To Catch a Countess (29 page)

“I’ll escort you to the coach,” Prince Rudolf said, his expression grim.

“I would prefer to leave alone.” Victoria gestured for him to sit. With her head held high, she left the opera box and started down the corridor.

“Victoria.”

Halting at the sound of her husband’s voice, Victoria watched him advancing toward her. She didn’t feel strong enough at the moment to withstand his anger, but as pregnant as she was, bolting down the stairs was not an option.

“I’m sorry, Tory.” His apology surprised her.

Victoria arched a copper brow at him. “Are you?”

“I’ll escort you to your coach,” Alexander said, reaching for her hand.

“I can find my own way out.” Victoria snatched her hand back, noting the surprise on his face when she did. “You should return to your seat. Diana will be wondering the reason you deserted her.”

“You are carrying my child, Tory.” Alexander dropped his gaze to the mound of her belly and gestured toward the stairs. “I insist on escorting you to your coach.”

Victoria inclined her head. In silence, they descended the stairs to the lobby. Those members of the ton who milled about, cast curious gazes in their direction.

Outside the theater, Alexander called for his own coach to be brought around. “I received notice from King’s Bench,” he said while they waited. “They have scheduled an informal hearing for the first of April.”

“Yes, I know.” Victoria slanted a glance at him. “How are the girls?”

“The girls are well.” An expression of hesitation crossed his face and then he added, “They miss you, of course. In spite of our troubles, I want you to know that I am grateful for your bringing them into my home.”

Victoria swallowed the lump of emotion rising in her throat. She stared straight ahead and remained silent.

“I would like to speak—”

“Speak to me through my barrister,” Victoria said, echoing the words he’d spoken to her the previous autumn.

“What—?”

“As I walked through the lobby, Miriam Cunningham was loudly speculating about our son’s paternity,” Victoria told him. “I will never forgive you, and neither will our son.”

His coach halted in front of the theater. Alexander opened the door, helped her inside, and then called instructions to his driver.

“Victoria—”

Whatever he intended to say was lost as the coach moved into the road. Victoria suppressed the urge to look back and catch a final glimpse of the man she had loved.

*    *    *

Winter bowed to spring, March heralding its arrival.

Since that evening at the opera, Alexander had considered his wife’s words. Had he cast a shadow over his son’s paternity?

The gossip had spread faster than plague. He hadn’t told anyone what had happened, yet society had been whispering about the brewing scandal since before Christmas.

His wife’s family would have remained silent. That left his own household and family. Servants did gossip to servants who, in turn, gossiped to other servants. However, he believed that Venetia and Diana had dropped juicy tidbits into conversations at social events.

Victoria had acted the injured party at the opera. Could she be innocent of wrongdoing? Did she have a plausible explanation?

Alexander decided to speak with her. He would listen with an open mind. If her explanation seemed plausible, they would reconcile which would squelch the gossip and free his son from cruel whispers.

Two weeks after the incident at the opera, Alexander instructed his coachman to drive to Park Lane. Reaching Inverary House, he hurried up the steps and banged on the door.

Tinker opened the door. “Deliveries in the rear,” the majordomo said, and tried to shut the door.

Alexander’s booted foot prevented that and he pushed his way into the foyer. “Tell Lady Emerson I would speak with her.”

“The lady isn’t home at the moment,” Tinker informed him. “Would you care to leave your card?’

Alexander passed the majordomo his calling card and left the mansion. His wife’s absence irritated him. Having decided to listen, he wanted this conversation concluded so they could decide their future.

Alexander waited a week but received no word from Victoria. He decided to try again. The majordomo allowed him entrance this time.

“Tell Lady Emerson I need a word with her,” Alexander instructed the man.

“Lady Emerson isn’t home at the moment,” Tinker told him. “Would you care to leave your card?”

“Lady Emerson did not acknowledge my last card.”

“Whether the lady acknowledges you or not is no business of mine.”

Alexander cocked a brow. “I suspect that everyone’s business is your business.”

Tinker made no reply. “Would you care to leave your card, my lord?”

Alexander passed him his calling card. His irritation with his wife warmed into a slow simmer.

