Chapter 11

The Cake

L aura had ensured Briana looked respectable as she entertained her first caller. He was some sort of merchant banker. Briana kept glancing towards the door that led to the parlor, wondering where Renwick had gone. He had brought in tea and lemonade but, as yet, no cake or other refreshments.

Mr. Mason, her butler, was acting as protective gatekeeper and not allowing all the callers in at once. She was grateful for that. Her smile was brittle at best, given she really wasn't interested in entertaining anyone. She looked exhausted, with dark smudges under her eyes.

Briana was just bidding farewell to Alfred Morgan, who had been waxing lyrical about a country party he was hosting in Bath. He was in the midst of extending an invitation when the doors to her drawing room were abruptly flung wide open. Briana turned, and there he was—Lord Victor Cambridge—striding towards her with such a menacing scowl that Alfred Morgan fell silent mid-sentence. Victor came to a stop before her.

"My lord, what a... surprise. Mr. Morgan was just inviting me to a party in Bath before taking his leave."

Victor simply glared at Alfred Morgan until the man stood and stammered, "Yes, I was just telling Miss Walsh there will be a lively party and—"

"It sounds wonderful. I'll attend as well," Victor said, cutting him off.

Briana gasped at his rudeness. "My lord, I don't think the invitation was extended to you."

"No, that is quite all right. You'd be most welcome. More the merrier," Morgan spluttered before hastily quitting the room.

"That was very rude," Briana said when they were alone.

"It was very necessary because I need to speak to you about some very important matters that have come to my attention," Victor replied.

"I beg your pardon. Not even a hello, how do you do? Do you mean to scare me into submission, or are you always this surly in the mornings?"

Victor ignored her and sat down, then said in an accusing tone, "It took me an age to find a spot to park my phaeton. These blighters have taken up the entire street."

"I am sorry you were inconvenienced, but it is not my fault, and besides, that does not excuse your behavior."

"Isn't it your fault? I believe they're all here to court you."

"Well, that is what happens when one enters the marriage mart."

Victor snorted. "Do you honestly want to marry one of these dandies?"

Briana frowned in confusion at his line of questioning. The entire conversation had put her on edge. "I am not sure; I suppose that is why they are calling on me. That way I can assess their intentions and suitability."

Victor snorted again, then reached across to help himself to some tea, beginning to pour it himself.

Briana remained dumbfounded. The man had simply inserted himself into her drawing room without even a hello and was now helping himself to tea. What sort of person did that? "Would you care for some refreshments, my lord? Perhaps some cake to go with that?" she asked sarcastically.

Victor replied, "Yes, thank you. I'm rather famished. I skipped breakfast this morning in my haste to see you. A slice of cake would not go astray."

Briana motioned to Renwick, who had just walked into the room holding what looked to be a large sponge cake. She noticed he had a rather panicked look about him.

"Renwick, there you are. Lord Cambridge would like a slice of cake. Could you please bring the platter here?"

Briana reached for the cake to cut a slice for her guest, but Renwick moved the cake plate away, subtly shaking his head.

"Renwick, our guest would like a slice, please. I need you to move a little closer."

Renwick widened his eyes and glared at her. Briana gritted her teeth and glared back, gesturing for him to hand her the damn cake. Before either of them could do anything, Victor intervened.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. I'll do it myself," Victor said as he practically pried the plate away from Renwick. He wondered why the footman grimaced then stepped back. Victor placed the cake on the low table and cut himself a slice. Realizing there was no plate provided, he decided to place the entire piece into his mouth.

Renwick said, "My lord, I warn you, the cake may be a little—" Before he could finish his sentence, Victor began chewing until his face turned red as he started coughing with his mouth closed. "Strong," Renwick finished.

Victor swallowed hard and began gasping for air. Briana leaped up immediately, abandoning the tea and opting for what she thought was a glass of lemonade. She grabbed the nearest glass and said, "Drink this quickly to wash it down!"

He grabbed the cup and gulped it down, then began choking again and spluttered, "What the devil is that?"

Briana frowned, sniffed the glass, then paled, realizing it wasn't lemonade but gin. Straight gin. Good grief, Serena! She thumped Victor's back as he tried not to choke from the fumes.

When he had recovered and his eyes were watering, Victor rasped, "Are you trying to kill me? What in heaven's name was that bloody concoction? That is the worst cake I have ever tasted, and what kind of lemonade is that?"

"I believe it is a sardine and buttercream sponge cake, my lord, and the beverage was gin-ade," Renwick replied with as much professionalism as he could muster.

Briana paled. "I am so sorry, my lord. My cook is a little unconventional. Here, take my handkerchief to wipe your... tears."

