Page 52 of The Lord Next Door
Lord Thurlow walked to her, his frock coat spattered with rain across his broad shoulders. For the first time, she saw embarrassment in his eyes, as if he remembered his vow to treat her better. She felt…respected. And it made him so much more appealing.
“Victoria, forgive my tardiness. A meeting was delayed.”
“Of course, my lord.”
She knew she was looking at him with hope in her eyes, as a woman being courted instead of only as a wife.
His gaze lingered on her before he finally turned to his friend. “Now Wade, what were you saying?”
“I was saying, you’re an ass,” Lord Wade repeated cheerfully.
Lord Thurlow sighed. “Ladies, you must forgive him his crudity.”
“He doesn’t need my forgiveness,” Victoria’s mother said, continuing to eat.
Lord Thurlow shot her a surprised look, but his amused attention went back to Lord Wade.
“And why would you use such a vulgarity, Wade?” he asked.
“Because you haven’t informed your lovely wife about Sutterly’s ball.”
“I didn’t know about it myself.”
“Still throwing away all the invitations unread?”
Lord Thurlow took his place at the table and motioned to one of the footmen, who brought him a steaming plate. “I may not read the post immediately, but I do get to it all eventually.”
“Then you should also get around to accepting an occasional invitation once in a while.”
As Victoria ate, she wondered about Lord Thurlow and his preference for socializing with businessmen instead of the ton. She liked the serenity of home—even her new home—but wouldn’t going out into society again be good for her husband? People forget every scandal eventually.
“When an event is of importance,” Lord Thurlow said, “I’ll attend. Are you planning on hosting a party?”
“In my bachelor’s flat?” Lord Wade said with a snort. “You know that’s not likely.”
“What about at your grandmother’s estate? It’s near enough to London. You could host a house party.”
Lord Wade actually paled. “For an entire weekend?”
“I—we would attend, just to help keep you respectable,” Lord Thurlow said, glancing at Victoria. “Wouldn’t we?”
“Of course, my lord.”
If he was going to say something else, he seemed to forget. Instead his gaze roamed down her body in a lingering fashion, so intent she could almost feel it as a touch along her skin. A blush rose to overtake her face, and she prayed no one noticed.
After dinner, Lord Thurlow escorted Victoria and her mother up to the drawing room, assuring her that he and Lord Wade would be joining them momentarily. And then he went back down to the dining room and firmly shut the door.
Victoria put her hands on her hips and frowned.
“Why are you upset, my dear?” her mother asked, taking a seat on an overstuffed chair near the bare hearth.
Why was she upset? Gentlemen usually wanted time away from the ladies after dinner. But listening to the men talk revealed so much about her husband. She didn’t want to miss any of it.
“It’s nothing, Mama.” She found her needlework where she’d left it. She liked to lose herself in the colors and textures, to examine the possibilities of the designs only she could create. But tonight it did not soothe her mind.
Then realized with shock that her mother had also begun her own.
Her mother took a few stitches, then without lifting her head, said, “Frowning will give you forehead wrinkles, my dear.”
