“It seems it was just the opposite.” She yawned.
“That he’s known for so long…” Garrick shook his head in wonder at the twists and turns. Every life was full of hope and hardship and joy. Sometimes at the same time, and sometimes one grew out of another. He and Victoria would no doubt encounter hardships, but they would face them together. It had been a long time since he wasn’t alone.
A knock on the doorjamb had Garrick bolting off the bed. A portly man with steel-gray hair and side whiskers came inside carrying a black bag. “Miss Hawkins. My name is Dr. Calhoun. I hear you’ve had quite an adventure.”
“Yes, Doctor, but I’m feeling better.”
“Let’s examine you then.” Dr. Calhoun glanced Garrick’s direction with a raised brow.
“Uh, let me fetch Lady Hawkins, shall I?” Garrick backed out of the room without providing an answer. Lady Hawkins descended on him like a proverbial hawk before he was even two steps down the hall.
“The physician has arrived, I hear.”
“Yes, my lady.” Garrick stepped aside so she could pass.
She came to an abrupt stop and turned back to him. “I do not approve, but Harold tells me I must accept your union with my daughter.”
“I love her. I will protect her.” He didn’t flinch away from the woman’s eviscerating stare.
Garrick had always thought Sir and Lady Hawkins an odd match, but no longer. Underneath the gracious facade she presented to the lords and ladies she wooed was tempered metal, hard and unbreakable.
Her jaw twitched but lost its crushing intensity. “I wanted something different for Victoria than I found. I wanted her not to worry about her husband at every turn. I wanted her to marry a man unacquainted with death and danger.”
Garrick’s breath caught. He hadn’t considered the cost to Victoria.
“But then again, I suppose she was always too opinionated and adventurous for any of the gentlemen here.” Lady Hawkins disappeared into Victoria’s room.
While they hadn’t made peace, it seemed they’d reached a truce.
He loitered outside the door until the physician exited. “How is she?”
The man spared Garrick nothing more than a glance. “She’ll have a headache and is covered in scrapes and bruises, but she’s young and strong and will be right soon enough. I’ve advised her to keep to her bed tonight. I’m afraid she’ll miss the Christmas Eve celebrations.”
Garrick nodded and poked his head around the doorjamb. Victoria was sitting on the side of the bed, and Lady Hawkins was urging her back under the covers.
“I’m not a delicate flower, Mother. I won’t wilt.”
“The doctor ordered you to rest.”
“I’m fine.” Victoria spotted Garrick in the doorway and favored him with a smile that made him want to kiss her. “Tell her, Thomas. I’ll sit on a chair in the corner, but there’s no reason for me to miss tonight’s fun. Will someone please order me a bath?”
Garrick joined Lady Hawkins. Victoria’s dress was filthy and ripped, and she was still too pale for his liking. “I agree with your mother, actually. Although a bath and change of clothes is in order.”
Lady Hawkins smiled at him like a coconspirator, and he could see his estimation in her eyes rise. “I’ll find the housekeeper.”
Victoria flopped backward. “I can’t believe you betrayed me.”
Garrick stifled a smile and leaned over her, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders. “All the commotion of a party will only exacerbate the pain in your head. You’ve been through a trying experience today. You need to recover.”
Her chin wobbled. “I don’t want to be stuck in my room. Alone. I keep reliving it. What if you hadn’t found me?”
Garrick should have seen through her bravado. “You won’t be alone. I care not for parties and won’t leave your side. Would you like visitors? Lady Eleanor, perhaps?”
“Yes, please,” she said. “Thank you.”
She clutched at his jacket and drew him down to her. He gave her what they both wanted—and what she needed—a kiss. Not a kiss of seduction, but a promise. He would keep her safe and protect her, but he would also give her freedom.
Chapter 12
Victoria didn’t want to admit her mother and Thomas had been right. She was drained and sore, and her head ached. The notion of lacing up her stays and getting pins stuck into her scalp to listen to subpar pianoforte playing made her shudder. After bathing and slipping on a night rail and dressing gown, she settled into a comfy armchair in front of the fire.
Eleanor entered with mincing steps and burst into tears when she saw Victoria.
Victoria rose, put an arm around her friend’s shoulders, and drew her toward a second chair. “Come now. I don’t look that ghastly, do I?”
“I’m so sorry this happened, and all because of me.” Eleanor wailed the last word.
“It wasn’t your fault. I mostly blame Mrs. Leighton, but Lord Berkwith deserves a portion of the fault. It seems as though he was stringing Mrs. Leighton along in order to continue enjoying her favors.”
Eleanor pulled out a delicately embroidered handkerchief to daub at her eyes and nose. Victoria had never seen anyone cry more genteelly. Victoria cried like she did most things—with gusto. Her nose ran and turned red, and her eyes swelled.
Victoria corralled her wandering thoughts. “Where is Lord Berkwith?”
“He was called away before dawn. A sick aunt.” The forlorn note in Eleanor’s voice made Victoria shake her head.
“Don’t tell me your feelings are still engaged? After everything he has done?”
“You told me yourself you thought he truly cared about me.” Eleanor wouldn’t look at her.
“Yes, but not more than he cares about himself. Or your dowry. If not for that, he wouldn’t give you a second glance.” Victoria’s ordeal had stripped away her tact when it came to Lord Berkwith.
Eleanor gasped. “That’s a terribly unkind thing to say.”
“You are lovely and kind and will make some gentleman a wonderful wife. I’m just not certain Lord Berkwith deserves you.”
Eleanor rose and fiddled with the handkerchief. She was dressed in a ruby red dress that highlighted her creamy complexion and golden-brown hair. “I’m very much afraid that I love him.”
Victoria’s headache grew worse with the pronouncement. She rose and stilled Eleanor’s hands with her own. “After all I have endured, will you grant me a boon?”
Eleanor clutched at Victoria, the tears glimmering in her eyes only enhancing the blue. “Anything that’s in my power.”
“Give London one more season. If at the end you are still in love with Berkwith—and he with you—then you’ll have my blessing.” Victoria was counting on Lord Berkwith hying off with an easier mark before then. Better Eleanor suffer a broken heart than a lifetime stuck with a charming bounder.
Eleanor’s reluctance was written plainly on her face. “I suppose a few months won’t make a difference, will they? It will give Lord Berkwith more time to win over my parents.”