Chapter 18

Eighteen

I am away from Kilton Castle, and still I have no peace!

Victor paced the length of the drawing room in his London manor, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished wood floors. His mind was in turmoil, torn between the urge to return to Christina and the dread of what staying close to her might unravel.

He shouldn't have left, not with her nursing an injury and Miss Peversly reinstated as the children's governess. Yet here he was, miles away from the very people he had vowed to care for, all because of a stubborn fear he refused to confront.

He stopped abruptly, running a hand through his hair. Too many similarities between her and Christian. It could only end in disaster if I stayed. The thought pounded at him like a relentless drumbeat. Christina's restless, fiery spirit mirrored his late brother's so closely it left Victor unnerved, as if history was on the verge of repeating itself.

"That was a rather short honeymoon, Kilton," came a teasing voice from the doorway.

Victor turned to see Ashing leaning against the doorframe, grinning with all the charm and mischief of a man who never took life too seriously. He couldn't help the shake of his head as he muttered, "Did you come to assess the duration of my honeymoon or keep me company as requested?"

Ashing laughed, a light sound that seemed to mock the heaviness weighing down Victor's heart. "Both, my friend," he replied, striding into the room and taking a seat in one of the armchairs. He crossed his legs casually, leaning back as though he had not a care in the world. "But I must admit, I'm more interested in what's driven you away from your lovely duchess so soon."

Victor scowled, resuming his pacing, though the irritation gnawed at him more than the question. "The duchess is... not what I thought she was."

Ashing arched a brow, his teasing demeanor tempered by mild curiosity. "Not what you thought? How so?"

Victor stopped and faced him, folding his arms across his chest. "I married expecting a composed woman, one who would discipline my daughters and teach them how to behave as proper ladies. Instead, I have a wife who would rather join them in running wild by the lake."

At that, Ashing burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the room with unapologetic amusement. His eyes sparkled as he looked at Victor. "Spirit! And here I thought you preferred a life of order and stillness. You've married yourself a whirlwind, my friend. What in heaven's name did you do to offend God so terribly?"

Victor's jaw clenched. It irked him how easily Ashing found humor in his predicament. But what unsettled him more was how undeniably true his friend's words were. "It's not a matter of offense," he snapped, turning toward the window, where he pushed the curtain aside to stare out at the darkened lawn. "She is... rare," he admitted, though the words odd to him. "And that is what troubles me."

Ashing's laughter faded, and he regarded Victor with a knowing smile. "Rare, you say? Then what's the problem? Any man would be grateful to find such a gem."

Victor's grip tightened on the edge of the curtain, the fabric bunching in his fist. "She's too reckless, Ashing. Too much like Christian. That kind of spirit... it only gets people hurt."

A flicker of understanding passed across Ashing's face, and he stood, crossing the room to join Victor by the window. "You can't protect her from the world by shutting her in a cage, Kilton," he said softly, placing a hand on Victor's shoulder. "I've seen that look in your eyes before. You're trying to control something that can't be controlled. You can't stop her from being who she is, any more than you could have changed Christian."

Victor's jaw tightened further, his gaze unwavering as it remained fixed on the darkened landscape outside. "I know," he admitted, his voice rough with frustration. "But it doesn't mean I should let her charge headlong into danger. It's my responsibility to keep her and the children safe."

Ashing's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, a reassuring weight. "You can't control everything, Kilton. Not people, not fate. All you can do is stand by their side and trust them to walk the path they choose."

Victor exhaled slowly, the truth of Ashing's words settling uncomfortably in his chest. He turned to face his friend, who watched him with the patience and understanding of someone who had long since come to terms with life's uncontrollable nature.

"There's nothing for you here in London, Kilton," Ashing said softly. "Go back to Kent. To your family."

Victor's heart clenched at the thought, his mind warring with itself. Part of him wanted to return, wanted to see Christina and make sure she was well. But the other part—the part driven by fear—kept him rooted in place.

He had promised himself he wouldn't fall into the same trap again, yet here he was, already teetering on the edge.

"May I be excused?" Amelia asked, her voice soft and hopeful as she cast a glance toward Miss Peversly.

The governess, already prepared to deny her request, met Christina's steady gaze from across the schoolroom. Her lips thinned, and after a moment of silent exchange, she nodded with reluctance. "Very well," she muttered, her face drawn tight with displeasure.

