Louisa stared at her insolently.
“Tell me!”
“Stop screaming like a fishmonger’s wife, Victoria,” Louisa admonished her with a smirk. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Victoria dropped her hand as if it were a snake and stepped away. The futility of her demand did not escape her. Louisa would not relinquish her final drop of power. But that didn’t mean Victoria would succumb to that power.
“Very well, cousin.” Victoria bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling, her anger suddenly twisting into hurt. “Rest assured this is the last time I will claim our family relationship. I wish you a dull life in Canada. You might consider acquiring a cat; it will spice up your life.” She summoned up a genuine smile. “Meanwhile, I must return to my life as Duchess of Taviston. I am throwing a dinner party this evening. The Prince of Wales is coming.”
She didn’t bother to register Louisa’s reaction, for it didn’t matter. Exiting the bedchamber, she found Taviston waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.
“I thought you might prefer to walk, so I dismissed the carriage.”
Victoria nodded gratefully. A nice head-clearing walk was just what she needed. Taviston matched her stride and they set off for Grosvenor Square in silence. Strange, that she should live there now. She never would have dreamed it. Her home was in Grosvenor Square. It felt more like home than Somerset Street ever had.
Louisa’s unexplained actions would continue to gnaw at her, but as she turned into the square her excitement grew. She had so much she wanted to speak with Taviston about and she would do it right now. After that splendid display on her behalf, she would tell him she loved him.
Halston flung open the door before they had even reached the first step.
“Your Grace, thank goodness you are returned. The roasted lamb is ruined, and the duck may not be far behind!”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Good evening, Your Grace. We do so appreciate the invitation.”
“It is my pleasure, Lady Egham. We are delighted to have you.” Victoria greeted her guest warmly enough, but for the twentieth time in the last hour she wished she had never decided to have this dinner party.
As the hour approached nine, the drawing room overflowed with their guests. The only one missing was the Prince of Wales.
She tried to concentrate on her conversation with Lady Egham and the Duchess of Gordon, but her eyes strayed again and again to her husband. Taviston stood across the room, speaking with the Duke of Bedford and the Marquis of Linslade.
She hadn’t been able to speak with him at all after the visit to Louisa’s. Halston’s proclamation of a disaster in the kitchen had been on the mark. The lamb had been burned beyond recognition. She and the cook, Mrs. Baxter, had been able to save the ducks though. While the two of them were contemplating how to replace the lamb, the scullery maid bumped into the baker, who had been decorating little individual iced cakes. The result had been another messy calamity, plus one maid in tears. And so the afternoon had continued. Before she knew it, Victoria had barely an hour and a half to get herself bathed and dressed before the guests began to arrive.
At the sound of a delicately cleared throat, Victoria turned guiltily back to the Duchess of Gordon.
“I wondered how you were finding married life.” The grey-haired lady’s tone remained civil enough, but her eyes hardened a wee bit. “My dear Georgiana,” she nodded at her daughter, the Duchess of Bedford, “couldn’t be happier with her dear husband and their little darlings.”
“How lovely for her. I can only hope to achieve such happiness myself.” Victoria smiled cheerfully. “And how many grandchildren do you have, ma’am?”
She kept the smile pinned to her face as the duchess extolled the appearances and abilities of her numerous grandchildre
n. With her guest once more occupied, Victoria stole another glance at Taviston. He looked very fine in his evening wear, with his black hair neatly combed. She sighed and returned her attention to the duchess. Their guests wouldn’t be gone for another four hours at least.
Her eyes flickered to the door briefly. Where was His Royal Highness? He had most definitely agreed to come, but if he didn’t arrive soon dinner would be dry and overdone.
Loud voices drew her interest to the far corner of the room. She looked on with alarm, as did everyone else, as the three members of parliament she had invited embarked upon a shouting match. Fear froze her muscles. It looked as if they might engage in fisticuffs.
Suddenly Taviston appeared beside her, slid his hand to her back and steered her over to the three gentlemen. Goodness, what did he expect her to do? They passed Mrs. Denton and Lady Southey, identical horrified expressions adorning their faces. Brilliant idea, Victoria, invite the eyes and ears of society to your first party.
Astonishingly, Messrs. Tressler, Hughes, and Fenville continued to bark at one another even when she and Taviston stopped before them.
Taviston cleared his throat. “Gentlemen.” No response. Without raising his voice, but intensifying his tone, he repeated himself. “Gentlemen.”
Three mouths snapped shut and three pairs of eyes swung their way.
Taviston smiled. “Gentlemen, we are delighted you could join us this evening. I’m sure you will agree that my wife” —he nodded fondly at Victoria— “deserves credit for her clever political tactics.”
With lips separated slightly, clearly the three men had no idea what Taviston spoke of, and neither did she.