Another week passed. No word from Victoria. His irritation’s slow simmer heated into a rapid boil.

Again, Alexander went to Inverary House. He marched into the foyer as soon as the majordomo opened the door.

“I told you Lady Emerson is not home,” Tinker said without being asked.

“Where is she?” Alexander demanded.

“Lady Emerson suffered an unpleasant incident at the opera,” Tinker said. “She decided to rusticate at His Grace’s Newmarket estate.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I’m forbidden to divulge personal information.”

“Damn it, man. I’m her husband.”

“I’m so relieved you’ve recovered from your amnesia,” Tinker drawled. “Do you wish to leave a card?”

Alexander wanted to toss the card in the majordomo’s face. Instead, he smiled and passed the man another card. “I would appreciate your sending me word when my wife returns to London,” he said. “Tell her we need to speak before the court hearing.”

The majordomo’s lips twitched into the hint of a smile. “I shall certainly do that, my lord.”

*    *    *

Victoria arrived in London two weeks later. Walking around her uncle’s Newmarket estate had invigorated her. She felt better than she had in a long time, her only worry was the court hearing the following week.

Resting on the chaise in her bedchamber, Victoria heard a tap on the door. “Enter,” she called, and looked over her shoulder.

Tinker stepped into the room and closed the door. He took the three calling cards from his pocket and passed them to her. “Lord Emerson desperately wishes to speak with you, my lady.”

“Desperately?”

The majordomo nodded. “I wasn’t sure you wanted Her Grace to know, so I held the cards until your return.”

“Thank you, Tinker.” Her smile could have lit the whole mansion. “I’ll take care of this.”

Her marriage had been damaged beyond repair, but she wanted her husband to know that she had never been unfaithful. If he believed her, Alexander would allow her custody of their child. She would retire to her uncle’s country estate, and Alexander could enjoy generous visitation rights.

Getting into the Grosvenor Square mansion without Venetia’s and Diana’s presence was difficult. She needed to pick her time carefully. When Alexander was dressing for the opera seemed best because Venetia and Diana would be home dressing for the opera, too.

The Thursday before the hearing dawned bone-chillingly wet. Wearing her black woolen cloak, Victoria pulled its hood up and slipped out of the house.

With her more-than-eight-months-pregnant belly leading the way, Victoria felt like a ship sailing down the street. Thankfully, the inclement weather kept people indoors.

With the three calling cards in hand, Victoria knew that her husband would finally give her the opportunity to explain what had happened all those long months ago. She climbed the front stairs of the Grosvenor Square mansion. The front door opened before she could knock.

“Welcome home, my lady,” Bundles greeted her, wearing a broad smile. “His Lordship is dressing for the opera.”

“Thank you, Bundles.” After removing her wet cloak and passing it to him, Victoria waddled across the foyer and climbed the stairs to the third-floor bedchamber. She hadn’t been inside the house since the previous November. If she had only known how futile those reading lessons would be, she could have saved herself a great deal of heartache.

Victoria hesitated outside her husband’s bedchamber door. Her old friend insecurity stepped from the shadows of her mind, making her heartbeat quicken.

Without knocking, Victoria opened the door and stepped inside. Alexander stood with his back to her and was tying his cravat. Her heart ached at the familiar sight of him dressing for the opera.

Victoria was about to make her presence known when the connecting door to her old bedchamber opened. The widow walked into the room.

“Alex, darling, are we attending the Websters’ ball after the opera?”

Victoria stood frozen in shock. Her husband was divorcing her for alleged adultery but had his whore ensconced in the bedchamber reserved for his countess.

Turning toward the widow, Alexander saw Victoria standing there. His gaze dropped to her enormously distended belly.

“How could you do this?” Without waiting for a reply, Victoria left the bedchamber and hurried, as best as her bulk would allow, down the stairs to the foyer. She heard her husband calling her name but didn’t pause in her flight.

“Give these to the earl for my replacement.” Victoria dropped her betrothal and wedding rings into the majordomo’s hand. Without breaking stride, she flew out the front door and hurried in the direction of Park Lane.

