Page 355 of From Rakes to Riches

Victoria hadto admit that the drawing room looked splendid, with a riotous bloom of flowers from their garden in a beam of sunlight. It was a simple way to make her mother feel better. One room in the house would look as normal as possible. She’d gathered their last decent possessions: the sofa from Mama’s sitting room, matching tables from a guest room, the last of her sister Louisa’s collection of clocks Father had brought her from his trips to the Continent. There were still so many paintings on the wall. She allowed herself to enjoy them for a few minutes, and then she began to catalogue their worth in her household journal. Much as she loved art, they would have to be sold soon.

Mrs. Wayneflete entered the room, and in a formal voice, said, “Viscount Thurlow is here to see you, Miss Shelby.”

Before Victoria could say that she wasn’t at home today, the viscount himself rudely appeared behind the housekeeper. He loomed large in the doorway, so very foreign in this household of women.

It had been only a day since Victoria had seen him, but her feelings of anger had not lessened, only waited to be roused.

“Mrs. Wayneflete, do tell his lordship that I am feeling ill today.” She wished she could have left the room, but he was blocking the only exit. So she simply stared at him, waiting for his good manners to assert themselves.

They didn’t.

He handed his hat and gloves to Mrs. Wayneflete. “Do leave us alone, please.”

“That wouldn’t be proper, my lord,” the housekeeper said stiffly. “I did not realize that Miss Victoria was unwell.”

Victoria felt gratitude pour through her.

Lord Thurlow looked down at Mrs. Wayneflete with a respect that Victoria didn’t trust.

“Your protection of your mistress is understandable, but we are childhood friends, and I need to explain something to her.”

Victoria wanted to call him a liar, but she couldn’t. And she couldn’t leave her dear housekeeper in the middle like this. “Mrs. Wayneflete, you may leave us, but keep the door open.”

The housekeeper curtsied, shot a curious look between the viscount and Victoria, and left the room.

Victoria faced the man and waited. She didn’t have to make this easy on him. His presence was still just as intimidating, though he watched her almost warily.

“We need to discuss what happened yesterday, Miss Shelby,” he said, “and what happened all those years ago. I have no excuse for the lie about my identity. I was but ten years old, and can only blame my behavior on my own unhappiness at the time. I ask for your forgiveness.”

Well, he wasn’t going to get it.

“Thank you.” She started to walk past him to show him down to the front door, but he caught her arm.

“I’m not finished yet,” he said firmly.

She hardly heard his words. She was staring at his hand on her black sleeve, feeling the hot imprint of each of his fingers. Heleaned over her; tall, powerful, a man who didn’t know what it was like to wonder when his next meal would be.

“You may release me, Lord Thurlow. We are quite done.”

His hand fell away, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I have more I wish to say to you.”

“What more could there be?” she asked, not bothering to hide her bitterness. “You have revealed your lies and shown me what a fool I was.”

“I didn’t mean to?—”

“Good day, Lord Thurlow. If you don’t wish me to escort you to the door, then I assume you can find it on your own.”

“Miss Shelby, I have a proposition that might help us both.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Of course you do. Your father is dead, and you have no way to support yourself.”

She pressed her trembling lips together. She never should have given into impulse and gone to Banstead House. “So you already know everything about me.”

“I’m sure it is not quite everything. But after you left yesterday, I was curious about your motives. I discovered your regrettable situation.”

“Discovered?” she echoed.

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