Victoria lay the tulips on a table near the door so she wouldn’t forget them. At the desk, she withdrew a scrap of paper. “I have written out the wording for the invitations.” She placed it within reading distance for both of them then eyed him sternly across the enormous desk.
Dipping his pen in the ink, he replied, “I promise to follow it faithfully.” He glanced at the sample and then began writing.
Victoria stared at him. “You write with your left hand.”
He raised his head, a smile in his eyes and on his lips. “I do.”
“I thought most tutors and governesses forbid such a thing.”
He gazed at her face unabashedly, holding her eyes captive. “My father would not allow either Peyton or myself to be corrected.”
“He sounds like a considerate and generous man. I’ve seen his portrait in the drawing room; you resemble him greatly.” Victoria gave up being annoyed with him. This cozy setting felt so right, so wonderful.
“He was that and more. I have tried to emulate him as much as possible.”
Taviston finally broke eye contact with her and resumed his writing. Victoria contemplated the top of his head. She rose from her seat as a thought occurred to her. Walking over to the fireplace mantel, she reached for the pair of leather gloves she had noticed there once before.
“Did these belong to him?”
He dropped his pen and strode over to stand by her. “They did.”
Reaching out, he took the gloves from her hand, stroking his fingers across hers. Victoria felt a now-familiar tingle shoot through her stomach.
“This was his favorite pair. He was forever gesturing with them or walking around with them tucked into his pocket. Many times he would lay them down and forget where he had put them. ‘Have you seen my gloves?’ was a common question from him. Peyton and I would often hide them just to amuse ourselves.” Taviston smiled devilishly. “I do believe he eventually caught on to us though, because he would end up looking in the most unusual places, such as potted plants or vases or tucked into bookshelves.”
Victoria smiled, but it faded as Taviston reached past her to replace the gloves on the mantel and blatantly trailed his fingers down her neck and her bare arm.
She greatly feared her heart showed on her sleeve. Oh, to have every moment of her marriage be as intimate and precious as this. His eyes overflowed with affection and the color grey had never seemed so warm.
Slowly desire took over in the grey pools. Victoria could have easily jumped in. However, in self-preservation, she looked away and then returned to the desk and began writing. Her physical attraction to Taviston overwhelmed her. Passion, however, was not the central issue in their marriage. Love and respect were, though she doubted he knew it.
Although... He was kind and generous. She couldn’t deny that. “Thank you for offering Timothy employment.”
He, too, had taken his seat again. He smiled softly. “It was nothing.”
It was something.
Oh, how she wished she could see into the future. This whole marriage situation left her on edge and the entertaining business threatened to push her right over. If only she could know how long her pain would last and how deeply it would cut. If only Taviston loved her as well. If only...
In utter silence they finished the invitations. Victoria gathered them up to take to Halston for delivery. Her unnaturally cheerful husband saw her to the door with a smile. Blast him.
She escaped to her room, knowing she needed to change for dinner and prepare to spend yet more time with her husband. After ringing the bell for the maid, she searched for Arthur, but he was nowhere to be found. When she rose from looking under the bed, it was to see Molly grinning at her from the dressing room door.
“Shall I curl your hair tonight, miss? Er, Your Grace?” Molly hastily dipped into a curtsy.
“Oh, Molly!” Victoria rushed over and took the girl’s hands in hers. “I’m so glad to see you. Are you also now employed by the duke?”
“I am! He sent Mr. Halston hisself to inquire for me and Timothy. I’m ever so happy to be here, especially as I’ve been promoted to lady’s maid. For a duchess. Can you believe it, miss? Oh bother, Your Grace.”
“I want no one else for my lady’s maid, that’s for certain. And please, do not worry about the ‘Your Grace’ business. It’s just me, Molly.”
Molly shook her head. “Oh no, ma’am. The duke hisself greeted me and Timothy and told us we must treat you as the duchess you are.”
He did, did he? Once again her stomach warmed at his newfound thoughtfulness. Could he possibly befuddle her more? Victoria shoved her blasted husband firmly out of her mind. “Yes, Molly, please curl my hair.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
With just four days to go until the dinner party, Victoria should have been more vigilant about her time.