Chapter 25

Despite Lord Bedford's talent for finding private places, it still took what felt like an eternity for him to finally stop in a mostly secluded area of the park. Victoria could hear Lord Ardenridge and Lord Worthington speaking to one another, but their voices were distant and muffled.

The time spent finding a secluded spot gave Victoria the space she needed to think. Lord Bedford was clearly angry with her, or else he was upset about some other matter and trying not to admit to something. She did not know which. When they at last came to stop in their secluded place and stood across from one another with scarcely a few feet between them, Victoria's heart hammered against her ribs.

"This place should work," Lord Bedford said. "It will take Lord Ardenridge and Samuel some time to reach us."

She felt a tight lump lodge in her throat, making it difficult to speak. Perhaps Lord Bedford had found another lover and did not wish to tell her. Or perhaps Lord Bedford had simply decided that he did not desire her as ardently as he had claimed. Perhaps he really was a rake, and her stepmother"s warnings had all been right.

Maybe Lord Bedford had hoped that she would understand the reality of the situation without him having to tell her what the truth was. All those possibilities were like a knife to her heart. She had known the risks of becoming attracted to an alleged rake and in allowing him to take the liberties that she had, so she had only herself to blame. Still, Victoria had desperately hoped that her heart and Loralie's advice would prove true.

Victoria cleared her throat, though determined to face this obstacle with dignity. "It is all right," she said. "I understand if you do not wish to see me any longer."

Lord Bedford looked at her for a long moment, silent. Then, he furrowed his brow and grimaced. It was difficult to say if his expression reflected more confusion or anger, but there was certainly some strange mixture of volatile feelings churning within him. "I must know something," he said.

"Of course," Victoria replied.

"Am I the first man who you have been with?" he asked.

Victoria stared at him. The words thundered through her, and she heard them, but she could find no meaning in them. Surely, she must have misheard him. Lord Bedford had not just asked what he had. Surely, he did not have doubts about her. Her face grew hot, and Victoria curled her fingers into the fine fabric of her gown. "Of course you were," she said. "I cannot believe that you would ask me a question like that."

What had she done to make him doubt that he was the only man whom she had ever engaged in an amorous encounter with? She could not understand what she had done to make him doubt that of all things, and she could understand even less why he seemed so angry or confused with her. Victoria"s eyes burned. The moment felt unreal in a way. Emotions that she did not even have the words for surged through her. Never had she imagined this encounter, and even in all the plays she had seen, which often involved misunderstandings between lovers, none of them seemed to occur quite like this—seemingly sudden and without any rational cause.

"I spoke to your stepmother, Lady Norwood," Lord Bedford replied, "and she told me that you are a rakish woman and that you play with men's affections. You pretend that you are in love with them so they will propose to you. Then, you delight in tormenting them by your refusals."

Victoria gasped, and her fingers curled tighter into her gown. It was as if the garment was the only thing keeping her still steady as Lord Bedford's allegation tore through her, destroying any clever rebuttals. Her eyes stung, threatening tears. What was the greater betrayal? Was it that her stepmother had said something so terrible about her? Or was it that Lord Bedford had believed it? Victoria could make no sense of the situation.

While she had doubted her stepmother's motivations for a very long time, this was something that she would never have expected, and yet Lord Bedford's words must be true. She could find no motivation for why Lord Bedford would lie and say something so horrible.

"You know," Victoria said, "that my stepmother is cruel to me. Or perhaps that is too harsh. She loves me in her own way, but I think sometimes that is not enough."

Victoria thought of her love for the theatre, which she had been forced to hide from her stepmother for her entire life. Even if Lady Norwood loved Victoria in her own way, she did not really even know who Victoria was or who she longed to be.

"This is not true," Victoria said. "This is a lie, and I cannot believe that you would doubt me. How could you?"

No, she decided. It was worse that Lord Bedford had listened to her stepmother and believed her. Lord Bedford was not a foolish man. He should know to doubt her stepmother's word and should not be so quick to doubt her.

