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Victoria

I was used to being ignored. In fact, I’d relished the illusion of freedom I had when Father left me to my own devices.

He made sure I had all the proper tutors and that my spare time was spent in pursuits he considered suitable for a young woman of my station.

I knew the staff reported back to him because if I tried to avoid my daily practice at the pianoforte, I would hear about it from Father.

Whenever he was home, Father insisted we have our evening meal together.

Those dinners consisted of interminable silences punctuated by questions about what new music I’d learned, what songs I was singing, and whether I thought my skills were sufficient to attract the right suitor.

In the end, it hadn’t mattered, because he’d arranged my betrothal to one of his cronies without me having to perform one musical recital.

Still, it galled me that on my first full day of freedom, I found myself wandering into the music room and submitting to my daily practice.

I blamed Moreland, of course. His presence in the house had my emotions in turmoil.

At least concentrating on the music distracted me from wondering what he was doing.

I’d ventured to ask Lily if he required anything, and she’d informed me that he’d sent one of the footmen to his townhouse to fetch some accounts to review, which left me nothing to do but wonder if he found me a burden.

My fingers crashed down on the keys, the discordant notes a fitting accompaniment for my emotions. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget that he was just downstairs—and that he was going out of his way to ignore me.

I stilled when I realized something in the air had shifted. Moreland was watching me. I didn’t know how I knew, but I was certain he was there, observing me play, and he’d been doing so for some time.

I placed my hands in my lap, embarrassed by the abrupt ending to my practice session, and shifted on the bench to look over my shoulder. Moreland leaned against the doorframe, his arms casually crossed and his expression neutral.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt.” He straightened, moving into the room. “I was informed it’s almost time for dinner. When I heard the music, I thought that perhaps you might be distracted, so I came to fetch you.”

I let out a soft sigh. “If I’d known I had an audience, I would have finished the piece.”

Moreland shrugged. “You were practicing, not performing for me.”

“That might be true…”

“There are no spies here who will run off to tell your father you’ve been naughty.”

I remembered the gossip column that I still hadn’t seen. “I think we both know that my father is very aware of just how naughty I’m being.”

The expression on Moreland’s face puzzled me for a moment, then I realized the double meaning behind my innocent words. Heat flooded my cheeks. “Not that I’ve actually been naughty,” I added quickly.

He chuckled. “Does it bother you that he thinks you’re my mistress?”

It was a serious question, so I gave it serious consideration. I kept expecting second thoughts to creep in and haunt me, regrets for my rash behavior of late, but I couldn’t find even a trace of doubt.

I smiled. “I feel free. It’s an odd sensation, which makes my behavior just now even more unsettling.”

He closed the distance between us. When I shifted to the edge of the piano bench, he took my unspoken invitation and sat next to me. I was facing the piano, and he was facing the other way, our bodies turned toward one another.

“Your behavior?”

I swept my hand over the keyboard. “Practicing. Father insisted I do it every day.”

He frowned. “You don’t enjoy it? You play very well.”

“It’s not that I dislike it,” I admitted. “It’s just that he was so adamant, which took away much of my enjoyment.”

“He likes music?”

I realized that I had no idea whether my father enjoyed music.

He’d never bothered to listen to me practice.

“I don’t believe so. But I’m sure he liked having a daughter he could show off.

In the country, he loved having me perform for visiting guests.

And I know he had great plans to host a musicale for Lord Heddington.

” I shuddered, contemplating the fate I’d only narrowly avoided.

“Why am I practicing now? I could be doing anything.”

“Perhaps it’s just a habit,” he said softly. “I can help you find something else.”

The sincerity in his expression caused me to lean closer. “I think I’d like that very much.”

His eyes searched mine for several seconds. “Tell me, Victoria. If you could be doing anything other than practicing at the pianoforte, what would you be doing right now?”

“Not singing.” I shuddered. “I am passable at best, but Father insisted I sing on occasion. I hated it. All those eyes watching me, the smirks when I failed to hit a high note.” I shook my head. “And of course, he always chose the most difficult songs for me to perform.”

His eyes twinkled. “So, you wouldn’t want to perform a duet with me right now?”

I laughed. “Certainly not. What I really love to do is draw.”

I thought back to the drawing supplies hidden away in my room.

Lily knew about them, of course, but she’d kept my secret.

The Duke of Sherbourne thought that drawing wasn’t an appropriate pursuit for a young woman—an opinion he’d formed when my male drawing instructor began to show me a little too much attention.

It was ridiculous because the middle-aged man’s interest in me had lain solely with my drawing skills.

But of course, Father had assumed the worst and had him banished from the house.

Father had refused to hear another word about drawing or painting after that.

Moreland frowned. “Would you like me to sit for you?”

I laughed at the look of horror on his face. “Do you ever sit still?”

“Not if I can help it.” He shrugged.

“It must be so tedious for you, being here with me,” I teased.

He leaned back. “My steward will be pleased that I was able to go over the accounts. It’s a task I tend to put off for as long as possible.”

“And now you’re going to leave me.”

