Page 5 of Not the Duke's Virgin

Just then, a servant walked in to inform them that tea was ready.

Oliver led them to the garden for tea.

Victoria accepted a delicate china teacup from a servant, noting that even the tea service likely cost a small fortune. The Earl and Madeline oohed and aahed over the garden.

Oliver kept up a steady stream of mindless small talk. “The roses are looking quite spectacular this year, are they not? The gardener has outdone himself. Though of course, I’m certain Newton House has equally fine roses.”

Victoria murmured something noncommittal, taking a sip of tea.

“And how are you finding the weather lately?” Oliver prattled on, adding an obscene amount of sugar to his tea. “Seems summer has arrived early. Perfect for picnics and garden parties and such.”

“Yes, the weather has been lovely,” Victoria said flatly.

She found her gaze drawn to the Duke. He sat ramrod straight, observing the proceedings with a detached air. What was he thinking behind that inscrutable mask?

“You have scarcely said two words, Lady Victoria,” the Duke suddenly remarked, fixing her with his intense stare. “I hope you are not too disappointed by Hayward Manor.”

Victoria bristled at his mocking tone. “On the contrary, Your Grace, everything is quite charming. I am simply overcome by the… delightful company.”

She saw a muscle twitch in the Duke’s jaw. Her barbed words hit their mark. Good, let him stew on that.

Oliver cleared his throat. “Come now, darling, no need for shyness.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips in an overly familiar gesture. “We are among friends, are we not?”

Victoria forced herself not to jerk her hand away in disgust. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Duke frown.

“Tell me, Lady Victoria,” Simon said abruptly. “How did you and my brother become acquainted?”

Victoria tensed. This was dangerous ground. “Oh… we met at a ball.”

At least that part was true.

Oliver jumped in. “She quite stole my heart that first evening. Isn’t that right, my sweet?”

Victoria managed a tight smile. “Yes, it was all… quite swift.”

The afternoon passed in tense trivialities, the conversation dominated by Oliver’s glib commentary and her father’s obsequious queries.

“You must invite me some time to tour the stables,” the Earl gushed at one point. “I’ve heard you have the most impressive racing horses.”

“But of course, we would be delighted to have you visit again soon,” Oliver replied smoothly, though his eyes glinted with condescension.

Victoria remained mostly silent, responding only when required.

The Duke spoke little, his dark gaze often drifting her way. Though his countenance remained impassive, she sensed his keen assessment, and it kept her tea cup rattling nervously on its saucer. What must he think of her, after her cryptic confession? That she was some desperate social climber clinging to a tenuous connection?

If only she could explain fully without endangering Aurora’s reputation.

When the last crumb of cake had been consumed, Oliver suggested they adjourn inside to settle for dinner. As the rest of the party moved ahead, he firmly took Victoria’s elbow. She tensed, her nerves jangling. His breath was hot against her ear.

“You will be on your most charming behavior this evening, I trust.” His grip tightened until she nearly winced. “One word of your little rebellion over tea, and your sister’s indiscretion becomes fodder for gossip.”

Victoria’s heart stuttered. She should have known he would be watching, listening.

Oliver released her arm, and she had to force herself not to rub the aching spot. His smile was cold. “Come now, Lady Victoria. Let us enjoy the hospitality of my family.”

He offered his arm once more. Lips pressed into a thin line, she laid her hand on his sleeve. Catching a glimpse of the Duke’s tall figure, an impulse seized her.

Making a show of adjusting her slipper, she lingered behind. “My Lord, please go ahead. I fear a pebble is lodged in my shoe.”

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