house and Bow Street is on their way. I suggest you stay put, Morgan.”
Once in the drawing room, Victoria rounded on her husband, questions stumbling over themselves to be asked. Taviston shook his head. “No questions. You will understand soon enough.”
The Brownes arrived quickly. Louisa ignored both of them, but Barrett Browne was a bit more effusive in his greetings.
“Taviston! How good to see you.” He gave Victoria the most cursory of glances. “Victoria.” It was a wonder he even remembered her name. “Have you come to enquire about my shipping venture?”