Page 25

Victoria

M irabelle’s invitation arrived near midday the next morning.

Thank you for inviting me to tea yesterday. I have a few appointments scheduled this afternoon. If you’re not receiving calls today, I thought you might like to come with me. I would like to introduce you to my modiste.

I’ll call at four o’clock unless I hear otherwise.

~ M.D.

I stared at the simple note and considered the wisdom of accepting.

After our all-too-brief intimacy yesterday, I’d expected to find Moreland gone this morning. To my delight, he’d been waiting for me in the breakfast room. Unfortunately, after breaking our fast, he took his leave.

Needing to distract myself, I wandered up to the music room.

Or more accurately, the room that was now my artist’s studio.

Cupboards had been moved into the room to store the art supplies, but I loved seeing the easel and canvasses lining one wall.

It was a daily reminder that I no longer needed to hide my interests.

I picked up my sketchbook and flipped to the page where I’d tried, without success, to draw Moreland’s features. I frowned down at my pitiful effort to capture the gleam in his eyes when I’d first caught sight of him at my brother’s club.

I had always thought the marriage bed was an ordeal I would need to tolerate, but Moreland had shown me that didn’t have to be the case.

Perhaps husbands were dull creatures, but protectors were another matter entirely.

Given the choice between continuing this ruse with him or marrying Lord Heddington, I would vastly prefer to spend the rest of my days as Moreland’s mistress.

It would never happen, of course, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy our time together. And perhaps afterward, I could find someone capable of bringing me even a fraction of the pleasure he’d already shown me.

I picked up a pencil and settled onto the chaise, determined to have a picture of Moreland to remember him by.

Unfortunately, my second and third sketches weren’t much of an improvement.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I put down the sketchbook and glanced at the mantel clock.

It was almost time for Mirabelle’s visit.

When I returned downstairs, I found myself facing a disapproving butler.

“It is out of the question, my lady.”

His tone and demeanor were proper, but he was younger than one would expect for such an exalted position within the household staff.

Given that he was assigned primarily to ensure my safety, it made sense that my brother would hire staff composed of younger men, men who could deal with any attempts my father might make to steal me back.

I was determined to hold my ground. “Was that my brother’s order? That I cannot leave at all?”

The butler frowned. “Not in so many words, but it was implied.”

I raised a brow. “Implied? So you’re not following his orders. You’re keeping me locked here of your own accord.”

“It is extremely unwise for you to leave. We would not be able to protect you.”

I smiled sweetly. “Then send an escort—your strongest fighters. We’ll take our own carriage, and one of your men can travel in the coach with us.

Another can sit outside with the driver.

I’m sure that between the three of them, I will be quite safe.

I’m only going to visit a modiste. I made a similar visit with Lord Moreland recently.

” I leaned in slightly. “I would hate to tell my brother that someone on his staff was being unreasonable.”

The color drained from his face, and I felt a twinge of guilt.

He nodded stiffly. “Remain here while I arrange for your escort. Miss Devereux needs to leave the address of the modiste with me. And of course, I will send word to Lord Rexford about your outing.”

I smiled. “That is acceptable.”

Ten minutes later, Mirabelle and I were seated in my carriage, while Mirabelle’s carriage followed. In addition to the men accompanying the vehicles, two outriders followed at a distance. The footman who rode with us in the carriage was a burly young man.

“My, my, my,” Mirabelle murmured, leaning forward and giving him a seductive smile. “I didn’t expect you to come with company.” She glanced at me. “Tell me, does Moreland invite him everywhere you two go?”

Color crept up the man’s neck, but he said nothing, his expression impassive.

I had no idea what Mirabelle meant. Rather than ask, I thought it best to change the subject. “Moreland just wants me to be safe. As you can imagine, my father isn’t happy with our arrangement.”

Mirabelle nodded. “I understand. And I’m pleased you accepted my invitation today.”

“I must admit that I’ve been to a modiste since my change in station. Madame Argent.”

Mirabelle smiled. “That’s all well and good. Madame Argent is very talented. But she’s also a bit… conventional.” Her eyes glinted with something unreadable. “My modiste can help you in other ways.”

She gave me a significant look before her gaze slid to our companion. My breath caught as I recalled some of the nightgowns that had recently been delivered to the townhouse. If Madame Argent was conventional, I was almost afraid to see what Mirabelle’s modiste would suggest.

I wanted to ask Mirabelle for more details but couldn’t with the footman in the carriage.

I wasn’t entirely comfortable discussing personal matters in front of men I didn’t know well.

In truth, I wasn’t comfortable discussing such things in front of men at all.

Except for Moreland. After the intimacy we’d shared last night, it might be enjoyable to raise the subject with him.

It was difficult to ignore the man seated on the bench opposite us, but I was curious about Mirabelle’s current situation. “Moreland mentioned that you’re looking for a new protector.”

Mirabelle shrugged. “Such is the way of the world when it comes to women like me.”

“How are you faring otherwise? If I can do anything to help you, please ask.”

I owed her that much at least. She was the only person who’d reached out to befriend me now that I was ruined.

An odd emotion flickered across Mirabelle’s face, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “You are very generous, definitely a credit to how you were raised. In another lifetime, I think we could have been friends.”

I smiled. “We can be friends now.”

Mirabelle leaned closer, lowering her voice.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather return to your father?

It’s not too late. I can help you if you’ve changed your mind and come to realize that you’re in too deep with your current situation.

I’m sure your brother would understand.” She seemed so distraught.

I was touched by her concern. “You needn’t worry. For the first time in my life, I’m happy.”

Her face fell, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking about her own circumstances. Living between protectors and searching for someone to take care of her must be difficult. I imagined she thought that I was insane to give up the security inherent in my former life.

I hated to think that I might someday find myself in a similar situation.

Once this uncertainty settled and I was truly free from my father’s control, Moreland would tire of me.

He’d admitted that he’d never kept a mistress, and undoubtedly I lacked the skill in that department to keep his interest for long.

Then I, too, would be alone. But unlike Mirabelle, I had my brother’s support.

I didn’t need to seek another man to take care of me. Rexford would ensure I stayed safe.

“Please don’t worry about me.” I laid a hand on her arm. “I am quite content.” I turned to look out the window when I realized the carriage was slowing. “It appears we’ve arrived.”

Before I could make out where we were, the carriage door flew open. To my shock, Moreland stood in the opening.

“Get out.”

I froze. I’d never seen him so angry. But before I could obey, Mirabelle murmured a quick apology and scurried from the carriage.

Moments later, Moreland was sitting beside me.

The man who’d accompanied Mirabelle and me had departed with her.

It was just the two of us inside the carriage.

As the vehicle jolted forward once more, I examined Moreland, wondering why he was so angry.

I’d taken precautions, after all. But his fury was clear in the tightness of his jaw and the way his fists clenched at his sides.

Had he been my father, I would have been terrified. But I wasn’t afraid of Moreland because he wasn’t just angry. I’d felt the same emotion too many times myself not to recognize it in another. He was terrified.