“I am sorry your brother distresses you so, but perhaps you could tell me something nice about him,” Victoria said, trying to lighten the mood. Though now that she thought about it, she would be hard put to come up with something positive to say about Louisa.
“Hmmm. That would be fair, I suppose.” He turned a half smile towards her. “Peyton is the merriest man I know. He is always in good humor and never without a smile on his face. I often think his indolence and unreliability belie a much stronger personality and greater intellect, but alas, he has never proven it to me.”
So, he actually did find some value in his brother. That was nice to know. For a minute she had pitied Lord Peyton Danforth. She could empathize, since she imagined the duke was just as critical of her. How many social gaffes had she committed in his presence so far?
“Why did you wear that gown this evening if you thought it so awful?” Apparently, he’d had enough of her intrusive questions.
Victoria watched her feet rhythmically hit the pavement. She would have loved to put the blame on Louisa's shoulders—where it belonged—but she had no wish to open the door to a host of embarrassing questions that might reveal just how much control her cousin had over her life. So, she replied vaguely, “One must wear something to these affairs.”
Looking up at her surroundings for the first time during their walk, she realized they were in Grosvenor Square. As a matter of fact, they were in front of Taviston House. Excellent. She had something else that needed to be said. Victoria stopped walking and faced the duke.
“Your Grace,” she said in a hesitant voice, “I wish to apologize for my cousin’s behavior this evening.”
Surely that wasn’t a snort she heard?
“I find it truly ridiculous when one person apologizes for another,” Taviston retorted.
She glared at his shadowed face, fighting to control her anger. She was trying to be polite and he could not even accept that graciously. “Well, I do hope you’ll convey my gratitude to your mother for her help this evening.”
“I will certainly do so if you wish, but you may also express your appreciation to her in person when you come to call.” The tem
porary aberration of his unbending just minutes ago had vanished. He was back to being an overbearing ass.
She tried to find her voice, “But that was just—surely she doesn’t—no, we were only pretending.” She hardened her gaze. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”
Taviston took a step closer to Victoria. She attempted to back up but bumped into the area railing and her hood fell back from her head. There was a gleam in his eye.
“I can assure you, Miss Forster, that my mother, the Duchess of Taviston, expects you to call later this week. It would be a fatal breach of etiquette for you, were you to ignore her request.”
As he finished this pronouncement his eyes strayed to the side of her face. She watched, entranced, as he reached out and lightly grasped a strand of her hair that had fallen from her topknot. She expected him to tuck it behind her ear. Instead, he smoothed the lock between his fingers.
“I—I see.” No, she felt. She felt him playing with her hair. She glanced to the side and noted how his long fingers caressed the glossy threads. Who knew or cared what they had been talking about? And since when had it become so warm out? The absurd thought of throwing off her cloak flashed through her mind. She knew it wouldn’t do any good, though; this heat was coming from within. His grey eyes and strong lips came closer as he bent his head toward her.
The front door of Taviston House suddenly clicked open. Arthur, whose lead had been loosely clasped in the duke’s hand, broke away, tearing up the steps and into the house. Both the duke and Victoria jerked themselves upright and stared at the door. Victoria found it hard to breathe. She hoped he would speak first. Thank goodness for small favors.
“Your blasted cat is a menace.”
Despite the severity of his words, his tone lacked any heat. He simply looked thoroughly exasperated. Most likely with both the cat and her.
“I am so, so sorry!” Victoria didn’t know what else to say. If he thought his brother a plague she must be a true blight on his life.
“I don’t suppose he would come if called?” This was said with skepticism. He glanced at the door, drawing her eye that way as well, and she saw Halston standing in the doorway. He must have heard their voices and assumed his employer had returned for the evening.
“Heavens, no. Arthur loves to hide, and your home is rather large. I really don’t see much hope in finding him.” Victoria shivered from the cold. So much for that heat she had imagined.
The duke now stood at least a foot away from her, arms across his chest. “His Majesty seems determined to occupy my house. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we give him what he wants? He can stay the night. When he is discovered tomorrow morning, a footman will bundle him up and return him to you.”
Victoria had the distinct impression the duke was once again trying to get rid of her. “I don’t wish to trouble you, but if you think that would be best... Thank you for your patience, Your Grace.” She gave him her best curtsy.
He reached for her hand and pulled her closer. Bending, he pressed his lips to her gloved hand, lingering much, much too long. That sizzling tingle returned, coursing between them. Though her fingers quaked, she didn’t try to escape his hold.
He released her hand abruptly. His eyes were a dark and stormy grey again. “Good night, Miss Forster. Do call or my mother will never forgive you.”
He tipped his hat to her and called to the footman. “Stay close to her, Timothy.” Then he disappeared into the house.
Victoria headed up the street with Timothy not two feet behind her. The walk home took only several minutes but it seemed to take much longer, for without Arthur or the duke she was bereft of company. She was surprised to feel lonely. She thought she had long become used to being by herself.
Chapter Nine