Secrets in Mourning (13 page)

Watching his back recede out of the room, Victoria could only stand there in shock at what had happened.

Chapter 9

It had been a month since that searing kiss, and Victoria still didn’t know what had happened. Everything might have been clearer to her, but she hadn’t seen much of the Earl since that night.

She was beginning to think he was avoiding her. While he made a point of coming down to dinner every once in a while, it was more often than not that he took a tray in his room late at night after an exhausting day of work.

If she didn’t know better, she would worry for his health, but she knew that he wouldn’t endanger himself just to avoid her. At least she didn’t think so.

Thoughts of that passionate kiss had kept her up at all hours of the night, reliving the touch of his lips over and over. She had allowed others to kiss her before, but none of those small, stolen moments had compared to the raw passion she had felt from him.

Aching, she woke from dreaming of him, her body sensitive, tossing and turning in her sheets until they twisted around her.

If only she could see him, if only she had a moment alone with him to figure out why he had initiated the intimacy with her, she might be able to put it behind her. But the memory kept floating through her mind, heedless of her struggles to suppress it.

Surprisingly, she relished them, thinking of the dreams and the kiss at times like now when she needed to be focused on her work.

While no other servants had been hired, their new routines had been performed flawlessly. And thankfully, none of the servants had taken ill.

It was Monday, and therefore laundry day. Victoria couldn’t help but think of her confrontation with the Earl so many weeks ago. Why was he constantly on her mind? Frustrated, she forced the thought away.

The steam was swirling in the air as Elizabeth and Molly worked together, laughing lightly at something. Feeling her smooth hands as she stood on the side of the room, overseeing this chore, Victoria was quietly grateful that she hadn’t been placed in a position where she had needed to lend a hand.

But regardless of what the Earl had said, Victoria would be willing to jump in to help either Molly or Elizabeth if the need arose.

“Are you excited about the fair, Your Grace?” Elizabeth asked, looking up, her cheeks pinkened from the steam.

“Elizabeth, do I need to ask you again to call me Lady Victoria?” A small laugh of disbelief rose to her lips. She hadn’t ever thought she wouldn’t like the title, but it was beginning to grate. Becoming a duchess was in her past and she wanted to make a fresh start.

I already have, she thought, looking at the two women who had become her friends regardless of their station.

“Sorry, Lady Victoria. It’s hard to break the habit.” Elizabeth smiled shyly as she rinsed out a heavy sheet.

Victoria waved away the girls’ concerns. “Yes, I am very excited about it. I can’t believe it’s tomorrow. Finally, more help.”

Both the girls nodded. Sighing gratefully at the thought of having another servant around. “I wouldn’t mind taking a week off of laundry duty in the near future.” Molly looked up with a wry grin.

“Me either.” Victoria muttered. “Don’t worry, we’ll do a rotation so no one is stuck doing it every week.” Both women looked relieved by this announcement.

“Thank you again for allowing us to leave early tomorrow night. We’re excited that we’ll be able to see everything.”

Victoria laughed again, walking toward the women. “Don’t thank me. His Lordship was the one that made it clear that everyone should have the night off.”

Molly shrugged. “Still. It was very good of you both. I can’t wait to see the ribbon cart.”

“Me either. I’m in need of a few new colors.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Elizabeth said, pausing to gather a new sheet. “You’re going into half mourning soon aren’t you?”

“Yes. I can’t believe so much time has already passed. To wear something other than black, even if it is gray or lavender will be wonderful.”

It was sad for the Duke’s family that he passed away, but Victoria still couldn’t bring herself to grieve for a man who had a full life, especially since she hadn’t really known him, hadn’t had any real affection for him. But she would be dutiful. She would follow the mourning ritual and pay him the respect that he desreved. He had provided her with a wonderful future and it was the least she could do.

“Perhaps you will be able to find a brooch. Something in jet, of course,” Molly offered.

Victoria chuckled. “Perhaps.” She briefly wondered if Connor would enjoy seeing her in another color, perhaps a piece of jewelry to adorn the new dress, but snuffed out the thought. It shouldn’t matter what Connor thought. In her opinion, finding a piece of jewelry might be nice, but it wasn’t high up on her priorities. Her number one goal was to find help, to fully staff the manor.

The next day passed quickly, everyone so excited about the festival that they finished their work early.

“Did you hear that there will be a performing group? I even heard one can juggle ten objects at once!” Molly had exclaimed that same afternoon, making Victoria promise that she would take time to see the juggler with her.

“Of course,” Victoria had said happily, still a little shocked that the woman wanted to spend time with her. While improper, Molly was quickly becoming the best friend Victoria had ever had. Certainly the most sincere.

Making sure to leave early, Victoria was there a little bit before the hiring fair began at the beginning of the festival. With wooden coins in hand to seal their employment, she was ready to hire as many servants as needed.

The sun was still out as Victoria wandered the lines of people looking for work, each of them holding an item that proclaimed their profession— a cook held a spoon, a maid held a mop, and so forth, making it easy to discern whom to approach.

