Page 77 of The Lord Next Door
She was already gone from the dining room when he arrived, and it seemed very empty without her. But at the head of the table, one of her notebooks had been deliberately placed. Victoria had been trying to get him to read their old journal, though this wasn’t it. Maybe this was a new tactic.
He filled a plate, then pushed the notebook aside to begin eating. But his gaze kept darting back to it, and finally he opened it and flipped through several pages. The first date was the day he’d proposed to her, and so began list after list of everything she felt she had to do to prepare for the wedding. He sensed fear and relief and…something else, something hidden.
He forgot that thought as she related her attempts to soothe her troubled mother. Soon his father was thrown into the narrative, and with Victoria’s frustration came a stubbornness he admired. He could see her thrill at her first success, when the old man didn’t force her to leave his room.
How decent of him, David thought bitterly.
But as he got close to the last written page, going past menus and scribbled music notes and lists of wedding presents, he saw that she’d somehow reached his father.
David could feel it within the house. The tension had eased, and being at home wasn’t fraught with waiting anxiety. He’d hoped for this when he’d married her, and he’d succeeded. She’d succeeded. He didn’t feel good about using her.
Then he realized that there was nothing in her notebook about him. Wasn’t their marriage worth writing about? He remembered the different notebooks he’d seen spread on her desk. She was giving him a glimpse of her life with this one book but wasn’t letting him see her truly personal thoughts.
She was trying so hard to be a wife to him, and he was selfishly trying to keep everything just the way he wanted it. She was attempting to cross a line to reach a compromise, and he was holding back like a coward.
It was his turn to give something back. If it meant so much to her, he’d take her to the duke’s ball tonight, and anywhere else she damn well wanted to go. She’d heard some of the worst about his past—at least the public scandals. And she didn’t despise him or his family. She didn’t seem hurt by it all, except…on his behalf.
But there were other ways he could hurt her, if he wasn’t careful.
~oOo~
Victoria was giving her mare a carrot when she felt someone watching her. She turned around and knew it was David, silhouetted against the brightness outside the stable door. She felt a thrill at his very presence, followed quickly by trepidation. Had he read her journal? Did he understand that it was time for him to try to reach his father before it was too late?
He walked toward her, and gradually his features sharpened. He was watching her, his pale eyes full of—mischief?
“Do you have another evening gown?”
She was confused. “The bulk of my new wardrobe won’t arrive for several more weeks, but you did purchase me several gowns. Don’t you remember?”
“I remember.”
His voice went intimately deeper, and she caught her breath.
“Then you know the next one will have an equally revealing neckline,” she warned him. “Madame Dupuy took liberties.”
“I’ll put up with it.”
“You will? Why? Are we attending the opera?” she asked with rising excitement.
“We’re attending the duke’s ball tonight.”
She knew she gaped at him, and he actually seemed to enjoy her reaction.
“We are?”
“We are.” He tilted his head. “Is this not what you wanted?”
“Yes, but…why did you change your mind?”
He looked embarrassed. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
That was the only reason?
She couldn’t expect declarations of undying love—not yet anyway. But a girl could hope.
~oOo~
Victoria had several quiet minutes to spare before Anna returned to help her into her ball gown. She went to her desk, and to her surprise, she noticed that the household journal had been returned to her. Cautiously, she opened it to the last page, and found a man’s straight, heavy handwriting.
