She shook her head. “I cannot figure out why not.”
“Oh, that’s easily explained.” When Victoria gave him an inquiring look, he looked a trifle perplexed but hurried on, “You’re the Duchess of Taviston.”
“I am aware, as that is the problem.”
Timothy stared at her for a long moment. “Well...as you’re the duchess now, anyone attempting to harm you would be up against the Duke of Taviston. Not many would dare attempt it, ma’am. You don’t provoke dukes, if you know what’s good for you.”
Oh. That’s why Ripley had narrowed his eyes in confusion. He hadn’t understood why she wasn’t standing upon her position as duchess to wield her power. Victoria hadn’t realized she had any. She was a duchess. Taviston might not love her, he might regret marrying her, but she was his duchess nonetheless.
What a discovery.
UPON RETURNING TO TAVISTON House, Victoria was swept into a long and, at least for her, trying meeting with Mrs. Dutton, the housekeeper. There was more to hosting a dinner party than she ever could have imagined. Without a doubt, Jane could have easily led her through the process, but Victoria refused to consult her friend. It was childish, but she wanted to prove to Taviston she could do this on her own, albeit with no small dish of help from the staff.
She climbed the stairs to the first floor. Mrs. Dutton and Halston were a godsend. The two of them possessed endless reservoirs of knowledge about entertaining. However, they insisted Victoria make all decisions regarding the party. But how was she to know if her exalted guests would prefer roast beef with chutney or roasted lamb with a mint sauce?
“Hello, my sweet.”
Blast, she had forgotten to concentrate on avoiding her husband. Her anger with him had diminished, though not an insignificant amount of bitterness still lingered.
He approached, his step light, his eyes bright. Who was this stranger? Unable to move her feet, she stupidly allowed him to trap her. He towered over her, hands clasped behind his green coat, boots polished to shine, buff pantaloons clinging tightly. Victoria tried to keep the longing out of her eyes. Despite his hurtful words, she still loved him. Wanted him. Loving him from afar was fairly easy, but this...
“What are you about, my dear?” Taviston asked cheerfully, as if they hadn’t had a disastrous argument two days before.
For a man who had made his low opinion of her known, she thought him quite free with the terms of endearment. She waved the heavy cards in her hand. “I am off to my sitting room to write out these invitations. Halston has informed me it is too late to have them printed up so I must do it by hand.”
“May I help?”
She tipped her head to the side. “Have you been drinking?”
Bewilderment replaced his smile. “I beg your pardon?”
“I thought only drunks and fools smiled so often.”
Taviston laughed. Even insulting him couldn’t destroy his happy mood.
“I must be a fool then,” he replied, with an even bigger smile. “So, may I help you with the invitations? Two can work faster than one and I have excellent penmanship.”
“I have seen your penmanship,” she reminded him.
“Ah, yes. I did send you a note or two. Speaking of which, we must go riding tomorrow. You should get some use out of your riding habit. Say nine o’clock?”
Victoria took a deep breath. “Fine.” She would get out of that appointment later. She eyed him seriously. “You will not alter my guest list or the timing of this party.”
She saw him hold back a grin. “I never intended to. I simply offered to help you write out the invitations.”
“Very well.” Victoria capitulated reluctantly, unsure exactly why she agreed.
“Why don’t we adjourn to my study? The desk is large enough for both of us and the fire is already blazing.”
Without a word Victoria turned and headed back down the hallway toward his study. Taviston caught up to her quickly.
“This is for you.” Whipping his hand around from behind his back, he presented her with a bouquet of yellow tulips.
“Th-thank you.” She was having a very difficult time withstanding this charming assault. It was so much easier to distance herself from him when he acted like a pompous ass. She eyed the velvety petals and stifled a sigh.
Once inside the study, Taviston arranged a chair for her in front of the desk and moved the blotter so they both might use it. He seated himself be
hind the desk and produced two pens and a pot of ink.