Gayle Buck (17 page)

“The devil you say!” exclaimed Evelyn, dumbfounded. He peered intently at the drawing, then straightened to grin at Victoria. “Well, cousin, no one can accuse you of adding a dull element to our lives.”

“That is surely an understatement, Evelyn,” said Lord Damion dryly. He caught Victoria’s glance and bowed to her. She flushed slightly.

“But where is Charles’s daughter now, Lady Victoria?” asked Lady Hortense.

“I left Jessica in the care of her nurse, Miss Rebecca Webster, at her brother’s home in Leicestershire,” said Victoria. She saw a look of astonishment cross Lady Hortense’s face. “Are you perhaps acquainted with the bishop, my lady?”

“But of course I am. I have known Horace Webster half a lifetime and before he ever dreamed of becoming a bishop,” exclaimed Lady Hortense. “He always spoke highly of his younger sister Rebecca, whom I never met. I understood that she had resided for years with a rather well-connected Portuguese family.”

“Rebecca has indeed been a valued member of my family for some time,” said Victoria, smiling faintly. Her dark eyes were steady as she glanced around at their faces, which were beginning to register expressions of astonishment. Lord Damion alone seemed unaffected by her statement, though as he recalled her fluent Portuguese he wondered that he had not guessed the truth sooner.

“A properly bred young lady in Lisbon is accompanied always by her chaperon. And because my father wished that I should be familiar with English manners as well as those of my mother’s country, Miss Webster was retained as my companion,” said Victoria. “I was fortunate that I found a friend as well.”

“But I thought you were English,” said Evelyn, then reddened as he realized how his statement had sounded.

“My father was Colonel Arthur Reginald, an Englishman to his fingertips. He married Maria Teresa Silva y Montoya, said Victoria quietly. She inclined her head to Lord Damion. “The portrait that you inquired about was of my uncle, Carlos Silva y Montoya. He was at once my father’s brother-in-law and trusted friend.”

“And he was also the gentlemen you mentioned in connection with your father’s horse breeding,” said Lord Damion. Victoria nodded. He knew now why the man’s face in the portrait had been so familiar to him. Lady Victoria’s eyes were of much of the same shape.

“What is this about horse breeding?” asked Sir Aubrey sharply.

“It seems that Lady Victoria’s father, and later she and Charles, have built a successful breeding enterprise. Our own army is likely a prime customer. For that reason I suspect that Lady Victoria has very little use for whatever provisions Lord Robert may have made for her in his will,” said Lord Damion.

“Indeed, my lord. I have ample income and to spare,” said Victoria with a smile.

Sir Aubrey had difficulty grasping the meaning of what had been said. He could not believe that Lady Victoria was not a supplicant to the March family wealth. “Pray do not exaggerate your independence, my lady. I daresay your income is at best paltry. You’ll still dance for your desserts!” he said contemptuously.

“I hardly think six thousand a year is to be counted as paltry, Sir Aubrey,” said Victoria deliberately. She had the satisfaction of watching his mouth drop open. While astonishment held them all in thrall, she dropped a curtsy in general to the company. “Pray excuse me. It is nearly time to dress for dinner.” She swept out of the sitting room. Her exit snapped the others from their mesmerized state.

“Six thousand! Cousin Victoria is nearly an heiress,” exclaimed Evelyn.

“Impossible!” snapped Sir Aubrey. “She would have hinted at it long since if it were true.”

“Can you be so certain, Aubrey? Lady Victoria has proven so often to be completely unpredictable,” said Lady Hortense.

“I for one have never heard a truer word spoken,” said Margaret, recalling several irritating incidents in the past. But she was smiling, for she no longer considered Lady Victoria to be a rival. The lady was hopelessly handicapped by the existence of her own child. Lord Damion was not likely to consider allying himself to a woman who already had a family.

“Do you know, we never even asked Cousin Victoria what her daughter is like,” said Dorothea, astonished at her own lack of curiosity.

Lord Damion quietly left the others to their discussion and stepped into the hall. He made a brief inquiry of a footman and then made his way to the breakfast room. He opened one of the french doors and let himself out on the terrace. The breeze was unseasonably warm for November and ruffled his hair.