Christina sat quietly at the back of the room, watching Miss Peversly's lesson. Two days had passed since her injury, and though her shoulder still ached, she was feeling much better, strong enough to oversee the children's lessons herself. She wasn't about to let Miss Peversly continue unchecked.

Minutes later, Amelia came bursting through the door, her eyes wide with excitement as she shouted, "Father has returned!"

Christina's heart gave an unexpected leap, betraying her. Why does it always come to this? She wasn't supposed to miss him, yet she did. But she was also meant to be angry, wasn't she? After all, he'd left without so much as a word, and now here he was, back without explanation. She watched as the girls leaped to their feet, their excitement bubbling over.

Except for Annie, all the girls rushed toward the door, eager to see their father. But Miss Peversly quickly stepped into their path, her stern voice cutting through their excitement. "Lessons are still in session. Return to your seats at once."

Christina rose, her expression calm but resolute. "Surely they are allowed to welcome their father home, Miss Peversly," she said, her voice smooth, though firm. "They have missed him terribly."

For a moment, the governess hesitated, her face tight with restraint. But Christina stood her ground, and slowly, grudgingly, Miss Peversly stepped aside. The girls tumbled out of the room, giggling as they dashed down the hall. "Walk gently," Christina called after them, suppressing a smile. "We wouldn't want any accidents."

Miss Peversly scoffed audibly behind her, but Christina turned, offering the governess a sweet smile, a silent message passing between them. They both knew whose authority held sway in Kilton Castle, and it wasn't the governess.

As Christina descended the corridor, Annie looped her arm carefully through Christina's injured one. "You handle her so well," she whispered, admiration in her voice. "It's remarkable."

Christina smiled, patting Annie's hand. "I am simply doing what any mother would do for her daughters." The word ‘mother' felt as if it carried more weight with each passing day.

They reached the grand foyer, and there, surrounded by the girls, stood Victor, towering as always, his dark presence commanding attention. Agnes, with her usual boldness, had her hands on her hips, demanding to know why he'd left without saying a word.

"I had urgent business in London," he began to explain, but a cough from beside him interrupted.

Victor's head snapped toward the source of the sound, glaring at the gentleman who had apparently stifled a laugh. Kitty turned to the man, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Uncle Marcus, why are you coughing?" she asked innocently.

The gentleman—Marcus, the Marquess of Ashing—chuckled lightly and shrugged. "Merely a bit of dust in the air," he replied with an exaggerated innocence.

Cassidy wasn't convinced. "But Mrs. Brimsey ensures there's no dust in the castle every morning," she countered with certainty, making the whole scene that much more entertaining.

Victor was about to respond when his gaze shifted, locking with Christina's as she descended the final step. Something unfamiliar flickered in his expression, something that caused warmth to bloom in her cheeks. He approached her, his focus solely on her, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room.

He stopped at the base of the stairs and took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles in a gentle kiss. His eyes remained on hers, and the air between them seemed to hum with something unspoken. "How are you faring, Christina?" he asked softly.

Her heart fluttered at the way he said her name, and she smiled, despite her racing pulse. "Much better, thank you."

Victor nodded, his eyes lingering a moment longer before he turned to the Marquess. "Ashing," he called, beckoning his friend to join them. When the marquess approached, Victor introduced him to Christina. "This is my dear friend, the Marquess of Ashing."

Ashing offered a low bow, his smile both charming and warm. "Your Grace, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance."

Christina returned his smile, inclining her head gracefully. "You are most welcome here, my lord."

Ashing straightened, his gaze playful as he looked between Christina and Victor. "I see the castle has been in good hands during your absence, Kilton."

Victor made a noncommittal noise, his attention still flickering between Christina and his friend. There was something more he seemed to want to say, but after a moment of hesitation, he merely muttered, "I will be in my study," before turning and walking off, his dark figure vanishing through the archway.

Ashing remained, his smile never wavering. "Who wants sugar plums?" he called to the girls.

Their excited cheers filled the air as they followed him toward the drawing room. Even Annie, normally more reserved, hurried along with them, eager to partake in the excitement.

