Chapter Six

On Thursday, Tori emerged from the ornate archway of the Gothic-style Royal Courts and spotted Rinaldo waiting by Rupert’s black Mercedes. She waved, and he bowed in that old-world way of his.

“Good evening, Dame Victoria.” Even though the elderly man had been living in modern London for nearly thirty years, his formal manner remained as firmly entrenched as his thick Italian accent. But Rupert demanded such prim ceremony in all his employees.

Rinaldo tipped his chauffeur’s cap.

“Good evening,” she responded, offering a friendly smile. He opened the limo door for her, and she frowned at the empty expanse of black leather inside.

“Lord Bridlington is delayed and will meet you at the restaurant.” Renaldo fidgeted, looking like a man thinking fast. “He asked me to apologize on his behalf and looks forward to celebrating your birthday with you.”

She nodded and climbed inside. Although it was not unusual for Rinaldo to retrieve her, she’d hoped Rupert would make a special effort for her belated birthday dinner.

Before he shut the door, Rinaldo added, “And allow me, milady, to wish you a very happy belated birthday, as well.”

Once the limo began to move through the thick traffic, she leaned forward so the chauffeur could hear her. “Sometimes it seems like we should be dating, since I see more of you than Rupert at times.”

Rinaldo laughed dutifully at her quip.

“What’s holding him up?”

“I’m-a not entirely sure, milady, but it must be important, because Lord Bridlington wouldn’t want to keep you waiting.”

She smiled wryly. “You should go into politics, Rinaldo. You’re quite the diplomat.”

Sliding back against the buttery leather, she groused about the fact that Rupert insisted his driver call him by his title, even though the man had worked for him for nearly twenty years. In many ways, Rupert was a dinosaur.

She pulled out her mobile to check if he’d texted.

He hadn’t.

But she grinned anyway. She had a naughty surprise planned for him. Her subtle campaign to make their physical relationship more exciting had met with little success thus far, but tonight she’d give it another go, and the sexy lingerie she wore would surely help. The salesclerk had promised he’d be thrilled.

After entering La Cossette, Rupert’s preferred restaurant, the maître d’ informed her that Lord Bridlington had telephoned. He was unavoidably delayed and asked that she be seated without him. The restaurant manager himself escorted her to a prime table—prime that was, if you wanted to see and be seen. She’d hoped for something a little more private for her outrageous plan.

The manager said, “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly, and in the meantime he’s requested a bottle of his usual Château Margaux be waiting. May I offer you a glass?”

Rupert couldn’t be bothered to call her directly, or even to text, while he seemed to be in direct communication with everyone else.

Abruptly, she sat upright, a small smile turning her lips. Maybe he was planning a special surprise. Maybe that was the real reason for his delay. A curl of excitement twirled in her belly.

“Yes, thank you. A glass would be lovely.”

She glanced again at her phone. Still nothing.

After the manager departed, she sipped her Bordeaux and waited. Refusing to watch the door like a lonely puppy, she tossed her hair—which was down tonight for this special occasion—and stared off into the distance, attempting to look alluring. Whatever that was.

It always felt uncomfortable sitting by herself in a posh restaurant. She’d every right to be here, and it shouldn’t matter whether she had a gent by her side or not. It shouldn’t matter that paparazzi would love to snap a photo of the recently promoted Justice Whittingstall dining alone with the caption, Where’s Her Baron? Mean society gossips would tweet, She could have been an MP’s wife if she’d chosen the right life. Alluding, of course, to her failed marriage.

Were the trade-offs she’d made worth it? To most she appeared a huge success, from a nobody to a somebody, but the posh set knew she hid a less-than-successful private life. Marrying while still in college, her upper-crust husband had sought a life in politics and had expected her to become his pretty and poised political wife. Instead of serving him and his goals, she’d wanted her own success and had kept working hard at her career.

Their six-year marriage ended abruptly when James announced he wanted a divorce, but she found out later he’d already lined up someone to take her place—a woman only too happy to be nothing more than a politician’s obligatory accessory.

Deeply hurt, Tori had even more single-mindedly devoted herself to her career. Ever pragmatic, she had forgiven him long ago and was glad that James was content and that she’d escaped a life she’d never really wanted. She was free.

But free to do what, and with whom?

