Page 34 of Not the Duke's Virgin

Madeline’s eyes went wide. “Do you care for him then? Despite everything?”

“I cannot deny there is a powerful attraction between us,” Victoria confessed. “Though it likely means nothing to one such as him. I am but a trivial amusement, a moth drawn to his flame.”

“Do not underestimate yourself so!” Madeline admonished. “Perhaps His Grace harbors feelings more genuine than you know.”

Victoria shook her head ruefully. “I dare not presume to think so. In any case, it matters not. Any attachment between us is impossible while under Lord Oliver’s thumb.”

Madeline embraced her cousin reassuringly. “We will find a way through this, Cousin, have faith. No blackguard can triumph over true affection.”

Victoria clung to her words like a lifeline, praying they could somehow prove true. For now, the day’s revelations had exhausted her. She fell asleep wondering about her fate in the next day’s party events.

* * *

Sunlight streamed in through the opened curtains, rousing Victoria from slumber. She blinked awake slowly, momentarily disoriented in the large canopied bed. Then the events of the prior day came flooding back—the uncomfortable dinner, Oliver’s menacing words in the hedge maze, her charged encounter with Simon in the moonlit garden…

“Good morning, Cousin!” Madeline’s cheerful voice broke through her reverie. “Did you rest well?”

Victoria sat up, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes. “Well enough, I suppose.” She smiled weakly at her cousin’s ever-sunny disposition.

Madeline perched on the edge of the bed. “Did His Grace come to speak with you privately at night?” She leaned forward eagerly.

“We did not converse again last night, no.” Victoria felt her cheeks flush, recalling how tempting it had been to steal more clandestine moments with him.

“What a pity.” Madeline sighed dramatically. “There is an attachment between the two of you. I am certain of it!”

Victoria busied herself folding back the bedcovers. “I appreciate your faith in me, dear cousin, but I caution you not to get carried away with romantic notions. My… association with His Grace is complicated.”

A knock on the door forestalled further discussion. A maid entered, carrying a heavy silver tray laden with fragrant breakfast foods—flaky croissants oozing with jam, towers of buttery toast, plump sausages sizzling on a platter. The aroma was heavenly.

“Compliments of the cook this morning, Lady Victoria, Miss Russell.” The maid deposited the feast on a table and curtseyed before swiftly departing.

Madeline needed no further prompting to dig in heartily. Between mouthfuls, she exclaimed, “Delicious! Cook has truly outdone herself. Please eat, Cousin, or I shall devour everything myself!”

Despite her unsettled mood, Victoria had to laugh. She prepared a cup of tea and nibbled at a slice of toast, acknowledging Madeline’s wisdom in keeping up her strength for the day ahead. There was no telling what new trials it might bring.

As Victoria sipped her tea, gazing pensively into the hearth’s dying embers, her cousin broke the silence once more. “I do wish you would confide in me about what is weighing so heavily on your mind. Does it relate to why Aurora is away in the countryside?”

Victoria nearly choked on her tea. She should have known that Madeline would detect that something was amiss. Setting down her cup firmly she replied, “It is about Aurora and the forced engagement with Lord Oliver.”

Madeline looked distressed. “Forgive me, Cousin, I do not mean to press you. Only, I can see you are carrying a heavy load, and I desire nothing more than to help lighten it if you would but allow me to.”

Victoria softened, clasping Madeline’s hand gratefully. “You are a true and steadfast friend. For now, take solace that I am unharmed. Someday, God willing, all will be made clear.”

“I understand.” Madeline squeezed Victoria’s hand. “I only pray that you are not made to suffer unduly for the sake of secrets that are not your own.”

Victoria smiled sadly. “As do I. But come now! Let us ready ourselves to face this day with spirit. Ring for the maid, so she can assist us.”

In lighter spirits, the two ladies donned day dresses and had their hair arranged fashionably for the day’s activities. Victoria chose a flattering cream muslin gown printed with tiny violet flowers. Surveying her reflection, she hoped she appeared far more cheerful than she felt.

As Victoria and Madeline descended the grand staircase, sounds of chatter and clinking silverware drifted from the open doors of the breakfast room. They found the rest of the house party guests already assembled.

The Earl sat at one end of the long table, a half-eaten plate of kidneys and toast before him as he nodded along to some inane comment that the gentleman beside him made. At the opposite end, the Dowager Duchess picked sullenly at a bowl of porridge, her wrinkled face screwed up in displeasure.

Oliver looked to be in a foul temper, glowering at a mug of black coffee. When Victoria took her seat, he glared in her direction, but she purposefully avoided meeting his stormy gaze. She could feel the animosity radiating off him in waves.

In contrast, Simon was the picture of tranquil nobility, neatly working through a platter of poached eggs and roasted tomatoes. He paused upon the ladies’ entrance and stood up politely, inclining his head in greeting.

“Good morning, Lady Victoria, Miss Russell. I trust you both slept well?” His tone was courteous, if reserved. But Victoria detected a glimmer of warmth in those dark eyes as they lingered on her face.

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