Page 5 of Duke of Pride (Sinful Dukes #4)

CHAPTER 5

Croquet

T he next few days passed in relative peace. ‘Peace’ perhaps was too much because Victoria was still living under the same roof as Stephen, and on the rare occasions he left his study, they would clash. They never skipped an opportunity to take a jab at each other, making sure that each barb hit its mark.

The only rule that Victoria imposed on herself was not to wander in the house after dark. She had to make sure that there was no repeat of the dressing room ‘incident’ and the library ‘episode.’ She had no intention of exhausting both the dictionary’s synonyms for various situations and parts of the house.

Other than that, the house was following Stephen’s rules, and though Victoria and Dorothy found ways to enjoy themselves, something was shifting, and a new reality was settling in.

“You are late for dinner, Miss Victoria.”

“No running in the house, Miss Victoria.”

“No dogs allowed in the residence, Miss Victoria.”

Everything followed a rigid schedule that was set by him: mealtimes, tea time, bedtime. Bedtime! As if they were children and needed to be reminded of what time to retire.

Plus, there were no more gatherings in the parlor. No more laughter and whispers. Dorothy and Victoria had friends, and somehow the house had become the hub of their meetings—an unofficial ladies’ club, filled with preposterous gossip and loud laughter. But the master of the house forbade such gatherings. The great estate, once brimming with life and warmth, had settled into something closer to order.

Stephen seemed satisfied with this. Victoria was not. And she made sure that she showed him at any chance she got. Breakfasts became a battlefield, and no one was backing down. It somehow made Dorothy’s day to see them banter every morning.

That day was no different. Victoria was watching him drink his tea and talk to his mother about estate matters with rigor. There was something in the way he talked, his deep timbre, his smooth movements, that for some reason irritated her. And when he concluded the morning report, he proceeded to butter a scone with such surgical precision.

“Your Grace, may I ask for an exception to the rules? You see, I was thinking?—”

“No,” he said with the sharpness of an executioner’s axe.

Victoria’s jaw dropped at his rude manner. He didn’t even hear her out. She longed to see his impeccable facade cracked. She would crack it.

“Are you always this cheerful in the mornings, Your Grace?” she asked, cutting into the eggs on her plate.

“I don’t recall asking for conversation, Miss Victoria.” Stephen didn’t even look up from his paper.

“Oh, but you see, I am doing you a service.”

She took a bite, smiling sweetly. His gaze flickered up, just for a second. A warning.

She ignored it.

“It must be terribly exhausting, carrying all that brooding around so early in the day. I merely wish to lighten the mood.”

“I do not brood,” Stephen muttered, turning a page.

Dorothy, mid-sip, made a small sound that might have been a snort. Stephen’s cold blue eyes flicked to his mother, then back to Victoria.

“You do not brood, you say.” Victoria tilted her head. “Then what do you call that charming scowl you wear right now?”

“Concentration. And an infinite study in patience.”

“My patience, obviously,” Victoria pushed.

Stephen scowled warningly at her, but she took his warning as a challenge.

“And how about that constant scowl?”

Stephen slowly folded his newspaper and placed it beside his plate with measured precision, giving up on finishing reading it. He met her gaze with that unreadable expression of his, the one that made the air between them thicken.

“Yes, precisely.” Victoria pointed with her fork. “That scowl.”

“Frustration,” he growled.

“With me?”

“Unquestionably.”

Dorothy snickered but wisely kept her eyes on her plate.

Victoria stifled a laugh. She was providing quality comedy to her friend while irritating the great Duke of Colborne. What a productive morning!

“I am so sorry, Your Grace, to be the cause of your frustration,” she said with a fake, sugary smile.

“Miss Victoria, some people have real responsibilities and matters to attend to.”

“But a man of your intellect must realize that for every action, there is a reaction. Your rules have deprived me of my fun, so I must channel all that energy somehow.”

Stephen ignored his mother’s barely contained amusement and leaned back in his chair, stretching one long leg out beneath the table. He looked entirely at ease, the very picture of refined control, but Victoria knew better.

“You mistake order for rigidity,” he said, his voice smooth as polished oak. “But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

“And you mistake fun for recklessness. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

They were locked in a staring match. In this chess game they were playing, one wrong word could be all the ammunition the other needed.

Victoria was ready to fire back when Euclid trod in, and she smiled because she was aware of how Stephen got irritated when the dog was allowed in the house. Only, the little treacherous mutt went straight to Stephen and demanded to be petted.

For some bizarre reason, Euclid had taken a liking to Stephen, and that was something Victoria could not swallow that easily.

“See, even Euclid knows you are in a sour mood, and he is trying to cheer you up.”

“That is not it.” Stephen looked at her coldly. “The dog recognizes who the master of this house is. He seems to be wiser than you.”

His gaze was so dominant and powerful that Victoria cleared her throat, determined not to acknowledge the ridiculous effect that one single look from him had on her. She focused on her plate, cutting her eggs with unnecessary force. No man had the right to look like that by simply sitting on a chair. Least of all, a man like him .

He had sharp, sculpted features, as if he were carved from marble. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, decisive chin, piercing blue eyes that could freeze a room with a single look. He was impossibly handsome, a fact Victoria loathed to acknowledge. But more than that, he was controlled. Rigid. Unshakable. And that made her want to shake him.