With Rupert, you dolt. Remember what matters!

She downed her wine, and the tuxedoed waiter refilled her glass.

And still she waited.

She sipped her wine and held her head high.

“Good evening, Victoria.”

Her gaze swung upward, and there stood Rupert. He looked fresh, almost as though he’d come straight from the shower. He leaned down, and she dutifully tilted her cheek for his perfunctory peck.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, dear,” he said in his clipped, overly aristocratic manner.

“Mmm. Busy day in the House of Lords?”

“Always.” He smiled indulgently, as if she’d asked a stupid question.

However, she knew that on days when they weren’t in session, like today, his hours were flexible and short. So, unless he pulled a rabbit out of a hat—and he wasn’t wearing a hat—there’d be no special surprise for her tonight.

Hiding her growing irritation, she worked to keep her expression neutral.

“Have you ordered yet?” he asked.

“No.” It came out louder and harsher than intended. Softening her tone, she added, “I was waiting for you. Wouldn’t want to be rude, you know, and get started eating without you.” She threw down the barb on purpose.

“Oh, excellent. You are such a fine lady, my lady,” he said, smiling. “Always gracious and proper. That’s one of the many things I like about you.” He picked up his menu. “Now let’s figure out what we’re going to order, because”—his voiced took on a weighty tone—“I have something special to discuss with you later.”

A spark of hope fluttered inside her. Maybe he did have a surprise planned.

She smiled, remembering the wicked treat she had for him. It wasn’t the most daring thing in the world, but she hoped it would get a reaction out of him—a rise, if you will.

“What’s got you grinning so? Good day in court?”

Unbidden and undesired, an image of Ian’s cocky, naughty grin flashed through her mind. Without a doubt, Ian would love it—love it!—if she did something this naughty. Would the buttoned-down Rupert love it or find it coarse?

A small worry blossomed within her. “Um, not really.”

“I want tell you again how sorry I am that I could not be here for your birthday. I trust you had a nice evening with your friends.”

“Yes, thank you. It was lovely. How was your trip?”

He launched into his usual long-winded description of the repairs needed at his northern estate that now also functioned as a money-making hotel, and it occurred to her that in many respects, he was as uptight as her ex-husband. How had she managed to avoid seeing the obvious for so long?

She had to admit that Diana had nailed it. Rupert always tried to rein her in to fit his ideal, both in public and in private. After three years of living separately but sleeping over often, they’d developed a pattern of having regular, efficient sex, but it was as bland and boring as it had been with her ex. Nothing had really changed, just the leading man.

Neither James nor Rupert could even begin to light such a hot flame inside her as Ian had with a few naughty words, let alone the fiery arousal when he’d touched her hand. What would it be like to kiss him and—

“Victoria? Are you there?”

“What?” Dazed, she snapped back to reality. “I apologize. What did you say?”

He looked annoyed. “Nothing important. Obviously.”

Forcing herself to give him her full attention, she asked him about aspects of his work. She smiled and nodded encouragement, and he happily monopolized the conversation.

They got along companionably, as always, but it didn’t feel like enough anymore. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted, having never before explored her sensual side, but the yearnings inside were growing stronger every day.

At his suggestion, she ordered a rare dessert.

“We are celebrating your birthday, so of course I don’t mind you indulging in a sweet treat,” he insisted. “No need to worry about your weight this one night.”

How generous of him.

Otherwise, their meal progressed no differently from any other evening together. Had she mistaken the importance of his comment that he wanted to talk with her?

Finally, over coffee served in dainty teacups, he turned serious. “Victoria, we have been a couple for nearly three years now, and I hope you will agree we are well suited.” He paused.

Feeling the obligation, she nodded her agreement.

“I hope you know I admire you deeply. Your intellect and beauty are twin spires of inspiration.”

She sat up straighter. Was this…? Was he about to…?

“Knowing how hard you worked to elevate yourself from your humble childhood makes you eminently worthy in my mind.”

Worthy?

She opened her mouth to ask of what, when he reached over and took her hand.

“Your position in society, achieved all on your own, and your faultless reputation mean a great deal to me.”

She pulled her hand back. Seriously? Was this really his idea of a proposal?

