Christmas Delights (15 page)

“And too much success,” she said slowly. “There is no benefit to you. Mr. Lewis Noble is too successful to apprentice under Mr. Rupert Courtnay. No, I would need one of those popinjays who were sent away for that. But me, I still want a real man.”

“Find someone your own age. I’d have been an excellent candidate when I was, what, twenty-one like you?”

She nodded. “Precisely. But then I wouldn’t know what I was getting, and isn’t that important, too?”

“You picked unwisely.” He could tell she was close to tears, though of sorrow or rage he couldn’t be sure. “Your father has chosen his desires over you. You must understand that. As you are not beholden to him financially, I am not sure why you let him dictate to you still.”

“It is just the two of us. I have no mother, no sisters or brothers.”

“Then does he not owe you your happiness? I disliked how my uncle treated my cousins, and I dislike how your father treats you.”

“If you do not respect him, once again, that is reason enough not to want to work with him.”

“Under him,” Lewis corrected, feeling weary. “Never with him. That’s not what your father wants. Go to bed, Victoria, and dream of what your future holds. I hope it is something good.”

He pushed his door open, not looking back as he closed it behind him. Then he leaned against it, his back cold against the unforgiving wood, and wondered what the hell was wrong with him that he couldn’t just take the pleasure she offered, her future be damned and obviously not his problem.

He felt rather than heard the initial raps on the door. For a second he stood still, confused, then realized the knob was turning. He moved away and the door opened. Victoria stood there, and as he looked at her, she stamped her foot quite deliberately.

“Why won’t you be my real man?” she demanded.

“What in God’s name is that supposed to mean?” He leaned one arm against the lintel and stared at her. Not for one moment had he thought she would come after him. What spirit she displayed, however misplaced her passion was.

“What haven’t I offered you, Lewis? Give me something, anything, to dream about, some kind of future. Ask me to deny my father, ask me to run away with you, tell me you love me, something.” She paused, staring at him with those huge gray eyes. “Please?”

He couldn’t bring himself to bridge the gap between them, that space of a doorway. “You worked hard for that title of yours, hard to please your father. Why throw it all away now?”

She tugged the cowboy hat away from his chest and put it to her own heart. “Because I love you.”

Her claim made him want to snarl. She was trying to trap him. “You only think you do because you never experienced pleasure between a man and woman before.”

“How easily you say that.” Her gaze drifted down his body, stopping at the obvious erection belling the fabric of his trousers. “Maybe it is even true.”

“Victoria,” he said, trying to gain a moment’s peace so he could think. Nobility meant nothing to this girl. She didn’t want him to do the right thing, to say the right thing. She wanted some barbarian, some Viking to sweep her over his shoulder and carry her off to a fur-lined cave. And then submit to her father in the end, as she did.

She tossed out her arm, her hand sweeping an arc in the direction of his crotch. “You can want me like that yet not make a move. I thought I understood men, but I don’t. I’m not some rarified creature just because I married into a title. I’m flesh and blood, and I like it that way. I came here for exactly what you’ve offered me: sweat and the scent of passion and physical love. Now I think it was all an accident, some mistake. It’s like a dream, those times I’ve been with you.” She shook her head, folded her arms over the cowboy hat, crushing it to her, and stalked off.

“Victoria,” he called. “Turn around.”

“No. I’m going to bed.”

He watched her traverse the hall, open her door, then slam it shut. After a minute, he wondered if she was leaning against the inner side of her door in the moony fashion he had, but thought not. He was a creature of thought and she was a creature of action. And he had to think. Because if he went after her, which would lead to the need for a proposal, he might lose everything, end up under her father’s thumb, and all for what? He’d been willing to do exactly that for Alys, but he’d changed so much since then. He wasn’t a romantic anymore, right? He’d left his twenties behind, was a mature man. There was no need to give in to a young woman’s sense of drama just because he liked fucking her. So he stayed in his room alone. And yet . . . and yet . . . he spent most of the night awake in his lonely bed, unable to banish her from his traitorous thoughts.