Victoria turned when she heard his step on the stones. In the dusk he saw that she had been crying. He said gently, “My pardon, Lady Victoria. But I could not let you go off without conveying my deepest apologies for the conduct of myself and my relations. We are a mannerless lot.”

Victoria laughed shortly. “It is hardly necessary to point out the obvious, my lord. From the moment that you abducted me, I have wondered how I had the misfortune to become entangled with this family.”

Lord Damion joined her at the stone balustrade. “I believe that you can best answer that question, my lady.”

Victoria smiled waveringly. “True, my lord. Charles March was the first tie and now I am caught fast through my little Jessica. But for her, I would have rejected Lord Robert’s invitation.”

“And we would never have come to know the best about Charles’s life,” said Lord Damion simply.

Victoria glanced at him quickly. Surely he could not be dallying with her at such a time. But his face was perfectly grave and she was surprised into a warm blush. “That is a very pretty compliment, my lord,” she said in a low voice. He could not know how her heart warmed to his kindness.

“When shall your daughter arrive, Lady Victoria?” asked Lord Damion.

“On Thursday two days hence,” said Victoria. She quickly looked up into his face and discovered relief in his expression. “My lord, you were not certain that I would still have her brought to the Crossing!”

“I am beginning to know your determination and independence well, my lady. I thought it a possibility,” said Lord Damion.

“I hope I am not also petty, my lord,” said Victoria. He bowed in acknowledgment.

They stood in silence a few moments, each once more at ease with the other. Lord Damion presently directed her attention to the splendor of the sun setting through the trees. He stared at her rapt profile. It was a paradox to him that a woman could be so full of fire and yet still so comfortable a companion.

Chapter Seventeen

With the exception of Sir Aubrey, whose gout had flared up, the entire household assembled for dinner. By tacit agreement the conversation skirted the subject of Lady Victoria’s daughter and her financial worth, although nearly every breast was filled with curiosity about them.

Victoria realized that she would have to break the polite barrier herself. She turned to Lady Hortense and said pleasantly, “I hope that having Jessica and Miss Webster here will not put the household out.”

“My dear! No such thing,” said Lady Hortense, happy that Victoria had broached the subject, “My only concern was that you would think me too pushing if I suggested opening up the old nursery.’

“On the contrary, my lady. I am willing to be guided by you in every respect,” said Victoria.

Lady Hortense beamed. “Thank you, my dear. I have thought also of Miss Webster. There is a sitting room adjacent to the nursery with a bedroom connected that I thought she might like. And the arrangement is all very near to your own room.”

“It sounds ideal, ma’am,” said Victoria.

“Good! I shall make the arrangements immediately. And Doro, you may assist me if you would care to.” Lady Hortense turned an inquiring glance on her niece.

“Oh, I should like it above all else,” said Dorothea quickly.

The three ladies began to discuss the preparations. Under cover of their conversation, Margaret seized the opportunity to address Lord Damion. “I find domestic discussions to be rather tedious, I am afraid. I infinitely prefer the give and take between a man and a woman. Do not you, my lord?” She smiled at Lord Damion over the rim of her wineglass.

Lord Damion met her warm gaze. “You are a wicked temptress, Margaret. Do I dare to voice what your lovely violet eyes seem to signal?” he asked softly.

Margaret lowered her lashes and slanted a glance up at him. “Why, as to that, my lord, you must rely on your own judgment.”

Lord Damion was about to reply when Evelyn, who had become bored with domestic planning, interrupted. “St. Claire, do you mean to do some grouse hunting tomorrow? I should like to accompany you, if I may.”

“Of course, Eve. But I hope you are not planning to bring that outmoded flintlock of yours,” said Lord Damion.

Evelyn quickly defended his firearm. The gentlemen fell into a sporting debate that allowed little opportunity for dalliance, but Margaret remained serene. She rather thought that she and Lord Damion understood one another very well.

The next two days saw a clearing of the skies and were spent industriously by the various members of the household. The nursery and the rooms for Miss Webster were opened up and prepared at Lady Hortense’s direction with Dorothea acting as her able lieutenant. Victoria was consulted and the cook was given a list of Jessica’s favorite dishes. When every imaginable comfort was provided for, Lady Hortense and Dorothea turned their attention once more to their sewing. Margaret joined them in the sitting room to read aloud from the ladies’ magazines.

