Surrender

  Victoria gave a weak laugh. “Lucas, I swear you are impossible. Even at a time like this, you are still plotting to get me to do precisely as you wish.”

  “Strategy, my dear. I’m known for it. Now, while this will no doubt seem anticlimactic, I have a small surprise for you. Remember that picture of Strelitzia reginae?”

  “Yes, of course. What about it?”

  Lucas flashed her an easy grin. “The vicar would like half a dozen more watercolors on similar subjects for his book on flower gardening.”

  The expression of shock on Victoria’s face was extremely gratifying, Lucas thought.

  17

  Naturally Lucas had taken her horrendous revelation as calmly as if she had merely told him what Cook was preparing for dinner. What had she expected? Victoria was still asking herself that question a few days later as she stood with Annabella and Aunt Cleo in the shop of a fashionable London modiste.

  Had she actually assumed, even for a moment, that he would have reacted as one would have expected any normal husband to react to such shocking news?

  If there was one thing she had learned about Lucas by now, it was that he wad definitely not an ordinary sort of husband. While he was occasionally arrogant, high-handed, stubborn, and yes, a bit stuffy in certain matters, he was never at a loss.

  And he always took care of his own. His dedication to his lands and the people of Stonevale proved that.

  Still, even knowing what she did about him, she had not expected quite such a placid, pragmatic reaction. She was still a bit awed by his cool acceptance of her rather sordid past. Of course, she was dealing with a man who had once taken her to a gaming hell and a brothel, Victoria reminded herself, a man who took her riding at midnight.

  “Is this not a lovely bit of silk, dear? Just your color, too.” Aunt Cleo indicated a bolt of amber yellow stuff. “It would make a very nice evening gown.”

  “Oh, yes, Vicky. Absolutely perfect for Jessica Atherton’s ball,” Annabella declared. “You must be completely stunning for that great event, and your aunt is correct: the color is just right.”

  “Very pretty.” Victoria reached out to finger the beautiful fabric.

  “What do you think of the muslin, Vicky?” Aunt Cleo glanced at her inquiringly.

  “Quite nice.” Victoria forced herself to pay closer attention to the business at hand. The muslin was a deep yellow. She liked it at once.

  “But not for Lady Atherton’s ball,” Annabella insisted.

  “Perhaps a walking dress trimmed in aqua, then?” Victoria suggested, unwilling to let the fine muslin go.

  The modiste, a tiny woman with a thick French accent, nodded emphatically. “Most charming, my lady.”

  “Very well, a ball gown in the silk and a walking dress in the yellow muslin,” Victoria said decisively. “Now, as to the gown, I will want it in the height of fashion, do you understand?”

  “It must be absolutely riveting,” Annabella declared. “Perhaps something along the lines of this one.” She indicated a fashion plate she had noticed earlier.

  “A lovely gown, madam,” the modiste assured her.

  Aunt Cleo frowned as she peered down at the plate Annabella had pointed out. It showed a drawing of a woman in a dress that displayed a great deal of bosom. “Do you think Lucas will like that one, Vicky, dear? You know what he said last night at dinner. He distinctly mentioned that he did not want you getting anything with an extremely low neckline.”

  “Lucas is fond of saying things like that,” Victoria explained. “But he really does not know all that much about fashion. This gown is for Lady Atherton’s party, and Annabella is quite right: it simply must be as dramatic as possible.”

  “Yes, well, I shall leave you to explain it to Lucas,” Cleo remarked. “He is your husband, after all.”

  Annabella giggled. “I am certain that by this time Vicky has molded her lord into an agreeable sort of husband who does not give his wife any trouble.”

  Victoria smiled serenely and decided it was not absolutely necessary to admit that there were still some rough edges on Lucas that needed a great deal more polishing before he would be molded into a perfectly agreeable husband. “He will be quite content with this gown.”

  “I swear, Vicky, you are an inspiration to us all,” Annabella said in admiring tones.

  Cleo Nettleship’s brows rose. “Or an extremely dangerous example. Very well, then, let us be off. We have several more appointments to keep today.”