When he climbed out of bed, bleary-eyed and unsettled on the dawn of the new year, he resolved to take some action that had him spending time with Victoria in unimpeachable circumstances. Even a married couple didn’t spend all their time in carnal pursuits. He needed to know if he even liked her, if there was more than an obsession. If he didn’t, there was no point in even addressing her again, much less attempting to seduce her. As for marriage, he’d all but hardened himself against that. Except for that one tiny thing she’d said, about defying her father. Would she do that for the sake of love? It went against any natural feeling of a daughter for a father, the duty she owed him. But he thought passionate Victoria might do exactly that, if she loved enough.

Yes, he needed to know if he had any hope of feeling the same, given his craving for her touch. He remained in his room, sketching a change to one of the submarine’s instruments, drinking the coffee and eating the buns Eddy had procured for him, until late morning. Then he went downstairs and found the countess in a small parlor, conferring with the housekeeper.

He waited until she had dismissed the woman, then cleared his throat.

The countess, a somewhat faded and too-thin woman who nonetheless resembled her daughters, nodded to him. “Mr. Noble? What can I do for you today?”

“I have a request.”

“Some provisions for the stables?” Her tone was derisive. She didn’t share her son’s lust for his project.

“No, a dinner seating.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I would like to be seated next to Lady Allen-Hill at dinners from now on. She had been next to her suitors from Liverpool, but since I understand they’ve departed, I would like to move to one of those seats.”

“Mr. Noble, I’m afraid I cannot make that change.”

“Why not?”

“Her father sent me a note yesterday, requesting that Lady Allen-Hill be seated between himself and the Baron of Alix for the remainder of the festivities. I agreed.”

Lewis put his hands on his hips and looked down, attempting to contain his ire. Victoria’s father was one step ahead of him, procuring for the baron. He’d obviously settled on the man or he wouldn’t have placed himself on her other side.

“I believe a proposal is forthcoming,” the countess said meaningfully.

“I was told they were merely friends,” Lewis said.

“Perhaps my daughters’ happy news has inspired other young lovers. Friendship is a lovely basis for a future together.”

“So you say,” he muttered, thinking of himself thrusting between the soft thighs of the friend of the baron. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for your time, my lady.”

“Mr. Noble, I could seat you next to Adela Dickondell. She’s out now and quite pretty. I’m sure my son would be pleased to have you form a connection in the neighborhood. You’ve been so useful to him.”

“I imagine you’ve seated my cousin Rose next to Mr. Courtnay?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Yes, as before.”

“Put me on my cousin’s other side, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I think that is for the best.”

As the countess lifted her eyebrows, he turned and stalked out of the room. He didn’t stop moving until he’d reached the barn. Mud caked up the sides of his good shoes. He kicked them off, banishing them to a heap of straw in the corner, and reached for a pair of boots and a satchel of tools.

“I’m going to work on the barometer,” he told the earl.

“I was going to load the submarine into the water again,” Nicholas said. “To make sure the leak is fixed.”

“That’s fine. I can work on the instrument inside the submarine.”

Nicholas lifted his eyebrows. Lewis was struck by the fact that he and his mother had the same pure, blue-gray eyes. The earl shrugged. “Fine with me. Bang hard if it starts to leak.”

“You’ll know.” Lewis joked, “It will sink to the bottom of the lake.”

“That won’t happen fast enough for there to be any danger.”

“Fair enough.” Lewis tossed his satchel into the submarine. “Let’s get her down to the water.”

“The sooner the better,” Nicholas agreed. “The temperature is dropping. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had more snow, and if there’s too much ice, we won’t be able to do any testing.”

“Possibly you chose the wrong time of year to adequately enjoy your obsession.”

“A bit snappish today, old man,” Nicholas said. “Something troubling you?”

“Really? You want to chat over tea like a couple of old women?” He thrust his feet into boots so cold they made crackling noises.

“No,” Nicholas said. “Let’s get to work.”