After hiring three more housemaids, two footmen holding trays, and another kitchen girl and helper, Victoria sighed in relief. Handing out a wooden coin to each of them, she told them to stop by the manor tomorrow and they would handle the specifics of their employment.

Each party seemed pleased with the deal. But Victoria felt as if she were getting the better end of the bargain. It would be so much easier to run the house with extra help, and she would finally be able to give both Elizabeth and Molly a break.

“Lady Victoria! Over here!” Victoria recognized the voice, but couldn’t find Molly in the crowd. Finally locating the slender woman, Victoria smiled in greeting as she wove through the crowd to get to her. “The juggler starts the show,” Molly said, her eyes bright with excitement. “He should begin any minute. We should stay here so as to see it best.”

Victoria laughed at the girl’s excitement. She herself had seen far grander things when she lived in London, but after being away from the glitter so long, a juggler sounded like enthralling entertainment. “I can’t wait to see him. Think he can truly juggle ten items at once?”

Molly nodded seriously. “I even heard that one of the items is a sword. Another is a torch.” She paused dramatically. “A lit one.”

“Is that so?” Victoria couldn’t hold the disbelief from her voice. Even in London such an entertainer would find a captive audience.

“This is so exciting,” Molly said, scanning the crowd. “I heard there will be dancing later.”

“Oh.” Victoria’s heart dropped slightly. Dancing was one of the things that she missed most. But the fact that she was in mourning prevented her from taking part in those festivities. “That will be wonderful to watch.”

“Will you not be participating?” Molly’s brows furrowed as she looked to Victoria. “I had hoped to see what dancing looks like in London.”

Victoria shook her head regretfully. “Unfortunately, no. It wouldn’t be right since I’m in mourning.”

Molly waved her hand at the insignificance of her words. “That is no matter. You are close to half-mourning, and no one here would hold it against you. You’ve been a model for widowhood,” she teased.

“Thank you very much,” Victoria said dryly, but was cut off from saying any more.

The juggler had begun.

***

There hadn’t been one day that had passed in the last long, miserable month when Connor hadn’t thought about that kiss with Victoria. Working himself to the bone each day, his body strengthened, losing the miniscule amounts of extra skin until it was taut across thick, roped muscles. Trying to sweat out any thoughts of Victoria had utterly failed.

He had hoped that keeping himself so occupied, by not attending dinners in her company, and otherwise avoiding any interaction between the two of them, would lessen his desire.

What a fool he had been.

If he had learned anything over the last month, it was that he couldn’t hide from her. Especially not in his dreams.

Waking up sweating, his muscles straining, he wanted her more than he ever wanted anything else in his life. His desire for her overwhelmed him, consumed him in a way that he had never felt for another.

Why her? As hard as he had tried to deny that anything about her appealed to him, he knew he was lying to himself. Certainly, she possessed beauty and strength of spirit, but she was also dropping the protective mask of indifference she’d brought with her from London.

And if he thought staying away from her would help him to forget her, he was wrong. He had heard about her virtues from the men and women that worked for him. It seemed like everyone in the whole damned manor was singing her praises.

He winced as slipped on a rock as he headed to the festival. He should focus more on where he was going than his sudden obsession with Victoria.

But when he made it over the next hill, he couldn’t stop his body from lurching, reacting to the sight of her in front of a man juggling… good Lord was that a sword? His eyes narrowed at the entertainer and noticed ten objects flying through the air. Two of which would cause severe harm if caught improperly.

He wanted to call the man a fool, but he had no right to such an opinion. The only fool in the crowd was him. That’s what came from wanting a woman that you couldn’t, or shouldn’t, have.

Not wanting to disturb the scene, he stayed atop the hill. Browsing through the crowd, his eyes always strayed back to
her
.

It was too far to see for sure, but he knew there was a smile curved on her lips. The way she leaned forward, seeming to hold her breath as the torch lifted high in the air, he knew she was lost in delight.

He had seen that smile before, envisioned it in his mind a million times, hovering beneath him as he took her soft lips in a deep kiss.

A growl sounded in his throat. He needed to stop thinking of her that way. She would be going back to London, never to return to Lynfield Hall.

Never to return to him.

He stumbled back as that thought slammed through him. Where had that come from? He couldn’t possibly want her to stay. They were too different.

But as he rebelled against the thought, deep down, the desire to keep her, to possess her, wove through him.

He stared down at her, the crowd growing hazy as he focused solely on her. His body seemed in tune with hers, shifting subtly as she begun to sway to the lively fiddles that had begun to play at the end of the juggler’s performance.

Victoria’s laughter filtered to his ears, as loud as if she were next to him, and he watched, mesmerized, as her skirt began to shift side to side with her movements. Gracefully, she twirled, seeming not to care about the crowd around her.

She swayed in the night, her serviceable black gown swirled with the movement. She was one with the music, not fighting it, not joining it. She
was
it, almost as if the notes floated out from her person.