Taviston snorted. “Ah, but young Lord Wareham is the heir to a marquessate.”
“I didn’t know. But I hardly see the relevance. Any marriage of mine is no concern of yours, sir.”
Why couldn’t he have kept his observations to himself? Any polite, well-bred man would have, and he certainly prided himself on being just that. And drat him for looking so good tonight. It befuddled her that she could find a man so annoying and yet want to kiss him until they were both breathless.
They stopped outside a door on one of the upper floors of the house. This must be the nursery. She tried to steel herself against the physical yearning she still felt for him. Her hands wanted nothing more than to smooth the frown lines from his forehead and jaw. Her brain wanted those same hands to smack the arrogance from his face. And her lips, well, they were once again thinking about exploring every inch of skin on the man.
Clearing his throat, he admitted, “You are correct. It is none of my business.” After a pause, he continued, “However, I find something odd in your attempting to find a husband in such a calculating way. I would have taken you for a woman who would only marry for love.”
His words caught Victoria off guard, and him too, judging by the shocked expression on his face.
Lady Smitherton suddenly appeared beside them. “Here I am. Shall we go in and see those dear children?”
Victoria smiled at her friend and Taviston opened the door for the two of them. A nursery maid greeted them with a curtsy. She indicated two standing cradles, near the crackling fire in the fireplace, but not so close as to overwhelm the occupants with heat.
Lady Smitherton was already cooing over the first cradle, so Victoria crossed over to the second and peeked in. Nestled under a blanket was an adorable infant of about three months.
“Oh, she has her father’s red hair!”
“You may hold her if you like, miss,” the nursery maid offered quietly.
Taviston now stood beside her and he steadied the cradle while Victoria reached in to pick up Lady Alexandra Russell. She snuggled the baby in the crook of her arm and couldn’t resist stroking the fine red locks.
“She is a beauty,” Taviston said in a low voice. He was standing behind her, gazing down at the baby.
The sleepy baby yawned and Victoria felt her heart leap. If she could find a suitable husband, she could soon have a child of her own to love.
She turned to Taviston. “Would you like to hold her?”
“Certainly.”
His answer startled her. If asked, she probably would have guessed the duke kept his distance from children.
As she placed the tiny bundle in his arms, her hand brushed his. Heat shot down her arm and spread throughout her body. Her eyes flew up to his face. His gaze turned stormy once more, but he quickly lowered his eyes to the infant in his arms.
Lady Smitherton approached them, cradling the other baby. “I find myself tired after the climb up here. Would you mind taking young Dominic here, Miss Forster, so I might rest in the rocking chair over there?”
“Of course, Lady Smitherton,” Victoria replied, taking the baby.
Taviston walked over to the window. Victoria joined him. He nodded at the babe on her shoulder. “Have you been formally introduced?”
She smiled at him. “Why, no.”
“Miss Victoria Forster, this is Dominic Charles Henry Spencer, Viscount Oakham, but much more importantly, my godson.” She had never seen Taviston look prouder, but she could imagine he would be when his own child was born. A little black-haired angel with lovely, smoky grey eyes.
Victoria turned her attention to the window, where the rain Mr. Stanwick had predicted assaulted the glass.
The subject was long past, so she wasn’t sure why she brought it up again, but she felt the need to defend her heart. “Under different circumstances, you would probably be right. I would only marry for love. But my situation warrants an escape, sooner rather than later, so I am willing to toss love aside and settle for respect.” She let out a caustic chuckle. “I am not altogether certain I like what that says about my character, but there you have it.”
“I understand,” he said quietly.
She looked over the head of baby Dominic and caught a look of sympathy in Taviston’s eyes. Sympathy and the underlying passion always lurking in the grey depths. No, she most likely only imagined the passion. Wished it to be there, a reflection of what surely filled her eyes. Blasted handsome man.
Looking back at the window this time she saw their reflection. Taviston didn’t appear to realize she could see him plainly, but the way he looked at her made her breath catch in her throat. It wasn’t only imagined passion. There was a smile hovering around his lips and it almost looked as if he cared. About her. Another illusion.
“We should let these sleeping babes lie in their own beds and make our way back downstairs,” he said.
He always chose the oddest moments to be practical. Victoria gave a quiet sigh and returned the blond-haired infant to his cradle. Taviston did the same with Alexandra. They gave each other twin smiles when they had accomplished the feat without waking the little ones.