ictoria saw her husband through a haze of want that must be desire. She wanted to be near him, wanted to feel him touch her. It swept through her, burning, and she gave herself up to it. As he unclasped her robe and pushed it away she swayed toward him, barely able to keep from rubbing her chin against his hands at her throat.

When the dressing gown was gone, his hands didn't move away. She was wearing the nightdress with the lower neckline, which still didn't even betray the tops of her breasts. David's fingers caressed her throat, down into the hollow at the base. She watched the intent expression on his face, the way his eyes looked heated instead of distant. His hands followed the sweep of her collarbones, light touches that crossed between pleasure and a kind of pain she couldn't resist. When he reached her shoulders, he started inward again, but this time his fingers slid beneath her neckline and traced along it from the inside.

Her breathing was ragged, her skin so sensitive to everything he did. At first she wanted to look away, but she found herself trapped in his gaze. He watched her every response, and she couldn't even think about embarrassment or awkwardness. His fingers slid lower as they neared the center and touched the slopes of her breasts and dipped into the valley between. Somehow her hands were on his waist, holding on as if she would sink to the floor if she let go.

When he pulled his fingers away, she wanted to call him back, but choked on the words as he flattened his hands at the front of her shoulders, and slid down her sides, just brushing her breasts. To her relief, he circled her ribs and moved up again. His large hands cupped her breasts from below, gently lifting their weight in his palms. A low moan escaped her as her nipples brushed lightly against his palms. The most wondrous sensation shot through her body, catching her by surprise.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," he whispered.

That melted her, and she clutched his waist tighter. His voice sounded husky, as if even he had trouble speaking. The ache she'd felt in her breasts whenever he touched her now bloomed into a need so fierce, she didn't know how to react, what to think. She just stood there as he gently kneaded her breasts until she could feel every caress tugging deep into her stomach, even between her thighs.

It was she who pulled away this time, stumbling backward as she crossed her arms over her chest. It couldn't be right to need him this badly, to surrender herself so completely. There were so many things unsaid between them.

"Did I push too fast?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No. I just never expected— never imagined— "

She wanted to ask if it always felt like this, but she didn't want to hear how other women had once made her husband feel.

"In the end, I'll touch you even more intimately, Victoria," he said, and there was a rawness to his gaze that made her feel needed.

"I know," she whispered.

"Good night."

He turned and walked away, and she let him go.

When David entered the dining room for breakfast, Victoria was already there, reading the newspaper with a look of concentration that he found endearing. He didn't see a notebook in sight. Didn't she always study it to begin her day?

She looked up at him, and instead of a smile, she watched him solemnly, her eyes half lidded, a woman contemplating passion.

She wet her lips, and he watched her mouth. He wished fiercely that this half marriage could be over and a real one begun. The moment lasted long between them, and it was finally Victoria who glanced at the footman and took a deep breath.

"I keep looking, but I don't see anything more about the factory bill."

David was in a daze as he filled his plate at the sideboard. "We're still debating it. It might take weeks before it even goes back to committee for revision."

Now she was studying him in a way that no longer had anything to do with passion. He inwardly braced himself.

"I'm still thinking about Mr. Dalton's dinner party," she said. "He is a member of Parliament, and perhaps it would help your career to attend."

"Victoria, he and I speak every day."

"But you don't speak to all the other people he would be inviting."

"I probably do. You have said yourself that you have no fond memories of dinner parties. Last night was the last you'll have to attend— or host— for a while. I'm sure that will give you plenty of time for your music."

They ate in silence for several very long minutes. But his wife was not a woman to dwell in petulance. Before long, she was speaking again as if they hadn't had a disagreement.

"I received letters from my sisters today," she said.

"And how are Meriel and Louisa?" he asked.

"Very well, but of course you already know that."

"What do you mean?"

She laid her hand on his, and he stilled at her touch.

"You've begun to send them each an allowance." Her voice was soft, mild, with traces of an emotion he couldn't name.

