The Wedding Runaway (7 page)

Once alone in his townhouse
,
Victor spent many afternoons alone in his bedroom
,
staring at the walls
,
wondering what he could have done differently to save his wife. Only knowing he could not inflict his grief on his friends and family had brought Victor out of his stupor.

Bloody hell
,
he needed his company to jerk him out of his black mood
,
even if Leonard
'
s presence was likely to sit foul with him.

As he made his way into the drawing room
,
he heard the knocker on the front door. He stood in front of the fireplace as his guests were announced.

Sophie was first into the room. Amelia followed sedately
,
and Keene stood with his hands clasped behind his back until the doorway was clear. He nodded to Victor
'
s butler as he entered the room.

"
You know
,
you look rather good in all black
,"
said Sophie as she skipped across the room
,
then leaned her cheek against his in greeting.

Victor swallowed. Please not let her say anything untoward.

"
Might I speak to you tête-à-tête?
"
she whispered in his ear
,
while still close. She tugged on his arm.

Oh, hell
,
this day was going from bad to worse. Victor looked at Keene. Sophie cast a speculative glance in his direction. Then Amelia glided up to him and pressed her cool cheek against his.

He gestured toward the sofa.
"
Won
'
t you both have a seat? My American friend shall arrive soon.
"

Amelia looked at him with just the faintest crease of puzzlement in her smooth brow. He took her elbow and guided her to a chair.

"
Oh
,
Victor has taken on a protégé,
"
Sophie told Amelia
.
"We are to meet him this evening.
"
She flounced into a chair, her skirts whooshing around her.
"
I am ever so curious.
"

"
Really
,
shall we be uneven?
"
said Amelia with her normal reserve. She sank gracefully onto the sofa
,
sitting on the edge with her legs turned sideways. Always
,
a perfect lady in company.

That she had a deep streak of passion she hid from the world had fascinated him for the longest time
,
but now he watched her with the interest of an entomologist for an insect specimen pinned to a board.

Keene watched Victor watching her.

"
It
'
s just an informal dinner
,"
said Sophie.
"
Victor is in mourning
,
he cannot entertain.
"

Never mind that he actually was entertaining
,
and that he had the audacity to not have an even number of people at the table.

"
Whatever made you take an interest in this gentleman?
"
asked Amelia.

"
His skill with the dice
,"
Victor answered.

Sophie stood and crossed to the window.
"
Will your friend travel in a hack? I hope he is to arrive soon. I confess I could fair eat a horse.
"

"
I sent my carriage for him.
"

"
Is that it?
"
She pulled back the curtain and pressed her nose against the glass.

Sophie beckoned in Victor
'
s direction. At least Sophie was direct. If she were about to offer to
console
him
,
then she would be blunt about it.

He rather liked Sophie. And he didn
'
t want to hurt her feelings. He tried to rehearse a gentle refusal in his mind
,
but the words sounded more like a missish marriage refusal. He crossed to the window and looked down at an empty street.

"
There
'
s no carr—
"

"
Shhhh
,"
hissed Sophie. She wrapped her arm in his
,
cast one quick glance over her shoulder.
"
I want to ask you a tiny favor.
"

"
Sophie
,"
he protested. He tried to disengage his arm from hers.

His carriage turned the corner and rumbled up the street. Relief flooded through him
.
"
There he is. His name is Leonard Hall.
"

"
What part of America is he from?
"
asked Amelia politely
,
as if she had decided to be interested in this young man
,
since Victor was. Although there was a hint of question in her tone
,
as if she wasn
'
t quite sure Victor had all his faculties in place.

"
Boston
,"
answered Victor
,
now caught in watching his valet descend from the carriage and then turn back as if he would hand down the other occupant. How very odd.
"
He tells me his family is in shipping.
"

Then Leonard bounced unassisted down the steps
,
wearing his boots again. Irritation and relief surged through Victor.

Sophie nudged him. But Keene chose that moment to walk over to the window and look down on the blond-haired youth. Whatever Sophie intended to say to him would be postponed.

~*~

Lydia looked up at the imposing façade of the Grosvenor Square town home. In America most of the houses were constructed with wood or brick
,
but in London a lot of the houses had a stone exterior
,
or at the very least plaster covering brick, as if naked houses were too bourgeois. The façade of Victor
'
s house fairly glowed with gray-veined white marble. An air of permanence and prestige hung about the square. A reminder that England was centuries old
,
settled and matured
,
with a patina of grace covering all.

There was a certain appeal to the eternalness
,
although Lydia liked America
'
s ideals better. Here one had to be born to privilege and to govern; in America any man could advance to the highest position in the land
,
merely by the sweat of his brow.

Any
man
, that is. A woman
'
s options in both countries were limited to marriage or what little she could earn in a drudgery or illicit work.

Lydia sighed as she was led through the impressive house to the drawing room. Tired of pretending to be a man
,
yet unwilling to return home
,
she felt trapped. She would have to be insufferably rude to Victor. She could think of no other way to repulse him.

