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" W e're going home."

Victoria looked up from the painting she had been studying. In spite of herself, she had been starting to have a good time. "The artwork here is really lovely," she told James. "Have you looked at this?"

"I don't care about artwork. We're leaving now. Come."

She frowned. "I don't understand—did something happen?"

"It's time to go, that's all. And there's no need for you to ask all these questions," he told her. "The carriage is already waiting for us outside, so let's be on our way."

"We haven't even been here that long," she protested as she followed him to the door.

She was surprised to find herself ready to fight the decision to leave the ball.

Hadn't she just been thinking how relieved she would be when he told her it was time to go?

But now that was happening and she found that she wanted to stay.

She wanted to go on enjoying herself a little longer.

Sure enough, his carriage was waiting for them, and James didn't speak a word as he opened the door and held out a hand to help her up into it. There was nothing warm about the hand that supported her as she climbed up—it was like taking hold of an inanimate object, and it made Victoria shiver.

He climbed up behind her and sat facing her, but gazing away from her out the window of the carriage. The door was closed. A moment later, the wheels began to turn, bearing them toward home.

James did not speak a word to her throughout the entire journey.

When they arrived, he disembarked first and left her behind. Victoria expected that he would reach up to help her down from the carriage, but he didn't, and after a moment a footman appeared to help her. James was already halfway to the door of the house.

Victoria hurried after him, unable to make sense of what had happened tonight.

"James, wait," she called. "I thought the evening was going well.

I thought you were having a good time. Even I was beginning to enjoy myself.

Why did we need to come home earlier than anticipated? Is everything all right?"

James whirled to face her. His eyes blazed with an anger she hadn't anticipated, and it froze her where she stood. She had no idea how to process what she was seeing, no idea how to address him after seeing that rage on his face.

"What were you doing dancing with my brother?" he demanded.

"I—I didn't realize I wasn't supposed to," she stammered, breathless.

Looking at him now felt like staring into the eyes of a large predator—a lion, perhaps, or a wolf.

She perceived danger in this moment, though she knew he would never do anything to physically harm her.

But there was something beautiful and awe-inspiring about the power on display before her as well.

He had her mesmerized, and her heart raced in response to him.

"You didn't realize that I brought you to the ball so that I could make arrangements for you? You thought it was your place to make decisions for yourself about who you spent time with?"

"You left me on my own," Victoria pointed out. "You went to talk to other people—was I supposed to stand beside the wall and speak to no one until you returned?"

"Perhaps you should have done that, yes."

"And what would you have had me do when he approached me?

" Victoria demanded. The stunned feeling that she'd had a moment ago was beginning to be replaced by anger.

"He greeted me, James. Should I have ignored him?

Said nothing at all? Or perhaps you think I should have told him that I wasn't permitted to talk to anyone unless I sought your permission first?

You know, you told me that we were on a mission to restore my reputation, and that isn't something that will happen if you insist on my acting like an antisocial fool every time I go out of the house.

You must realize how unhelpful that would be, how little it would aid in the outcome you say you desire.

No one is going to want to marry me if they don't feel they're even allowed to speak to me. "

"No one is going to want to marry you if it looks like you're throwing yourself at every gentleman who shows you a scrap of attention," James countered.

"You know, that's only bound to reinforce what people already believe about you—that you're the kind of lady who seeks an advantageous marriage in order to socially and financially advance yourself, and that you won't hesitate to harm whoever you must to make that happen. "

Victoria couldn't help it—she burst out laughing. "You can't possibly mean to suggest that people will think I could be guilty of murder because I shared a dance with a kind gentleman!"

"People will think all kinds of things. Victoria, you aren't careful with your reputation. You've spent too long not worrying about the opinions of others, and you must think about that now. You don't have the freedom and the luxury to do as you wish without taking that into account."

"He asked me to dance and I said yes!" Victoria threw up her hands in frustration. "You're acting as if I committed a crime! I think it would have been rude to tell him no, frankly. He was so kind to me—and come to think of it, why didn't you tell me that you had a brother?"

"Do I have to tell you everything about myself? It never came up."

"You'd think it would have come up when we first met one another. When he first introduced himself to me. You were standing right there. Why didn't you tell me who he was?"

