“The bedchambers are likely not fully prepared since we were not scheduled to return for more than a month.”
“I am sure they are satisfactory,” she maintained. “I do not feel up to interacting with the staff. Rest assured, I will do my duties…but it will not be today. I believe I am owed that much grace after all this. And, if you feel anything like the exhaustionI am experiencing, then you will understand and allow me this courtesy.”
Rafe watched asMrs. West followed Victoria out of the parlor door and into the foyer. He listened as their shoes crossed the foyer and ascended the stairs; he waited for the familiar creaky step near the top of the first landing. Only then did he slam the side of his fist upon the marble mantle with a hissed curse. He stepped away from the hearth, grateful that his outburst hadn’t caused the blasted thing to collapse and crush his foot. It would be just his luck for such a thing to happen.
He should have known better than to walk into his marriage with Victoria Rockford with such naive optimism. Nothing had gone as planned—nothing ever quite did for him. While it had seemed to start off well, it was looking like his marriage would be as frustrating as the rest of his life had been.
So much of London viewed him as a carefree rakehell.
Precious few knew just how much he cared.
He did not deny that he spent a great deal of time in the presence of beautiful women; he’d never hidden his reckless behavior. All of it, however, had been his escape and his way to explore who he was when all he’d been within these walls was a bitter disappointment. His life had started with the worst of luck of all, causing his mother to take her last breath with his first, and it had only followed him through the years. All the smiles, all the drunken parties, all the most beautiful women in the world could not make up for the hollowness he felt inside. He’d been foolish to hope that marrying a respectable woman and setting both his wards and his title up for better futures would place him firmly on a better path than he’d ever taken before, but it seemed he was incapable of not making a mess of things.
When one issue was resolved by the immediate influx of Victoria’s wealth and the steady income her annual stipend ofseveral thousand pounds would provide, he now had a wife who didn’t trust him…and he’d be damned if he knew how to fix the muddle he’d made.
Because this truly was all his own doing; there was no one else to blame for his situation but himself, and that was perhaps the most irksome of all.
In the span of only a few hours, their marriage had gone from one of optimism to one of unleashed mistrust and injured feelings. Rafe was used to dropping women with whom he no longer saw eye-to-eye—women who were more trouble and effort than he wished to endure. None of those women had ever been vital enough to his life for him to try to work through whatever disagreement they’d experienced. He’d endured far too much rancor and animosity in his early years to willingly put himself through any more of it; now, however, he could not run away. Fleeing the marriage was not an option…not if he had any hope of the future he’d set out to achieve.
He knew Victoria’s brother remained in London for the time being and, if he caught so much as a whiff of discontent in their marriage, Rafe did not doubt that he would do everything within his power to remove both Victoria and her wealth from Rafe’s reach.
He felt entirely out of his depth, and he did not care for it one bit…almost as much as he hated the fact that he’d wounded Victoria’s feelings.
A sudden screech and crash shattered his train of thought. Rather than wince, Rafe closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the ceiling as if seeking benediction.
“It wasn’t my fault!” came the immediate denial of responsibility in a young lad’s very familiar voice.
Rafe sighed and scrubbed his face before leaving the room to deal with the latest disaster.
Chapter Eleven
Victoria spent therest of her first full day as Lady Blackwood pacing the viscountess’s chambers. The rooms were surprisingly spacious given the relatively modest size of the home, and, given the delicate silk papering and ornate canopied bed, they must have been quite grand at one time. But her husband had been right, of course. The rooms were far from prepared to have a resident.
Upon being shown into the room, the poor housekeeper and two maids had apologized profusely for the state of it. They immediately scurried about removing sheets covering the furniture, opening windows, and unrolling the mattress, doing their best to air out a room that likely hadn’t been used since Rafe’s birth.
“Please do not fret,” Victoria had tried reassuring them. “I realize we were not due to arrive for quite a while, and you had no notice that our plans had changed.”
“We will have this room spick and span in no time, my lady!” the housekeeper, Mrs. West, reassured her. “Allow me to show you to another room better suited, and I will have some refreshments sent up while you wait.”
“Thank you, no,” Victoria said with what she hoped was a friendly smile despite her heavy spirits. The red-faced footman arrived, carting the first of her trunks. Her belongings were scheduled to be sent over while she and Rafe were on theirhoneymoon trip, but now she could send for them sooner since it seemed they would no longer be leaving England. “I will help unpack and organize my clothing. I promise to stay out of your way.” Despite the housekeeper’s protests, Victoria insisted upon remaining while the chamber was aired and clean pillows and bedding were fitted. When they were done, the scent of lilac drifted through the room, both pleasant and surprisingly calming. The space was gradually transformed into something with a great deal more potential than she’d seen on first impression.
She spent a couple of peaceful hours working alongside the staff. Their discomfort was palpable, but she made every effort to show them that she was not the typical titled English lady. These were people with whom she’d spend most of her days from then on. She’d grown quite friendly with many of the employees who worked in her father’s household, and she did not see why that could not be the case in her own home. Besides, the last thing she wanted right then was to wander the halls of an unfamiliar house and accidentally encounter her husband. That moment would come sooner or later, of course, but she needed more time.
Victoria hoped time would help her come to terms with her new reality—not only was she a new wife, but she’d also inherited a trio of children…and her husband had, indeed, turned out to be exactly like every other man who’d ever pursued her. He thought little of who she was, seeing her only as a bank account.
A means to an end.
An improvement upon his own circumstances.
He’d done a remarkable job of concealing it beneath a veneer of friendship, she had to give him that.
She’d believed in him so fully; she’d stood up for him when others had disparaged him. And now she felt like the worst sort of fool.
But he did have his nieces and nephew to consider… It wasn’t as if he’d married her to live a lavish lifestyle with no responsibilities; he had children for whom he needed to care and provide. Victoria had only limited experience with London Society, but the cost was likely substantial if he wanted to perpetuate the façade of wealth by properly educating them and launching them into the rest of theton. His aim had been more altruistic than—
No.
She would not forgive him for everything simply because May had looked so sweet and pathetic as he’d held her, and Dominic had been mischievously charming, looking so like his uncle that the familial resemblance was undeniable. Their adorable faces would not sway her…at least not this soon after the events of that day.