She should just return to Boston and marry Mr. Sullivan. Yet
,
that was just as bad. She could travel on to France or Italy
,
but she was hindered by not knowing even a smattering of the language.

Her education had centered around learning to play the spinet and the fine art of painting with water colors. Oh she had been taught enough arithmetic to manage a household
,
but algebra had been deemed to be beyond her female brain. No
,
instead she had been taught to sew.

The butler opened the drawing room door
,
and he announced
,
"
Mr. Leonard Hall.
"

Good gracious
,
these aristocracy folks could be so formal
,
thought Lydia as she stepped into the room and realized there were other people in the room. Oh!

As he introduced her to his other guests
,
Victor
'
s guiding hand at her shoulder shot tingles through her.

How could she be rude in front of these other people? As she made a leg to the two women introduced to her
,
dismay tied her tongue. She had a whole string of insulting comments on English values
,
but she hadn
'
t been raised to be rude to a host in front of guests. As much as she needed away from Victor
'
s patronage
,
she didn
'
t want all of London thinking Americans were boorish louts.

Perhaps she could get Victor alone later. No
,
wait
,
she didn
'
t want be alone with him. Then the butler announced dinner and she trailed after the others to the dining room like a barely tolerated child.

She concentrated on eating and almost keeled over in embarrassment when at one point Victor gently told her to carve the dish of partridges placed beside her.

Normally
,
her table manners were impeccable. As the sole female in her house, it had fallen to her to be in charge of such matters around the dinner table
,
but she had forgotten that in her role as a male she had different responsibilities.

That should have been enough reminder
,
but when everyone stood and she started to trail out behind Sophie and Amelia
,
Victor had been more impatient.

"
Sit
,
cub. Do the gentlemen in America not linger over their port after the ladies withdraw?
"

She shook her head, mortified at her gaff. A footman placed three glasses on the table
,
poured a dark red liquid into them
,
and left the bottle on the table.

"
Now
,
that is just us...men
,
Lenny. Perhaps it is time you told me why you have run away from home.
"

Lydia didn
'
t know which distressed her more
,
that long pause before he called them all men
,
or that he had guessed she had run away.

Two pairs of dark eyes bored into her. But Victor
'
s bothered her more. They made her want to squirm.
"
I
'
m sure I don
'
t know what you are talking about.
"

She grabbed for her glass of wine and sloshed it on her sleeve. She stared at the growing stain on her arm
,
and steeled herself to be insulting.

"
Come now
,
Lenny. You do not expect me to believe that. You are here without friends
,
family or even a tutor. Now why have you run away from Boston?
"

Victor folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. His dark clothes and the dim beeswax candlelight flickering over his face made him appear sinister. She was at his mercy.

Then again as she stared at the sensual angles of his lips
,
being at his mercy might not be so bad.

Victor wanted to shake the boy seated at his table. Between the wide-eyed innocence and the reluctance to spill the beans
,
Leonard exasperated Victor.

"
I
'
m sure I don
'
t know what you mean
,
sir
,"
said Leonard. He fiddled with his glass of port on the dining room table.
"
I didn
'
t run away from home.
"

Keene pushed back from the table.
"
Such delicacy in your questions
,
Victor. Perhaps Mr. Hall would be more comfortable answering without my presence. I shall rejoin the ladies and make sure my wife has not found her way onto a rooftop.
"
He bowed, then left the room.

Victor leaned forward
,
hoping to intimidate Leonard
,
and instead caught the sweet smell of soap. The urge to lean closer and inhale Lenny
'
s scent forced Victor to rear back.
"
I do not believe you.
"

Leonard stared down at his wine-soaked cuff. Which was much better than his blue-eyed stare of a minute earlier.
"
Very well
,
then. I
'
d rather not say.
"

"
Would you like Millars to take care of your shirt? I could loan you one of mine while the stain is rinsed.
"

Leonard pulled his hands off the table and down into his lap.
"
I
'
m sure that
'
s not necessary. I
'
m just clumsy.
"

The boy struck Victor as anything but graceless. In fact
,
Victor
'
s eye was drawn to the smooth way Lenny moved. Bloody hell
,
he was not having these thoughts. He was not thinking of pressing the boy up to his bedroom so he could watch him remove his shirt.
"
Yes
,
I am sure you are so cow-handed you shall ruin my linen too.
"

Victor knocked back his port then stared at his empty glass. Well
,
if he were to join the cult of Hyacinthus
,
the drinking would probably speed the process. Never in all his life had he experienced an urge like this toward any other male.

Or it may be that only a pretty boy
,
like Hyacinthus who drew the God Apollo
'
s affection
,
was likely to stir anything unnatural in Victor
'
s blood.

He could not stay alone with Lenny. Yet
,
abandoning him to fate of possible beatings bothered Victor. Clearly
,
he was too young to be alone.