ictoria's sisters and mother arrived a half hour later, and Victoria had the butler show them into the drawing room. Victoria had dried her tears and washed her face, determined to speak to her husband about his mistress before the day was out. Until then, she could do nothing about the horrible cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was he already lying to her? Did he have no plans to end his affair?

When the butler had left them alone, her sisters' faces showed puzzlement as they stared at Victoria, and then growing concern. No matter how hard Victoria had tried to keep her expression merely pleasant, her sisters had already seen that something was wrong.

Victoria did not want to talk about it.

"Good morning, Mama," she said, kissing her mother's cheek. "Is everything ready for you to move in here?"

She'd obviously said the wrong thing, for her sisters winced and her mother looked mutinous.

"Am I missing something?" Victoria asked as they all sat down.

Meriel sighed. "Mama is sad to be leaving home."

Their mother rolled her eyes. "You all seem to think it should be easy to leave the place where I built a life with your father."

Louisa slid closer to their mother on the sofa and put an arm around her. "We don't think that at all, Mama. But you won't be far away. I'm sure our cousin would love to have you visit occasionally."

Meriel gave her a warning glance over their mother's head, and even Victoria realized they couldn't know such a thing for certain.

"Mama," Victoria said, "I thought you would be happy not to see me working so hard in the house."

She sighed. "Of course I am, dearest. Your marriage is something I've dreamed of for so many years. It's just— I wish I knew what was wrong with me." Her voice trailed off to a whisper.

Victoria felt her ever-present tears return. "We've had a terrible year, Mama, and we all have to recover."

"Thank goodness for Viscount Thurlow," her mother said.

Victoria almost bristled. Didn't her mother realize that Victoria had sacrificed her freedom to make everyone safe?

Her own thoughts suddenly baffled her. How could she resent her poor mother, who'd suffered a terrible blow?

Then Mama looked at her sadly. "I'm sorry that this is so sudden for you, Victoria. I know you would have liked more time to prepare for marriage."

Surprised, Victoria could only say, "It's all right, Mama."

Mrs. Wayneflete entered the drawing room, smiling as she approached their mother. "I have your new room all ready, Mrs. Shelby. Why don't you come see it with me?"

The sisters watched sadly as their mother left, her shoulders still bowed.

Victoria sighed, then regretted it as both sisters turned to frown at her in worry.

Victoria lifted her hands. "I'm fine, I'm fine, just worried for Mama."

Louisa frowned at her, then turned to stare toward the door through which their mother had disappeared. "She seems no better."

"But she will be," Victoria insisted. "We've all seen to that."

"Mostly because of you," Meriel said. "Vic, you're not trapped in this house, are you?"

"Of course not."

"Then let's take a last walk to Willow Pond."

Victoria was relieved. She assumed Lord Thurlow was still in the house somewhere, and she did not want to see him. She might burst into tears in front of her sisters.

The Shelby gardens were not as extensive as those on the Banstead property, but they were as familiar as Victoria's own bedroom. She looked out over the grounds, letting bittersweet memories wash over her. She deliberately didn't look at the stables in the rear of the gardens. Her father had died there, and she needed no reminder of that.

Holding hands like children, the three of them wandered into the remotest corner of the garden, which had become even more overgrown in the last year without a gardener to tame it. They bent low under the hanging branches of the willow tree and found the little pond. No one had kept the fish stocked, no one had cleaned the creeping greenery that had spread across the water's surface, but there was still something magical about the place. With a high wall on one side, and trees and shrubbery everywhere else, the pond had made them feel that they were in the country, all alone. Roses of varying hues still grew in abundance, now wilder and more entangled than ever.

They'd told each other their deepest secrets here, had come out at night to escape the heat of midsummer, had hidden here when their father was angry with them. And they had always considered it so romantic, because their father had proposed to their mother right here, sitting on this very bench.

But now as an adult, Victoria saw her parents' marriage in the cold light of reality. And it had not been made of romance. Her own marriage was only a day old, and already it seemed to be following the pattern laid down by her own parents. She was still dwelling on the sadness of that when Meriel tugged on her hand.

"Is everything all right between you and Lord Thurlow?" her sister asked.

Victoria smiled. "Of course. Whyever would you ask such a thing?"

Louisa took her other hand. "Did everything…" Her voice died away, and she looked at Meriel with appeal.

"What she's trying to say," Meriel said forth-rightly, "is was your wedding night…acceptable?"

