ictoria stood trapped beneath her husband's stare, feeling naked though she wore her nightdress. He was staring at her as if he could see through it, and she wished for the protection of a corset. She didn't know her own body tonight, the way it ached when he was near her.

She'd felt his heart beneath her palm, and its racing speed had matched her own. He wore no shirt under the dressing gown, and the triangle of bare skin at his throat drew her gaze constantly. So she stood still and waited. When he said nothing, she finally raised her eyes to his. Would he touch her? Would he kiss her again?

But then from somewhere in the depths of the house, they heard a door slam and a woman's harsh sob.

Lord Thurlow stepped away from her and cursed aloud. "Go to bed. I'll take care of this."

"But what is it?" she asked, trailing him as he strode to the door.

"My father."

And then he went out into the dark corridor without even a candle to guide him. Victoria hesitated. Would the earl want to see her when he was in distress? Could it make everything worse? Or could she help? For a long moment she wanted to remain there, to avoid the confrontation she knew might happen. But she had spent a lifetime doing that, and it had only made her an easier person to lie to.

She chose to disobey her husband. She donned her dressing gown, grabbed a candleholder, and followed him.

The house was coming back to life. Victoria should have felt foolish in her nightclothes, but everyone else was dressed similarly as they came down from the servants' quarters at the top of the house. She saw the head cook, the butler, two footmen, and several maids. They milled about in the entrance hall, as if awaiting orders. Victoria began to push her way through them, but as they realized who she was, they all fell back, leaving her alone in the center of the room.

Smith the butler gave her a proper bow, as if he were clothed in his livery instead of a robe. He had hastily donned his white wig, which was slightly askew. "My lady, do forgive this commotion."

"Is this something that happens often?" she asked, setting down the candleholder.

"Occasionally, my lady."

"And does my husband usually handle it?"

This time he hesitated. "No, my lady. The earl's valet or nurse do."

"Then who was crying?"

"The nurse."

"Oh." She straightened her shoulders. "Perhaps they need my assistance."

Smith's eyes widened. "But my lady— "

She walked past him and down the corridor to the earl's chambers. The nurse was standing alone outside the door, sobbing piteously. This was someone she could help, Victoria thought with relief.

"Nurse Carter," she said, putting a hand on the woman's trembling arm, "do tell me what's wrong. Surely it can't be this bad."

The tall woman hugged herself, tears running unchecked down her face. "I tried to help him, milady, I did. But when his legs start painin' him, nothin' helps, and his temper strains somethin' fierce. Please, milady, I'm doin' me best. I don't want to lose me position!"

"I'm certain your position is not in jeopardy. Lord Thurlow will handle everything."

But the woman burst into fresh tears. "Milady, it's me fault it got this far. Lord Thurlow is never to handle things. It only makes the earl worse!"

Victoria frowned as she patted the nurse one last time, then walked to the doorway. There was a tray and its contents scattered on the ground between the earl and his son. A servant knelt between them, cleaning up the mess, his shoulders hunched as if he could make himself disappear.

Lord Thurlow stood in profile to her, staring at his father. Frustration and anger warred in his expression, obliterating his usually pleasant mask.

"Father, you must cease tormenting the servants." His voice was very controlled.

"They're mine to do with as I wish," said Lord Banstead loudly. "You're not the earl yet."

Victoria saw pain and sleeplessness etched across the old man's haggard face. For the first time she pitied him. She could not know what it was like to face one's imminent death, to lose control of everything one had worked for, everything that gave one pleasure.

Lord Thurlow gripped his hands together behind his back. "I never said I was the earl, but someone has to manage the household, and you refuse to do it."

"Are you saying I don't know how to rule what's mine?"

"Do you hear yourself? You are not some king whose every wish has to be granted."

"But I deserve the respect of my title. What's going on around here?"

Lord Thurlow sighed. "I don't know what you mean."

"You never attend parties. Yet tonight you take your wife to a dinner. Something's different."

"Father, I didn't know you needed to approve my schedule."

Unnoticed, Victoria stared wide-eyed between them. Lord Thurlow had asked her not to confide his railway plans to his father. She imagined that would lead to many more arguments.

She stepped away from the doorway when she heard Mrs. Wayneflete in the entrance hall, consulting with Smith and then sending everyone off to bed. The housekeeper bustled up the corridor, gave Victoria a brief smile, then put an arm around Nurse Carter.