“Dearest, I feel I am making a terrible mess of this, but you know…flowery romance is not our way. And that is part of why I think we are so well suited. We are friends, foremost, partners in life, and we understand each other. We are an ideal couple, an example to be emulated, and I feel it is time we moved toward a more official arrangement.”

Good heavens. He really was—

He paused, giving weighty import to the moment. “So, Victoria, dearest, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

She could hardly believe it. Rupert had finally done the one thing that she’d both anticipated and dreaded.

He watched her, smiling but not overly eager. That would be outré.

“Well… Wow. Quite an unexpected— Quite a surprise.”

“Oh, please forgive me.”

He reached into his pocket and drew out two small jewelry boxes, but in the process something else fell out and dropped to the floor, rolling under the table. A flash of unease crossed his face as he bent down to look for it.

Joining him, she saw the object near her foot.

“I’ve found it,” she called, brightly.

“That’s okay. I can—”

She scooped it up and returned to sitting. “This is…unusual,” she murmured, gazing at the strange ring. It featured an abstract commedia dell’arte mask in burnished silver.

“It’s nothing.” He reached out to take it back.

After giving it one more look, she handed it over. “It’s beautiful.”

He slid it into his inner breast pocket. “Just an old ring I found among my things recently. A memento of times past, but it did get me thinking about my future. Our future.”

She almost missed how deftly he’d redirected the conversation. Almost.

He picked up the presents and held them up. “This is for your birthday.” He placed a small leather jewelry case embossed with Boodles on the table before her.

She picked up the box and opened it to see a dainty brooch of five green stones in the shape of tilted cross—his barony’s coat of arms. “Emeralds? How beautiful, and from Boodles! Thank you.”

He leaned forward, looking concerned. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t use the crown jewelers, but Boodles has been our family’s source for bespoke pieces for more than two hundred years.”

Her mouth fell open, taken aback that he thought her so status conscious. She fingered the expensive brooch. “No, of course I don’t mind. This is an incredibly generous gift, Rupert. Too much.”

He held out the second tiny satin box. “This has been in my family for generations. If you like it, we can get it sized to fit.”

So this was it, then. With this box, she would become engaged…if she accepted his proposal.

Her heart pounded, and her pulse raced.

More tense that she would have expected, she slowly lifted the lid to see what her future might be.

Inside on a plush bed of green velvet gleamed a truly stunning ring—a large square emerald surrounded on all four sides by smaller round diamonds. Old and priceless, this represented his station in society dating back centuries.

“Rupert,” she breathed in awe, the shock of it hitting her. He wasn’t only offering her a companionable partnership, he was elevating her beyond anything she’d ever really imagined. She would become a baroness. The stepmother to his two sons from his first marriage. She would be the lady of his castle, however small its dimensions and obscure its locale.

She stared at the magnificent ring, tracing the diamonds with her finger.

He waited patiently, his pleased expression that of a man sure of her answer.

She gazed at him, trying to make sense of what he offered—not exactly a marriage of convenience, but not one of desperate love, either. “I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting—”

“I know, dearest, but I could not wait any longer. We are perfect for each other. We will enjoy a companionable life together, and what more could anyone hope for in a marriage?”

At least he sounded sort of eager and hopeful this time as he repeated his reasoning.

“Yes, I agree. We get along well in many areas. It’s just…”

“What is it? Tell me so we can resolve it.”

“Well…”

How did one tell a fiancé he was boring in bed?

“It’s just, sometimes our…” She leaned in and whispered. “I mean, I love that we’re so compatible together. It’s part of our strength. It’s just that our lovemaking is just as…comfortable.”

He laughed. “Oh Victoria, you are priceless. Of course it is comfortable—everything about our relationship is comfortable. That is what I love about it.”

“I mean, you know, it’s not wild or overly—” She barely stopped herself from saying exciting.

“I would never think of sullying you with anything wild or sordid. I respect you utterly and promise I will always treat you with nothing but the level of decorum befitting a baroness.”

He took the ring from her and, taking her left hand, slid it onto her fourth finger. “My baroness.”

She stared down at her hand. The enormous emerald practically glowed, as if lit from within.

She should be thrilled.

She’d never particularly sought the title, but she did crave a deeper relationship with him and a life filled with love and family. And he had just offered her that…hadn’t he?

