Page 367 of From Rakes to Riches

“Yes, I am.”

“A shame about his passing,” Mr. Hutton said, shaking his head. “And to think—a fall from his horse can take a man just like that.”

Victoria’s practical sister Meriel had thought of that lie should anyone glimpse the bruising at their father’s neck during the funeral. But no one had noticed—that they knew of.

“Now Mr. Hutton,” his wife said in a scolding tone of voice, “let Miss Shelby enjoy the day without reminding her of such tragedy. Lord Thurlow is giving her the chance to begin a new, exciting life!”

After their maid had gone off to the kitchen, Victoria and Lord Thurlow were led upstairs to the drawing room, where every inch of wall space sported a magnificent painting and every table overflowed with collections of bric-a-brac.

Two couples rose as they entered. There were plenty of curtsies and bows as introductions were exchanged, and finally they all sat down on the comfortable furniture, facing one another. Both sofas were already taken, so Victoria found herself in a chair alone.

As they talked, the men monopolized the conversation with their discussion about the railways, a discussion that surprised her at an elegant luncheon. It didn’t take Victoria long to realize that the men were investors, as Lord Thurlow obviously was. Miss Damaris Lingard, the only other unmarried woman in attendance, spoke just as freely as the men, and Victoria admired her knowledge of business.

“Lord Thurlow,” said Mr. Staplehill, a younger man dressed in the very height of fashion, “do you really believe there’s a market for a railway line so deep into Cornwall?”

Victoria watched the men defer to the viscount in a way that seemed beyond his noble title. Was it the fact that he was a future member of the House of Lords, whose patronage would help their business interests?

“In the Commons,” Lord Thurlow said, “we had a discussion of this subject, when members of that very shire brought us letters of complaints.”

Good heavens, she’d forgotten that he was already in Parliament.

She felt like a fool, and wished she could think of a thing to say. Besides Miss Lingard, none of the ladies interrupted the gentlemen’s discussion. Victoria found herself wishing she knew something of the subject. But all she could do was look at her betrothed, so very comfortable among businessmen not of theton, and worry. She had thought she was leaving this society behind, and had been glad because of how she had embarrassed herself in the past, and the secret that weighed on her soul.

But by this mysterious involvement in the railway, he was creating a new scandal of his own. And he’d worried aboutherstarting one?

When they all went into luncheon, Victoria found herself seated with young Mr. Staplehill on one side, and a Mr. Blake on the other. Mr. Blake concentrated solely on his food, and Mr.Staplehill turned his back to listen earnestly to something Lord Thurlow was saying farther down the table.

Victoria sighed and looked down at her carrot soup.

“He can be a bore, can’t he?” Miss Lingard said politely from the other side of Mr. Blake.

Surprised, Victoria leaned back, where she could meet Miss Lingard’s friendly eyes behind Mr. Blake. “Who can, Miss Lingard?”

“Why, Mr. Staplehill, of course. Not you, Mr. Blake,” she said to the man who continued eating as if he hadn’t seen food in several days.

Miss Lingard studied Victoria. “Did you think I meant Lord Thurlow?”

Victoria slowly smiled. “Not really, because I don’t consider him a bore.”

“Very admirable,” the woman said dryly.

She was very pretty, with a tall elegance that Victoria had always admired in a woman.

“But you have to say that, don’t you,” Miss Lingard continued.

“My betrothal would not bind me to speak lies,” Victoria said mildly.

Behind Victoria, someone laughed loudly, and she looked over her shoulder. She saw Lord Thurlow’s attention settle on her. He studied her with narrowed eyes, then relaxed and turned back to Mrs. Hutton.

And it was in that moment that Victoria knew he was not marrying her just to rescue her or to give him an heir. He needed her for situations like this, where he would not have to be a single gentleman anymore. She sensed mysterious undercurrents to him, but how could she question him about his business dealings?

“So are you attending the dinner?” Miss Lingard asked.

Victoria gave a start and turned back. “I beg your pardon?”

“All of the railway directors that Lord Thurlow has assembled for the Southern Railway will be attending a dinner at Mr. Bannaster’s home next week.”

Victoria smiled. “I’ll be married by then, so I imagine I will accompany my husband.”

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