Chapter 7

Hallways

V ictor strode out of the ballroom and increased his pace down the hallway in search of Briana. He was planning a formal introduction—perhaps through Caitlin Drummond via Lucas? No, he could not do that, or Lucas would become suspicious. He could offer to escort her and Maude home later. That might be a better approach. Victor was calculating his next move when he turned a corner and collided with a woman. He reached out and clasped her arms as she teetered on impact.

He heard a feminine gasp followed by, "I beg your pardon, my lord."

At the same time, Victor replied, "I beg your pardon, miss." Then he stilled completely when he glanced down into the lovely face of Briana Walsh. His hands were still clasping her arms, but it was not just that—staring up at him was the most exquisite female he had ever seen. The lighting on the terrace had not done her justice. Up close, Briana Walsh was stunning. Tongue-tied, he tried to speak, to say something, anything. Instead, he froze as his brain failed to engage.

Likewise, Briana was having an out-of-body experience. She could not believe that she was standing face to face with her moonlight lover—the man in the four-poster bed who had featured in many of her erotic dreams.

Once the shock wore off, she began to worry about his silence and the way he stared intently at her face. Not to mention the fact his hands still held her in place. She felt a thrill of excitement at his touch, but now he was studying her features with such intensity.

Briana recalled the jam tart she had swiped and inhaled moments ago while hurrying past the supper room. With mounting horror, she asked, "Is there something on my face, sir?" She reached up to wipe her mouth but stilled when his eyes homed in on her lips. The intensity in his features grew, and she watched as he licked his own lips.

Embarrassed that he was likely signaling she had jam smeared across her mouth, she instinctively darted out her tongue to swipe at her lip. She could have sworn he made a growling sound deep in his throat when he commanded, "Do not do that." His hands clasped her arms tighter, and his eyes blazed now as if his look could scorch her.

Suddenly Briana felt hot and bothered because no man should gaze at a woman that way or growl in a manner that sent ripples through her body. Feeling slightly perturbed and not wanting to be found in this bizarre embrace, Briana was about to ask Victor to release her when he blurted out, "By the gods, you are beautiful!"

She instantly blushed, and seeing as her brain was also malfunctioning, she replied in a breathless tone, "So are you!"

VICTOR WAS MOMENTS away from hoisting Briana Walsh over his shoulder, finding the nearest room, and ravishing her with abandon. The woman was driving him insane, and he wondered if that was the breathy voice she would use to call out his name while he drove deep inside her repeatedly. Victor mentally slapped himself at the thought; for a man known for being emotionally measured, he was losing all control of the situation. But good grief, when she darted out her tongue and leisurely licked her lips, he felt it all the way to his bollocks. He shook his head and instantly released her, taking a step back. He needed space because his instinct was crying out to claim and conquer. Where had this Neanderthal emerged from? He was behaving worse than Lucas did around Caitlin Drummond. Victor needed to get a hold of his senses.

"I apologize for my outburst, miss. I did not mean to run into you. And no, you do not have anything on your face."

"Well, that is indeed a relief. No harm done, my lord. But if you will excuse me, I must return to my chaperone." She gently pulled her arms from his hands and made to move away when Victor remembered his mission. He was supposed to introduce himself and find out whom she was meeting at 2 a.m.

Because his brain was still rattled, he commanded, "I will escort you!"

Briana was stunned by his gruff tone. Danger warnings went off in her head. She could not be in the company of Victor Cambridge because he was indeed distracting. So she, in turn, practically shouted, "No!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, I think it would be inappropriate, seeing as we have not been formally introduced."

"Miss Walsh! How lovely to see you again," Sebastian Cambridge said as he came upon them in the hallway. "Victor? What are you doing here? I assumed you'd be hiding away on a terrace somewhere."

Victor turned to look at his brother, and two things came to him instantly. First, Sebastian was up to something—he had that mischievous gleam in his eye. And second, Sebastian knew Miss Walsh. Perfect timing. Victor instantly replied, "Seb, would you be so kind as to formally introduce me to this lovely young lady?"

"No, I will not," Sebastian snapped. He then turned to Briana and said, "Miss Walsh, I believe you promised the next dance to me. Shall we go?"

Briana frowned in confusion when Sebastian, not waiting for her response pulled her from Victor's grasp and whisked her away down the hall.

"My lord, what are you doing? Why did you not introduce me to your brother?" Briana asked, doubling her pace to keep up.

Sebastian replied with a cheeky grin—which she had to admit was devastating in its entirety. "Do you play cards, Miss Walsh?"

"Ah, a little, and very ill," she replied, confused with the abrupt question.

"I prefer to dabble myself. But my two golden rules for card games are these: first, never reveal your hand before it's time; and second, always have an ace up your sleeve."

"Given your response, my lord, I can only deduce that the ace you're about to play will give you the upper hand with your brother."

Sebastian stared at Briana in stunned silence, then gave her a wry grin of approval. "You're very sharp, Miss Walsh. They don't make them like you anymore. Prepare yourself, because things are about to become very interesting."

