Выбрать главу

Sir Everett bowed in acquiescence, and if he knew she was lying, he was too gentlemanly to correct her. "Of course, Miss Grantworth. Let us find some punch."

Victoria managed to keep herself very busy for the next thirty minutes. She danced with three other gentlemen, including Gwendolyn's brother, who was just as blond and pretty as his sister. She drank at least six glasses of punch, thankfully, for with all the exertion of dancing on such a hot evening, she was thirsty. And because of those six glasses of punch, she was obligated to visit the necessary twice.

But at last she could avoid the confrontation no longer.

Just as she was turning to walk onto the dance floor with Lord Waverley, a calm voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Waverley, I believe this dance is mine."

She turned, her throat suddenly dry when she tried to swallow. "Rockley." She tried to sound delighted but failed miserably.

Lud, but he looked… handsome, defeated, irritated, tired… familiar. Comfortable. His eyes might be a bit heavier-lidded, the blue in them might be a little colder, his mouth might be thinner. But he was still Phillip. And he was holding out a bent arm for her to take.

She took it, sliding her green-gloved hand around it in a gentle grip. They walked away from Waverley without another word to him or to each other.

It was a waltz. Of course.

He spun her perhaps a bit too quickly, too abruptly, into the waltz position, square in the center of the room, as if to be sure everyone saw them. And they began to dance.

Victoria kept her attention focused over his shoulder; she was afraid to meet his eyes. The irony of the situation didn't fail to amuse her, somewhere deep inside where she couldn't laugh: She had no qualms about facing two, three, even eight deadly vampires… but to look in the eyes of the man she loved took more courage than she had at that time.

After two full turns about the dance floor, he said, "It might be nice if you looked at me, Victoria. Perhaps even smiled a bit. People will begin to talk."

She obliged by looking up, but could not form much of a smile.

"You look very beautiful tonight," he told her, holding her eyes for a moment even as he executed a perfect maneuver around a couple who were out of time with the music. "It's no wonder you had no shortage of dance partners."

One… two—three; one… two—three… There was nothing between them but the count of the music and the sense of unfinished business.

"I expected you to cut me. Why did you ask me to dance?"

His eyebrows rose and his eyelids lifted. "In the eyes of Society you are still my fiancee, Victoria. I was not about to let you waltz with someone else."

"Then why do we not put an end to what Society thinks, Phillip? There is no sense in prolonging it. You will be free to court whomever you like, and I'll be free to do what I like."

Her unanswered question hung between them until the dance ended. Phillip released her hand and shifted the arm that had been around her waist to allow her to grip his elbow again, then led her off the floor. "Would you care for some fresh air? You look a bit flushed."

She was flushed, and—heaven forbid!—perspiring from all of the activity. "Yes, that would be lovely." She dug out her fan, snapped it open, and began to wave it in hopes of drying the gentle moisture on her bosom.

They paused near the edge of the dance floor to obtain two small glasses of iced tea, or what had been iced tea until the heat turned it lukewarm. Sipping the sweet drink, Victoria allowed Phillip to escort her through the doorless entrances hung with vines of clematis to keep the flies out but let the fresh air in. He brushed aside the leafy, flowering strands and she stepped out into the welcome air.

Instead of stopping on the terrace where the potted gardenias and roses added scent and color to the evening, Phillip drew her along with him past the end of the brick terrace and down one of the four paths that spiked from it.

As his healthy stride slowed to a stroll and he remained silent, Victoria could hold back no longer. "Why have you not posted the announcement in the Times?"

"I have been wondering the same thing about you."

"But… thank you. That's very kind of you to help me save face. But it's no matter to me."

They had walked quite far from the party, and Victoria was just about to speak again when they rounded a bend in the pea-gravel path and came upon a small arbor. A stone bench sat under the archway, and more clematis and climbing roses were tangled in it.

Victoria thought Phillip meant for her to sit when he slid his arm from her grip, but as she moved toward the bench, he pulled her back—and into his arms.

He kissed her… oh, he kissed her. She recognized there the same emotion she'd felt upon seeing him again: familiarity, comfort, and something new… need. It told her all she needed to know.

After a long interval, in which she found her fingers loosening the hair clubbed at the nape of his neck and her belly pulled up against his, Phillip pulled back and looked down at her. "I have missed you. I meant to stay away and let you do what you would tonight, for I have no further claim to you, but in the end, I could not. And it wasn't because of what Society thinks. It was because of what I wanted."

Victoria blinked rapidly. "I've missed you too, Phillip. I checked the paper every day, sure that the announcement would appear. And it never did."

"I thought you would be the one to cry off."

"But I did not. Phillip, you said…" She stepped back and he let the hands clasped at the base of her back release. "Nothing has changed. I cannot tell you what you wish to know."

"I have been thinking—doing much thinking at my club, riding through the park at dawn, in my study." His smile was crooked. "In all of the places that I would be certain not to run into you."

She smiled back. She'd been doing the same… in all the places she was certain not to run into him, like the streets of St. Giles after midnight. The bowels of London.

"You mentioned destiny. Your destiny. You said it was indelible, unchangeable. But Victoria, I do not believe destiny is a fixed thing. There is some choice that comes with it.

"For example. I was destined to love you—I know that is true, for I never forgot you from that summer. I did not even think to seek a wife until this Season… and you were in mourning for two years after you should have come out. As if you were waiting for me, and for the right time. Or as if I were waiting for you… to be ready.

"My destiny is to love you. But I have a choice as to how I can fulfill this certain thing, this destiny. I can love you and be with you, or I can love you from afar. After tonight it became clear to me that I cannot love you from afar. That I must love you with me." He took her hands and raised them, gloves and all, to kiss the backs of them, looking at her over them as he did so.

"Phillip—"

He moved her hands up to press against her mouth. "Victoria. Whatever is your destiny, you do have some choice. You can decide how to handle it, whether to embrace it or fight it. Whether to share it or hide it."

"Phillip, I swear to you… I swear that this thing between us is nothing that I can change and nothing that I can tell you about. But…" It was her turn to press gloved fingers to his mouth to keep him from responding. "But if you will still have me, I can promise you that I will make the choice to balance that part of my life with the life we'll build together. That is the part of my legacy that I can control."

Closing his fingers around her wrist, he tugged her hand away from his mouth. "Then, since there is not and could never be anyone for me but you, Victoria, we will have to let our destinies live together."

And he kissed her.

Chapter Twenty