Stephen had spent his life commanding rooms with a glance, bending the world to his will, and yet here she was, utterly unimpressed.

But now that he had the last word—a rare opportunity—he rose from his seat, kissed his mother on the cheek, and left the room, Euclid hot on his heels.

“Euclid!” Victoria was not ready to let him have the dog as well.

* * *

After that disastrous breakfast, Dorothy and Victoria had settled in the drawing room, where the late morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows, making the polished wooden floors gleam.

It was Victoria’s favorite room in the whole house. It was so light and inviting, warm and cozy.

She lounged on the settee, flipping idly through a book she had no interest in, while Dorothy busied herself with a bit of embroidery. It was too darn quiet. The day was splendid, and yet both of them were occupying themselves with idle things, not talking that much.

Just as Victoria opened her mouth to suggest something scandalous, perhaps sneaking into the kitchens for an early treat, the butler entered, carrying a small stack of letters.

Dorothy immediately brightened. “Ah! A letter from my Annabelle.”

She reached for the letter eagerly, her fingers already breaking the wax seal.

Victoria set her book aside and scooted closer. “How is she? Tell me everything.”

Dorothy’s face softened as she read. “Oh, my sweet, sweet girl.”

Victoria tilted her head, watching as Dorothy’s expression turned wistful.

“She is well,” Dorothy murmured. “Her pregnancy is going smoothly, and Frederick dotes on her as he should. She says she is happy—truly happy.”

“Then all is right with the world.” Victoria smiled.

Dorothy nodded, but her eyes grew distant. She traced the edge of the paper with gentle fingers, lost in thought.

“It feels like only yesterday when she was a child in my arms. And now…” She let out a small laugh. “Now, she will be a mother herself.”

Victoria squeezed her hand. Dorothy squeezed back.

“And she will be a wonderful mother.”

Dorothy sighed, shaking her head fondly. “She is so lucky that she met a man like Frederick. Love matches are so rare.” There was something in her voice.

Victoria hesitated. She knew that Dorothy’s marriage had been one of duty, not love. Still, Dorothy rarely spoke about it.

“My husband was not a bad man,” Dorothy continued. “He was just a man of duty and valued propriety.”

“Reminds of someone.” Victoria rolled her eyes.

“Stephen was raised to be the heir, and when his father got sick, he had to take on the mantle of Duke at such a young age.”

Victoria nodded. She, too, was an orphan, having lost both parents. Imagine having to manage an estate and a seat in the House of Lords.

“Well,” she said lightly, “that doesn’t mean he must be so… insufferably stiff.”

“He does take his duties seriously.” Dorothy grinned.

“Well, Annabelle is happy, and soon her happiness will be complete. I can’t wait to spoil her child the same way I spoil my niece and nephew. And the baby is lucky to have the sweetest grandmother.”

Dorothy smiled and took Victoria’s hands in her own. They looked at each other with so much warmth.

Funny how life works sometimes. How it brings together people who need each other, even if they are not really family.

Both women had been so lonely, but they had bonded as soon as they had met.

“Thank you so much, Victoria.”

“Do not thank me for telling the truth. You will truly be the best grandmother ever.”

“No, not about that. About being here, being my friend and a true companion.”

Victoria squeezed her hands. “I need to thank you for being my friend when I was lost and lonely. I was lucky to find the only other mischievous woman in the ton.” She laughed.

“You remind me so much of my younger self. Will you allow me to give you a piece of advice?”

“Of course.”

“Never change. Not for the ton, not for a man, not for anyone. You are amazing exactly how you are. Do not dim your light for anyone.”

Victoria almost cried. In her short life, many things had changed for her. From being the daughter of a prominent rich family to having that wealth lost to being an orphan, then the sister of a duke and member of the ton.

Everything had happened so fast, without her having any agency, any control. But she was not going to complain. She was comfortable and secure. Some nobles were reluctant to accept both her lowly origin and her outspoken, rebellious nature, but she had found good friends who loved her exactly like she was.

“You don’t have to worry,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “I wouldn’t even dream of changing for anyone.”

The two women hugged.

Victoria was then reminded of the deadline Stephen placed on her stay in Colborne House. One month. Maybe a little less, maybe a little more. She hadn’t told Dorothy about it. Didn’t have the heart to tell her.

“Dorothy, what if I have to leave? What if our time is coming to an end?”

“Don’t tell me that my son is driving you away?”

“No, I am not letting him do that,” Victoria lied.

Dorothy smiled at that.

“But I just wanted to know.”

“If our time is coming to an end, that will mean my last chance to feel alive.”

“Dorothy, you’ve got so many reasons to feel alive. Your daughter, your grandchild. And I am sure at some point, a poor girl will marry the Duke, and perhaps she will decide to continue his line.”

“Victoria!” Dorothy gasped.

They both broke out laughing till their cheeks ached, their hands on their aching bellies, almost exhausted.

“This,” Dorothy sighed. “This is what I mean. Harmless wickedness, living life to the fullest without thinking of propriety but fun.”

Victoria studied her friend. She wanted to reveal that she would have to part ways with her after a month because of Stephen’s stupid rules. But she was not leaving just now. She still had a month left. A month that she would make memorable. Starting from now.

“The weather is amazing.” She got up.

“It is. Garden walk?”

“I have something better in my mind.”

Dorothy’s eyes lit up with mischief. “And what about the rules?”

Victoria smiled a very devious smile.