Victoria sighed. She had known before coming here that her sisters would inquire. For the first time, Victoria felt that there were things she shouldn't confide in her sisters. The fact that Lord Thurlow had a mistress was something to be worked out between them privately. And she didn't want her sisters to worry more than they already were. She would discuss the wedding bargain, because it would make them go back to their lives feeling better about her situation.

"The wedding night was fine," Victoria said. "I asked Lord Thurlow for more time to get to know him. He agreed."

Louisa drew her breath in sharply. "You mean he didn't— you both didn't— "

"That's what she means," Meriel interrupted. "Not quite a true wife yet. Why would a man agree to such a thing?"

Louisa took Victoria's hand. "Meriel, I've never known you to be so cynical. Victoria's husband is treating her with kindness. What has happened to you since you left us?"

Meriel shook her head, looking toward the pond with a distracted expression. "You're right, I'm sorry. It is easier to see the worst in people, I guess."

Victoria's worry made her soften her voice. "Is it so terrible being a governess at the Ramsgate estate, Meriel?"

"No, no, really, it is tolerable. I am just not used to feeling so…helpless, so inconsequential."

"It is not inconsequential to see to the education of a young boy," Louisa said. "Your calling is a noble one."

Meriel looked at her in shock, then began to laugh. "Oh, Louisa, how I've missed your optimism. You're right, I have to remember who I'm really helping." She turned to Victoria and took both her hands. "Forgive my pessimism, my dear. Your husband is being kind to you, which I'm certain is quite rare. He sounds like an honorable man."

David entered the dining room for dinner and found his wife waiting for him. She nodded graciously, and he gave her a short bow. Because of her— and her housekeeper— not a single complaint had greeted him when he'd walked through the front door. It was a refreshing, welcome change. One day married, and already things were running smoothly.

Things within the household anyway, he thought with a sigh.

As he seated himself at the head of the table, he found himself studying her now that she was wearing something other than black. Though he would have thought that color improved her complexion, she seemed pale. Had she already had an encounter with his father?

The ever-present notebook remained near her right hand, and he almost wanted to know why she felt it necessary to have it with her everywhere. But that personal a question could lead down paths he didn't want to go.

Victoria thanked the footman serving them, and the servant retreated to stand near the wall.

"That is a newly purchased gown you're wearing," David said.

"Yes, my lord."

"Surely you didn't have enough time to purchase a satisfactory amount of gowns."

Her polite expression faded. A compliment would have been the wiser choice.

"Not that it isn't a lovely gown on you, Victoria," he said.

"Thank you, my lord."

Of course she would realize that his praise was an afterthought. But thinking about her wardrobe made him realize that she would need to shop for more soon. The gown she wore today was suitable for his business acquaintances, but what if on her own— and with more money to spend— she chose garments that would make the directors' wives feel inferior?

"Victoria, tomorrow I am free after mid-morning. I shall accompany you to the dressmaker's."

Her eyes narrowed. "Surely that is too much trouble."

"No, I insist. It would give us the opportunity to be together."

At a dressmaker's shop? That excuse couldn't possibly make sense to her, but she only nodded her assent.

"My lord, your generosity is overwhelming," she said quietly.

"Generosity? But you're my wife. I promised you a wardrobe, and you shall have it. I hope you won't mind not having anything new for Bannaster's dinner."

She stopped eating. "Bannaster's dinner? Do we have an engagement?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"I heard about it at the Hutton luncheon, though not the exact date. If you don't mind, my lord, I'd like as much notice as possible when you've accepted an invitation."

He clenched his jaw, reminding himself that as his wife, she deserved more consideration. "I'll make sure my secretary discusses everything with you."

"You can't tell me yourself?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

She lowered her gaze and continued eating, not even angry at his thoughtlessness. He realized that he liked spending time with her, that her conversation was never dull. But then again, hadn't he been enthralled by even the words she'd written in a book? Now he was able to regard her freely, and he found himself watching her lips. He'd kissed those lips last night, if only for the briefest moment. They'd been so soft, her breath so sweet. Like her disposition. Surely she knew that his family was not looked upon well, yet she didn't seem to judge him for it.

"My lord, forgive my mother for not joining us this evening," Victoria said. "She is feeling rather unsettled in a new house."

"I understand."

"Where is your father?"

"His illness often prevents him from leaving his room." David couldn't look too long into her eyes, knowing that his relief would show. Soon enough, she'd realize that the earl's absence made everything easier.

"How ill is he, my lord?"

"His heart is failing. He lost the use of his legs some time ago. He is not a well man, though doctors cannot tell us how much time he might have left. Don't be surprised if you don't see him all that much. He has his own nurse to see to his needs."

"But I am his daughter by marriage. I would enjoy getting to know him."