“It’s beautiful. I’m overwhelmed.” At least that was an honest statement.

But he misunderstood, interpreting it through his lens. “Of course you are, but I will help you every step of the way. As I said already, you have earned your place in society and should feel proud of everything you have accomplished. All I offer is a little finishing veneer. And do not worry about Bridlington Castle. My staff will continue to run it and the hotel with flawless efficiency. I want you to retain your important position as a high court judge. And, together, we will become a true power couple here in London.”

He sounded downright excited now.

While his narcissism had been a source of some frustration in the past, it now served her needs, giving her breathing space to figure things out. But she couldn’t wear the ring in public, or the brooch, either, not until she was sure about marrying him, knowing it would mark her as his…fiancée.

That term sounded better than the first thing that had come to her mind—his property.

“I’m afraid it’s a little too big,” she said, removing it. “I’d live in constant fear of it falling off and losing your priceless family heirloom.” She placed it back in the little box, closing the lid.

He returned it to his pocket.

“We will get it sized to fit you. And you are quite right not to wear it now. We will want to time the announcement for maximum effect, don’t you agree?”

“Sure,” she mumbled.

A little bit of a narcissist…was that what she’d thought?

Dazed, she stared at him, trying to tamp down her growing fears. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to visit the loo.” She needed a moment to herself.

He nodded, and she rose to hurry away from the table and her quandary. She had a lot of thinking to do, and quickly, before he got the ring resized. How long could she hold him off while she worked through the merits of becoming a baroness in a companionable marriage? They did have okay sex, and that was better than nothing.

She walked into the loo, a frown turning her lips down and making her brow crease.

Once in the stall, she…stalled. How could she possibly make a decision?

She needed to weigh everything, because whatever she decided would forever alter her life.

She washed her hands until they were super clean. She combed her hair slowly. She applied lipstick carefully. She powdered her nose and combed her hair again.

But maybe there was really only once choice to make. At her age, only a stupid woman would be so ridiculously picky. He cared for her, and what exactly did she think she was missing, anyway? If she ended their relationship, she’d be alone again, which, at forty-three, might easily turn into a life sentence.

She couldn’t decline Rupert’s proposal without first trying to spark things up.

Now was as good a time as any.

Actually, it was the perfect time.

She returned to the stall and quickly slipped off her scarlet thong. With it squeezed inside her hand, she hurriedly left the loo before she changed her mind. She’d never done anything remotely this provocative before.

The restaurant’s cool air fluttered her skirt and caressed her skin in an area that had never before gone bare. It brought a silly smile to her face and turned her walk into a saunter.

This was fun! Why hadn’t she done something like this a long time ago?

Feeling newly confident and sexy, she arched her back slightly to accentuate her large breasts. The appreciative looks of men as she walked by were like bubbles in her champagne—making her lighter and boosting her with sparkling effervescence.

Approaching her almost-fiancé from behind, she leaned down and dropped her “gift” lightly onto his lap.

“Rupert,” she murmured into his ear. “I think we should do something special to celebrate, don’t you?”

Nearly bouncing with excitement, she strutted by him and lowered herself to perch seductively on her chair, affecting a smile she hoped looked siren-like.

Disbelief in his eyes, he looked from his lap to her. He quickly shoved the red lace into his pants pocket. “Victoria? What are you doing? I mean, I like the idea, of course, but we are in a public place.” He glanced around.

“I know, but no one saw.” Her smile lost its effervescence, like champagne gone flat, and she drooped in her chair. “I just thought—”

“Dearest, it is sweet…and”—he leaned forward and lowered his voice—“charming that you want to play naughty games to please me, but you do not need to. I think you are perfect just as you are. We are perfect.”

He hesitated, seeming to consider his next words carefully. “I think, perhaps, in your excitement you might have overlooked the possibility that you could expose yourself to gossip that would ruin your reputation. As my future baroness, it would sully mine, as well. Not to mention your position on the high court.”

“No one saw anything,” she softly repeated. “I thought we might try something new tonight…to celebrate.”

“Like what, exactly?”

“I don’t know, maybe sex in the limo or something like that.”

