To Catch a Countess (21 page)

“If Alex did not consider his own reputation before, then why should I consider it now?” Victoria felt her anger rising to a dangerous level. “As a matter of fact, I find your company offensive. Get out of my house and do not return without an invitation.”

“My house,” Alexander corrected her.

“I thought this was our house,” Victoria said, stung by his sentiment.

“You are behaving badly,” Alexander said.

“And so are you,” Victoria returned, furious that he was speaking to her in that manner in front of the other two. “Your sister and the widow wouldn’t recognize morality if it jumped up and bit their arses.”

“This is outrageous,” Venetia complained. “She’s taking her anger over your daughter out on us.”

“Venetia and Diana are merely trying to help by getting you to think about the repercussions of gossip,” Alexander said. “Apologize.”

“I wouldn’t apologize to save my soul.” Muttering to herself about disloyalty, Victoria stormed out of the library.

Alexander watched her leave and knew he could have handled the situation differently. In his effort to show politeness, he had insulted his wife. Now she would make him pay for it. If he had known marriage was this difficult, he might have remained a bachelor.

“I can see that Victoria has upset you.” Venetia rose from the settee. “Really, Alex, you should have married an older, more experienced woman. Perhaps even someone who’d been married before.”

“With all due respect, my lord,” Diana Drummond said, “Lady Victoria’s lack of common sense is appalling.”

“The twit is stupid,” Venetia added.

“My wife is far from stupid,” Alexander said, a hard edge to his voice. “I cannot fault her for an opinion, only her lack of tact in giving voice to it. Tory has good reason to dislike you.”

“Come, Diana,” Venetia said. “Let’s leave Alex to deal with this.”

After they’d gone, Alexander sat down on the settee and stretched his long legs out. His wife was magnificent in her fury, but she had better direct that anger at someone else. Unlike her uncle, he would not tolerate her temper tantrums or rudeness to others.

Leaving the library to dress for the evening, Alexander walked through the connecting door into his wife’s chamber. Victoria sat on the chaise and stared into the darkened hearth.

Was she angry? Hurt? Or both?

Alexander knew that Victoria knew he was there. She refused to acknowledge his presence.

Crossing the bedchamber, Alexander stood beside the chaise and stared down at her. Several moments passed before he realized she would not look at him no matter how long he stood there. Her petulance irritated him.

“Will you be accompanying me to the opera?”

Victoria turned her head, her gaze frosty. “I do not wish to intrude in your opera box.”

“As you wish.”

*    *    *

After eating a lonely dinner, Alexander left the house and climbed into his carriage. He had planned to attend the opera, but the widow would most likely show up. He had no interest in encouraging her pursuit of him, especially since the gossip columnist from the
Times
would comment on his wife’s absence. Reading that in the newspaper would hardly help douse the flames of their argument.

“Drive to White’s,” Alexander called to his coachman, taking himself out of harm’s way.

A short time later, Alexander walked into White’s Gentleman’s Club. What he needed was a drink. Several, in fact. Spying his brothers-in-law sitting together at a table, he crossed the room and dropped into a chair at their table.

“Whisky,” Alexander growled when a waiter appeared beside him. He looked at Prince Rudolf. “I wish they served your vodka here.”

Prince Rudolf and Robert Campbell looked at each other. “I believe His Lordship has argued with his wife,” the prince said.

“It certainly appears that way,” the marquess agreed.

Alexander gulped his whisky and grimaced at his brothers-in-law. “My former mistress abandoned my daughter at my home today.”

“Which one?”

“Suzette.”

“Ah, the ballet dancer,” Robert said.

“Tory is upset?” Rudolf asked, struggling against a smile.

“My wife wants to keep the girl,” Alexander complained, eliciting their laughter.

“That makes three for three,” Robert said to the prince.

“What do you mean?” Alexander asked.

“The Douglas sisters never met a stray they didn’t want to keep,” Prince Rudolf said. “Take my advice and surrender to the inevitable. Make a place for your daughter in your home.”

“Society will frown upon this.”

“You are bedding down with Tory at night, not society,” Rudolf said.