"Victoria, let me be honest. My father is unhappy with the decline in his health, and he has managed to make the household suffer for it."

"Oh surely— "

"He is the reason two housekeepers quit. He's not an easy man to get along with."

"I understand that, my lord, but I can't live in his house and not speak to him."

She moved food around on her plate for several minutes, but didn't eat it. David knew she was not finished with the subject, but before he could think of another one— even the weather— she spoke.

"Wilfred," she said to the footman, "that will be all for now."

David arched an eyebrow and waited.

"My lord, when you were pretending to be Tom, you told me you didn't have a father."

He stiffened. "As you just said, I was pretending."

"You could have given yourself a father— for instance, the butler— but you didn't."

He sighed. "Clearly it must be obvious to you that my father and I don't agree on much, Victoria. I disapprove of the way he's lived his life, and he disapproves of me."

Her eyes held an understanding that made him uncomfortable.

"My lord, if you remember anything about me, then you'll know that my father and I did not often agree with one another."

"He tried to force you to be what you weren't," David said. "But you don't need to draw comparisons between you and me, because there aren't any where our fathers are concerned. My father only cares about himself, the prime evidence being how he treats the servants. And when he is cruel to you, please don't take it personally."

"You don't think my father's motives were selfish?" she asked.

For only the second time, she allowed him to see anguish in her eyes, and he didn't know what to do, what she wanted from him.

"By the end," she continued, "he was a very selfish man. It is difficult when your own parent seems to disregard you. I tell myself that maybe I was only seeing my own side of our problems."

"Or maybe you were seeing the truth. You need to do what I did and just forget."

She stiffened. "Forget?"

"Yes. If you work at it hard enough, it eventually won't bother you anymore."

"But your father is right here, alive. How can you forget him? Why would you want to?"

His stomach clenched. "You try to forget his actions." Or they pare away at your insides. But he wasn't following his own advice. "Do you think the quail is too dry tonight?"

She put down her fork. "My lord, something happened today that I cannot forget."

"What did my father do?"

"It's something you did. I was walking by the library this morning, and since you did not close the door, I overheard some of your conversation."

He straightened in his chair and looked at her. "My conversation with Miss Lingard, the milliner?"

"Miss Lingard, your mistress." Her face was pale but determined.

In a low voice, he said, "I made no secret that I was with another woman before you, Victoria."

"But you told me it was over."

"And it is. I swore to you as your husband that I would honor you." And David had looked into Damaris's sad eyes and had not felt the need for a last night in her arms. Already Victoria held a power over him he had not anticipated.

"What I witnessed today is honoring me?" she asked.

"I'm not sure how long you stood there, but if you heard the whole conversation, Miss Lingard knows that my relationship with her is over."

Victoria took a deep breath. "You had a month to end it, and instead you forgot, and that poor woman was forced to come speak to you in your own home, risking her public reputation— or what is left of it."

"She owns shares in Southern Railway, which is how we met. Our business together did not risk her reputation. Think of me what you will, Victoria, but I would not harm a woman in so callous a way."

"You don't think you harmed her?" she asked.

Her eyes were wide with disbelief. He didn't like that she was trying to make him feel guilty.

"Victoria— "

"You allowed the two of us to meet at a luncheon, when you had not officially told her your affair was through. You let me, your betrothed, converse with her unawares, making me look like the fool."

"But no one knew," he said, his anger beginning to thread through his voice.

"She knew. And now I know." Her disappointment was palpable. "How did you answer her question today?"

"What question?"

"She asked why you didn't marry her, a commoner just like me. I left the hall before I could hear your response."

"We did not suit," he said in a controlled voice.

"You were obviously suited in plenty of ways that I have not yet allowed you."

He stared at her, stunned. Was she threatening to leave him, have the wedding annulled before it had even begun? My God, he'd look like a complete fool. "Victoria," he said quietly, "what do you want from me?"

"Did you tell her that I was penniless, that you felt sorry for me? Is that what you've been telling everyone?"

Tears glittered in her eyes.

"I would never do that. We were friends."

"Do you hear yourself?" she whispered. "'We were friends.' What are we now?"

"We are husband and wife— and it can be more than a friendship, if you'll give it time."

She stared at him, her shoulders bowed, her eyes sad. "Is that what you really want?"

"I wouldn't have married you otherwise. I admit, I've handled things badly. But I can make this better. Will you give me the chance?"

Her hesitation seemed to last forever. They were frozen, gazes trapped within each other, trying to read the truth by expression alone.

"Yes, my lord," she finally said. "I am your wife, and I do not take that lightly. I ask that you treat me with respect from now on."