I meant to keep my tone light, but I couldn’t hide my sadness at the thought. It was strange that I’d wanted my freedom so badly, yet I was afraid to be alone. A part of my mind whispered it wasn’t the solitude I feared, but rather that Moreland fascinated me and I wanted to get to know him better.

I pushed those thoughts away. Moreland was my pretend protector. The world would come to believe we were lovers, but I had to content myself with small moments like this, our conversations drifting toward intimacy but never crossing the line.

“I had to leave all my art supplies at home,” I said. “I only brought a small bag. Lily thought to pack for me beforehand, but we took just a few essential items.”

Moreland looked as though he wanted to say something, but a footman stepped into the room then.

“Dinner will be served in a few minutes,” he announced.

I thanked him and stood.

Moreland did so as well, acting the proper gentleman we both knew he wasn’t. He held out his arm for me. “Allow me to escort you to dinner, my lady.”

I dipped into a brief curtsy and smiled. “I would be honored, my lord.”

Moreland’s words and the way he smiled down at me when I took his arm did much to settle my earlier annoyance with myself.

We made our way downstairs to the modestly sized dining room.

Instead of moving aside to allow the footman stationed just inside the room to pull out my chair, Moreland performed the task himself.

I couldn’t help but wonder if that was something men did for their paramours.

Or their wives, for that matter. My mother had died when I was only six years old, so I couldn’t recall if Father had ever done the same for her.

The thought was so ridiculous that I couldn’t help chuckling. I already knew the answer to that question. The Duke of Sherbourne would never lower himself to pull out a chair for his duchess. He would expect one of the servants to do it.

“Is something amusing?” Moreland asked.

I smiled at him, my mood much lighter in his presence. It was interesting, the effect this man had on me. Only one other man had ever made me feel so comfortable, and that was my brother.

“I was just trying to imagine my father pulling out a chair for my mother.”

Moreland laughed. “I doubt he pulls out his own chairs.”

I burst into a fit of giggles. “Father isn’t quite that bad, but you do paint an amusing picture.”

Our first plate was served then, a simple white soup, and we fell into amiable conversation. Mostly, Moreland asked questions about me and my interests.

My life hadn’t been all that bad. Yes, my father was strict, but for the most part, he left me alone if I did what was expected. And I’d been able to carve out small moments for myself with my drawing.

When Lily had arrived two years ago to act as my new maid, she’d managed to make things easier for me.

I suspected Rexford had arranged for the older woman who’d been serving me before then to retire.

She’d been terrified of my father and would never have allowed me to keep art supplies in my bedroom after he’d dictated that I needed to give up my drawing.

But Lily had been my ally from the start.

When the meal drew to a close and the footman removed the dessert plates, our easy conversation drew to a halt.

For the first time, it occurred to me to wonder if Moreland had another paramour. He’d told me that he’d never kept a mistress, but I knew he had lovers.

The thought left a sour taste in my mouth.

It was foolish, but in the short time I’d known him, I’d come to think of him as mine.

It was the height of folly. After all, he was a Legend.

The gossip columns were filled with stories about their love affairs and about the men who gambled with them and lost.

I stood, and Moreland did the same. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.

“I’m going to?—”

We started speaking at the same time and stopped. He inclined his head, allowing me to go first.

“I wanted to thank you for spending the day here. For letting me know about the article and for being so understanding when I overreacted.”

He frowned. “It wasn’t an overreaction. Your father is used to getting what he wants. You had every reason to worry.”

Moreland didn’t sugarcoat things for me, which I appreciated. “Still, I don’t want to keep you if you have other plans for tonight.”

He shook his head. “I have nowhere else I need to be. Everyone knows I’m staying here tonight.”

I tried to ignore the way my heart fluttered. “Everyone?”

“Your brother and our friends. Anyone who happens to be watching this house, both friend and foe.”

He was suggesting that my father already knew I was here. I couldn’t hold back my shudder of fear at the thought.

Moreland moved to my side and took my hand in his. “You’re safe. Even if I weren’t here, I happen to know that your brother has his own people watching the house from outside. No one will get close to you.”

I took a deep breath and tried to push back my terror.

Rexford was very resourceful. He’d somehow managed to outsmart our father, escaping the shackles that the Duke of Sherbourne had spent his life placing around his heir.

I’d never asked how Rexford had managed to escape, but he was untouchable now.

I could take comfort in the fact that I was under his protection.

“I can’t help but think that I’m keeping you from other, more important things.”

Moreland raised my hand to his lips, his breath warming the sensitive skin of my inner wrist. “There is no other place I’d rather be tonight.” Then he pressed a soft kiss there.

It was a fanciful thought, but my heart stuttered.

He squeezed my hand, then released it. “Go to sleep, Victoria. I’ll be here in the morning when you wake.”

I nodded, all words escaping me. I did have the presence of mind to dip into a brief curtsy before turning and leaving the room.

When I reached the stairs, I ran up them, knowing he had probably noticed that my cheeks were burning. I needed to remind myself that Moreland was used to charming women. I meant nothing to him.

But tonight, I would dream of those gray eyes staring down at me and imagine what it might have been like if he’d drawn me into his arms instead of wishing me good night.