“My six-year-old Daisy is mine by a former mistress,” Robert admitted. “Angelica abducted the girl from her negligent mother. Of course, I had to part with a small fortune in order to keep her, but the peace in my domestic life was worth every pound.”

“My adopted sons, Grant and Drake, are orphans that Samantha and I found on a road in Scotland,” Prince Rudolf said. “Go home to your wife, and do not argue again until she is pregnant.”

“There’s more to the situation than Darcy,” Alexander confessed. “In the midst of the afternoon’s turmoil, Venetia and Diana Drummond arrived and urged me to return the girl to her mother. Their meddling incited Victoria to rudeness. Her rudeness incited me to reprimand her, which, in turn, incited her to anger.”

“Apologize to Tory and tell her that your daughter stays,” Prince Rudolf advised him. “She will forgive you.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

Prince Rudolf grinned. “I have a spare bedchamber at my house.”

“I know Venetia is your sister,” Robert said, “but she may not have your best interests at heart. I do believe the widow is angling to make you her lover. Beware of those two plotting to destroy your marriage.”

“You are right about the widow,” Alexander said, rising from his chair, “but I cannot credit their plotting against Victoria and me.”

Thirty minutes later, Alexander returned to Grosvenor Square. He climbed the stairs to the third-floor and wondered if his wife’s anger had kept her in her own chamber that night. Sleeping alone was out of the question, and he intended to lay down the law about that. No matter what passed between them, he wanted his wife beside him at night.

Alexander walked into his chamber and stopped short. His wife was sleeping in his bed. Stripping down, Alexander slid into the bed and drew his wife into his arms. She wore nothing, too.

“How was the opera?” Victoria asked, her eyes opening when he touched her.

“I passed the evening with Robert and Rudolf at White’s,” Alexander answered, as her eyes closed in sleep. “Tory?”

“Yes?”

“I apologize for my behavior.” His lips hovered above hers. “Darcy can stay.”

He pressed a kiss on her lips. Sighing, she entwined her arms around his neck and returned his kiss. Their naked bodies melted together from breast to thigh.

“What made you change your mind?” she whispered.

“You were exhibiting the quality I most wanted in a wife,” he answered.

“What is that?”

“An abundance of maternal instinct to nurture my children.”

“Alex?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I need money to take Darcy shopping tomorrow.”

Alexander drew his head back to look at her beautiful face. “What about your allowance?”

“Gone.”

“Good God, Tory. Today is only the eighth day of July,” Alexander said. “How could you have squandered your allowance in eight days?”

“I spent it on your Christmas present,” she told him.

“Christmas present? It’s only July.”

“This present will take months to finish,” Victoria said.

“What is it?”

“A surprise.”

“I refuse to give you another shilling until the first day of August. You must learn to manage your money.”

“Very well, I’ll tell the shopkeepers to send you the bills,” Victoria said.

Alexander laughed. Just before his lips claimed hers, he whispered, “You are an incorrigible brat.”

“My aunt should have mentioned that before you married me.”

“She did.”

Chapter 10

“Please teach me the other two strategies,” Victoria begged the Philbin brothers.

“Lady Victoria you have not progressed enough with the first strategy,” Phineas Philbin told her.

“I may never progress to your satisfaction,” Victoria said, her frustration rising.

Two weeks had passed since she had last seen her tutors. Her new daughter, Darcy, had kept her busy, but Victoria had taken an hour each day to practice the first strategy, b is d as in did.

“I apologize for my waspishness,” Victoria said, fanning herself. “This heat has darkened my mood.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Phineas assured her.

“We understand your frustration,” Barnaby added.

“You are the hardest worker we’ve ever seen,” Phineas told her, “but we warned you the progress could be slow.”

“My head aches with defeat,” Victoria said. “If you teach me the other two strategies, I will practice two hours a day instead of one.”

The Philbin brothers looked at each other. Barnaby shrugged, and Phineas nodded.

“We will give you three more strategies,” Phineas said.

“You will need to master all the strategies before we can progress to others,” Barnaby warned her. “Your pleading will not change our minds.”

Victoria smiled, eager to learn. “I promise not to press you for others.”

“The first strategy was b is d as in did,” Phineas said. “The second strategy is the reverse, d is b as in baby boy.”

“D is b as in baby boy,” Victoria repeated.