Victor shook his head and took deep breaths, finally gaining his composure. "No, it's likely dipped in arsenic and bound to kill me with one sniff."

"Again, I am terribly sorry. Serena can be a little heavy-handed with the gin." Briana quickly signaled Laura to round up the refreshments immediately before someone died in her drawing room from food and alcohol poisoning.

"A little? Miss Walsh, I have tasted less alcohol in a brewery. Are you planning on poisoning all your suitors?"

Briana felt rather piqued about his accusations and could feel her hackles rising. It was not her fault men descended upon her house en masse with no prior notification. Nor was it her fault that her staff were abandoned ex-sailors.

"I can only apologize again, my lord. But to be quite frank, this entire morning has been rather vexing. I am not used to entertaining. I have barely slept a wink, then you so rudely barged your way in here as if you own the place with nary a polite greeting! So, it serves you bloody right for shoving an entire piece of cake into your mouth without at least sniffing it first to check for sardines. Have you no sense of self-preservation?"

"So, it's my fault you almost poisoned me with refreshments when I have come all this way to pay a visit?"

"Actually, my lord, is there a reason you came all this way to call on me and offend me in one fell swoop? Because if there isn't, then I think you should leave so I can open up a gin house for my other callers!"

Victor realized for the first time that he was being a bear. In fact, he had to stop and take stock of the moment. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Briana Walsh looked angry at him, and good grief, when she was in a pique, she was magnificent. No woman had ever given him a set down and threatened to kick him out of her presence. Being called out for rude behavior something he had never experienced before, at least not from a mere miss. He was aloof and boorish and arrogant; and she was right. Victor frowned because this was not how a woman of the ton should behave, especially not a woman he might want to marry someday. Wives were supposed to be demure. There was that marriage talk again. What was wrong with him?

Briana was now standing with her hands on her hips, glaring down at him.

Victor immediately stood to gain some ground. With roles reversed, he now looked down at her, and she still had not backed down. She merely glowered at him. It was adorable. He had the most irresistible urge to kiss her and damn all the consequences. This woman was fire, and she challenged his carefully reserved persona. And he had to admit he was jealous of the attention she was receiving from all her callers. Victor stepped closer, yet she did not flinch or move back. Steely backbone. Challenging him as an equal. It both disturbed and aroused him.

"Miss Walsh, I apologize for my behavior. It was ungracious of me. I merely wanted to ensure your safety after last night. I did not expect to fight through a crowd of fops to reach you." He gentled his voice, his remorse clearly on display.

"As you can see, I am here and hale."

"I was worried after seeing you leave the theatre last night, seemingly alone and unguarded in a carriage. I also heard you have a tendency to venture alone in London and I urge you to cease for your own safety."

Briana tried hard not to step back. Good lord, with Victor standing so close and towering above her, all she could think about was what it would feel like to climb his body and kiss his stern lips. The man got under her skin and rattled her senses. She hated conflict, preferred being unseen, blending into the furniture, being belittled and ignored—abandoned, even. But Victor Cambridge refused to let her out of the limelight. Yet for some reason, she felt no fear of his attention. Damn, she needed to get hold of herself before she broke all conventions and threw herself at him.

She cleared her throat. "You need not concern yourself no matter what you have heard. I have Mr. Mason and Renwick, my footman, close at hand. And I dare say I am not quite helpless if in a bind."

"I believe it. I suppose you still have that short pistol handy."

"How do you know about the pistol?" she asked.

Victor realized his blunder and deflected, "Did you venture out after the play? Any other entertainments planned last evening?"

"No, I came straight home. Slept like a babe."

"Really? You did not feel the need to kick up your heels a little? Enjoy the sights of Covent Garden perhaps?"

"No, not at all. How about you, my lord? Did you venture out?"

"Alas no, I decided to retire to bed early..."

"Oh, I see." Briana thought for an instant about Lydia Seymour.

Victor interrupted her thoughts. "Alone. I retired to bed, very much alone." He gazed at her with an intensity.

"Thank you for sharing, but there is no need."

"Yes, there is."

"No, really, there is not. As I have said, it is no one's business your choice of companion and—"

"Lady Seymour did not accompany home." Victor felt the need to clarify again that he was unattached, though he did not know why.

Briana was skeptical but let the issue slide.

They lapsed into silence until Victor asked, "Do you happen to know of a coaching inn nearby? I have friends coming to town searching for recommendations..."

"No, but I shall ask Mr. Mason. I'm sure he would know of such places."

Victor could tell she was lying, but he could not call her out on it without looking like a stalker. What could he say? "You're lying. I set my man to follow you and grossly invade your privacy, and he saw you at the coaching inn." Damn, he mentally cursed.

