“Oh,” was all Victoria could think to say. The long box looked suspiciously capable of holding a dress. If Taviston had sent over a dress for the wedding, she would box his ears!
Walking over to where both Jane and Molly eyed the boxes with much anticipation, she reluctantly opened the bigger one. As she pushed aside the tissue paper, her heart crept up toward her throat.
“Oh, my.” As she drew out a navy-blue riding habit made of the softest velvet, a white card fluttered to the carpet. Victoria ignored it for the moment; she knew who the giver was.
“How absolutely exquisite,” Jane exclaimed.
“And it looks to be a perfect fit, miss, if I do say so myself,” Molly added enthusiastically.
Victoria held the dress against her body and couldn’t stop stroking the fabric. It was beautiful. Carefully laying it over the back of the sofa, she turned to open the square box. Inside was a matching blue hat with not one, but two cream-colored feathers. She took a deep breath in order to suppress the tears springing up in her eyes. This was one of the myriad reasons why she loved him, despite some of his more inflexible traits.
Jane stooped and picked up the card that had fallen to the floor. “What does it say?” she said with her usual impatience as she held out the card.
Victoria took the card from her and read, “‘As we are to be married in three days’ time, I didn’t think this gift would be so ‘utterly improper’ now. Be prepared for some riding lessons next week. Taviston.’”
Jane smiled at her and Victoria couldn’t help but return the sentiment. Maybe, just possibly, in some small little crevice of her heart, she did hold out hope that her husband-to-be might someday come to care for her.
“Molly, if you would kindly take the riding habit up to my bedchamber, Lady Northfield and I have a wedding gown to see about.”
THREE FATEFUL DAYS later Victoria stood before her mirror and proudly admired her gown. Secretly hoping to impress Taviston, she had designed the dress herself, allowing only a few suggestions from Jane and the dressmaker.
She twirled around once more, admiring the way the sun made her dress sparkle like a chandelier. White glass beads had been embroidered all over the thin, light blue muslin. An inch-wide ribbon of white silk banded the high waist and the same color silk had been used to fashion a Vandyke collar around the neckline and to band the capped sleeves. At the hem, the muslin had been gathered up into a V at intervals and was sewn to the white silk underskirt beneath it. She had matching blue satin slippers on her feet and tiny blue flowers wound into her hair, which Molly had insisted on curling.
Victoria looked like a princess.
She did not, however, feel like one. This day could have been so much more. For years she had imagined nothing but marrying her own handsome prince, whom she would love more than any other, and he would return the emotion with equal fervor. Then the realities of life had taken over her dreams. With no father, no inheritance, and a reluctant and forgetful guardian, Victoria had revised her marriage wish to include a respectable and pleasant gentleman who would provide her with a family and a home. That she would now have, but at what cost?
It was fifteen minutes before nine now. She hadn’t seen Taviston since the Kennewicks’ rout, but she had received daily visits from the duchess regarding wedding details. A carriage was to arrive at precisely nine o’clock to convey Victoria to St. George’s in Hanover Square. The ceremony wasn’t to begin until ten o’clock. Considering the short distance to the church she should be there in plenty of time. How like Taviston to want her there early.
Walking over to the window, Victoria looked out to see if she could spy the carriage. Jane had given her a small measure of hope regarding Taviston’s future feelings. While he was upset with himself for making a mistake, he still treated her with kindness, respect and generosity. Unfortunately, those qualities clawed at her heart because she wanted so much more from him. She told herself repeatedly not to expect love or undying devotion, but then ignored herself. How could any reasonable person not wish to be loved by the man she had fallen in love with?
In disgust, she shook her head. Her emotions were as tangled up as the ribbons on a May pole on a gusty day. It was not exactly the carefree day Victoria had anticipated, but the sun was shining, and she did look pretty—if she could say so with a little vanity—so she vowed to make the best of it. As she had told Jane, Taviston was more than worthy of her love. Whether he wanted it or not, she would love him every day with all she had in her heart, even if it ended up destroying her peace of mind.
Noting the early arrival of the carriage out front, Victoria checked her reflection one last time. Nodding her head in self-approval she swept out the door.
Louisa’s piercing voice greeted her in the front hall. “Oh, dear cousin, you look absolutely lovely!” The smile on Louisa’s face was one of the most genuine Victoria had ever seen.
Victoria could only be gracious. “Thank you.”
“Your carriage awaits,” Louisa informed her with a gesture toward the door Morgan held open.
Right now, Victoria wanted only to get the ceremony over with, especially since Taviston wouldn’t be saying his vows with any amount of sincerity. Better to look forward to this evening, when she knew his desire would be true. So, she nodded at Louisa and swept out the door.
Walking out into the sunshine Victoria stepped carefully down the front steps, mindful of her hem. One of the Brownes’ footmen—not Timothy—held the carriage door o
pen for her. She gratefully took his hand and climbed up. At the same instant she sat down and the footman slammed the door, the carriage unexpectedly jolted forward. Victoria was thrown against the back cushion and with a start she realized the window curtains had been drawn, creating a gloomy interior.
Thus, it was her nose that first alerted her to the fact that nothing was as it should be.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Tell me again, sir, when you decided upon marriage to the lovely Miss Forster?”
Taviston ignored his own image in the mirror and instead focused a blazing look at his valet, who stood behind him.
“At the Northfields’ dinner party, Dunne, as you well know. Might I inquire as to how long you are going to gloat about this? I believe you have mentioned four times in the past week that I did indeed find my future wife that evening.”
Taviston turned to face the other man who, despite his teasing, never let a smile cross his lips. Dunne studiously examined his employer’s clothing before responding. He removed a few pieces of lint from the blue coat and then said, “I only intend to revel in the correctness of my prediction until the next time my guidance proves faultless.”