  A short time later Victoria followed her aunt and Annabella out onto Bond Street. The exclusive shopping district was crowded, as usual. Fashionable carriages, well-dressed women, and outrageously garbed dandies littered the landscape.

  Aunt Cleo’s carriage was waiting at the curb, but as they started toward it another carriage pulled up behind it and the groom jumped down to assist his passenger.

  Isabel Rycott stepped out. She was dressed in a deep green that set off her eyes. A small, feathered hat was perched jauntily on her sleek, dark hair.

  “Good morning, Lady Nettleship. So nice to see you.”

  “Isabel.” Cleo inclined her head politely.

  “And the radiant bride.” Isabel smiled her mysterious smile as she turned to Victoria. “What a commotion you caused when you married Lord Stonevale. Quite romantic, I’m sure, although one wonders what your dear parents would have said about such a hasty marriage.”

  “As they are no longer around, it hardly signifies, does it?” Victoria remarked.

  “Perhaps you are right. I had heard that you and your husband were back in Town. Lady Atherton is having a reception for you, is she not?”

  “That is correct,” Victoria said. “I hope you have been keeping well, Lady Rycott.” She forced a smile. “Very well, thank you.”

  “And your friend, Edgeworth? Is he in good health?”

  Isabel’s smile tightened fractionally. “I have not seen much of Edgeworth recently. I assume he is fine. Tell me, Vicky, dear, will we be seeing you tonight at the Foxtons?”

  It was Cleo who responded. “We are thinking of dropping in for a short time, although we will not be able to stay long. Vicky and Stonevale are in Town for only a few days and they have received scores of invitations. Impossible to accept them all, you know.”

  “I can imagine,” Isabel murmured. “Now that Lady Atherton has given her opinion that it is the wedding of the Season, more than one hostess is anxious to have the famous couple grace her ballroom. Good day to you both. I trust I will see you this evening, and if not, then perhaps at the Atherton reception.”

  Victoria watched Isabel enter the modiste’s shop and then she stepped up into the carriage, following her aunt and Annabella. “Really, that woman can be so damnably annoying. I cannot put my finger on it, but I know I shall never like her.”

  “Who? Isabel Rycott? I know what you mean. There is something about the woman that grates,” Annabella agreed.

  “Not on men,” Cleo observed dryly.

  Victoria grimaced and glanced back at the shop as the carriage pulled away from the curb. “Interesting what she said about Edgeworth, is it not?”

  “He was not her first paramour and doubtless will not be her last,” Cleo said. “Isabel always has a man or two trailing after her.”

  Annabella frowned thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, one does not see Edgeworth about much these days at all, not with Isabel Rycott or anyone else.”

  “Really?” Victoria could not wait to mention that little tidbit to Lucas.

  As it happened, she did not get a chance to talk to her husband until she came down the stairs of his town house that evening. She had dressed with care for her first night out in London as a married woman. The yellow and cream gown fell in a graceful, slender line to her ankles. She had chosen to wear no jewelry except the amber pendant and a tortoiseshell comb in her hair.

  Lucas was standing in the hall, waiting for her. He was dressed in starkly elegant black and white. His dark hair gleamed
in the light of the chandelier. Victoria looked down at him from the third step and wondered if he would ever truly love her as she loved him. Perhaps the best she could hope for was his affection, companionship, and the protection he offered everyone toward whom he felt responsible.

  She could hardly complain if that was all she ever received from him, Victoria told herself. It was a great deal more than many women were fortunate enough to obtain from husbands, especially those who had been married for their money.

  Lucas bowed gallantly over her hand as she came down the last two steps. “You look lovely, madam. I consider myself the luckiest of men tonight.”

  She smiled. “I am feeling rather lucky myself, sir.”

  “Shall we go out and perform for the crowds?” he asked dryly as he led her out the door.

  “That is exactly what it feels like, does it not? I would much rather go for a midnight ride with you, Lucas.”