He simply nodded, then sat back down, and Briana did the same. There was an awkward pause, and Briana was about to speak when the door opened and several men strode in, each carrying bouquets and various trinkets. One of them was Lord Faulkner, the most pompous-arsed snob that ever lived, according to Victor. That's when Briana felt a decided tension in the room as Victor turned to the interloper and growled like a feral creature.

"What are you all doing in here? Miss Briana and I are having a conversation. Leave now!"

Briana gasped. "My lord, what are you doing?"

"I do not like all these harlequins milling about," he said.

"I say, Cambridge, you have monopolized Miss Walsh long enough. Let other chaps have some time to talk with the lovely lady."

"Piss off!" Victor snapped at an astonished Lord Faulkner.

"Well, how rude. You have some nerve, Cambridge!"

Victor felt his eye twitch. He was itching for a fight and was not quite sure why. He slowly rose from his chair and stepped forward, towering above Faulkner. But the man would not back down either, and they were currently in a standoff.

Laura, who had been pretending to sew in the corner, was trying very hard not burst out laughing.

Briana realized she had an almighty row in the making if she did not intervene. There were also too many witnesses, as the room had grown quiet and everyone glanced between her, Victor, and Lord Faulkner.

She quickly rose from her seat and said, "Perhaps, Lord Faulkner, we could take a turn about the room after I've finished my conversation with Lord Cambridge. It should not take much longer."

Faulkner glared at Victor and replied, "Very well."

Victor continued to stare down at the little man, making sure he and the others kept a fair distance between them.

Briana reached out and touched the sleeve of his coast. She whispered, "My lord, you are causing a scene. Please refrain, or there will be gossip amongst the ton."

Victor looked at her gloved hand, placed gently on his arm, and calmed instantly. He shook his head to try and make sense of the situation. This possessive behavior was most unlike him. He slowly stepped away, and Briana retracted her hand.

Victor checked his timepiece and realized he had stayed too long. He needed to get out of the place immediately before he did something rash like hoist her over his shoulder and kidnap her. "I beg your pardon, Miss Walsh. I shall take my leave, as I have another appointment to attend. But I was wondering if you were attending the Lancaster's ball later this week. If so, would you be so kind as to leave a dance space free?"

Briana replied hastily, "Yes, of course I can certainly do that." She was doing all she could to avoid a major altercation in her drawing room.

Victor felt calmer somehow, knowing that whatever progress these dunderheads made with Briana, he could at least work his way into charming her at the Lancaster’s ball. Then a thought struck him. He had the entire day free on Sunday. Perhaps he should secure another meeting post-haste.

"I was also wondering if you were free on Sunday that I might call upon you."

"Alas, my lord, I am indisposed this Sunday. I will be attending church with an acquaintance."

"Ah, of course. May I ask which church?"

"Oh, it is just a little church within London."

"Really? Perhaps I might attend as well. I could escort you and your acquaintance."

Victor was reeling. He wanted to know if the acquaintance was male, and if Briana was of the religious persuasion, then a trip to church would mean serious things for a courting couple. Suddenly, Victor, the heathen that he was, wanted nothing more than to attend the same church and keep an eye on her. But for some reason, Briana was reluctant to accept.

"No, there is no need. 'Tis just a small private outing with a friend, and it's not really a church service per se—more like a study of the Bible."

"Oh, do tell. That sounds quite interesting. Is this friend of yours a clergyman, perhaps? Could he be someone I may know?"

"No, I don't think you would know any of the parishioners. But oh, look at the time. Did you not say you were already running late for an appointment?"

Victor paused a moment and simply stared at her, trying to figure out why she would not say which church. It was possibly because he really was turning into a stalker, but he brushed that thought aside. Instead, he decided he would find another way. "I will see you at the Lancasters', then."

"I look forward to it."

Soon enough they parted company, and he took his leave, but not before he made sure every other gentleman felt his glare and censure. Victor felt positively primal marking his territory before he left, not even realizing it.

After Victor left, Laura, her maid, smirked and muttered under her breath, "Cor blimey, 'e's smitten, that one."

Briana replied, "No, he has a paramour. He is merely toying with me, as they are wont to do."

"Don't be too sure about that now," Laura replied with a smirk.

Soon they were accosted by her remaining potential suitors, and for the next two hours, Briana was inundated. If any of them noticed the apparent lack of refreshments, none were rude enough to point it out. Having almost killed one lord, she was not willing to risk any other lives this day.

Once everyone had left, a messenger arrived from the Postmaster General.

Briana read the contents, then sighed. The earl had yet another task for her.