“The almonds haven’t killed him yet,” Lady Egham mumbled. Then she favored the dashing Linslade with her conversation once more.
Halston returned, and he and the remaining footmen served the main course of roasted duck and lobster patties. The conversations, and behavior, of the guests at the table deteriorated and descended into chaos thereafter.
The prince finally made an uncomplimentary remark about the policies of the Tories and Tressler verbally attacked him, vehemently, yet with the respect due him. Hughes and Fenville, the Whigs, joined the argument, defending their party and their princely champion. Prinny left them to hash it out themselves and returned to flattering Mrs. Tressler, never mind that she was a Tory wife.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Denton and Lady Southey, noses pointed to the ceiling, kept a steady stream of caustic criticism flowing from their pinched mouths. The dukes of Gordon and Bedford, father-in-law and son-in-law, spoke tediously of horses, completely ignoring Mrs. Hughes, who sat between them.
But the most horrifying scene at the table occurred right next to Victoria. Taviston’s wife, as well as the duchesses of Gordon and Bedford, watched with matching appalled expressions as Lady Egham and Lord Linslade seduced each other.
Victoria, unconsciously leaning the other way, appeared to try to physically distance herself from the couple’s egregious behavior while also attempting vainly to distract Lord Linslade with conversation. Taviston locked eyes with her and didn’t doubt she experienced the same headache he did.
He focused on his plate. He hadn’t eaten a bite of any of the food served him so far tonight. Not because he feared it would be terrible, but because a part of him dreaded what he planned to do in a minute or so.
He glanced down the length of the table again. A stranger might think they had invited ill-mannered ruffians off the streets instead of high-born lords and ladies of society. Misery marred Victoria’s face. Now was the time.
As he pushed his chair back from the table every nerve in his body screamed for him to remain seated. A month ago, he would have listened. But now, now the whisper of his heart spoke even more loudly.
He stood—and accidentally caught the eye of Halston at the opposite end of the room. An encouraging smile unexpectedly shone on his butler’s ordinarily solemn face.
Taviston used his fork to tap the side of his wine glass. It took a good thirty seconds but eventually all eyes were on him, Mrs. Denton and Lady Southey looking especially disapproving. He ignored them.
“I have something I would like to say”—he paused while he found Victoria’s surprised blue eyes— “to my wife.”
He spoke softly. “I knew what I wanted in a wife and you were not it.” Small gasps echoed around the table and Victoria’s jaw fell slack. He held her gaze, refusing to allow her to look away. “Fortunately, someone more intelligent than I knew you were the wife I
needed. You have completely turned my life upside down and honestly, I have never enjoyed myself more, simply because you are with me.”
Gordon, the gruff old duke, interrupted. “Enough of this nonsense, Taviston. We all know yours is a love match. Do not subject us to this oversentimental drivel.”
Before Taviston could respond, the Prince of Wales spoke up. “Keep quiet, Gordon. I enjoy nothing better than a good love story.” He folded his plump hands across his belly and waited patiently for Taviston to continue.
Clearing his throat, Taviston focused on Victoria once again and saw in her eyes hope mixed with hesitation. “You are the perfect wife for me. I thank God—and Arthur—for bringing us together.” Though he couldn’t hear it at his end of the table, he knew she let a giggle slip, and his lips lifted in a smile. His wife. His duchess.
“I love you, Victoria, and there is no one, absolutely no one, I would rather have for my duchess.” His voice rang solid and true through the dining room.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the sparkle in her eyes might have been unshed tears.
“Let’s have a toast,” the prince proposed as he raised his glass. Taviston followed the others and snared his wine goblet as well. “To his duchess,” Prinny said with a nod.
“To his duchess!” they all echoed.
Taviston sat back down and immediately everyone returned to their previous conversations. The meal continued and Victoria stared at her plate. She looked his way once, giving him a smile with trembling lips. He took that as a positive sign—he was still a fool in love—and silently raised his glass to her. She did the same and then returned her attention to the dessert she wasn’t eating.
Only another two hours or so before their guests left.
Chapter Thirty-Two
At just past one in the morning, Lord Egham, somewhat recovered, was bundled out to his carriage with his disgruntled wife, the last guests to leave. Halston closed the door with a solid finality. Victoria breathed a huge sigh of relief and heard Taviston, who stood behind her, do the same.
She hesitated a moment as she remembered his speech. She couldn’t believe what he had said. At the dinner table, no less. In front of people they barely knew.
With a smile she turned to comment on that fact and discovered Taviston disappearing down the back hallway. Her smile immediately fell away. Where was he going? They had so much to talk about.
Halston had disappeared as well. A shiver-inducing chill swept across her body. Had Taviston’s declaration of love been merely another attempt at hiding the true reason for their marriage from Society? Was he worried about the scandal coming to light after all? Suddenly deprived of all energy, Victoria moved into the dark morning room and collapsed onto a chair.
No, Taviston would never be so cruel. His sweet words had filled her half-empty soul with hope and she had spent the remainder of the evening in almost complete distraction. But now he was gone without so much as a “good night.”
The party had gone badly. Perhaps disastrously was more the word. Was he upset? Or just plain mortified?