Page 63 of Not the Duke's Virgin

Simon swore under his breath. “Very well. Then we must devise a strategy to combat whatever malicious gossip he has spread.” He stroked a soothing hand over her dark brown hair. “You have my word, I will do everything in my power to shield you and your sister from further harm.”

Overcome with gratitude, Victoria wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. They stayed locked in a warm embrace until the mantel clock chimed two.

Simon pressed a tender kiss to her forehead as they reluctantly drew apart. “It’s very late. We both need rest before facing what is to come. Sleep well, and know that you do not stand alone in this fight.”

Victoria lifted a hand to cover his. “Good night, Simon,” she whispered. “And thank you, for everything.”

Tonight had brought daring risks, but also unexpected rewards. Thanks to Simon’s stalwart support, she finally had hope of emerging from this nightmare unscathed.

Come what may, she would face it standing tall at his side.

* * *

Victoria awoke with a start, her heart racing as she heard angry voices outside the door. It took a moment for her to get her bearings in the unfamiliar room, blinking against the pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains. She was in Simon’s study, she realized with a jolt of alarm. They must have fallen asleep together after…

A flush rose to her cheeks as memories of the previous night came flooding back. The way Simon had kissed her so passionately. The feeling of his hands on her skin as they gave in to their desires, consequences be damned. It had been reckless—dangerous, even. But at that moment, all she wanted was him.

The harsh voices outside the door grew louder, jolting Victoria back to the present. She could make out Oliver’s slurred tones, demanding to speak to his brother. Her blood turned to ice. If he found them like this, there was no telling what he might do.

Victoria leaped from the sofa, hurriedly gathering her discarded gown and undergarments. “Your Grace,” she whispered urgently. “Wake up, we have to get dressed!”

Simon stirred, sitting up in bed. Recognition sparked in his eyes as he, too, heard his brother’s angry demands. He was on his feet in an instant, his eyes flashing with a protective anger.

Victoria struggled to lace up her gown, her fingers fumbling in her haste. Before she could finish, the study door flew open. Oliver stood in the doorway, his eyes blazing. For a moment, he stared wordlessly at the pair of them, taking in their state of dishevelment and the rumpled bedsheets.

“Well, well,” Oliver snarled, his lip curling. “Isn’t this cozy?”

“Oliver—” Simon began in a warning tone, moving to place himself between Victoria and his brother.

But Oliver was quicker, shoving past Simon to grab Victoria roughly by the arms. She cried out in pain and alarm as his fingers dug into her flesh.

“Let her go,” Simon growled, his body rigid with barely suppressed rage.

Oliver laughed cruelly. “Oh, no, dear brother. You don’t get to make demands right now.” He yanked Victoria tighter against him, eliciting another pained yelp. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your sordid, little affair? That you could make a fool out of me so easily?”

Victoria shuddered at the madness glinting in Oliver’s eyes. This was the side of him she had hoped to never see again after he had blackmailed her into this engagement.

“I see how it is now,” Oliver continued bitterly. “You stole what should have been mine. My title, my inheritance… and now you want my betrothed, too.”

“I stole nothing. She was never yours,” Simon said through gritted teeth. “Now let her go, Oliver. Don’t make me tell you again.”

But Oliver was beyond reason. With another harsh laugh, he snarled, “If this harlot is what you want, dear brother, then she’s what I’ll take from you!”

And with that, he began dragging a struggling Victoria toward the door. She cried out and fought against him, but his grip on her was steely.

Something in Simon snapped. With an enraged roar, he charged at Oliver, tearing Victoria from his grasp. The brothers crashed to the floor, landing blows.

“Stop!” Victoria screamed. She had to break this up before they killed each other or someone came to investigate the commotion.

Thinking quickly, she grabbed a vase from a nearby table and dumped the contents over the brawling pair. They broke apart, sputtering in shock as water dripped into their eyes.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Victoria placed herself between them. “Get ahold of yourselves!” she shouted. “Before this gets any further out of hand.”

Simon looked at her with dawning awareness, chest heaving from exertion and rage. The cold water seemed to have shocked him back to his senses.

He turned his glare on Oliver. “You will leave this instant,” he commanded, “before I forget you’re my brother and do something we’ll both regret.”

Oliver opened his mouth furiously to retort, but one look at Simon’s thunderous expression made him think better of it. With a growled curse, he turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

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