  “Personally, I am looking forward to a relatively quiet evening of being squeezed and trampled and bored in a series of overheated ballrooms. It sounds positively restful compared to the adventures we always seem to encounter when you drag me out after midnight.”

  Victoria flashed him a berating look as he handed her up into the carriage. “Really, Lucas, the way you complain, one would almost think you did not thoroughly enjoy yourself on our midnight adventures. Now, then, I have been waiting all day for a chance to speak to you about Edgeworth.”

  “What about him?” Lucas asked as he sat down across from her.

  “I ran into Isabel Rycott today on Bond Street and she made it clear she is no longer seeing him. In fact, I got the impression from what my aunt and Annabella said that he is no longer circulating much in the higher levels of the ton.”

  “Perhaps he has suffered some more losses at the gaming tables,” Lucas offered mildly.

  “Lucas, you suggested once or twice that he might have been involved in either the carriage incident or the footpad attack. Have you given any more thought as to whether he might have been the one who sent the pamphlet and note to me?”

  “I have thought about it.” Lucas studied the street outside the carriage window. “I do not doubt for a moment that he would not be at all concerned if I suffered an unfortunate accident. But I cannot see that it makes much sense to bother you. Not unless he was paving the way for a blackmail attempt.”

  “But there has been no demand for payment,” Victoria said.

  “I know. As I said, it makes no sense. Not yet, at any rate. Nevertheless, I intend to start my inquiries with Edgeworth. ’Tis as good a place as any.”

  “Shall we hire ourselves a runner?” Victoria asked, growing excited by the prospect. “The one I employed to track down information on Lord Barton was excellent.”

  Lucas met her eyes. “I would rather not get involved in hiring a runner if I can avoid it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because in doing so, I would run the risk of bringing up awkward questions about your stepfather’s death, and those, in turn, might lead to awkward questions about you.”

  “Oh.” Victoria sat back in her seat. “Yes, I see the problem. You are very clever, Lucas. Always thinking ahead.”

  “One tries.”

  “How will you go about tracking down Edgeworth?” Victoria asked.

  “I shall start by making a few inquiries at my clubs. Someone is certain to know something about a man who gambles as much as Edgeworth does.”

  “An excellent notion.” “I am glad you approve. Because it means that you will be obliged to go straight home to bed after we have put in a few appearances this evening.”

  “What?” Her eyes darkened. “You cannot mean that.”

  “I fear so, madam. I cannot possibly sneak you into my clubs. We both know that. And since I do not want you running about at night without me, that leaves us with no option except to see you safely tucked up in bed at home.”

  “While you are out gathering information?” Victoria was incensed. “That is not fair, Lucas.”

  “It is not a question of fairness. It is a question of your safety. I will not risk any more runaway carriages, footpads, or ghosts who leave behind items marked with a ‘W.’”

  “But, Lucas, I will stay in Aunt Cleo’s company or Annabella’s. I will not be alone,” Victoria insisted.

  “Not good enough, Vicky. One cannot expect your aunt or Annabella to be on guard for a runaway carriage or a footpad, especially since they do not know they should be on guard for such things in the first place. No, I want to know you are safe at home while I am at my clubs.”

  Victoria’s temper sparked as she sensed his implacability. “You cannot shut me out of this investigation. I will not allow you to do so. We agreed that the chief reason we would come back to London was to pursue this matter. This is my affair.”

  “I am not shutting you out. I’m simply ensuring that I know exactly where you are at a time when I cannot be with you. The danger lies here in London, Vicky. All the incidents occurred here. So while we are in Town, I want you under either my direct observation or lock and key,” Lucas declared, his tone as definite as his words.

  Victoria bristled. “Lucas, I must tell you that while you have made a tolerable husband in some respects, I do not like it at all when you assume the attitude of a superior officer and start giving orders to me. I am not under your command. I am your partner, remember? We are in business together.”

  “Above all, you are my wife, and as your husband I have certain responsibilities toward you. I am sorry if I offend you with the occasional command. I fear old habits are sometimes hard to break.”

