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“My presence,” Victoria cut in sharply, “has been of comfort to your mother.”

“That is not the issue.” Stephen inhaled slowly, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he spoke.

“Then what is the issue?”

A pause. A long pause. A pause in which Victoria saw something flicker in his gaze. It could be hesitation, perhaps, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. When he finally spoke, his voice was as firm as ever.

“Women of yourkinddo not belong in houses like this. They tend to be brazen and improper.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Victoria went stiff. Her heartbeat stuttered, her hands curling into the folds of her skirt.

Women of my kind…

It was not her wit, her independence, or their long-standing animosity that made him so determined to keep her away. It was the simple, unchangeable truth of her birth.

“You are displeased,” she said, her voice deceptively light, “because I was not born with a title.”

“It is not personal, Miss Victoria. It is not about you. It is about how people might read into this.”

“How convenient. You say it is not personal, that it is not about me, yet somehow, I am the problem.” Victoria narrowed her eyes at him.

“Argue all you like, Miss Victoria, but facts remain facts. My mother?—”

“Her Grace,” Victoria cut in, “invited me here. Yet you keep treating me as if I invaded your house and set up camp in the east wing.”

Victoria was shaking with anger. She was torn between storming out of the room crying or getting the butter knife and testing its sharpness on human flesh.

“I am merely stating that your presence here is not something that would be kindly looked upon by?—”

“Society,” she spoke over him, almost biting out the word. “Yes, yes. How tiresome it must be, having to uphold such burdensome standards.”

“There is a reason that standards exist,” he protested.

“Then byyourstandards, it is perfectly fine to look down on me because I was not born into nobility?”

Stephen looked at her as if he wished that murder was not illegal in most cultures. Victoria had cornered him. This was her victory. She drew first blood.

Stephen regrouped and folded. Only temporarily, she suspected.

“I do not look down on you, Miss Victoria,” he said, his voice turning even colder. “I merely don’t want you around my family.”

The temperature in the room dropped further. The only thing that could be heard was the proverbial ice solidifying between them.

“Stephen!” Dorothy realized that this was turning improper, and fast.

Stephen exhaled through his nose, his gaze raking over Victoria as if assessing the extent of the challenge she had just issued him.

“There will be rules.”

“Rules, Your Grace?” Victoria arched a single, mocking eyebrow.

“Yes. If I am to remain at Colborne House, and you are to keep your… position here, then certain boundaries will be established. Firstly, no one will disturb me while I am in my study. I have matters to attend to, and I will not have my time wasted with frivolous interruptions.”

His eyes flicked briefly to Victoria before settling back on his mother.

Victoria clasped her hands in front of her and smiled sweetly. “But Your Grace, what if the house is on fire?”