As they walked, Victoria tried to put some distance between herself and Mr Hutches, but he refused to let her go, keeping her clasped so close to his side it was almost indecent.
“You should not struggle so much,” he told her with a smirk as they entered the park. “I promise I will not bite you.”
There was something in the tone of his voice that made Victoria’s stomach clench with disgust.
“I was not so concerned about that, my lord,” she mumbled.
“Then what has you so uneasy, my lovely nanny?” he asked.
“Perhaps she is concerned about giving the gossipmongers fodder,” Lord Harford suddenly snapped, turning to glare at Mr Hutches over his shoulder. “No more than we have already given them, that is.”
Victoria glanced around and could see that people were watching them as they walked by. Women whispered behind gloved hands and fans, and men regarded them with arched brows and confused expressions.
Victoria’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head. She had known this was a terrible idea. Now she was going to be dragged into the rumour mill along with Lord Harford. This is exactly what she did not want to happen. She did not want people to find out about her and grow curious. They might start digging into who she was and uncover her identity. Someone might recognize her family’s name.
She released a slow breath, wishing this walk would just end and they could go back to the house. Unfortunately, they continued on through the park, and Cressida continued talking as though Lord Harford and Mr Hutches had not said anything to each other. As if no one else’s thoughts and concerns were worth anything to her.
Victoria just kept her head bowed and tried to ignore the stares around them, as well as Mr Hutches' ongoing attempts to speak with her. Lord Harford did not say much either, only responding to Cressida or her brother when it was absolutely necessary.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they returned to the house. Victoria was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to her room and hide away for the rest of the day. She also wanted a warm bath to wash away the feel of Mr Hutches' touch from her body.
When they reached the house, Mr Hutches let her go at last, and she made her way inside before he could say another off-putting word to her.
Lord Harford lingered a bit, being polite and saying goodbye before he shook himself from Cressida’s grasp and followed Victoria into the house.
She was climbing the stairs when she heard the front door shut behind her, and Lord Harford cleared his throat, stopping her in her tracks.
“I am sorry if that was unpleasant for you,” he said.
Victoria turned and looked down to meet his gaze.
“It is all right, my lord. No harm done. It was good to stretch my legs.”
He stared up at her, looking as though there was something more he wanted to say. She held her breath, wondering what could be on his mind. What was hiding behind his loaded gaze?
At length, he finally muttered, “Well, I appreciate your patience. I know those two can be…difficult.”
Victoria released the breath she had been holding, disappointed. Why, though? What had she thought he was going to say? What had she wanted him to say?
It did not matter. She had to remind herself of that. It did not matter what she wanted. What she might hope for.
Giving him a small, polite smile, she nodded and said, “I will be going to my room now, my lord. Good day.”
“Good day, Miss Clifford.”
Chapter 31
He remained in a sour mood the rest of the day. Cressida and her brother had that effect on him, but more than that, he did not like the way Hutches seemed fixated on Miss Clifford. It infuriated him how the man thought he could touch her so casually and speak to her in such a shameful way. As though she were not worthy of his respect simply because she was a nanny and not a lady of higher standing.
His poor mood stayed with him into dinner, which was a rather quiet affair as James went out to meet up with old friends, and Miss Clifford was not feeling at all talkative. She claimed a headache after the meal and retired early, leaving just Emily and him alone together. They went to the drawing room for an after-dinner scotch and sherry and sat in front of the fireplace together.
They were sitting in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks, when Emily suddenly asked, “What is it you feel for Tory?”
Edward froze, stunned, and slowly turned his head to meet her inquisitive gaze.
“What are you talking about?” he murmured.
She arched a brow. “Edward, enough with the denial. Anyone can see the way you feel for her as plain as day. You are about the only person who seems incapable of recognizing it.”
