"I'm sorry for being late, but I must ask that we postpone any invitations or plans for the day. I have a terrible megrim, and I cannot understand as to why," the duchess said, sitting down at the table and requesting tea immediately from a footman.
Albert hid his grin behind his coffee cup, knowing only too well it may have been the overindulgence of champagne the duchess had imbibed the night before that made her so out of sorts today.
"Mayhap coffee would be better, Mother," the duke said, throwing a knowing smile at Albert before calling for a footman to pour coffee for the duchess.
He cleared his throat. "I do not believe we have anything planned today that cannot be altered, Your Grace."
Albert turned to Victoria, who continued to be uninterested in the conversation going on about her. "Lady Victoria, do you not agree?"
She looked at him then, and he fought the urge to go to her. She looked wretched. Was she, too, ill? Was there an illness in the household that he did not know about? Perhaps the duchess was not suffering the implications from too much wine.
"Pardon?" she asked, looking to her mama for clarification. "What do I agree to?"
The duchess grimaced. "That today, I think we should postpone any invitations or callers. I am not feeling the best, my dear."
"Oh." Her eyes widened, as if only now noticing her mama's paleness. "I will write to Miss Eberhardt immediately after breakfast and ask her to come tomorrow." Victoria placed down her fork, signaling she had finished her meal. "Would you like for me to keep you company today, Mama? I'm more than happy to."
Albert supposed if Victoria were going to be busy with nursing her parent, he would walk out to the hunting lodge and write for the day. He was still several pages behind on where he would like to be, and he had left his heroine in a most awkward predicament that he needed to write her out of.
"That is not necessary, darling. I shall feel better after a tisane and some peace and quiet."
Breakfast was a silent affair after the short conversation. Victoria sipped her tea, lost in her own contemplation. The duke declared he was off to the Camberley, and the duchess finished her tea and some toast before taking herself upstairs.
Albert sat at the table, trying to form the words to ask Victoria what was troubling her. He did not want to push her too quickly and frighten her off. For all he knew, he may have already scared her away after what they had done together. Not to mention their disagreement over her choosing women to throw at his head.
Last evening, she was upset after his dance with Lady Sophie, but Victoria did not want a husband. Was she fighting with her own convictions? Her own hopes and dreams?
"If you'll excuse me," she said, fleeing yet again from his presence. He stared at the empty door she had all but ran through and frowned, slumping back in his chair.
What on earth was he to do?
Albert pushed back his chair. He called for his cap and cane and started for the hunting lodge. His mind was a chaos of ideas and thoughts of fixing what was so obviously broken between them.
But then, maybe she did not want to fix the rift. Was this her way of leaving him, letting him move forward in life without her by his side? Without her guidance in his so-called quest to find a wife.
He whacked a flower on the field, sending the yellow bud flying across the ground. He didn't want any other woman but her. This whole wife charade had gone on long enough. He needed to tell her the truth of how he felt about her. That he wanted her and no one else, let her decide his fate as only she could.
She would either fall into his arms or leave him.
He ran a hand through his hair, at a loss, his stomach in knots. Damn, he hoped it was the former. He wasn't sure he could live if it were the latter.
Victoria stayed in her room for as long as she could before the four walls and furniture, no matter how prettily decorated, started to grate on her nerves. She rang the bell for her maid and ordered the horse Lord Melvin had allocated to her for their stay to be saddled for a ride.
Her fear was unfounded. For days she had been worried she cared for Albert more than she should. That she wanted him for herself, but she did not. There was too much in her future to look forward to, to be worrying about how her friend made her feel when in his arms.
He gave her pleasure. They had given each other pleasure, that was all. To be worried about satisfaction equating to deeper emotions was a silly thing to do. Women had lovers all the time in London. She knew of several widows who enjoyed the company of men after their husbands had died. No one was declaring themselves so in love that they wanted to marry again.
She could be like those women. Not in the sense that she would take many lovers, but that she would enjoy being with Lord Melvin while he remained unmarried.
Her maid entered the room just as she was picking up her whip, notifying her that her horse was saddled and waiting at the stables.
Victoria made her way out to the stables, dismissing the need for a groom. She cantered out of the yard, into the surrounding forest, and directly toward the hunting lodge.
Somehow she knew Albert would be there, scribbling away as Lady Sophie had said. Somewhere in that building, he hid his author persona, his manuscripts. If there were any deeper feelings between them, Albert would
