Page 45 of Not the Duke's Virgin

“This is our final day beneath this roof,” Oliver continued softly. “I shall expect your full cooperation this evening in cementing our fraudulent attachment in everyone’s eyes. Be properly attentive and convincing in your devotion, and all shall go smoothly. Provided you wish your sister’s delicate condition to be kept secret.”

Victoria’s stomach twisted with impotent fury. How she detested this odious man! Yet, she was utterly at his mercy.

Forcing a smile, she turned her face up to his. “You have my word,” she replied, keeping her voice light despite the anger simmering within. “I shall play the besotted fiancée most convincingly tonight.”

Oliver’s eyes glinted, clearly savoring his power over her. “See that you do.”

Turning his attention back to Simon’s solicitor, Oliver launched into a detailed history of the portrait they stood before. Victoria tried to calm her pounding heart as they continued walking. She avoided looking at Madeline, not wanting her cousin to glimpse the distress in her eyes.

At long last, the gentlemen made their farewells and departed. Victoria waited until their footsteps faded before letting out a shaky breath.

“Victoria?” Madeline questioned in concern, moving to her side. “Whatever is the matter? You seem so uneasy.”

Summoning a wan smile, Victoria patted her cousin’s hand. “Oh, do not mind me. Lord Oliver simply has a habit of speaking intensely, and it can be… discomfiting.”

Madeline furrowed her brow. “He is your betrothed, yet he discomfits you?”

Victoria forced a light laugh. “I did not mean it like that. Come, let us find the other ladies. I believe I heard mention of a musical entertainment this afternoon.”

Though still appearing puzzled, Madeline allowed herself to be led out of the gallery. Victoria felt relief sweep through her as they joined a cluster of guests heading for the music room. She was safe for a little while longer.

The strains of the harp and violin soon filled the air, providing a soothing balm for Victoria’s unsettled nerves. She sat straight-backed beside Madeline, letting the beautiful melodies carry her temporarily away from her troubles.

Afterward, Madeline declared herself eager to spend some time sketching in the gardens before it was time to dress for dinner. Victoria readily agreed, welcoming the chance to catch her breath in the peaceful outdoors.

Selecting a stone bench nestled amidst fragrant roses, Madeline set out her sketchpad and pencils. Victoria pretended to admire the view, but inwardly, her thoughts were roiling. The evening loomed before her, and with it the necessity of feigning intimacy with the vile Oliver. How was she to do it? What further torment might he devise to control her?

Lost in her brooding, Victoria failed to notice the approach of Mr. Carter until he gave an awkward, little cough.

“Pardon me, Lady Victoria,” the solicitor began hesitantly. “Might I have a word?”

Victoria smoothed her features to hide her dismay. “Certainly, Mr. Carter.”

The solicitor shuffled his feet on the gravel walkway. “It is only… I could not help but notice earlier when you and Oliver were strolling together. I must say, you did not seem entirely… comfortable.”

Victoria’s heart sank. This could not bode well. “I do not take your meaning, Mr. Carter,” she replied, striving to keep her tone light.

Mr. Carter flushed red. “Forgive me if I am overstepping. It is only that when two young people are anticipating marriage, one generally expects to see… warmth between them.”

Victoria froze. Did he suspect the truth about her false engagement? She must allay his doubts at once.

Summoning a smile, she waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, think nothing of it, Mr. Carter. Lord Oliver and I simply prefer to save displays of affection for after the wedding. We do not wish to embarrass the more reserved company, you see.”

Mr. Carter’s blush deepened. “Quite right, quite so. I apologize sincerely for making you uncomfortable, Lady Victoria. I can see I was mistaken in my assessment. Please, enjoy this fine day.”

With an awkward bow, he hurried off down the path. Victoria watched him go, fresh tension coiling in her muscles. Drat the man for being so perceptive! She would have to take even greater care this evening. The slightest crack in her facade with Oliver could bring the whole precarious charade crashing down.

Madeline set aside her sketchpad, eyeing Victoria in concern. “What was that about? He seemed distressed.”

“Oh, merely a misunderstanding,” Victoria replied lightly, hoping Madeline would not press for more details. She did not wish to burden her cousin unduly. This was her cross to bear.

They did not speak further about it.

When Madeline returned to her sketching, Victoria fixed her gaze blindly on the gardens. She must not falter tonight. Too much depended on her playing the part of the blissful bride-to-be, no matter how it made her stomach churn. She only prayed her nerves would hold.

As her maid helped her dress that evening, Victoria had never felt less excited about attending a party. Her sumptuous gown of ruby silk glistened in the candlelight, but its beauty only mocked her inner turmoil. She stared at her pale reflection as her maid arranged her hair in artful curls. How she wished she could flee this place and never set eyes on Oliver again!

But such fantasies were foolish and childish. She had a duty to protect her sister. If portraying an in-love courting couple was what Oliver demanded in exchange for his silence, then so be it. She must be strong.

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