No sooner had Sebastian spoken those words than Victor appeared striding alongside them.

"Pardon the intrusion, Miss Walsh. With no introduction forthcoming, I shall have to do it myself. The name is Victor Cambridge, and I believe this dance is mine !" he growled.

Before Briana could react, she found herself nudged to the side as she witnessed what could only be described as a scuffle between the brothers involving a lot of pushing and shoving.

"Sod off, I saw her first!" Sebastian cried out.

"When pigs fly!" Victor retorted.

One moment Sebastian was beside her; the next, he had landed on the floor with a thud. Without missing a beat, Victor executed a deft maneuver, taking Sebastian's place. Briana found her hand firmly gripped in his as he practically dragged her down the hallway at such a pace she had to shuffle faster to keep up. Glancing behind her, she saw Sebastian back on his feet, roaring with laughter.

As she was being pulled towards the crowded dance floor, Briana had a single thought: What on earth was wrong with the Cambridge brothers?

The Waltz

brIANA COULD NOT DENY it: Victor was an incredible dance partner. When she entered the ballroom on his arm, she almost lost her nerve. The assembly room quieted for a moment before all eyes settled upon her. She noted the shocked expressions and watched as ladies snapped open their fans to snicker and comment behind them. But it was Camille Fenton's expression that proved priceless—the woman stared in open-mouthed shock before her face scrunched with jealousy.

Briana had paused at the sight of such vitriol, but Victor confidently escorted her onto the floor. She had no choice but to follow his lead. From the moment the music began, she forgot all else. All her worries and woes drifted away. She was no longer a wallflower and jewel thief, but a woman of the ton dancing with a gentleman of equal standing. Victor hardly spoke a word, yet he did not take his eyes off her. For the first time in her life, Briana did not dread dancing in public.

For those moments on the dance floor, Victor did not want to be anywhere else. All the worries and pressures of the world vanished as he and Briana waltzed across the room. He noticed how perfectly she fit against him, how she anticipated his moves as their bodies worked in unison to the music. He appreciated that she did not feel the need to chatter incessantly or fill the void with inane conversation. He felt comfortable in her company and knew that comfort would extend even in silence. Victor decided to savor the moment, reasoning he would have ample time after the dance to discover who she was meeting at two o'clock and wheedle his way into escorting her home.

He was wrong. Much to his annoyance, the moment they stepped off the dance floor, Briana was inundated with suitors vying for a dance. Most he hated on sight, especially Lord Faulkner—the pompous arse—and Lord Buckley. They were perfect rakes and cads, interested only in her fortune. Over his dead body would Briana attach herself to either of them. Victor tried to run interference, but his mother had appeared with several debutantes, and he found himself accosted at every turn.

TWO HOURS LATER, VICTOR wanted to slam his head against a stone wall. He was frustrated, impatient, and downright angry that his mother's meddling had resulted in debutante after debutante being foisted upon him. No matter where he looked, he couldn't spot a single one of his brothers. The bloody blighters were all hiding and disappeared with breakneck speed whenever his mother appeared. He felt like Icarus—and fool that he was, he had ventured too close to the sun, and by the gods, his wings were getting singed.

"My lord, as a second son, do you have a special title?" his current dance partner asked. The feather in her head piece kept brushing against his nose, and he had a hard time trying not to sneeze.

"No. They go to the heir," he replied before sneezing.

"Bless you."

"My thanks."

"So, if we were to marry, what would I be called?"

"In the highly unlikely event that happened, your title would be 'lady.' However, if you happened to marry my brother Lucas, eventually you would become a Marchioness and be in line for the title of Her Grace the Duchess."

"Really?"

"Yes. In fact, I believe I've just spotted Lucas making his way to the supper room. Perhaps if you and your chaperone are fast enough, you might catch him."

The woman instantly tipped her head at the end of their dance and practically took off running.

Victor felt guilty implicating Lucas, but he was a desperate man at his wits' end. He sighed with relief before striding away from the dance floor. He checked his timepiece and noticed it was 1.a.m as he scanned the room for Briana. He had lost sight of her two dances ago. He also noticed Maude was no longer in her usual place and knew they were most likely taking their leave. Just as he thought it, he spotted Briana moving towards the exit with Maude.

He had no time to spare if he wanted to insert himself into her evening plans. Victor strode down the hallway and straight to the carriage entrance. He felt pure exhilaration that finally he would be in her company again. He was just rehearsing in his head what excuse he would use to garner an invitation to escort them home when a woman stepped in front of him. Damn it, Lydia! he cursed to himself. The woman had the worst timing.

"Victor, darling! I've been calling your name for an age. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Lydia. It is pleasant to see you again. I did not know you were attending tonight."

"Well, it was a last-minute decision. But what a surprise seeing you here!"