"After everything we have been through, after everything we have done together, how can you doubt me?" Victoria asked, her voice trembling.

She took a step back, torn between fleeing from him and hiding her tears, which had begun to gather in her eyes so heavily that she could not hold them back any longer. They fell hotly down the sides of her face.

Lord Bedford's expression at last softened. "I am sorry," he said. "Please, forgive me. You are right to be upset. I should never have doubted you. It was only that I was so confused. I thought we were in love with one another, and I could not bear the thought that you might not love me as much as I adore you. I had to be certain. I had to ask, and I imagine that you would do the same if you had heard such rumours about me. We have always been honest with one another, have we not?"

Victoria rubbed her hands roughly against her eyes. Her mind felt as if it were a tempest of conflicting emotions, relief warring with anger and dismay, and she could not decide what she really felt. At the moment, nothing seemed real; everything was tumultuous and confusing.

"I love you," Lord Bedford said.

"I love you too," Victoria replied, her voice shaking and hot tears still gathering in her eyes. "I love you, and I have never lied to you. I promise."

A moment of silence fell between them. Victoria slowly unclenched her hands from her gown and took a shuddering breath of air. Her chest ached from it.

"I was planning to propose," Lord Bedford said hesitantly. "That is why I approached your stepmother. I had hoped to ask for her permission, and that is when she told me that you were a rake. I am sorry. You were right. I should not have believed her, and I will never doubt you again."

Victoria forced a watery smile. He loved her. He believed her. Relief washed over her like a wave, cooling the fiery indignation that had sparked to life within her. She still felt the faintest trickling of doubt within her breast that he would doubt her. Even if she rationally understood why he needed to know precisely who he was marrying, it still hurt that he felt the need to ask. But did that matter when he believed her? Surely, that was the most important, was it not? He did not doubt her.

She felt just a little better. Lord Bedford's declaration of love did not entirely soothe the doubt brought about by his ready belief in her stepmother, but it soothed enough.

"We should not tarry any longer together," Lord Bedford said. "Someone will surely notice."

"I understand," Victoria said.

She needed time and privacy to compose herself, too. Victoria could not join the rest of the ton with her red eyes and flushed cheeks. She dabbed her eyes a little more gently, trying to ward away the evidence that she had just been crying.

"So we will hide our love a little longer," Lord Bedford replied, "and if you still wish to be together with me, I would very much like to propose to you."

"My stepmother will not wish to give you her blessing," Victoria said, "not if she was willing to say such dreadful things to ward you away from me."

"I know, but I promise that I shall think of something to persuade her," Lord Bedford said. "I will not lose you, especially not because of her."

Victoria smiled and nodded. Even if her stepmother had lied about many other things, it seemed as though this one was true: men were quick to propose, and she had no doubt that Lord Bedford would very soon.

"And you will resume visiting the theatre with me?" Victoria asked.

"I shall," he replied. "I will come to your theatre every day if it will please you."

A fissure of delight shot through Victoria's core. She remembered Loralie's most recent rehearsal, where she had gazed at Henry with such a lovestruck expression, and Victoria imagined herself looking at Lord Bedford that same way. She thought about the two of them in the wings of the theatre together. It would be dark there. Victoria's breath quickened.

"Until next time, My Lady," Lord Bedford murmured, his voice promising the most delightful things.

Victoria's legs trembled, and she dropped into a curtsey made careless by the waves of desire surging through her. "Until then."

Today, there would be no amorous congress or pleasure gained from being sprawled across a bench, but she could wait. Lord Bedford was worth the wait, and he believed her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to marry her.

As Victoria watched his retreating back, she swallowed hard. If she kept thinking about all the wonderful times they had spent together, maybe it would be enough for her to bury her doubts—both old and new. Even if he believed her in the end, he had believed her stepmother first. At least, he had not been able to dismiss Lady Norwood's allegations outright, and that hurt.