Victoria and the Rogue (12 page)

had relayed her description—though not, apparently, the fact that Victoria and her cousin had been at the

event as well.

“It really does make me so very relieved,” Mrs. Carstairs went on as she passed Victoria a plate of

sugared wafers, “that my own daughter is married and grown, with a baby of her own. For I do not think

I could raise a girl in this day and age—though you, Beatrice, seem to manage quite well. Still, I don’t

envy you. So many young women today seem so wild! Imagine, soaking your skirts with water on

purpose! Why, you could catch your death.”

Victoria, nibbling on one of the wafers, regarded Mrs. Carstairs with interest. So Jacob had an elder

sister! A sister old enough to be married with a child. How intriguing. Victoria could not picture the very

self-assured captain with a sister, particularly an elder one. She wondered if Jacob’s sister had ever

tortured him when he was younger the way she and Rebecca, when they were very bored, enjoyed

torturing her younger brothers, by sprinkling them with rosewater through the stairwell and dressing their

hair in bows while they slept.

Victoria did not have time to wonder about this for long, since soon the men joined them again, and the

conversation shifted back to less scandalous topics. The fact that there was to be a full moon that night,

and that an eyeglass Captain Carstairs had ordered all the way from Italy was newly arrived, led

everyone—with the exception of Mr. Gardiner, who had fallen asleep in a chair by the fire—out to the

terrace leading off the drawing room, where they took turns peering through the lens—though with all the

clouds, only the barest glimpse of the moon could be seen. The damp soon drove the other ladies back

inside, but Victoria was determined to stay outside until she saw, as Rebecca had, the Dead Sea, and she

refused to budge until the swiftly moving clouds overhead parted enough to award her a view.

To her irritation, Jacob Carstairs stayed outside as well… no doubt, she told herself bitterly, to make

sure she did not drop or otherwise harm his precious new plaything.

“You needn’t fear for footpads out here,” she informed him very sarcastically. “I promise I shan’t let

anyone steal it.”

“No,” Captain Carstairs said with the tiniest of smiles, visible in the candlelight that spilled through the

terrace doors. “I don’t imagine that you would. I rather fear for any footpads that come your way.”

Victoria snorted. “That certainly wasn’t what you were saying the other day.”

“I was in a foul mood the other day,” Jacob admitted. “I meant to ask your pardon for that.”

Victoria, exceedingly surprised that Jacob Carstairs would ask her pardon for anything, only raised her

eyebrows, keeping her gaze on the bright patch in the clouds, behind which she knew loomed the moon.

“Aren’t you going to ask me,” Jacob asked, after some seconds of silence passed between them, “why I

was in such a foul mood?”

“No,”Victoria replied sweetly.

“Well, I intend to tell you anyway,” Jacob said.

And then he did something so extraordinary that Victoria very nearly had to pinch herself to make

certain she wasn’t dreaming. He reached for the terrace doors, which had been left partly open, and

pulled them shut. Then, from his waistcoat pocket, he extracted a key, and locked them…

…with the two of them outside!

Victoria—her eyes, she was quite sure, as large as peacock eggs—inquired pointedly, “Are you mad?”

“Probably,” Jacob Carstairs replied, dropping the key back into his pocket—which, Victoria supposed,

was proof that he hadn’t completely lost his mind… if he had, undoubtedly he’d have tossed the key

over the side of the balcony. Then, reaching for one of the wrought iron chairs, he spun it toward

Victoria, gave the damp seat a wipe with his handkerchief, and said, “Sit.”

Victoria, very much affronted—but positively intrigued—by his behavior, replied with spirit, “I most

certainly shall not.”

“Fine,” Jacob replied, putting the chair back where he’d gotten it. “Now you are going to listen to me.”

Victoria realized that she did not have much of a choice. Unless she hurled herself over the side of the

terrace—a drop of some twenty feet to the garden below— she could not help but listen to him. She

supposed she could have banged on the terrace doors and alerted those inside of her plight. Her uncle

Walter might be strong enough to break down the doors and rescue her… if he could be roused from his

nap.