Victor tried hard not to roll his eyes because he had it on good authority that Lydia had been harassing his staff daily for details of his whereabouts. The last night they shared together was the last time he had been with a woman in an intimate manner. But now Lydia was becoming quite problematic. In the past three months, she appeared wherever he was and subtly kept pushing for them to resume intimate relations. Lydia's father, Lord Seymour, had also been pressuring Victor to visit their country estate, no doubt at Lydia's insistence.

While it irked him to no end, he refused to act any way other than gentlemanly towards her, but he acknowledged this was the problem with getting involved with aristocratic women. They became clingy.

"Victor? Are you happy to see me? Because you seem rather preoccupied with that woman over there. Is she an acquaintance?" Lydia was staring at the entryway where Briana and Maude were waiting for their conveyance to arrive.

He feigned disinterest. "I don't know what you're talking about. Of course I'm happy to see you."

"Then prove it. I happen to have a free spot on my dance card. Let's relive old times as friends. Remember when you swept me up in your arms and danced me around the bedchamber? Those were fun times, were they not, my darling?"

Victor smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. He knew he needed to play this carefully, and despite his desperate need to follow Briana, he knew he could not. "That sounds like a splendid idea," he replied. He took Lydia's arm to return back to the ballroom but not before he glanced back one more time to see Briana enter her carriage.

He watched it slowly amble away. His instincts screamed to follow her, and Victor rarely ignored his gut feeling. But this night he would have to. He walked a few paces then paused and made a decision.

"If you will excuse me for a moment, I must speak to my footman. I shall return directly."

"But of course, I shall wait here," Lydia replied.

Victor strode to his carriage liveryman named Tom and gave instructions and some coin for Tom to follow Briana’s carriage then report to him in the morning of her movements. Ever the professional, Tom did not balk at the task but swiftly ran off to do his bidding.

Victor returned to Lydia. He gave her a brittle smile and offered his arm, as she beamed and took it. Then they made their way back to the ballroom.

MOMENTS EARLIER, brIANA had been dancing on air, thinking of the handsome Victor Cambridge giving her heated glances all night. Though disappointed they never got a second dance, she was more than content with the time they'd shared. As she waited for her carriage, smiling to herself, she happened to glance back and immediately the cloud she had been floating on disintegrated. Victor was in the company of the woman Briana had seen in his bedchamber that night weeks ago. She flinched and whipped her head back toward the carriage door, sighing with disappointment. She should have known—a man like that would never give her a second glance. Whatever fanciful notions she'd entertained vanished as reality set in to remind her: he had a mistress, most likely a string of them. He was also far above her station in life, and if given the opportunity, he would crush her soul.

LATER THAT EVENING , as Victor feigned interest in Lydia's countless topics of discussion, his mind wandered elsewhere. He kept wondering who Briana Walsh was meeting at such an ungodly hour, why she had lied to her friend Caitlin Drummond, and most of all, why he—Victor Cambridge, known for being cold and aloof—even cared. He was practically stalking the woman by proxy.

It was baffling, to say the least, because he prided himself on being in control. Maintaining distance, objectivity, and order was his hallmark. He was logical and rational, not one to fly off in fits of emotion or pique. Yet the entire evening, that was all he seemed to be doing.

Victor was, by all intents and purposes, a byproduct of growing up in a chaotic household that seemed to flaunt the rules of high society. His brothers ran amok, his mother was the most militant, interfering woman on the planet, and his father indulged her eccentricities far too often. Victor had determined at a very young age that it was his role to maintain some semblance of order within the Cambridge family and prevent his world from descending into chaos at a moment's notice. He had also decided early on that he would only marry a woman who was predictable and measured, quiet and demure. She would be proper and act with decorum at all times, defer to his judgment in all matters, and their lives would be perfectly ordered.

Not for the hundredth time, he wondered why the hell he was obsessing over Briana Walsh, who not only climbed walls in the dark while wearing a ball gown and risqué undergarments but also arranged assignations with unknown men at two in the bloody morning.

"Victor? Have you heard a word I've said?" Lydia asked, looking somewhat piqued. They were in the supper room, and Lydia had somehow cornered him again. He noticed she was extremely territorial, not allowing anyone else to get close to him, not even his own family members. That was a blessing and a curse.

"I beg your pardon. What did you say?" he replied.

"You seem so distracted lately. Is there anything I can do to relieve some of your worry? Perhaps tonight I could visit you and we could—"

"No, I thank you, but there is no need," he replied, cutting her off. Victor was about to make up some mundane excuse to leave when a footman interrupted him.

"My lord, sorry to disturb, but an urgent message has come for you. I am told to deliver it directly."

"Of course, thank you," Victor replied and took the note offered to him. He turned away from Lydia and quickly scanned the contents. When he turned back, he said, "Actually, Lydia, there is something you could help me with tonight."

Lydia's eyes perked up with a seductive look. "But of course. I am happy to oblige whatever it is."

"Good. How do you feel about Shakespeare?"

Victor tried not to laugh when he saw Lydia grimace slightly. She hated plays, but judging by the tip-off in the note he had just received, he needed to get to the theatre immediately—and he could not go alone without rousing suspicion.