"They are my dependents now, too."

"You're not fooling me, David." Her eyes glistened as they stared into his. "You don't owe them anything. You just want to help out of the goodness of your heart."

"Perhaps I just don't want them underfoot someday." He slid his hand out from under hers and continued eating. "That is a rational motive, after all."

"Yes, you're a rational man" was all she said.

"I'm sorry that I don't have time to ride this morning," he said, standing up. "I'm going to calm Perry down. Have a pleasant day."

Victoria watched David leave, feeling an aching sweetness toward him that had nothing to do with physical intimacy. She wanted to be his confidante; she wanted to unburden him of his painful secrets. He was trying to be such a good man.

And he needed friends among his political acquaintances— even friends among the ton, though he didn't believe it now. The longer he held a grudge against the more mean-spirited people, the harder it would be on him.

David seemed to respect her wishes in every other way. Perhaps he felt he was sparing her ridicule. If she made it obvious she really wanted to go to this dinner party, he would escort her, wouldn't he? If she accepted, he couldn't refuse without making her look foolish.

She sent out a footman with her acceptance before she could change her mind.

That afternoon, Victoria took her next step in being the wife David needed. If he planned on having a future in the House of Lords someday, he had to be at ease with them, and put the past behind him. She would start by introducing herself to as many women as she could, in hopes that she'd begin a new reputation for the name of Banstead. She'd begin with the women who'd sent them wedding gifts. Even if those ladies were only being polite, perhaps they'd be open-minded as well.

That afternoon at precisely three o'clock, Victoria and Anna set off in the Banstead carriage with a footman clinging to the back. It took six stops before Wilfred the footman returned to inform her that the lady was at home.

The small neat town house near Hyde Park was the home of Sir James Fogge, a member of Parliament. Victoria was shown up to a lovely gold and cream drawing room, which was occupied by two ladies, obviously mother and daughter.

The older woman came forward and curtsied. Victoria curtsied in return.

"Lady Thurlow, I am Lady Fogge. May I present my daughter Miss Fogge."

More curtsying followed, and Victoria studied their pleasant, round faces with relief as they invited her to sit. Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult. "Thank you so much for receiving me— and for sending a wedding gift."

Lady Fogge waved a bejeweled hand. "Sir James speaks so highly of your husband, my lady. They sit on committee together. We were thrilled that Lord Thurlow found a suitable match. Having a lady at home always makes a man happier."

Victoria smiled and imagined their reaction if they only knew the truth. As they discussed the weather, she noticed that Miss Fogge often glanced at a piano in the corner of the room.

In a moment's silence, Victoria asked, "Do you play, Miss Fogge?"

The girl, not more than eighteen, gave a guilty start. "I do, Lady Thurlow."

"So do I. I would love to hear you play sometime."

Miss Fogge studied her, then after glancing guiltily at her mother, began to speak quickly. "Lady Thurlow, do you play at the piano in the Banstead drawing room?"

Victoria smiled at the girl. "I have. But I usually use the one in the music room. Are you familiar with the house, Miss Fogge?"

Lady Fogge frowned at her daughter and shook her head. "No, Lady Thurlow, we have never been to Banstead House. Please forgive my daughter for being so forward."

"But, Mama," Miss Fogge said plaintively, "that piano has such a titillating history! And I heard about the parties that used to be held there— "

"That is enough, my girl. We do not repeat unsubstantiated rumors." Lady Fogge turned back to Victoria. "Have you been to the new dressmaker on Regent Street?"

The final few minutes passed uneventfully, with Lady Fogge always finding something new to say. She was obviously giving her daughter no chance to speak, and no chance for Victoria to ask questions.

When Victoria finally took her leave, she tried five more residences, and no one was at home to her. She refused to be disheartened. It would take time to overcome her former state as a businessman's daughter. Victoria was a liability to David's social position in the world of the ton, so she had to do everything possible to overcome that.