"Go to the kitchen, dear, I've put on a pot of tea. I'll be in to speak with you soon."

After the nurse walked away hugging herself, the housekeeper glanced into the earl's room, then gave Victoria a sympathetic smile.

"Right on schedule," Mrs. Wayneflete said.

Victoria could only blink at her before saying, "This has happened before?"

"Every night since I've been here. The earl's in a lot of pain, and wants more of his medicine, which the nurse can't give him for fear of killing him. He sets up a fuss and attempts to bribe the servants, threatening them with the loss of their positions if they don't do as he says. Why do you think so many housekeepers quit?"

"I am so sorry to involve you in all this," Victoria whispered. Would Mrs. Wayneflete finally leave her after all these years?

"Now don't you worry, my lady. I feel sorry for the old gent. Menfolk always do like to feel above the ruin of time. But your husband, he seems to be making things worse, now doesn't he?"

Victoria winced. "He doesn't know what to say to his father."

"Why don't you take him on back to your room and let me deal with this?"

Mrs. Wayneflete sailed into the earl's bedroom, wearing her uniform as if she never took it off, bringing with her surety and common sense.

"Now my lords, we all need to be going to bed here. You can talk in the morning."

"Thinks he knows better than everybody," the earl grumbled.

But Victoria could see him rubbing his legs where they were covered by the blanket.

"If you haven't scared off Nurse Carter, I'm sure she'll come give your legs a good kneading. And then in the morning, we're sending for your doctor."

"It's about time," Lord Thurlow said.

Mrs. Wayneflete sent him an arch look. "Then why haven't you done it before now, my lord?"

The earl shook his finger at the housekeeper. "I won't be ordered about like a child. That old quack can't help me anymore, said so himself!"

The housekeeper straightened the crumpled blanket over the earl's lap. "Nurse Carter tells me it's been months since you saw the doctor, my lord. Maybe he can provide new medicine."

"Nothing will help but to die, and I'm just trapped in this body waiting."

"Father— "

"Get out of here." The earl pointed at the door, and then saw Victoria.

She saw the wash of red stain his pale face, and she realized her mistake.

"Do you like what you're seeing, girl? Do you feel closer to my fortune?"

Blood drained from her face. "My lord, I never— "

Lord Thurlow stepped between her and the earl. "I told you to leave her alone."

Victoria turned and ran down the now-deserted corridor and up the stairs. The candle in her hand flickered wildly and then went out all together when she reached the top. In the darkness, she kept her hand on the wall and almost knocked a vase from its perch on a table. Tears clogged her throat, but she would not weep. How was she ever to help Lord Thurlow and his father? It seemed like such an impossible task.

When she was finally inside her room, she had almost closed the door when it hit a solid object.

"Victoria?"

It was her husband. He'd been so quiet that she hadn't heard him following her. Taking a deep breath, she swept the door wide. "Come in, my lord."

"No, you've had enough of us for one day, I think," he said gruffly.

His eyes showed a brief embarrassment that made her feel better.

"Again, allow me to apologize for my father's behavior— and my own."

She sighed. "It is difficult to deal with seeing one's parent in constant pain."

He frowned and shook his head. "That does not excuse my own inability to hold my temper."

"Our parents can sometimes bring out the worst in us, can't they?"

She smiled at him, and his stiff shoulders seemed to relax. Why did she find him so compelling, when in so many other ways he disappointed her?

"I envy your relationship with your mother," he said.

She knew that he must be remembering his own mother. But all she could think about were the lies her parents had told, and the desperation it had led to.

"Every day I work diligently to keep my mother close to me," she said.

He arched a brow. "And you're suggesting I do the same? Believe me, there is nothing left to repair in the Banstead family."

She didn't believe it, but saw no use in telling him that tonight.

They stood there awkwardly, the threshold a barrier between them. Victoria clutched her dressing gown to her throat against a draft, and she was reminded of what they'd been doing before the interruption. Her movement seemed to remind her husband, too, because his gaze dropped down her body. She stilled, and her anticipation slowly grew. A shudder swept through her, leaving her stunned. She felt weak with the need to be held in his strong arms.

"It's been a long evening, Victoria," he said, his voice unusually husky. "Sleep well."

She watched him walk down the dark corridor and disappear inside his room. Shutting her door, she leaned against it in thought.

She found herself wondering what it would be like to be comforted by him. Sometimes he actually seemed sensitive. Would his strong arms around her make everything all right? But maybe only she could do that for herself.

