Page 11 of Not the Duke's Virgin

Victoria knew the wisdom of Madeline’s words. Even now, seated across from her at breakfast, Madeline radiated disapproval of the Earl’s actions. Her cousin loathed artifice and deception. She would demand the truth be told, all consequences be damned.

It was that recklessness that drove Victoria to beg for Madeline’s discretion. “Swear to me you shall stay silent for Aurora’s sake,” she had implored. “We cannot endanger her further.”

Madeline had given her oath, though with great reluctance. Now Victoria felt that reluctance simmering beneath her cousin’s composed exterior. Madeline’s protectiveness warred with her promise to guard her silence. It would take very little provocation to pierce through that thin veil of restraint.

So, Victoria kept hold of Madeline’s hand, hoping the physical touch would reinforce caution. They could not afford even the smallest crack in their facade. Not with her father already suspicious that something was amiss with his wards.

With an effort, Victoria turned her attention back to picking at her breakfast. If she could not eat much, at least she could give the appearance of an unaffected appetite. Maintaining normalcy in front of her father was imperative.

They finished the rest of the meal in silence.

As soon as a servant cleared the table, Madeline released a long breath. “Insufferable man,” she muttered. “How could he be so callous toward his daughters?”

Victoria sighed. “You know how he is, Cousin. Appearances above all else.”

“Even his children’s happiness and well-being?” Madeline shook her head. “He does not deserve you and Aurora’s devotion.”

“Perhaps not, but he has it nonetheless.”

Victoria pushed back from the table. She needed to change her gown and ready herself for the day ahead. No doubt more scrutiny awaited her when she ventured out into Society.

Madeline followed as Victoria ascended the stairs toward her bedchamber. “What shall we do, Victoria? You know I cannot bear sitting idle while that snake tightens his grip.”

Victoria’s steps slowed. “I know, dear. But we must be cautious.” She turned toward her cousin, her expression pleading. “Can you stay your hand a little longer? Give me a chance to turn the odds in our favor?”

Madeline wavered. “I shall try, Cousin. But my patience is not without limits.” Her voice hardened. “If Lord Oliver dares harm you further, I will see him pay, no matter the cost.”

Impulsively, Victoria hugged her. “I know. Your loyalty means the world to me.” Drawing back, she forced a teasing note into her voice. “But let us not invite trouble prematurely, hmm? We ladies must use finesse to outmaneuver Lord Oliver.”

Madeline huffed. “Finesse. Just say you wish me to hold my temper.” But her lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

“A blunt demand, but accurate.” Victoria chuckled. Her mirth faded. “Truly though, Madeline. Please keep our secret a little longer.”

Madeline squeezed her hand. “For you and Aurora, anything.” Her eyes glinted. “But take care. Even my patience has limits.”

Victoria nodded. She knew well the steel beneath Madeline’s gracious exterior. Hopefully, Oliver did not make the mistake of provoking that protective fierceness. Victoria rather thought her coarse cousin would handily trounce the villain, given sufficient cause.

But such notions were fanciful, born of her frustration and fear. No, the burden of outwitting Oliver fell squarely on her shoulders. She must match his cunning with her cleverness.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the sunlight filtered through the expansive windows of the Duke’s study, filling the masculine space with a warm, honeyed light. But the atmosphere between the two brothers seated inside was anything but warm.

Simon sat stoically behind his large oak desk, his piercing dark brown eyes fixed on his younger brother, who was sprawled lazily across the tufted leather chair opposite him. An air of tense hostility simmered between them.

“Well, Brother?” Oliver drawled, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Have you finally come to accept that I have fulfilled dear Father’s edict at last?”

Simon remained still as a statue, his expression shuttered. “And what edict might that be?”

Oliver scoffed. “Come now, let’s not play games. You know very well I refer to the clause in Father’s will stating whichever of us makes a love match first shall inherit the vast majority of his fortune.”

He examined his cuff nonchalantly. “As you are now well aware, I have become quite enamored of the charming Lady Victoria. Our attachment grows stronger by the day.” He flashed a wolfish grin. “Indeed, I will propose before long. And then…” he trailed off meaningfully.

Simon was silent for a long moment, his dark gaze trained on his brother’s smug face. At last, he spoke.

“Tell me, Oliver, what precisely is the nature of your acquaintance with Lady Victoria thus far?”

Oliver’s smile dimmed slightly at Simon’s even, implacable tone. “Well, we have… spent much time together these past weeks, of course. Dinners, rides in the park, musicales—all the usual entertainments.” A shadow of uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

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