Page 373 of From Rakes to Riches

“Shall we go in to dinner, my lord?”

“Give me a moment to file this afternoon’s papers. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

But a few minutes ended up being a half hour, and he hurried up to the dining room, where Victoria sat amidst fresh flowers and candles.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” he said.

Victoria closed the notebook she was reading. To his satisfaction, she did not berate him, only smiled as she said, “It was not an imposition. Will your father be joining us?”

“Since the table is set for two, I assume not. He doesn’t leave the house much anymore, so the ceremony this morning probably exhausted him.”

She said nothing to that, and he wondered if she believed him. She’d be right not to.

After the first course was served, he watched Victoria quietly sip her turtle soup, her eyes downcast, her manner demure. He was rather surprised by how easy it was to remain focused on her, when his thoughts usually drifted to practical matters he had still to accomplish that day. He watched her delicate fingers at work, and even the movement of her lips. He had thought her plain but for her violet eyes, yet the way she moved intrigued him, full of purpose, without the artifice so many ladies of thetonhad mastered.

“Victoria, I know that becoming my wife has led to great changes for you?—”

Her eyes fixed on him.

“But I promise not to interfere in whatever you choose to do during the day. I am often gone, or at work in my study. I will, however, try to be home as much as possible for the evening meal. The household is yours to run. You’ll have no interference from me.”

“But my lord, you’ve been a bachelor for many years—surely there are things you’d like done a certain way.”

“Not at all,” he said, taking a bite of his broiled pheasant. “I am relieved to hand over the household to you.”

She frowned, and he knew “relieved” was a poor choice of words.

“If you have any questions, just ask,” he continued. He didn’t expect her to—after all, she had been well trained.

After the next course was served, she looked up at him expectantly.

“My lord, I do have several questions, aboutyourather than the household.”

“Only several?” he asked mildly, trying to hide his discomfort. “Perhaps I answered most of your questions a very long time ago.”

“You know that is not true. You could borrow our journal and see for yourself.”

He raised a hand and shook his head. “No, that’s all right. The past is dead and gone. I don’t need to relive it.”

She studied him, and he wondered what he’d just revealed to her. He didn’t like to think, let alone talk, about that time in his life so tainted with constant loss.

“Very well, since I have your permission,” she said, “what do you do with yourself all day?”

Her fingers touched the notebook like a lifeline in a storm.

“Much of my time is taken up with Parliament from January to August. I was elected a member of the House of Commons, although when I inherit the title someday, I’ll move to the Lords. Since my father is so ill, I also deal with the running of our estates and our investments.”

“Do you have many estates?” she asked.

“Besides our family seat in Kent, we own nine estates throughout England, and another two in Scotland. They all vary in size, of course.”

Her mouth had fallen open, but she managed to repeat, “Of course.”

Though her father had once been wealthy, it was obvious from her reaction that her family had not expanded much into land. Perhaps that was Mr. Shelby’s main failing, leaving nothing to fall back on.

“You already know about my interest in the railway, but please do not discuss it in front of my father. According to him, and most of society, a gentleman is not in trade.”

She gave a rueful smile. “That I already know. My father made himself wealthy, all through his own efforts. I always admired that.”

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