Page 6 of Not the Duke's Virgin

Oliver’s eyes narrowed, but with the others so near, he merely inclined his head. “Do not tarry overlong.”

The soft threat lingered as he continued ahead.

The Duke had already started up the wide stairs, but Victoria hastened toward him, hiking up her skirts delicately.

“Your Grace, a moment please.” At his questioning look, she continued, voice lowered. “Forgive my boldness, but I must speak plainly…”

Victoria hesitated, twisting her hands nervously. She longed to confess the truth, to expose Oliver’s vile blackmail and plead for help. But the Duke’s stern countenance gave her pause. He had made his poor opinion of her character abundantly clear.

No, appealing to him would only backfire. The contempt in his sharp gaze warned that he would likely think her lies a ploy to gain sympathy and attention.

She swallowed back the urge to unburden herself. The Duke was not an ally in this. Voicing her plight would only bring further torment upon herself and her family.

No, for now, discretion was paramount. She must bear this burden alone, continuing the loathsome pretense for Aurora’s sake.

Steeling herself, Victoria smoothly excused herself from the Duke’s presence. She could not risk his wrath and skepticism. Her sister’s future depended on maintaining this hateful ruse, no matter how it tortured her soul.

For endless moments, the Duke simply studied her.

Heart pounding, she dropped into a grateful curtsey before gliding up the stairs after Oliver.

The Duke’s steady footsteps followed after.

They entered an elegant dining room. The scraping of chair legs heralded their arrival. The Dowager Duchess was already seated. Her expression was haughty as she observed Victoria over her wine glass.

Once seated, Victoria found herself between Oliver and his mother. The Dowager Duchess looked pointedly past her when remarking on the fineness of the meal. Trying to ignore the insult, Victoria took small bites, her corset cinching already-knotted innards.

“This salmon is superb,” Oliver proclaimed. “My dear Victoria has a weakness for the dish. I shall have the cook prepare it often once we are wed.”

Victoria choked on her wine. Madeline shot her a worried look from across the table.

“Yes, you must establish the menu early when you become the mistress of your own home,” the Dowager Duchess pronounced, still without glancing Victoria’s way.

Victoria bristled slightly at the dismissal but held her tongue. She knew the skills required to run the household of a great estate like Hayward Manor.

Mortification heated Victoria’s cheeks. Even Oliver had the grace to look mildly uncomfortable at his mother’s bald rudeness.

From the head of the table, the Duke frowned. “I do not think Lady Victoria’s education deficient,” he said mildly. “Indeed, her conversation earlier showed a singular intelligence and perception.”

Surprise pierced through Victoria’s embarrassment. It was the first even semi-complimentary remark she had heard him make regarding her. The Dowager Duchess looked equally astonished.

“Truly? Well, I suppose impressions may vary. We shall see soon enough if she measures up.” She sipped her wine with a sour downturn to her thin mouth.

Victoria’s head was beginning to ache abominably. She picked at her food, wondering when she would get a chance to escape for some fresh air outside. There, at least, she could breathe freely, without the Reynolds watching for any crack in her performance, eager to peck out more pieces of her dignity.

She had known this visit would be an ordeal. But the reality of it had proven worse than even her grim imaginings.

CHAPTER2

Victoria fidgeted nervously with the napkin in her lap, intensely aware of the awkward dynamic between the two brothers. Though they made polite conversation over the first course, it was clear from the odd glances and veiled barbs that there was no love lost between them.

“Dinner is cooked to perfection as always,” Oliver commented. “Hayward Manor has always employed the most talented cooks. Father made sure of that.”

Simon’s jaw tightened, nearly imperceptibly. “Yes, he spared no expense for your comfort and pleasures.”

“Come now, you make it sound as if I was his only concern,” Oliver replied lightly, but his eyes glinted.

“Of course not. He had the estate’s best interests at heart, though we may have… disagreed on what that entailed.”

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