Left standing alone at the base of the stairs, Christina exhaled softly. Her gaze drifted toward the archway that led to Victor's study, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. But she would not go after him. Not now. Instead, she headed toward the library, intent on finishing the task she'd begun earlier in the day.

Upon entering, she was greeted by the low purr of Carrot, curled up contentedly in a chair by the door. She smiled at the sight and moved deeper into the room, picking up the books she'd left on Victor's desk. With a quiet focus, she arranged the volumes on the shelf, completing the set.

"I see you're not one for following orders," came Victor's voice from behind her, low and amused.

Her heart raced at the sound, but she didn't turn immediately. "I see you're fond of issuing too many," she replied, a touch of humor in her tone.

When she finally turned, she found him standing there, arms crossed, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He puzzled her. One moment he was distant, the next, attentive and warm.

He stepped closer, his gaze flickering to her shoulder as he gently pushed the shawl aside to inspect the fading bruise. "How is your shoulder?"

She breathed a bit too quickly, the feel of his hand against her skin both soothing and electrifying. "It's healing well," she replied, her voice steady despite her fluttering heart. "Though it still looks worse than it feels."

Victor's hand lingered for a moment before he stepped back. "And the children?" he asked, his tone slightly more serious.

"They're doing well. Miss Peversly instructs them, but only under my close watch," Christina replied, watching him closely, waiting to see how he would react to the mention of the governess.

He said nothing about it, though his gaze wandered to the shelf behind her. "Where did you find the missing volumes?" he asked.

"I sent for them from London," she explained. "They arrived this morning."

Victor looked at her with something close to approval in his eyes. "You've done well," he said softly. Christina smiled as something warm and unspoken passed between them.

"Will you be staying, or do you intend to return to London soon?" Christina asked, her voice steady, though her heart betrayed a tremor of uncertainty.

Victor's eyes flickered, but he did not respond. Instead, he quietly reached out, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her skin with a touch so fleeting it might have been imagined. He stepped back, distancing himself once more, and Christina sighed inwardly. Taciturn again , she thought, feeling the walls he'd momentarily lowered rebuilding themselves between them.

"I visited the stables," he said at last, his tone neutral. "Angelique is improving."

Christina smiled softly, but the warmth did not fully reach her eyes. "I was there this morning as well."

Victor's brow lifted, his surprise palpable. "Has the physician returned in my absence?" His voice held a hint of disbelief, as though he couldn't fathom her defiance.

"He comes every afternoon," Christina confirmed, her tone brisker than she intended. "He brings more laudanum and insists I remain abed."

Victor's gaze sharpened. "You don't appear to be taking it."

Christina lifted her chin, a touch of pride creeping into her response. "I hate the laudanum. Mrs. Brimsey brews me vervain tea instead."

For a moment, Victor was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, with an edge to his voice that she hadn't anticipated, he said, "why am I not surprised?" When he moved toward his desk, she followed him.

"The village fair is in two days," she began. "The girls would love to attend. It would do them good to experience something outside these castle walls."

Victor's brow creased. "The village fair? Absolutely not. The girls are not leaving the grounds."

Christina's mouth tightened, but she held her ground. "Why not? It's a harmless event, and they've been shut here for far too long."

His eyes narrowed. "Harmless? A crowd of villagers is no place for my daughters. There will be chaos, and I won't have them exposed to it."

"They need more than tutors and governesses, Victor," she said, her voice rising slightly. "They need life! Experiences that will help them grow, not just be proper little ladies kept under lock and key."

Victor's jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing as he straightened. "I am responsible for their safety. And I will not risk it by allowing them to be paraded around in front of strangers."

Christina's chest tightened with frustration. "Is that what you think I'll do? Parade them around like trophies? Victor, you're smothering them, and they're starting to wilt under it."

His eyes darkened, his stance rigid. "Enough. They are my children, and I will decide what's best for them. They're not going to the fair."

The words landed like strike, and by the way his eyes seemed to register her flinch, he knew it.

Christina opened her mouth to argue, but the cold finality in his tone stopped her. He was already turning and striding toward the door.

"Victor, please," she called after him, her voice touched with a plea she hadn't intended. "They need more than just discipline. They need?—"

He paused for only a heartbeat at the door, his hand resting on the knob. Without turning to face her, he said quietly, "This discussion is over."

And then he left.