A moment later, Alexander bounded down the stairs to find his majordomo holding a cloak and staring at the open front door. “Where is my wife?”

“She left, my lord.”

“Without her cloak?”

“Without her cloak and without a coach.”

“Do you mean my pregnant wife walked here in the rain?” Alexander asked, looking in surprise at the older man.

“Apparently.”

“Has she gone?” Diana Drummond walked down the stairs to the foyer. “You need not divorce her if she catches a chill.”

Alexander snapped his gaze to the widow. If she hadn’t detained him, he would have caught his wife before she escaped out the door. Going after his wife would be futile. She would never believe him innocent, nor would she forgive him.

“Lady Victoria asked me to give you these for her replacement.” Bundles passed him the rings.

Alexander stared at the wedding and betrothal rings. Unspeakable loss surged through him.

“Shame on you,” Bundles said. “Find yourself another majordomo—I quit.”

Chapter 14

“Are you certain you want to go through with this?” Duke Magnus asked, his dark gaze on her.

“I will not admit guilt for something I didn’t do.” Victoria met his gaze across the coach. “If Alexander wants Diana Drummond, he’ll need to find another way.”

“Good for you,” Robert said, sitting beside his father.

“Be strong, Tory,” Prince Rudolf said, beside her.

The first day of April had come quickly. For five months, the moments had seemed like hours and the hours like days. And then, suddenly, Victoria had awakened on the morning of the hearing.

“Percy Howell will meet us at court,” Duke Magnus told them.

A few minutes later, the ducal coach halted in front of the Old Bailey Sessions House. A noisy crowd loitered outside the building.

“Who are those people?” Victoria asked, her panic level rising at the thought of making her way through the crush.

“Though the hearing is informal,” Duke Magnus answered, “the rabble wants to see a countess accused of adultery.”

“The sins of the wealthy sell newspapers,” Robert said.

“We will protect you,” Rudolf promised, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

The driver appeared and opened the coach door. Duke Magnus climbed down first and then Robert. Rudolf alighted next and turned to assist Victoria.

“That’s her,” someone in the crowd called.

“Douglas slut,” shouted another.

Victoria shrank back in fright. Rudolf put his arm around her and drew her forward.

“Whore!”

Victoria cried out as a stone hit her cheek. Robert yanked the hood of her cloak up to shield her face from view. Rudolf and he huddled around her protectively as Duke Magnus cleared a path through the angry throng. Victoria shook visibly by the time they reached the safety of the courthouse. Without taking his supporting arm away from her, Rudolf examined her cheek.

“We will need to wipe the blood,” Rudolf said, “but you will live.”

“Let’s get her inside the courtroom first,” Percy Howell said. “Being pregnant and stoned by an angry mob could win her instant sympathy.”

Entering the courtroom, Rudolf and Robert ushered her to the tables at the front. Victoria saw Alexander and his barrister, Charles Burrows, on the opposite side of the aisle. Sitting in the gallery behind her husband’s table were Venetia, Diana, and Harry.

Victoria ignored them and lowered her bulk into a chair. Rudolf dipped his handkerchief in a glass of water and wiped the blood off her cheek, making her wince. He folded it and placed it on her face again.

“Hold it there to reduce the bruising.”

Victoria kept her gaze downcast while she held the cloth against her cheek. She didn’t want to see her husband, knowing that today was the first step toward dissolution of their marriage. Victoria harbored no illusions about the outcome of the hearing. If her husband wanted to be rid of her, the judges would find in his favor.

“If this is informal,” Duke Magnus was asking his barrister, “why are there so many spectators?”

“Informal does not mean private, Your Grace,” Percy Howell answered. “Dozens of the curious, as well as reporters looking for the big story, fill the gallery,”

Victoria cringed inwardly at the thought of revealing her stupidity to the crowded courtroom. She had no choice, though. She was either stupid or an adulteress.

“What happened?” The voice belonged to her husband.

“The crowd outside stoned her for being an adulteress,” Rudolf answered.

“Tory, I am sorry,” Alexander apologized.

Victoria refused to look at him. Without speaking, she turned her body away.