Victoria hadn’t woken as angry as she remembered feeling when she’d fallen asleep. Penelope slumbered beside her, her face soft and childish. Victoria tucked a stray curl behind the girl’s ear, out of her eyes, and she murmured in her sleep, turning away. Then Victoria remembered what she’d said to Lewis. She’d told him she
loved
him.

Words thrown out in the heat of the moment. Her blood had been hot, her thighs damp, her breath coming fast. She’d said it to him, then insulted him, then run away. No wonder he didn’t want her. She was a ninny who barely knew her own mind. He was a decade older than her and, God bless him, he wanted an equal, not a child. She had to stop flouncing away and playing word games. They needed to talk, in daylight and alone. See each other’s eyes when they were thinking clearly, before the champagne flowed at endless parties. His cowboy hat was on her bedside table, mocking her. She touched it with one finger, then pulled away, irritated by her object worship.

She went through the regimen of breakfast and morning chatter with the ladies, but as soon as she could, she broke away, saying she needed air.

“Snow is coming,” Lady Rowena said, hunched over a fine pillowcase she was embroidering for her trousseau.

“I won’t be gone long,” Victoria said. “I just need to get some color in my cheeks.”

“Color in your cheeks is all very well, but if your lips become wind stung, no gentleman is going to want to kiss you,” Lady Rowena said with a knowing smirk.

“Rowena!” her sister protested. “Don’t be indelicate.”

“Everyone knows Lady Allen-Hill has set her cap at the baron,” Lady Rowena said. “She might even get him, too. But she has to act fast.”

“What have you heard?” Victoria asked.

“My mother and your father spoke about it,” said the girl.

“I had no idea,” Victoria admitted.

“Really? Is your father making arrangements without telling you? I would have thought a widow had more autonomy.”

“I’m a young widow,” Victoria said absently. “I expect it would have been different if I’d had children.”

“By next year’s house party, we might all have babies in our arms,” Lady Barbara said dreamily. “You should marry him, Victoria. And come back next Christmas.”

“If I marry him, I’ll probably be in Edinburgh, staring out at the endless rainy gray skies, instead of here, where it is bright.”

“But cold. If you are going to live in Edinburgh, toughening up would be wise,” Lady Rowena said. “Are you sure you don’t want Samuel? We could be sisters.”

“He’s younger than I am,” Victoria said. “Surely that is reason enough to dislike the notion.” She stood and took her leave, then bundled herself warmly and begged a couple of cream scones from a kitchen maid. She wrapped them in a napkin and tucked them into a pocket, hoping to use them as an excuse to get Lewis’s attention.

The brisk air blew her down the hill toward the stables, making her grateful for her sensible boots and warm coat. The wind carried sound toward the lake, but it seemed as she drew closer that she heard shouts.

The stable was deserted when she reached it. She frowned, and realized the submarine wasn’t inside. Had they towed it to the lake again? She pushed through the rear doors of the stable and saw men running down the dock. Some were already in the water, pounding on the metal hull of the submarine, which seemed rather low in the water, though she could still see most of the top. She craned her neck in every direction as she walked, hoping to see Lewis and find out what was going on.

No one paid any attention to her as she stepped onto the slippery surface of the dock. “What’s happening?” she shouted, becoming alarmed by the strain on the men’s faces, the way they were frantically checking the rope harness around the submarine, which allowed them to tow it back up to the dock.

“Pull!” she heard, and recognized the earl’s voice. “Damn it! We have to get him out!”

Victoria’s hands went icy cold in her gloves. She raced forward, reaching for the end of one of the ropes, joining the crew of men who were trying to tow it in.

“Closer!” a man said over his shoulder.

She stepped closer and took up a position a hand’s width behind him, then started to pull.

“Get off the submarine!” the earl shouted at a man who was on top of the hull, attempting to pry open the hatch. “We need to stop it from taking on water.”

“Where is Lewis?” Victoria asked, tugging as hard as she could.

“Inside the craft,” said a grim-faced man, a groundskeeper, who was pulling at the rope so hard that his face was red.