She took out her private journal to record the day's events, especially her frustration with her husband. And that eventually led to her problems with the earl. As always, writing calmed her, forced her to think and plan. She had to make the earl tolerate her, and he would only do that by getting to know her. If he wouldn't come out of his room, then she would just have to walk into the lion's den.

In the morning, Victoria awoke early enough to hear her husband speaking with his valet in the next room. She was finally going to have breakfast with him. As she dressed, she tried to pay attention to when he left his room. Instead, she actually heard him bathing. That seemed far too personal, but of course, all she really heard was the splash of water.

He was probably using the same hip bath she used, and the thought made her feel warm. Her bare skin touched the same places his did. She should go to the far side of her room to ignore the sounds. But she remained frozen where she was, letting scandalous images of him play in her mind. She'd seen his throat— what did his naked chest look like?

She'd forgotten to inform Anna that she was awakening extra early, so she chose a gown that buttoned up the front allowing her to dress alone. It was a simple morning gown with tiny brown and yellow stripes, and she reminded herself that her husband liked looking at her. It was a good feeling.

She soon heard him walking briskly down the hall, then let him get to the stairs before she followed him. When she reached the dining room, he was already seated at the table, his newspaper held up before his face, a cup of coffee and biscuits on the table before him.

The footmen wished her a good morning, and her husband looked up with a sharp rattle of paper.

"Good morning, Lord Thurlow." She set her notebook on the table, then took a plate to the sideboard to choose her breakfast.

"Good morning, Victoria."

When she turned around, he was glancing at his paper again, but this time he'd lowered it so that she could see him.

"Don't let me disturb your reading," she said, sitting down to his right. "I imagine one needs to know what's going on in the world when one is a member of Parliament."

He nodded and sipped his coffee. "Do you read the paper, Victoria?"

"Not often enough. We had stopped receiving it, of course, after my father died. And before that, it seemed so…depressing." She did not mention that education had not come easily to her.

"Young women do not discuss the news with each other?"

"No, my lord. From what I remember, it used to be gossip and fashion. My sisters were better at keeping up on that than I was. Although Meriel could converse with any man on the news of the day. Maybe I should read the paper, because that would be something you and I could talk about."

"There are even papers devoted to the railway, if you'd be interested." He smiled. "So do we need planned conversation topics? I could come up with a few, if you wish."

Ah, she liked this relaxed side of him and hoped to see it more. It made his eyes sparkle like blue diamonds. She leaned her chin on her palm and regarded him. "Then what should we talk about?"

"Not the railway?"

She smiled. "Perhaps something different."

"Did you know the Ojibwa Indians were coming from our Canadian colonies this summer? They're going to demonstrate their archery skills in Regent's Park."

"Really? Maybe they'll have a contest. That was one skill I almost excelled at."

"Almost?"

He was watching her lips as she spoke, and it was distracting in a very pleasurable way.

"Well, it didn't compare to needlework, of course." Was she actually flirting with him? "But both were things I could do alone."

"You did not have any girlhood friends besides your sisters?"

She met his gaze with deliberation. "Don't you remember?"

There was a very revealing pause.

"I meant after we stopped writing," he said.

"Ah, I see." She gave him a small smile. "There were daughters among my parents' friends, but Louisa and Meriel blended in far better than I did. In fact, I met a few of them last night. But when I was young I preferred the companionship of my sisters."

"I envied you, you know."

She leaned toward him, glad to be the focus of his attention. "What do you mean?"

"I would have given anything for siblings."

He spoke quietly, and her heart broke for him. It was one of those moments that she wished could go on forever, a moment that made her feel as if they might someday have a marriage to treasure. But how to make that happen?

He briskly folded the newspaper and set it beside her. "I'll leave this in case you're interested," he said, getting to his feet. "I've instructed my steward about your pin money, so see him when you wish."

"Thank you, my lord."

"I'm not sure when I'll return, so have a pleasant day, Victoria. I'm off for a ride through Hyde Park."

"May I consult with your steward about the dinner party you've begun planning?"

"Of course."

He hesitated, and their eyes met. She wondered if he was truly sorry he'd withheld things from her. Or did apologizing just make things easier for him?

He left the room, and several minutes later she heard the front door close. With a sigh, she slumped back in her chair. She had to do something to attract his interest, to give them more than newspaper articles to discuss.

She thought about him riding alone through the park, exercising his horse. Did he remember why she'd never learned to ride?