"You can't just get rid of my furniture." Victoria didn't care at all about the furnishings in the study, if she was honest, but if he thought he could do this here, he might do it anywhere. He might get rid of the furniture in rooms thatdidmatter to her.
"It isn't your furniture," the duke told her idly, as if he was reminding her of something that had been discussed many times already. "I know that you've been living here, but nothing in this house belongs to you. I am my cousin's heir, and everything here is mine."
"You can't mean to get rid of all the things I've been using for the past two years!"
He turned to face her directly for the first time since she had come in.
He paused for a moment at the sight of her, and Victoria felt a surge of satisfaction as she realized what was happening. He had gotten a look at her appearance, and it had distracted him.
And she recalled, suddenly, the way she had once done this all the time. She had once enjoyed dressing up, making herself look pretty, hoping to catch people's eyes.
That was something she'd lost after her first season. And after her marriage and her husband's death, it had begun to seem altogether unnecessary. She still took care to present herself well, but that was mostly because it bothered her to appear unkempt or messy in any way. This feeling—the feeling that she had dressed to impress another person, and that it had actually worked—it had been a very long time since she had experienced this. There was a surprising pleasure in the realization that she still knew how to do it.
The duke recovered himself quickly. "I don't think it will matter very much to you what I do with the things in this house," he said. "You won't be here for much longer, after all."
Victoria folded her arms. She had come here intent on having a civil conversation, but that no longer felt possible. "I'm not going to marry," she told him. "You can try to make an arrangement for me, but believe me, I will sabotage it at every turn. You won't find anyone who wants to marry me."
"Well, I knew that would be a challenge," the duke said. "After all, you're known to be a murderess—though I suppose some might find that exciting."
"I haven't murdered anyone. For heaven's sake—how many times must I tell you?"
"I think that's what you'd say if youhadmurdered someone," the duke said. "You can't expect me to take your word for it. But as it happens, I also don't care whether you're telling the truth or not. I don't intend to have you around for very long, so it won't matter to me. The point is that, whether you committed the crime or not, you've failed to control your reputation. You've failed to convince society that you are innocent. Now you require someone else to step in and manage your reputation on your behalf, because you proved unable to do it yourself. This is just the natural consequence of that, I'm afraid."
"I don't need your help."
"You've got it anyway," he said. "There are a few balls coming up, and other events that will be conducive to meeting people. You'll attend them with me."
"I won't go."
"I wasn't asking. I will allow you to choose what you'd like to wear, though. I don't know anything about ladies' clothing, so you can tend to that side of things yourself."
"Oh, thank you," she said bitterly. "That's so generous of you."
He didn't acknowledge her bitterness. "I'll expect you at dinner, and we can discuss the plans for the near future," he said. "You can go now. I'll have something sent up to your chambers, since you missed breakfast."
"You don't dismiss me in my own house!" Victoria said, seething.
But the duke had turned his back to her and was now consulting with one of his servants about something.
Victoria was so angry that she felt like picking up a nearby book and hurling it at the back of his head. But she had just enough presence of mind to know that such an action wouldn't help her cause in claiming not to be a violent criminal. She hurried from the room instead, before her impulses could get the better of her.
She had no intention of joining him for dinner, though. She wasn't going to sit opposite him at her own table, in her own dining room, and listen to him explain how he planned to ruin her life.
Maybe the table and the dining room were really his, technically speaking—but Victoria's life still belonged to her, and she wouldn't hand it over without a fight. Not even to the rightful Duke of Stormwell.
She wondered whether he would stop her if she tried to leave the house. Not that she had any intention of giving in to him if he tried—but perhaps it would be best to avoid conflict altogether.
She opened the door of her room and looked both ways down the hall. There was no one in sight. It seemed that the duke was still hard at work on his project in the study, and that was for the best—maybe it meant that Victoria could move about the place without worrying about crossing paths with him.
Closing the door behind her, she hurried down the hall and to the stairs. With a little luck, he would interpret that closed door as a sign that she was still in her room and it would be a long time before he realized that she had left.
Victoria suspected that he would be angry when he discovered that she'd left without telling him. But that, she decided, would be his problem. Even if he did have a valid claim to this house, she was not his prisoner. She still had every right to go where she wanted to go and do what she liked to do.
Breathing came more easily once she'd made it through the front door and out into the open air. The window in the study faced the back of the house, so as long as he was still there, he wouldn't see her as she hurried to the carriage house.
A short time later, Victoria was in a carriage, making her way quickly up the path that led away from Stormwell Manor.
She knew that she would have to return, and sooner than she would have liked. But right now, this felt like a flight to freedom.It felt like she was escaping from under the thumb of her oppressor, and she felt as if she would never go back.