She was, however, mightily interested in what it was that Jacob Carstairs had gone to such drastic

lengths to tell her. Were Hugo and Becky, she wondered, correct in their assertions that Captain

Carstairs was in love with her? Was such a thing even possible? How could Jacob Carstairs possibly be

in love with her, when for the entire time she’d known him he’d done nothing but vex and tease her?

What sort of man showed his love for a woman in such a manner?

But then, recalling what Rebecca had said to her just that evening, it occurred to her that perhaps it was

because of Jacob Carstairs’s great passion for her that he’d taken to calling her Miss Bee and putting

down her attempts to make things tidy. Perhaps what Rebecca had accused Victoria of—of hating Jacob

Carstairs so passionately, she could only be in love with him—was actually true of the captain?

Good Lord! Could it be? It certainly seemed so! Was Jacob Carstairs going to confess his undying

devotion to her, right here on his terrace, under the moonlight—well, what little there was of it—with his

mother and her uncle and aunt just inside? Was he going to sweep her into his strong arms and rain

impassioned kisses down upon her upturned face?

Victoria, much to her chagrin, found that the thought of Jacob Carstairs doing any of these

things—confessing his love for her, sweeping her into his arms, and raining kisses down upon her

face—was rather thrilling. In fact, just the thought that he might do any one of these things sent her heart

beating a good deal more quickly than she knew it ought, considering the fact that she was engaged to

someone else. What kind of girl was she, anyway, that she could find the idea of Jacob Carstairs kissing

her so appealing? She was practically married! And to someone else!

And yet there was no denying that when the captain looked at her with those rain-cloud gray eyes and

said her name, her pulse fluttered. And when he’d commanded her to sit, she’d felt quite a little jolt up

and down her spine. There was nothing like a handsome man bossing one about… even if one hadn’t the

slightest intention of doing what he said.

La! she thought now. He’s going to admit, finally, that the reason he has this absurd prejudice against

Lord Malfrey—and has been so nasty to me all these weeks—is because he is madly and passionately in

love with me, and can’t stand the thought of me in another man’s arms! How very, very jolly! I shall be

gentle with him, of course. I wouldn’t want him to fling himself over the side of the balcony from a broken

heart, or anything like that. He could crack his skull open on those garden boxes down there, and that

would be so untidy. I shan’t utter a peep about the collar points, either.

“Victoria,” Jacob said, and Victoria could not help thinking again that it was very presumptuous of him

to call her by her given name when she had not given him permission to do so. But she supposed he was

too maddened by love for her to be completely sensible of what he was doing.

“I’ve tried everything I can think of to convince you how foolhardy this scheme of yours is—of marrying

Hugo Rothschild, I mean. But your aunt and uncle cannot—or will not—attempt to control you, and you

will not seem to hear reason. And so you leave me with no choice but to reveal something to

you—something that I swore to myself I would never tell another living soul— that I am afraid will only

cause you pain… and myself grievous injury as well.”

Victoria thought this a very noble and dignified speech. She knew, of course, what was to follow. He

would reveal his unrequited passion for her, and she, of course, would act surprised, as if the idea of his

being in love with her had never, ever occurred to her. Then she would politely tell him she did not return

his affections, and hoped he would not do anything rash.

“But the truth is, Victoria…” Here Jacob bent his dark head, and seemed unable to go on.

Victoria, rather vexed that he wasn’t coming right out with it—surely her aunt would notice, sooner

rather than later, how long she’d been alone with him out on the terrace, and wonder what they were

doing, and try the door—decided to hurry things up a little. She laid a gentle hand upon his arm and said

in the most comforting voice she could summon, “Captain Carstairs, you needn’t say another word. You

see, I already know.”

Jacob looked up, and at that very moment the clouds slid from the moon, sending an arc of bluish light

onto the balcony, and bringing into high relief the pain and sad resignation etched upon his face.