"I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that I didn't want you to know who he was."

"Oh, it's occurred to me," Victoria bit out. "My question is why ? Why are you keeping such a strange secret? He's a perfectly pleasant gentleman—why don't you want me to know him?"

"It's no business of yours," James told her. "Nothing about my family is any business of yours. And from now on, I expect you to stay away from my brother. If you and he should cross paths at any future parties, I don't want to see you associating with him."

"I mean, my goodness, James. You act as if he's some sort of violent criminal who might put my safety or virtue at risk. He's your brother."

"You never know who might be a violent criminal, though, do you?" He shot her a pointed look. "Perhaps you're not the one whose safety I'm concerned about!"

His words hit her as hard as if he had slapped her, and she physically staggered back.

He couldn't have meant that. Perhaps she had misunderstood—she must have misunderstood, mustn't she?

He couldn't possibly be saying that he was concerned, after all, that she might be a murderer?

He couldn't be saying he was trying to keep her from Benjamin because he was worried she might be putting Benjamin in danger?

But that was exactly what he had said. She couldn't question it. He had spoken clearly and had left no room for doubt.

She shivered. He was the one person—outside of her own family, of course—who she had been sure believed her.

She had allowed herself to trust that his opinion of her was good and true.

She had, she realized now, allowed herself to start caring what people thought of her again, because James had made her believe that people could see her and like her for who she was.

If that wasn't the case…

She didn't know what to think. She only knew that she didn't want to stand here with him anymore. She couldn't bear having this conversation for a moment longer.

She hurried up the steps, turning her back to him.

As she ran away, she half expected that he would call her back, and she was already planning how she would respond when he did.

Would she grant him the opportunity to apologize?

He didn't deserve it—not after speaking to her that way.

Not after making such a heartless accusation, when he had allowed her to believe that he understood what kind of person she was.

If he saw her as a murderer, why should she hear his apologies?

But her thoughts were wasted. Whatever she might have done in response to an apology, she never found out, because he didn't call after her or try to convince her to return.

And Victoria was far too proud to look back on her own.

If he wasn't going to try to call to her, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing that she had any further interest in speaking to him.

By the time she reached her bedroom, her anger and indignation had overpowered her shock and hurt at what he had said.

How dare he speak to her like that? He knew she wasn't guilty of that murder!

How many times had he assured her that he knew it was only a rumor and that all she needed to do was to ignore the gossips?

The most maddening part of all was that she still believed that was true—she still thought he understood that she was innocent.

He had said what he had tonight out of a desire to hurt her, nothing more, and that made it all the worse.

He wasn't trying to protect his brother.

If it had truly been that, she could almost have understood.

She might have found a way to forgive him.

But it wasn't that at all. It was just that he was angry at not having been able to control her, and he had lashed out like this in order to cope with that.

She went to her window seat and stared out at the night sky, pondering the situation.

Why was he so upset in the first place? That was the part that didn't make any sense to Victoria, no matter how much she thought about it.

He had always been controlling, of course, and that aspect of his character was no real surprise to her.

But there was something different about this situation.

Why had he been so hesitant to let her know that Benjamin was his brother?

Surely that couldn't be such a big secret—and yet he had treated it in much the same way as he had when he had found her making changes to the furnishings in the manor without his permission, as if she had overstepped some imperceptible boundary.

She let out a sigh.

Getting to know Benjamin had been, by far, the most enjoyable part of the evening.

She had truly taken pleasure in his company.

Given her own way, she would have very much liked to see him again—but it didn't seem likely that she would get her own way when it came to that.

The next time there was a ball, she would have to be careful to stay away from Benjamin—at least, she would if she didn't want to incur James' wrath.

Then again, maybe she didn't care what James thought anymore.

Maybe the lesson of tonight's events was that she had allowed herself to become too invested in what he thought about her, and that it was time to return her focus to what she wanted.

And maybe she wanted to be friends with James' brother, no matter what he might have to say about it.

Outside, she heard the distant cry of a bird. It was a lovely sound, but for the first time since her very first night here at Stormwell, looking out at the outside world made Victoria feel trapped. For the first time in years, she couldn't help thinking that to get away might actually be a relief.