“What? With Rinaldo a few feet away?” Rupert looked genuinely appalled, and this time he frowned outright. “It might help you to understand that I chose you for my baroness because of your impeccable reputation…and, of course, because I care about you deeply. You are a true lady, elegant and upright, and I respect you completely. Certainly you can see that what you are suggesting is tawdry and low-class.” His clipped tone, frosty and formal, made it clear he expected her agreement.

She nodded, and glanced away, finding it awkward to try to argue that she’d be okay with a little less admiration and a little more trashy treatment.

Her shoulders sagged. What was I thinking?

Although Rupert possessed many good qualities, from kindness to generosity, he remained overly concerned with propriety. He would always resist her attempts to make their sex life more spontaneous and playful. She’d deluded herself into thinking she could change him.

She looked at the ice bucket, needing a drink. The champagne bottle was empty, as was her pleasure in the evening. A dull pain started throbbing behind her eyes.

Would he even be disappointed if she discouraged him from coming to her place tonight? Although not the most exciting sex in the world, he seemed to enjoy consummating their relationship regularly.

She waited until he’d finished paying the bill. “I hope you won’t mind terribly. I know it’s been a couple weeks since we’ve been together…” She cleared her throat. “But I have the beginnings of a headache. Long day at work.”

She watched him for signs of annoyance or regret.

“Of course, dearest. This was a big night for you. I will take you home, and do not give it another thought.”

She wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or disappointed, but clearly he wasn’t burning with lust for her. Or, possibly, he was being the true gentleman she knew him to be.

“Thank you. And thank you for the beautiful brooch…and for the unexpected but deeply meaningful proposal.” With effort, she held back a sigh.

Suddenly, Ian King’s very different proposition flooded her mind and sparked her body.

You will know how much I desire you. You’ll see it in my eyes, hear it in my voice, and you will feel it…deep inside.

She gasped as fierce lust swamped her. One thing was certain—before she could accept her baron’s offer of marriage, she would have to excise all desire for the young barrister.

Her fake headache turned real.

“Are you all right? Let me get you home. I think the excitement of the night might be adding to your headache.”

On the ride over to Canary Wharf, he held her hand and offered to escort her up to her flat. Noting her quietness, he repeatedly expressed concern for her well-being.

As the limousine pulled up to her building, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “You should go right to bed. I would not want my future baroness to get sick.”

“I will.” It sounded flat, dispirited. With forced sparkle, she added, “Thank you again for a lovely evening and for…everything.”

He smiled indulgently and patted her hand.

He tapped on the tinted window, and Rinaldo opened the curbside door.

Her building’s trusty doorman, Johnny, stood next to him. Tipping his hat, he said, “Good evening, Lord Bridlington. Lovely night, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is, Johnny. Please escort Dame Victoria up to her flat. She’s feeling a little tired his evening.”

“Of course, Lord Bridlington.” Johnny tipped his hat again and held out his elbow. Her doorman was always Johnny-on-the-Spot for the baron, but then the baron was always enormously generous when it came to gratuities for servants and staff, even for hers.

“Dame Victoria, is there anything I can get for you?” the doorman asked as he escorted her into the elevator.

She laughed. “Johnny, how many times do I need to tell you, please call me Tori.”

“Well, I know, but Lord B. prefers that I honor you appropriately with your title.”

She gave him a warning frown, although her eyes twinkled.

Johnny stifled a grin. “But for you, I’ll call you by whatever name you want.”

She laughed outright. “You left that wide-open, Johnny. Hmm, I’ll have to think of something totally inappropriate.”

“That’s not what I meant, and I think you know it.” He patted her hand. “I’m sure you know how much I respect Dame Victoria, The Honorable Ms. Justice Whittingstall of Her Majesty’s High—

“Okay, okay. You win.” She stepped out of the lift.

“Good evening to you,” he said winking and tipping his hat as the elevator door slid shut.

She chuckled as she unlocked the door, deciding to put off thinking about Rupert’s marriage offer.

“I can figure it all out tomorrow when my head’s clear,” she said aloud to the empty flat.

She climbed into bed—alone once again. But ignoring Rupert’s fine, upstanding proposal proved much easier than forgetting Ian’s wicked one. His words continued to haunt her, making her nipples ache and her sex clench at nothing.

“I’ll put a stop to it one way or another.”

She repeated that over and over, both aloud and in her head, until, finally, she fell into a restless sleep.