Chapter 30

Thomas stared at the townhouse, which had once belonged to Lord Norwood. The sight of it stirred vague memories of his childhood. He had come to the townhouse once or twice with his father to meet Lord Norwood and discuss business.

Now, of course, he associated the townhouse mostly with Lady Victoria. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, trying to force some sense of calm through his tightly wound body. It did not really help. When he closed his eyes, he saw Lady Victoria's distraught face.

Thomas steeled himself and firmly crossed the street. He trudged to the townhouse and rapped his knuckles on the door. His heart was in his throat. He had tried to give Lady Victoria time and space to think about that disastrous encounter at the festival, just as Samuel had suggested. Thomas had only been able to wait until morning, though. As soon as the sun rose, he bolted from his study, exhausted and dishevelled from a sleepless night, and hurried to the townhouse. Then, he had awkwardly waited for hours—pacing about the street and fidgeting with the ring—until it was a reasonable hour to call upon someone.

Mostly reasonable, he reflected, glancing at the still too-light sky.

The door slowly opened, and a young woman stared at him. Thomas blinked, unsure why a butler had not answered the door instead.

"My Lord," the woman said, sounding startled.

She was a slight creature with auburn hair and wide green eyes. It seemed to take her a moment to collect herself, at which point she bobbed a quick and unpracticed curtsey.

"Good morning," Thomas said. "I wish to speak to Lady Victoria, and I hope that she will be willing to forgive me for the early hour and … unconventional nature of my visit."

The young woman bit her lip. "Well … I think—I suppose I can escort you to the drawing room?"

She spoke like she was unaccustomed to greeting guests, but Thomas knew that there had to be guests. Even though his conversations with Lady Victoria had revealed that this household was not particularly well-staffed, Lady Norwood had friends among the ladies of the ton, and they surely visited on occasion. Perhaps this young lady was new.

He supposed it did not especially matter, though. Whatever the staffing situation, this young woman was going to escort him to the drawing room, and he would simply not leave until Lady Victoria agreed to speak with him.

"That would be lovely," Thomas said.

The woman stepped aside and allowed him to enter. Thomas' initial impression was that the townhouse was sparsely decorated, but it remained tasteful. Acceptable. It did not look as though it belonged to anyone who was struggling financially.

He sat on the sofa in the drawing room and waited. What would he do if Lady Victoria refused to speak with him? For all that he had resolved not to leave unless he could speak with the young lady, Thomas knew that he could not truly do that. If Lady Victoria did not wish to see him, he would leave as she desired. He would never want her to be made uncomfortable because of him.

But then, what?

Thomas dug his nails into the palms of his hands. If he were fortunate, Lady Victoria would agree to speak to him. He could explain himself again, more eloquently. He hoped. Thomas had spent hours that morning thinking about what he would say to Lady Victoria once he saw her again, but he still felt no more capable of persuading her. There was nothing he could say that he had not said already. At best, he must hope that Lady Victoria had slept and thought about the matter and resolved to give him another chance to prove how much he loved her.

He heard footsteps and bolted to his feet, prepared to greet Lady Victoria so enthusiastically that she had no reason to doubt his utter devotion to her. Lady Victoria did not appear. Instead, Lady Norwood stood in the doorway, her lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Lord Bedford, what a surprise to see you so early this morning."

"Lady Norwood."

They looked at one another for a long moment as the silence grew between them. Still, Lady Victoria did not appear.

"I wish to speak to your stepdaughter," Thomas said, gathering himself. "I know that we have had our disagreements, but I think we can come to an amicable arrangement for all parties."

"Do you?" she asked.

"Yes. Let me speak to Lady Victoria," Thomas said. "You owe the both of us that."

"How strange," Lady Norwood mused. "I do not believe I owe you anything. Rather, it is you who owe me."

Thomas clenched his jaw. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Victoria has made it quite apparent that she does not wish to be your bride. That means I am to inherit a sizable amount of money, does it not?"

"Lady Victoria still has time to decide," Thomas argued, taking a step towards the woman.

She arched an eyebrow, and Thomas halted. He had the impression that Lady Norwood enjoyed his anger so he would take care not to lose his temper. "I decide who Victoria associates with," Lady Norwood said. "Suppose that I do not wish her to speak to you?"

"Do you think I will let you stop me?" Thomas asked. "I will tell the ton about your refusal, and they will not think kindly of you for refusing to allow me to apologize to her."

"Oh? Do you know what the ton will say?" Lady Norwood asked, putting a hand to her heart. "I believe they will say that the rakish, selfish Lord Bedford wanted to marry my beloved stepdaughter only because of the fortune she could give him. When I sought to protect my dearest stepdaughter, that same lord arrived at my townhouse at an unfashionable hour and sought to convince me otherwise."

"Is that what you want?" Thomas asked. "For the ton to gossip about both of us? If you truly cared about Lady Victoria, you would let her decide how she feels about me. Let me speak to her and let her choose what she believes is best."