Phineas handed her the parchment with the now-familiar sentence on it. “Read this, my lady.”

Victoria placed the parchment on the table near the window. She read haltingly, her finger pointing the way, each syllable becoming a separate word. “At nine in the morn-ing, the bark-ing dog saw in the dark bog.” Victoria smiled. “The sentence makes sense. I really did it.”

The Philbin brothers smiled at each other. “The sentence makes sense,” Phineas said, “but that is not precisely what is written.”

Victoria lost her smile.

“There are two more strategies,” Barnaby said. “When you see the word saw, read it as was.”

“Saw equals was and was equals saw?”

Barnaby nodded. “Six is nine and nine is six.”

“Forget about the numbers for now, my lady,” Phineas advised her. “Too much at once will only confuse you.”

“B is d as in did,” Victoria chirped. “D is b as in baby boy.”

Both Philbin brothers smiled and nodded.

Victoria looked at the parchment. Again, with her index finger pointing the way, she read aloud. “At six in the morn-ing, the bark-ing dog was in the dark bog.”

“Bravo!” The Philbin brothers clapped with approval.

“I read,” Victoria said, her voice filled with awe. Tears welled up in her eyes and brimmed over to roll down her cheeks. “I’m so happy.” She rose from her chair. “Do you think I’ll able to read a bedtime story to my husband’s daughter?”

“Not soon, my lady,” Phineas said.

“Someday,” Barnaby added.

“I will dwell on today’s victory and remain optimistic,” Victoria told them. “I’ll see you in a week or two.”

Victoria stepped outside into the bright sunlight and opened her parasol. The afternoon was unusually warm. As she walked down Oxford Street, Victoria regretted not taking the carriage, but she didn’t want anyone to know where she went on Thursdays. Her only consolation for walking in the heat was the mingling flower fragrances that permeated the air.

“Is my husband at home?” Victoria asked, entering the foyer almost an hour later.

“His Lordship had an appointment,” Bundles answered.

“Where is my daughter?”

“Mistress Darcy is in the garden with Mrs. Pinky.”

Victoria walked upstairs to her bedchamber to freshen up and change her gown. She took her magic wand off her dresser and crossed the chamber to the window.

Darcy and Pinky sat together on a bench shaded by a silver birch tree. Pinky looked hot and Darcy looked bored.

Victoria left her bedchamber and hurried downstairs. “Darcy,” she called, stepping into the garden.

The little girl smiled and waved. When she reached the bench, Victoria said, “Pinky, you appear wilted. The house is cooler than the garden. Go inside and rest.”

“Thank you, my lady,” the nanny said, and returned to the house.

“I’ve brought my magic wand.” Victoria held it up. “I will teach you how to use it.”

Darcy clapped her hands together. Victoria felt an insistent tugging on her heartstrings as she gazed into hazel eyes that resembled her husband’s. Lord, but she loved Alexander. Victoria didn’t think that any woman could love any man as much as she loved her husband. Too bad her husband didn’t love her.

“What’s wrong, Mama Tory?”

“Like you, everything is perfection. Do you want to learn to use the magic wand?”

The little girl nodded.

“Point the wand at what you wish, make a circle, and then point it again,” Victoria explained. “Point, circle, point. While you do that, you must think of your wish.”

“What if I want something that can’t be seen?” Darcy asked.

“Point the wand at the sky, make a circle, and then point at the sky again,” Victoria said, demonstrating. “Recite these magic words: ‘Fairies and pixies, come to me. Fairies and pixies, hear my plea. Send a—blank—straight to me. Fairies and pixies, thankee, thankee.’”

“Mama Tory, what’s a blank?”

Victoria burst out laughing and hugged the five-year-old. “Blank is the word I used to fill the space where you say your wish. Do you want to try?”

Darcy stood and accepted the wand as if it was the king’s scepter. Looking skyward, she pointed and circled and pointed. “Fairies and pixies, come to me. Fairies and pixies, hear my plea. Send a sister straight to me. Fairies and pixies, thankee, thankee.”

Victoria clapped in approval for a job well done.

Darcy passed her the wand. “How long will the fairies and pixies take to grant my wish?”

“A sister is a very big wish that might take some time.”