Page 67 of Duke of Pride

“It has been surprisingly pleasant. Given Colborne’s reputation for being… How do I say this without scandalizing your delicate ears?”

“You forget that I am not noble-born,” she pointed out, gauging his reaction.

“How could I forget?” Blackwell blinked slowly, taking her in. “That is your best attribute.”

Victoria remembered how her lowly lineage was the thorn in Stephen’s side.

“It is, of course,” Blackwell continued, “the reason this party is such a success. All this fun and creativity! Colborne is not known for his… sunny disposition.”

Victoria’s blood ran cold. She eyed him firmly. He had a smirk on his face, but it was not a menacing one. Just amused.

“I would like to return the favor,” he said in a low voice, “and invite you to a private dinner.”

His eyes darkened. This man was not one for duty, honor, and integrity. He was one for fun, indulgence, and freedom. And yet her skin crawled under his look.

He pulled back instantly.

“But Colborne would have my head if I even mentioned that,” he said casually, backing off to take his place for the card games on the lawn. “He seems overly protective of you.”

Victoria was stunned by his words, so nonchalantly thrown like a bomb. She fluttered her fan, needing to do something with her trembling hands.

What a position she was in. The house party was nearly over, and the month she had agreed to was coming to an end. And where would she go? She couldn’t stay here, that was for sure. The plans to marry her off like a prized cow failed. She had only one option and?—

“Miss Victoria.” The butler came to her with a silver tray in hand. “A letter for you.”

Victoria took the letter and immediately recognized Maxwell’s handwriting, that calculated, clear way he did most things. She retreated to a bench away from prying eyes.

My dearest Victoria,

I trust this letter finds you in good health.

I write to inform you that my business in India has concluded far sooner than anticipated. The ship docks in London soon, and I will arrive at Walden by midday.

I am aware that we parted on uncertain terms, but I hope you understand that Walden will always be your home, and I will always be your brother.

Maxwell.

Victoria read the letter again and again. A tear fell, smudging the familiar letters. She wiped her eyes and let out a deep breath.

No matter what, her brother would always be there for her. He might have done so in the wrong way, but he always had good intentions, and to him, she was family.

Not some acquaintance.

She got up and went to her room to get ready. It was time she went back home.

* * *

After lunch—which, thankfully, Stephen had in his study—Victoria looked for Dorothy. She found her in the small drawing room, going over some details for the next day, the last day of the house party.

“Ah, Victoria, just in time. I am working on the brilliant idea you had to give our guests a little bit of Colborne House to remember their time here.”

Dorothy picked up a small linen sachet. The scent engulfed Victoria.Lavender.It flooded her senses—sweet, herbal, calming. Exactly what she needed.

Victoria sat across from her at the little table. A basket of pouches filled with lavender plucked from the grounds was between them. Dorothy was writing the name of the estate and the occasion on a lilac card.

Lilac.

A memory flashed through Victoria’s mind, tightening her throat. Them arguing over a lilac tablecloth that day in London. Stephen took her to lunch to express his gratitude. He was so relaxed, smiling, teasing, and seemed sincere when he?—

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