Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

V ictoria was as skittish as a young colt, and Robert didn't have the foggiest idea how to handle her. How to reassure her that things were not that bad. That he wasn't a complete villain.

He closed the front door of Tolley House behind him and locked it. In the stillness of the foyer, he noticed the lack of servants. The silence. Most other nights, he came in via the kitchen, often with George or one of the other members of his little band of thieves trailing behind him. There would boxes and crates. Pistols and work to be done. The empty house was a blessing.

For the first time in his wedded life, Robert saw things through Victoria's eyes. A duchess returning home from a social event would normally have a butler to open the door. She would have maids at her disposal. Right now a warm bath would be waiting for her, along with a neatly pressed nightgown.

And all I can offer her is some burnt bread.

He really ought to have given more thought to this marriage thing.

Victoria raised her fingers to her throat and unclasped her cloak. She glanced around for a moment, then slung the garment over her arm, and asked. "Which way to the kitchen?"

He went to take the cloak from her hands, but she shook her head. "You promised me toast."

All her life Victoria had found comfort in warm bread and butter. If there was some matured cheese at hand, that was even better. But everything here was strange. Her life was forever altered. If she could seek refuge in the simple familiar things, she might be able to keep her emotions together.

When they reached the kitchen, Robert hurried over to the stove and stoked the fire. He added a couple more logs, promising her that the room would soon be as toasty as the bread they were about to cook.

Victoria dropped her cloak onto the table, then slipped off her gloves, one by one. "Do you have any wine? I could do with a glass or two."

She'd snatched a bite of a sandwich at the wedding breakfast and a piece of cake from the supper table at the ball but had not had time to savor anything else. The menu her parents had arranged was everything she had ever hoped for in a wedding ball buffet. But she'd barely had time to eat all day. Adrenaline and fear were the only things keeping her upright. That and a sense of disappointment. Of a life about to be wasted on a man who would never care for her.

Her hands went to her face and the tears quickly followed. She couldn't hold them back. Stupid, stupid girl.

A warm body pressed against her, strong arms wrapping her up in their embrace. Robert lay a hand on Victoria's silken hair, smoothing it with every stroke. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I am not what you want. That your dreams of a love match have been shattered."

She clung to him, then began to sob. "And I'm sorry for making this all so impossible, that you felt you had no choice but to offer for me."

This was not the wedding night anyone would ever want, full of disappointment and regret.

"Shh, it's alright. None of this is your fault. It's been a long hard day, and we are both exhausted. Let's get some sleep and hopefully things will look better in the morning."

He brushed a kiss on her forehead, then traced his thumb down her cheek. "Food. It is the cure for so much of our ills. Toast and red wine."

She felt wretched, but they had both given voice to their worries. To their inner fears. Her tears still fell, but Victoria sensed a lightening of her load. Robert at least had an inkling of how she viewed this marriage, of the guilt she carried at knowing he had only made her his duchess because society demanded it of him.

Robert retrieved a bottle of French wine from the scullery, along with two glasses. "This is a Cabernet franc, and it pairs well with toast and a thick piece of Wensleydale cheese. I also like to add some thinly sliced apple, to give it some bite."

While he went back into the next room to fetch some plates, Victoria located a corkscrew and set about opening the wine bottle. She had just removed the cork when Robert reappeared, carrying a tray. He took one look at the bottle and raised his eyebrows.

She shrugged. "My sister, Augusta, and I used to help ourselves to Papa's wine cellar. We also stole bottles of whisky from his study whenever we were able."

He gave a deep chuckle, and for the first time all day, she sensed a lighter shift in the mood. "Naughty minx. So you really are Lady Thief, or should I say the Duchess of Thieves."

Victoria poured them both a generous glass of wine, then handed one to her husband.

My husband.

Robert was still very much a stranger. But as he took the glass from her hand, and their fingers touched, she couldn't help but smile at him.

He bent and placed a tender kiss on her lips. "My duchess. I promise you will never need to steal from me."

She took in his gorgeous blue gray eyes and those soft plump lips. Robert might not ever worry that she would take from him, but if he kept looking at her like that, he was going to steal more than just kisses.