Lady Norwood's smile widened. "I am afraid that I cannot do that, My Lord."

"And why not?" he asked, clenching his jaw.

Lady Norwood sighed and shook her head.

"Unfortunately, it appears that Victoria was so distraught by your deception that she decided to leave and never return. She even agreed that I should have half of McCallister Sinclair. Was that not kind of her?"

"I do not believe you," Thomas said. "She would not leave."

Lady Norwood shook her head. She withdrew a folded piece of paper from the folds of her gown and extended it with an elegant hand. "I have proof."

Thomas clenched his jaw. Lady Norwood remained smug and unmovable. Thomas almost wondered if she had hoped that he would make an appearance at the townhouse. Maybe while he spent his morning trying to decide what to tell Lady Victoria, Lady Norwood had spent her morning thinking about Thomas and how she would best present this news to him.

He took the letter, quickly reading over the familiar handwriting. Thomas had seen enough of Lady Victoria's writings to recognize her fine, delicate hand anywhere. His heart sank, and he stared wordlessly at the paper. "Where did she go?" Thomas asked.

"How would I know?" Lady Norwood asked. "It appears that she did not go to your townhouse. It seems as though she has decided not to be involved in either of our lives."

"Do you not care?" Thomas asked. "Not even a little? She is your stepdaughter!"

"Precisely!" Lady Norwood snapped. "My stepdaughter! She is not my child, and I never asked for her. Despite that, I took care of her for all those years after her father died, a thankless task that it was! And then, when she is nearly of age—when I am finally free of that obligation—what do I learn?"

"She wanted your love!" Thomas exclaimed.

"I learn that her father has chosen to leave me with nothing if his precious daughter will just marry his late business partner's son," Lady Norwood said. "I learn that I am left with no means of survival."

"Lady Victoria would have ensured that you were tended to," Thomas argued. "We both would have ensured that you lived—"

Lady Norwood laughed harshly, the sound cutting into Thomas' words. "You would not have!"

"I suppose we shall never know now," Thomas said.

"I suppose not. But as you can see, Victoria has agreed that I should have the fortune which would have been yours, so I do not need your charity."

"Fine," Thomas said. "I do not care about the money. You must have some idea where Lady Victoria would have gone."

"I imagine she left London as quickly as she could," Lady Norwood said. "Perhaps you can find her if you make haste, My Lord."

Thomas curled his fingers into the delicate piece of paper. "I have never met anyone as cruel as you."

"Then, you must not have seen much," Lady Norwood replied. "I suggest you leave now, My Lord. Unless you can tell me when to expect the money rightfully owed to me, I have no need for your company any longer."

"You—"

Lady Norwood sighed as if his very presence exhausted her. "And I can get that information by asking that solicitor, vexing though he is."

Thomas stormed past the woman, the letter clenched in his hand. Victoria had left him.

"Enjoy your morning, My Lord!" Lady Norwood exclaimed.

Thomas paid her no heed, and he must have looked thunderous, for the same awkward maid from earlier opened the door for him and all but lurched out of his path. He clenched his jaw and shoved Lady Victoria's letter into his jacket pocket. Thomas did not know where he was going, only that he did not wish to return to his townhouse. Lady Victoria could have gone anywhere in England, and he had no idea when she might have left or where she might have gone.

I should not have waited until morning.

Thomas silently cursed himself for waiting. He should not have given Lady Victoria the time and space to think. That had been a foolish plan. No, it would have surely been better for him to have insisted on his innocence, to have poured his heart out to her at the festival. And even if he had not done that, he could have visited her that night! Bile rose in his throat.

What if he had lost Lady Victoria forever? And for what? For the lady's undeserving stepmother to receive an inheritance? It seemed so foolish that this had all happened because of money, and worse, with a knot of dread curling in his chest, Thomas remembered that he had once cared about that money, too.

He reached the end of the street and paused, trying to decide what to do or where to go. Without Lady Victoria, his life felt as if it had no direction. Thomas curled his hand around her letter. She had really and truly gone. As much as he wanted to blame Lady Norwood for everything, he knew that he could not. Lady Victoria had not fled just because of her. She had also fled because of him. Thomas' breath shuddered and tore painfully from his chest.

He withdrew her letter from his pocket and unfolded it, smoothing over the creases. His fingers traced Lady Victoria's signature, and a sharp longing rose within him. To think that he had once dreaded the prospect of marrying this woman, and now, she had become his entire world. Thomas tucked the letter back into his pocket.

She was gone, and he had no means to find her. He knew that he ought to search for her or ask her friends at the theatre if they had seen her, but the hopelessness of the task and the hours of lost sleep weighed on him like an anchor. Thomas wanted to collapse in the street and never move. He had failed Lady Victoria.

She deserved better than him and always had. Maybe it was for the best that she was gone so she could find the man she deserved.