Victoria chose to spend much of the second day at the stables. She and John Dickens were soon fast friends and he began to view her frequent visits with an indulgent eye. When Victoria was asked at dinner how the mare and the foals were coming, she was able to report favorably. She did not voice the homesickness that suddenly welled up within her while she watched the horses. Victoria understood herself well enough to know that anticipation over her daughter’s arrival made those feelings all the more keen.

Lord Damion and Evelyn took advantage of the fine November weather. They tramped across the fields and woods from dawn to dusk, returning with full game bags. Lady Hortense promised to teach the cook how to prepare her own recipe for stuffed grouse.

Sir Aubrey was not pleased to observe a deeper intimacy between Margaret Giddings and his nephew. When the company retired after dinner to the sitting room, Lord Damion and Margaret drew a little apart and were obviously enjoying one another’s company. Sir Aubrey was furious with Victoria, but she appeared content with playing the pianoforte as a gentle backdrop to the others’ quiet conversation. Dorothea, who was blossoming in her pregnancy, eventually remarked that she should soon find her bed. The two hunters confessed to unusual weariness and the evening ended early.

When Thursday dawned, Victoria was up early. She did not know what time to expect her daughter and Miss Webster. Though logic told her that they would certainly not arrive before noon, she could not help feeling restless. All morning her ears were tuned for any unusual sounds in the hall. Dorothea took pity on Victoria’s unemployment and quietly bullied her into sewing on the christening robes for the coming infant.

At last Victoria’s vigilance was rewarded. In the main hall she heard the sounds of arrival, closely followed by an imperious voice that she instantly recognized. She was on her feet in an instant.

“Victoria? What is it?” asked Dorothea.

“I imagine that Victoria’s daughter has arrived, Doro,” said Lady Hortense, putting aside her sewing.

“Oh!” Dorothea got clumsily to her feet. “Do wait for us, Victoria!”

Victoria did not heed Dorothea’s plea. She ran out of the sitting room into the hall where a tall angular woman was conversing with a footman. She was holding a small child in her arms.

“My dearest Rebecca!” Victoria exclaimed.

Miss Rebecca Webster turned. Her pale blue eyes warmed as she smiled. “Well, Lady Victoria! It is good to see you.” She bent to stand the little girl on her tiny feet and give her a gentle push. “Go, child.” The little girl held back, wide-eyed and awed by her strange surroundings.

Victoria went down on one knee and held out her arms. “Oh, my little Jessica. I missed you so,
menina!”

“Mama! My mama!” The child flew across the space separating them. Her hood fell back and her white-blond hair streamed free. Victoria scooped her daughter up and held her close, murmuring softly to her in Portuguese.

The sounds of arrival had brought Lord Damion from the library and he joined Lady Hortense and Dorothea in time to witness the reunion. “It appears a happy meeting,” he said with a half smile as he turned to Lady Hortense. He discovered her to be abnormally pale. Alarmed, he asked, “Dear ma’am, what is it?”

Lady Hortense glanced up at him before staring again at Victoria’s daughter. “The child. She could be twin to Charles when he was a boy.”

Lord Damion’s brows rose. He looked at Lady Victoria and her daughter, at once fully comprehending why she had been so startled by Charles’s portrait.

With Jessica held fast on one hip, Victoria put out her free hand to Miss Webster and clasped her fingers. “Thank you, Rebecca,” she said quietly.

“And is everything as it should be, Lady Victoria?” asked Miss Webster meaningfully.

Victoria flashed her a mischievous smile. “It is regarding Jessica. I shall divulge all later when I visit with you in your room. But first I wish you to meet a very dear lady.” Victoria beckoned to Dorothea, who shyly joined them. “Rebecca, this is my cousin, Mrs. Dorothea St. Claire. Dorothea, allow me to present Miss Rebecca Webster, my longtime companion and now Jessica’s nurse. Between us, we shall be able to offer all sorts of good advice on caring for your own wonderful little monster, for we have had plenty of practice with our Jessica.”

“Oh, how can you say so? She is beautiful,” said Dorothea.

Victoria smiled tenderly as she stroked her daughter’s soft hair. “Yes, she is. My
menina belleza.”

Lady Hortense and Lord Damion now came up and Victoria made the introductions. Miss Webster and Lady Hortense soon engaged in an animated exchange on the doings of mutual acquaintances as they went into the sitting room.