"You have it," he said.

He watched her leave the room, her posture rigid, her face without emotion. When she was gone, he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He had almost ruined their marriage out of stupidity. He was a man who prided himself on thinking out every decision, but since Victoria had come back into his life, things seemed to happen spontaneously. And he wasn't handling them well.

Victoria found a bath already waiting for her, and she sank in gratefully. Every muscle in her back and shoulders ached as if she'd been beating rugs all day, instead of simply arguing with her husband.

She'd argued with her husband.

Only a year ago, she could never have imagined standing up to a man like that. But she'd done it because it had been necessary. She would not start out her marriage with secrets between them. She still didn't know if she could trust him, but at least he knew she was serious about trying. As far as she was concerned, his mistress was a thing of the past. He abhorred scandal enough to see to that.

But after their earlier discussion about the earl, she found it very sad that Lord Thurlow had no relationship at all with his father. She recognized herself in her husband, and it softened her toward him. She would have to do her best to see father and son reunited in the short time the earl had left. It was too late for her and her father, and she bitterly regretted that. She always would wonder if there was something she could have done to save him from the fate he chose for himself.

The water was growing cool, so she finished her bath quickly. Most likely she'd be going to bed alone, after their "discussion." Relief and disappointment mingled within her.

She was sitting before the hearth, her hair almost dry, when she heard the soft knock on the door between their rooms. She froze with her hand on the brush, then slowly set it down.

"Come in."

When he stepped inside, she realized they were both garbed just as they had been the previous night, dressing gowns belted in place. He watched her with a serious gaze as silence stretched out between them.

He sat down across from her, their knees almost brushing. Her throat went dry. As always, Victoria had no control over her skin; it heated into a blush that she knew could be seen by candlelight. She wanted to talk about everything, yet she didn't feel an apology was necessary. Yet how to make things right between them?

"My lord— "

"Victoria, we said everything that needed to be said. As I sit here looking at you, smelling you— "

She gasped at how sensuous that sounded.

"I find I'm not thinking of the daytime, of discussions and agreements and business. I'm only thinking of you and me alone together."

He leaned forward again, and this time their knees touched. He didn't move away, just put out his hand, palm up.

"Give me your hand, Victoria."

His voice was deep and hoarse, and made her think of movement in the darkness, things better felt than said. She gave him her hand, and this time he cupped it in both of his.

"Kiss me, Victoria," he whispered.

Her gaze flew to his in surprise. Still holding her hand, he leaned back in his chair. Her arm was forced to straighten between them. She understood that he was challenging her, and she realized that she wanted to meet that challenge. She pulled on his hands, but he remained where he was, a lazy smile tugging one corner of his lips. He looked so…intriguing.

Slowly, she rose and leaned over him, bracing her free hand on the arm of his chair. His head was tilted back, and they stared at each other as if they shared a silent contest of wills. And to her shock, she didn't mind that he was winning this one.

There was something different about being above him, seeing him below her. It made her feel…powerful, in control, something she'd rarely felt in her day-to-day existence. But here, in the candlelit dark, he was letting her experience it in a very intimate way.

She lowered herself ever nearer to him, her gaze sliding to his mouth. Their lips touched, and her uncertainty began. What was she supposed to do— remain still?

Then his fingers began to slowly caress her hand, his thumbs brushing the back of her palm. Her eyes slid closed. She never would have imagined that a man touching her hand could make her feel…fluttery, shaky, so very aware of their skin meeting.

Her attention was torn between the gentle pressure of his mouth and the movement of his hands. As she caught her breath at the sensation, her lips parted. His did the same, catching the fullness of her lower lip very gently between his. She shuddered at the exquisite rush of pleasure, so very new.

Her worries about her desirability faded. His questing fingers slid up her wrist, beneath the cuff of her nightdress. He rubbed her there, gently, and her soft gasp echoed in his mouth.

He broke the kiss. "Does that feel good?" he asked in a low, rumbling voice.

Straightening, she found her wits. "Yes."

"Then I'll leave you with that."

Here leased her and rose to his feet, so tall and near her that she wanted to step back, but wouldn't. His clothing brushed her body, making her tremble with a feeling of want. She wanted him to touch her, wanted him to kiss her. As he looked down into her face, she could tell he knew it.

"Good night, Victoria."

"Good night."

And then he was gone, and she was left to slump bonelessly in her chair, disappointed in his absence, but relieved she would not have to discover tonight just how much he could control her with a touch. Was that his true purpose, to show her who was in charge in their relationship, after she had challenged him at dinner?