  Victoria gave him a withering look. “Do not blame your old military habits. That is nothing but an excuse, my lord, and you are well aware of it.”

  “Well, then, to be perfectly truthful, Vicky, I must admit there are times when nothing else except a direct order will suffice in dealing with you. Tonight is one of those times. Now stop looking at me as though you would like to strangle me and try to look like a loving bride. I believe we have arrived at the Foxtons’.”

  “Lucas, I warn you I will not tolerate being treated like a witless child.”

  “I would not dream of doing so.” He glanced out the window as the carriage drew to a halt. “It looks as if we have helped Lady Foxton draw a sizable crowd tonight. She will undoubtedly be feeling suitably grateful. Ready, my dear?”

  “Damn it, Lucas, you are not going to get away with acting like this.” She glared at him as he stepped out of the carriage and reached back to take her hand. “Just because you can seduce me virtually anytime you please does not mean I have become a weak-willed, fluff-brained female whom you can order about as it suits you.”

  His hand tightened roughly around her fingers and sudden laughter filled his eyes. “I do not believe I heard that properly. Would you care to repeat that, madam?”

  “You heard me. Oh, look, there’s Annabella and Bertie, now.” She summoned up a brilliant smile. “I cannot wait to talk to them.” Victoria rushed off, dragging Lucas along with her into the throng of people clustered on the front steps of the Foxtons’ town house.

  His wife’s sense of timing was, as always, devastating. Lucas grinned ruefully to himself as he got out of the crriage in front of one of his clubs. Her admission that he had the power to seduce her at will was enough to make him want to carry her straight back home and take her to bed.

  Instead he had been obliged to escort her into the Foxtons’ ballroom, where he had been forced to spend his time fending off a lot of Victoria’s old admirers. Every last one of them had felt it necessary to profess heartfelt anguish at the news that she had accepted another’s hand in marriage. Victoria had enjoyed herself immensely and had flirted so outrageously that Lucas was determined to exact retribution when he returned home.

  Just what form his retribution would take was a matter to which he intended to give considerable attention. But in the meantime there were other matters th
at needed his full concentration.

  The first person Lucas saw when he walked into the club was Ferdie Merivale. The young man smiled in welcome.

  “Congratulations on your marriage, Stonevale. Cannot say I was terribly surprised. Wish you the best and all that. You are a lucky man. Lovely lady, your new countess.”

  “Thank you, Merivale.” Lucas poured himself a glass of claret.

  “Come to play a few hands of cards?” Merivale inquired.

  “Unfortunately, I fear my gaming days are behind me. I’m a married man now. Cannot spend all night playing cards anymore.”

  Merivale chuckled. “I expect Lady Stonevale would have a few words to say about that, wouldn’t she?”

  “My wife is rarely at a loss for words,” Lucas agreed. “Any news of interest?”

  “That’s right, you have been spending the last few weeks rusticating in the country, haven’t you? Since you had that bit of a scene with Edgeworth shortly before you left Town, you might be interested to know that he is rarely seen in the clubs these days. He was obliged to resign from this one, in fact.”

  “I cannot imagine Edgeworth giving up his gaming.”

  “Oh, don’t think he has. But word has it he’s carrying on his business in somewhat less respectable surroundings. Heard he was seen in that same gaming hell you rescued me from a while back. The Green Pig. Nasty place. Rather suits him, though, don’t you think?”

  “I am sure he will feel very much at home there,” Lucas agreed.

  It was another two hours before Lucas walked into the Green Pig. Nothing had changed since the night he had brought Victoria here. It was still the same oppressive, noisy place it had been when he’d deliberately chosen it with a view to shocking Victoria into realizing she did not really want to frequent gaming hells. Not that it had achieved its purpose, Lucas thought with an inner grin. Victoria had had a great time that night.

  Edgeworth was sitting at a card table with a group of well-dressed young dandies who were clearly deeply into their cups. They had apparently set out to spend an evening savoring the dregs of town life. Lucas got a pint of beer from a passing barmaid and walked over to the group of card players.