He smiled. How could he not? Just as he was debating the merits of yet another bout of madness in the middle of the night, Lord Percival approached and made a bow. “Miss Hawkins, would you take a turn about the room with me?”
Lady Hawkins had stepped closer, her glare doing its best to slice him away from Victoria. What could Garrick do but cede the field? He inclined his head and retreated with a murmured, “Enjoy your evening, Miss Hawkins.”
Lord Percival monopolized Victoria’s attention for the rest of the evening. He even escorted her to dinner. Three long tables were arranged in the large dining room. Garrick found himself sitting in the corner next to a local curate who seemed to be practicing his Christmas sermon on the table.
Victoria was seated between Lord Percival and another gentleman Garrick didn’t recognize. She favored them with smiles and laughs, and both men seemed to take equal delight in her. And why wouldn’t they? She was witty, intelligent, and beautiful.
His stomach soured, and by the time the sweet pudding arrived for dessert, his appetite had been stamped out. Was he jealous? Most assuredly so. Had he any right to his jealousy? Not a whit.
With a trip to the village planned for some guests in the morning, the party broke up soon after port was taken by the men. Garrick sent Berkwith one last withering look before heading upstairs, not to his room, but to tuck himself behind a pedestal and vase in an alcove down the hall from Victoria’s room. He would sleep better knowing Victoria had arrived there safely.
The sound of feminine voices drifted up the stairs, and Garrick imitated a statue. Lady Eleanor, Lady Hawkins, and Victoria strolled toward him. After exchanging “good-nights,” Lady Eleanor entered her room.
Lady Hawkins stopped in front of her door. “You enjoyed Lord Percival’s company this evening.”
“He is charming.” Victoria fiddled with her lace cuffs.
“But?”
“Just because I enjoyed our dinner conversation doesn’t mean I wish to spend the rest of my life with him by my side.”
“Not yet, perhaps, but it’s a promising start. I’ll send Margery over as soon as she tends to me.” Lady Hawkins leaned in to brush a kiss in the air next to Victoria’s cheek and disappeared into her room.
Victoria made her way to her door but hesitated with her hand on the latch. “Why are you lurking in the ladies’ hallway?”
He grunted. How had she seen him? Was he getting careless? He stepped out and shushed her, motioning her inside her room. “I wanted to assure myself you were safely abed.”
“Safely abed? Is that what you’re calling it?” Her tone was dryly amused but turned dark. “I’m tired of keeping secrets, Thomas.”
Didn’t she realize he would stand on a mountaintop and declare his devotion to her if he could? “I understand.”
“Do you?” Her eyes narrowed on him.
In that moment, what he understood was that any spark of hope had been snuffed out. He was merely a pawn to be sacrificed by Sir Hawkins. This was the end.
But if it was to be their end, he would leave with one last kiss.
He stepped forward and cupped her face, tilting her head back. The brace of candles at the entrance made her eyes dance with light and life. “I love you, Victoria. That is a secret I will no longer keep to myself.”
Her breath hitched, and her lips parted, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond. His lips met hers with all the longing, regret, and anger of a last kiss, and she responded in kind. It was in turns gentle and fierce.
Knowing their time was short, Garrick broke away and hugged her close, trying to memorize her scent and warmth and softness. He ran his hands down her back to map her curves so he could find his way back to her in his dreams.
Then he stepped away, leaving her swaying on her feet, lightly touching her kiss-swollen lips. They stared at one another for a long moment. He slipped out the door and retreated to the far end of the corridor to the servant’s staircase. And not a second too soon.
Margery emerged from Lady Hawkins’s room to rap softly on Victoria’s door. She answered and ushered the lady’s maid inside. Before she disappeared, she cast a glance up and down the hallway, but this time she didn’t see him in the shadows.
The shadows were where he belonged and where he would remain.
Chapter 10
Victoria and Eleanor strolled arm in arm through the garden on their way to gather pinecones at the line of trees at the back of the terraced lawn. The ground was patched with snow in the shadows and mud in the bright sunshine.
It was the first time Victoria had been able to speak with her friend in private since Lord Berkwith’s unexpected arrival the evening before. “Have your tender feelings toward Lord Berkwith changed since everything that happened?”
“Of course not.” Eleanor barked, but her sigh softened the knee-jerk defensiveness of her answer. “I don’t know. If I had kept the meeting with him at the Bear and the Crown, what would have become of me? I wouldn’t have had a Mister Garrick to ride to my rescue. By your own telling, Lord Berkwith was incapable of dealing with them. He didn’t even attempt to rescue you. Wasn’t that dastardly?”
“I’m nothing to Lord Berkwith. He might have put up a fight to save you. But don’t forget, the men weren’t actually after you. You and Lord Berkwith might even now be wed if I hadn’t appeared in your stead.” Even as she made the declaration, the same question niggled. How had the men known to follow her when she had only made the decision to take Eleanor’s place mere hours earlier?
“I can’t help but think that a true gentleman would have rescued you.” Eleanor flashed Victoria an uncertain look. “Do you approve of a match with him?”
Lady Hawkins’s assessment came flooding back. Eleanor did deserve better. Victoria stopped under the leafless branches of an oak and took Eleanor’s hands in hers. Winter had blunted the undergrowth, but bushes reached out of the woods, seeking sunlight.
“Do you truly love him?”
“He says such pretty things to me. My mother favors Mr. March. He is rich but so old. If I were able to choose…” Eleanor tipped her head back and looked to the sky, blinking back tears. “I envy your freedom.”
“Oh, Eleanor—”
A noise in the woods whipped Victoria’s head around. The two men from the alley pounced before Victoria could gather the air for a scream. A kerchief was shoved into her mouth, and a gag tied around her head.
She used the heel of her hand and punched the man on the bridge of his nose.
“Ye bloody bitch.” One man held her hands together behind her back while the other bound them at the wrist. Victoria craned around to see Eleanor. She had either swooned, or the men had bashed her unconscious.
She kicked at the man she had punched, aiming for his knee but only managing to hit the top of his shin. Still, it must have pained him somewhat, because he released a longer, more colorful string of curses.
“There’s no one to save you, my lady.” The man tossed her over his shoulder.
Her breath left her in a whoosh. Panic rose up like a fog, obscuring everything but her need for air. Finally, she was able to pull in a deep breath through her nose. After a dozen more, she accepted she wasn’t yet dying.