“You do?” he asked in an astonished voice. “But how did you… how could you have found out?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Victoria said gravely. “All that matters is… well, what we’re going to do about it.”

“Do about it?” Jacob reached up to run a hand through his thick dark hair, causing Victoria’s fingers to

slip from his arm. But he seemed hardly to notice this. “What in God’s name are you talking about? Isn’t

it obvious what you’re going to have to do about it?”

Victoria saw that he was standing very close to the balcony railing. She would, she knew, have to handle

this carefully indeed. While the idea of Jacob Carstairs doing himself an injury due to his great love for

her was, of course, delightful, it had to be admitted that, much as he annoyed her, she would miss him if

he expired. No one else ever looked at her with eyes that seemed to see right into her heart—even if

Captain Carstairs had never given any indication that he liked what he saw there.

Besides, Victoria was certain Jacob’s death would hurt his mother a good deal, and Mrs. Carstairs was

a very nice woman whom Victoria would not have liked to see unhappy.

“Really, Jacob,” she said, unconsciously using his given name for the first time in their acquaintance. “I

think you’re making far too much of this. I’m sure it’s only… only a passing fancy.”

“A passing fancy?” Jacob stared at her as if she’d just grown a second head. “That Hugo Rothschild is

marrying you for your money? I rather think not.”

CHAPTER NINE

Victoria, a good deal taken aback by this statement, blinked several times before managing to stammer,

“Wh— what?”

Jacob stared down at her, his eyes in pools of shadow, as the moon had slipped behind the clouds once

again.

“That is what you meant?” he asked. “When you said you already knew. Isn’t it?”

“I…”Victoria was glad that the moon was gone. This way, though she could not read his expression, he,

at least, could not see her blush.

Because Victoria was blushing, and deeply. Oh, what a fool she’d been, to think he was in love with

her! Of course he meant only to harp on at her about the same old subject. Jacob Carstairs, in love with

her? Perish the thought!

But it had to be admitted that Victoria felt more than a little disappointed that it was not so… which of

course made no sense whatsoever, since she was in love with Hugo. What did she care how Jacob

Carstairs felt about her?

“Of course that’s what I thought you meant,” Victoria said with a haughty toss of her head. “What else

could you have meant?”

It was Jacob’s turn to blink.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But you certainly seem cool enough about it.”

“Well, it isn’t exactly anything very new,” Victoria said, pleased that he’d noted none of her discomfort.

“You’ve been saying much the same thing—or something similar, anyway—since the moment I said yes

to the earl’s proposal.”

“Yes, well”—he looked as serious as Victoria had ever seen him look—“now I intend to tell you the

truth about your precious earl—the truth that I and only a few other people know. And I would ask that,

because of the nature of what I’m about to reveal, you swear that you will never mention it to anyone,

ever.”

“It isn’t ladylike to swear,” Victoria reminded him primly.

“It isn’t ladylike to tackle street urchins, either,” Jacob pointed out. “But that didn’t seem to stop you the

other day.”

Victoria lifted her gaze toward the heavens. “Very well,” she said with a sigh. “I swear.” And then,

perhaps because she was a little disappointed that the captain wasn’t, in fact, going to profess his undying

devotion to her, she added with a good deal of asperity, “And now I suppose you’re going to tell me a

tawdry tale about some girl Lord Malfrey proposed to, then cast aside when he learned she hadn’t as

much money as he’d hoped.”

“Pathetic is the word I’d use, not tawdry,” Jacob said brusquely. “And it wasn’t some girl. It was my

sister.”

Victoria brought her gaze very quickly to his face.

“Your… your sister?” she echoed. “But…”

And again she was grateful for the rain clouds, since they hid her suddenly flaming cheeks from sight. His

sister? The one Mrs. Carstairs had spoken of, the one who was married and had a baby? Jacob

Carstairs’s sister and… Hugo?

He must have read the astonishment on her face, despite the absence of moonlight, since he said in a