Page 396 of From Rakes to Riches

Victoria turned and ran down the now-deserted corridor and up the stairs. The candle in her hand flickered wildly and then went out all together when she reached the top. In the darkness, she kept her hand on the wall and almost knocked a vase from its perch on a table. Tears clogged her throat, but she would not weep. How was she ever to help Lord Thurlow and his father? It seemed like such an impossible task.

When she was finally inside her room, she had almost closed the door when it hit a solid object.

“Victoria?”

It was her husband. He’d been so quiet that she hadn’t heard him following her. Taking a deep breath, she swept the door wide. “Come in, my lord.”

“No, you’ve had enough of us for one day, I think,” he said gruffly.

His eyes showed a brief embarrassment that made her feel better.

“Again, allow me to apologize for my father’s behavior—and my own.”

She sighed. “It is difficult to deal with seeing one’s parent in constant pain.”

He frowned and shook his head. “That does not excuse my own inability to hold my temper.”

“Our parents can sometimes bring out the worst in us, can’t they?”

She smiled at him, and his stiff shoulders seemed to relax. Why did she find him so compelling, when in so many other ways he disappointed her?

“I envy your relationship with your mother,” he said.

She knew that he must be remembering his own mother. But all she could think about were the lies her parents had told, and the desperation it had led to.

“Every day I work diligently to keep my mother close to me,” she said.

He arched a brow. “And you’re suggesting I do the same? Believe me, there is nothing left to repair in the Banstead family.”

She didn’t believe it but saw no use in telling him that tonight.

They stood there awkwardly, the threshold a barrier between them. Victoria clutched her dressing gown to her throat against a draft, and she was reminded of what they’d been doing before the interruption. Her movement seemed to remind her husband, too, because his gaze dropped down her body. She stilled, and her anticipation slowly grew. A shudder swept through her, leaving her stunned. She felt weak with the need to be held in his strong arms.

“It’s been a long evening, Victoria,” he said, his voice unusually husky. “Sleep well.”

She watched him walk down the dark corridor and disappear inside his room. Shutting her door, she leaned against it in thought.

She found herself wondering what it would be like to be comforted by him. Sometimes he actually seemed sensitive. Would his strong arms around her make everything all right? But maybe only she could do that for herself.

She took out her private journal to record the day’s events, especially her frustration with her husband. And that eventually led to her problems with the earl. As always, writing calmed her, forced her to think and plan. She had to persuade the earl to tolerate her, and he would only do that by getting to know her. If he wouldn’t come out of his room, then she would just have to walk into the lion’s den.

In the morning,Victoria awoke early enough to hear her husband speaking with his valet in the next room. She was finally going to have breakfast with him. As she dressed, she tried to pay attention to when he left his room. Instead, she actually heard himbathing. That seemed far too personal, but of course, all she really heard was the splash of water.

He was probably using the same hip bath she used, and the thought made her feel warm. Her bare skin touched the same places his did. She should go to the far side of her room to ignore the sounds. But she remained frozen where she was, letting scandalous images of him play in her mind. She’d seen his throat—what did his naked chest look like?

She’d forgotten to inform Anna that she was awakening extra early, so she chose a gown that buttoned up the front allowing her to dress alone. It was a simple morning gown with tiny brown and yellow stripes, and she reminded herself that her husband liked looking at her. It was a good feeling.

She soon heard him walking briskly down the hall, then let him get to the stairs before she followed him. When she reached the dining room, he was already seated at the table, his newspaper held up before his face, a cup of coffee and biscuits on the table before him.

The footmen wished her a good morning, and her husband looked up with a sharp rattle of paper.

“Good morning, Lord Thurlow.” She set her notebook on the table, then took a plate to the sideboard to choose her breakfast.

“Good morning, Victoria.”

When she turned around, he was glancing at his paper again, but this time he’d lowered it so that she could see him.

“Don’t let me disturb your reading,” she said, sitting down to his right. “I imagine one needs to know what’s going on in the world when one is a member of Parliament.”

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