fathered a babe or two on his mistress, that he has been known to get so deeply into his cups that he has had to be carried into his house by his coachman, and that he has a passion for gaming hells,” Annabella answered.
“Here now,” Lyndwood muttered, “can’t hold a few insignificant peccadilloes against a man.”
“Really?” inquired a familiar, husky female voice from the open window of the carriage. “Would Viscount Barton be equally prepared to overlook a similar list of
insignificant peccadilloes
in his prospective wife?”
Lucas turned his head sharply toward the carriage window, aware that the mere sound of Victoria’s voice had immediately reactivated the desire he had first experienced in Jessica Atherton’s card room. He concealed his eagerness with the cold control he had learned years ago, prepared to greet his heiress with proper formality.
But instead of a striking woman in an elegant gown and bonnet, he found himself staring at a figure dressed to the nines in men’s clothes. Laughing eyes met his through the shadows, challenging him.
“Good God,” he said through his teeth, “this is insanity.”
“No, my lord, this is amusing.”
Lucas recovered himself as he heard the groom start to clamber down from the driver’s seat. He shoved open the door before the man could arrive to open it properly, and reached out and caught hold of Victoria’s wrist before she realized his intent. He had been expecting a lady with a taste for some mild adventure, not this outrageous creature.
“Get in here, you little baggage, before someone recognizes you.”
His urgency brought Victoria through the door far more quickly than she intended. She gasped as she landed heavily on the seat beside Lucas and grabbed her beaver-trimmed hat to keep it in place. He saw she was clutching an expensive-looking inlaid walking stick in her hand.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said with heavy sarcasm.
Lucas ignored her. “Let’s get out of here, Lyndwood.”
Lyndwood obliged by tapping his stick against the roof of the carriage. “To the park, if you please,” he called out.
Annabella smiled at Victoria as the carriage clattered into motion. “You look very well turned out this evening, Vicky. Do I detect Brummell’s influence in your choice of blue? He is particularly fond of the color, I’m told. But you have always preferred yellow.”
“I decided a yellow coat might be a bit too striking for the occasion,” Victoria conceded.
“So you limited yourself to a yellow waistcoat. I congratulate you on your sense of restraint. And, pray tell, who tied your cravat? I warrant I haven’t seen such a clever design in ages.”
“Like it, do you?” Victoria fingered the carefully arranged neckcloth. “Invented this particular fold myself. Call it the
Victoire.”
Annabella gave a peal of laughter. “Vicky, I swear you sound just like one of the dandies on Bond Street. You’ve got the whole tone exactly right. Just the propersense of affected boredom. I declare you could trod the boards and make your living as an actress.”
“Why, thank you, Bella. That is high praise indeed.”
Lucas lounged back in the seat and surveyed the striking figure beside him with a critical eye. His initial shock was giving way to annoyance and a certain uneasiness that was new to him. It was clear Victoria Huntington was fond of mischief, and this brand of mischief could land her in serious trouble.
“Do you go about like this often, Miss Huntington?” Lucas was aware he had automatically used the tone of voice that in the past he had reserved for young officers under his command who had landed themselves in trouble. He could not help himself. He was irritated.
“This is my first experiment with men’s clothes, sir. But to be truthful, I shall probably be strongly tempted to try it again in the future. I find that the masculine attire affords me far more freedom than I have when I wear women’s clothes,” Victoria
“Here now,” Lyndwood muttered, “can’t hold a few insignificant peccadilloes against a man.”
“Really?” inquired a familiar, husky female voice from the open window of the carriage. “Would Viscount Barton be equally prepared to overlook a similar list of
insignificant peccadilloes
in his prospective wife?”
Lucas turned his head sharply toward the carriage window, aware that the mere sound of Victoria’s voice had immediately reactivated the desire he had first experienced in Jessica Atherton’s card room. He concealed his eagerness with the cold control he had learned years ago, prepared to greet his heiress with proper formality.
But instead of a striking woman in an elegant gown and bonnet, he found himself staring at a figure dressed to the nines in men’s clothes. Laughing eyes met his through the shadows, challenging him.
“Good God,” he said through his teeth, “this is insanity.”
“No, my lord, this is amusing.”
Lucas recovered himself as he heard the groom start to clamber down from the driver’s seat. He shoved open the door before the man could arrive to open it properly, and reached out and caught hold of Victoria’s wrist before she realized his intent. He had been expecting a lady with a taste for some mild adventure, not this outrageous creature.
“Get in here, you little baggage, before someone recognizes you.”
His urgency brought Victoria through the door far more quickly than she intended. She gasped as she landed heavily on the seat beside Lucas and grabbed her beaver-trimmed hat to keep it in place. He saw she was clutching an expensive-looking inlaid walking stick in her hand.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said with heavy sarcasm.
Lucas ignored her. “Let’s get out of here, Lyndwood.”
Lyndwood obliged by tapping his stick against the roof of the carriage. “To the park, if you please,” he called out.
Annabella smiled at Victoria as the carriage clattered into motion. “You look very well turned out this evening, Vicky. Do I detect Brummell’s influence in your choice of blue? He is particularly fond of the color, I’m told. But you have always preferred yellow.”
“I decided a yellow coat might be a bit too striking for the occasion,” Victoria conceded.
“So you limited yourself to a yellow waistcoat. I congratulate you on your sense of restraint. And, pray tell, who tied your cravat? I warrant I haven’t seen such a clever design in ages.”
“Like it, do you?” Victoria fingered the carefully arranged neckcloth. “Invented this particular fold myself. Call it the
Victoire.”
Annabella gave a peal of laughter. “Vicky, I swear you sound just like one of the dandies on Bond Street. You’ve got the whole tone exactly right. Just the propersense of affected boredom. I declare you could trod the boards and make your living as an actress.”
“Why, thank you, Bella. That is high praise indeed.”
Lucas lounged back in the seat and surveyed the striking figure beside him with a critical eye. His initial shock was giving way to annoyance and a certain uneasiness that was new to him. It was clear Victoria Huntington was fond of mischief, and this brand of mischief could land her in serious trouble.
“Do you go about like this often, Miss Huntington?” Lucas was aware he had automatically used the tone of voice that in the past he had reserved for young officers under his command who had landed themselves in trouble. He could not help himself. He was irritated.
“This is my first experiment with men’s clothes, sir. But to be truthful, I shall probably be strongly tempted to try it again in the future. I find that the masculine attire affords me far more freedom than I have when I wear women’s clothes,” Victoria
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