“What is that?” Victoria asked as her aunt again sat on the edge of the bed.
In answer, her aunt loosened the drawstring ribbon and reached into the bag. She withdrew an ornate gold ring set with diamonds. “My wedding ring.”
Victoria recognized the piece but hadn’t seen it in years. “You don’t wear it anymore.”
“I removed it from my finger the day Geoffrey died, and I’ve never worn it since.”
Sympathy pulled at Victoria at her aunt’s flat tone. Uncle Geoffrey had been a dour, humorless man with a penchant for drinking and, according to rumor, brothels. Aunt Delia rarely mentioned him.
She looked at the ring resting in her aunt’s palm. She supposed some women might have liked it, given its obvious value, but it wasn’t at all to her own taste. “Why do you show it to me?”
“Because I want to explain to you what it represents to me. It is a contradictory symbol, embodying all that I thought I wanted and everything I came to deplore. When I look back, when I realize how utterly naive I was when I married Geoffrey…” She shook her head. “I knew nothing. Nothing of the world. And as it turned out, nothing of myself. I was innocent in every way, and when I agreed to a marriage I believed was in my best interest, I thought that my innocence would serve me well.”
She looked at Victoria, a wealth of experience and sadness in her blue eyes. “It did not serve me at all. When I now reflect upon my marriage, all I can think is, ‘If I knew then what I know now…’”
“What?” Victoria finally asked softly when the silence continued, broken only by the ticking of the mantel clock. She held her breath, afraid to say anything else, afraid she would break the mood, making her aunt reconsider sharing these deeply personal confidences.
Her aunt’s expression turned from bleak to fierce. “I would not have made the same choices, Victoria. I would have known to search my heart, my soul, to determine my true desires-not simply those which I just thought I wanted because my plans, my likes, had never been challenged. Then, once I’d determined what I truly wanted, what was truly important to me and my happiness, then I would have made my choices based on what I wanted. Not on what anyone else expected of me. Based on what would please me-not anyone else. And regardless of what battle I chose to wade into, I would have made certain I was well-armed and knew what to expect. Thomas Gray purported in his poetry that ‘ignorance is bliss,’ to which I can only say the man was a fool. As far as I am concerned, a lack of knowledge does not bring bliss-it is a breeding ground for disaster.” She handed the silk bag to Victoria. “I want you to have this.”
Puzzled and curious, Victoria reached into the bag and pulled out a slim book. She stared at it and went perfectly still. She wasn’t certain if she were more shocked that her aunt possessed the volume or that she had given the book to her. She traced unsteady fingers over the discreet gold lettering on the brown leather cover. A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment by Charles Brightmore.
“You know of it, of course,” Aunt Delia said. “Everyone does. It’s been the talk of London for months. And with good reason, as its provocative advice steps far beyond what anyone would consider proper. But it offers direction and information I dearly wish I’d had at my disposal as a young woman. It’s filled with information I want you to have, Victoria. That you need to have. So that you do not make the same mistakes I did. So that you have the knowledge to choose wisely. This trip to Cornwall has provided you with the chance to learn about yourself, far away from Society’s prying eyes. It is an opportunity I dearly wish I’d had, and one I refuse to do anything to deny you.”
Victoria tore her gaze away from the book to look up. Aunt Delia’s blue eyes were filled with love and concern. Now she understood why her aunt had not been more diligent in her chaperoning duties. Without a word, Victoria slipped the book into the silk bag and handed it back to her aunt.
“I cannot accept it.”
A blush stained Aunt Delia’s cheeks. “I’ve shocked you. I’m sorry. It’s just that-”
“Because I couldn’t possibly deprive you of your copy when I already have one of my own.” She cleared her throat. “A much read copy.”
Aunt Delia blinked, then quickly recovered her aplomb. She offered Victoria a gentle smile filled with such understanding, it brought a lump to Victoria’s throat. “Then have your adventure, darling. Live your life to the fullest. Do not allow your gender to determine your destiny. Rather, let Fate’s hand caress you. Leave something to Chance. Follow your heart and see where it leads. You will always have my unwavering support.” She pressed the silk bag containing the book to her chest and a look of determination came over her features. “Follow your heart,” she reiterated softly. “I intend to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I want my heart, my soul, to sing. I deserve the grand passion, the happiness I was denied as a young woman, and should I have the opportunity, I’ll not be denied again. You deserve that passion and happiness as well, my dear.”
Victoria could scarce believe what she was hearing. Surely Aunt Delia wasn’t suggesting that she… But it certainly seemed she was encouraging her to…
Take Nathan as a lover.
Whoosh. The mere idea speared fire through her that threatened to turn all her good intentions to ash. She hadn’t allowed the idea to take root in her mind for fear of it overwhelming her. But now the thought was firmly planted. And growing at an alarming rate.
A knock sounded, startling both of them. “Come in,” Victoria said.
The door opened to reveal Nathan. Victoria’s heart shifted into a different beat. Harder, faster. His gaze swept over her, intense, searching, stealing her breath. Dressed in black breeches, white shirt, and an ivory waistcoat, he looked strong and masculine. And utterly beautiful. A shock of dark hair she knew felt like silk tumbled over his forehead, something that might have looked boyish on another man, but nothing about the man crossing the room could be described as boyish.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said, his gaze taking in both of them. Then his attention focused solely on Victoria. “How are you feeling?”
Breathless. And it’s all your fault. “Much improved. Dinner was delicious.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I confess this isn’t strictly a social call-I’m here as your physician.”
Aunt Delia stood. “Shall I leave?”
“Not at all. Indeed your presence would serve as a distraction for my patient, who has expressed an aversion to doctors. Please, continue your conversation.”
Victoria’s gaze flew to her aunt’s, whose eyes gleamed with unmistakable deviltry and mirth.
“Very well. Now what was it we were discussing, Victoria?” She adopted a puzzled expression and tapped her chin. “Ah, yes. Books we’ve recently read. What was the title you were recommending to me?”
Victoria coughed to disguise the bark of shocked laughter that rose in her throat. Heavens, when had Aunt Delia turned into such a minx? Praying the heat she felt in her cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt, she said in a repressive tone, “Hamlet.”
Aunt Delia was all bafflement. “Are you certain? I thought you said-”
“Hamlet,” Victoria broke in hastily, torn between horror and hilarity. “Definitely Hamlet.”
Aunt Delia batted her eyes behind Nathan’s broad back. “And here I though it was A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
Nathan lifted one of Victoria’s hands and gently examined her scraped palm. “So that is what ladies chat about amongst themselves?” he asked in an amused voice. “Shakespeare?”