Falling for her Sister’s Intended (Preview)

Chapter One

“Left.” 

Her gloved hands were outstretched to the servants trying to move a boudoir table. The men moved an inch to the left. 

“One more,” she called. 

They moved again. 

“Alright, that is a smidge too far. Go back just a foot. It needs to align with the wall.” 

“Yes, my lady,” the servants murmured in unison and followed her directions again. 

“You know what? You can drop it there. We are not going to get it today and that is not a huge thing to worry about. It is only a large table that makes half the drawing room.” 

The servants exchanged confused glances and returned their faces to her. 

“You can leave,” she eventually said and they left, leaving her to stare at the table like there had been a tear in the veil of her preparations. 

Victoria Hargrave stood in the center of the ballroom, her gloved hands tucked behind her back as she surveyed the final preparations of her party as though she were a war general reviewing her troops.

The servants were quick, but not quick enough for her liking. Things didn’t just have to work. They needed to work perfectly. 

It was the only way. 

Every candle had to burn right and every garland on the portraits must hang perfectly without any slant. She leaned closer to a table arrangement of white roses and lilac blossoms, adjusting a single stem until it stood upright. 

The Hargraves could not afford another misstep in society.

Not after last season.

Her eyes scanned the area, seeking out any imperfections she could fuss about till it was eventually solved. 

“Oh, do stop frowning,” her sister’s voice chimed from behind, light as the afternoon breeze. “You are directing this soirée as if it was a strategy battle.”

Victoria turned, her mouth curving in reluctant amusement. Georgiana rested her back carelessly on the edge of the dark piano on the side of the room, a smug smile resting on her face. With her bright blue eyes and golden curls pinned in a tumble of deliberate disorder, she looked as if she just stepped out of a rather exquisite painting.

“You are planning a party, not preventing disaster. You do not have to be so particular about everything, sister.” 

“Well, if I am not,” Victoria said, pressing down on her silk gown, “it may as well become one.”

Georgiana laughed, her shoulders shaking in delight. “I doubt the guests will notice if a candle is burning out of place, Victoria.”

Victoria gave her sister a look. “I am planning to avoid any kind of disaster,” Georgiana. At this rate, there is probably no need since it will probably arrive before the guests.”

The corners of Georgiana’s mouth twitched. “You have been like this for days. I believe even the footmen and the butler tremble when you breathe too near.”

“They tremble because they remember what happened last winter,” Victoria replied, “because we all do.”

That earned another laugh, but it faded when Georgiana noticed the tightness around Victoria’s eyes.

“You worry too much,” she said softly, stepping forward. “This will be splendid, and do you know why? Because you have planned every inch of it.”

“That is precisely why it must not go wrong.”

Victoria turned away, inspecting a row of candlesticks. The light reflected in her brown hair, gathered neatly at the nape of her neck, and in the pale silk of her gown. Her features were fine, steady and serious, the very opposite of her sister’s gentle grace.

“It is not going to go wrong,” she heard Georgiana say behind her. 

Almost like nature wanted to counter her argument, the faint clatter of glass startled them both. They both turned at the same time and a mild gasp escaped Victoria’s lips. One of the servants had tripped near the refreshment table, tilting a tray of crystal goblets. 

Victoria darted forward and caught the tray before it toppled, her heart thudding. “Careful!”

The young footman stammered an apology, cheeks flushed crimson. “My lady, I must apologize. You do not—”

“Go slowly,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “The guests will not arrive any sooner if you run.”

He gave her a slight bow and hurried off. 

“No one will admire the flowers if you pass out before they bloom,” Georgiana’s voice called from behind her as the footman disappeared. 

Victoria exhaled and placed the rescued tray back on the table. “I doubt anything except the news that the soup has curdled could make me pass out.”

“Then heaven help Mrs. Morgan,” Georgiana murmured.

The tension broke, and Victoria allowed herself a small smile. Footmen continued to carry platters into the dining room and the maids adjusted the ribbons on the tall windows.

“Will Mother come down before the guests?” Georgiana asked.

Victoria glanced toward the staircase. “She insists she will. Between me and you, I only hope her nerves hold as well as her corset.”

Georgiana giggled, covering her mouth with her fan. “You should not say such things.”

“I should not have to, if she would stop fretting about whether Lord Tresham will appear sober.”

At that, even Victoria had to laugh, a brief sound that felt strange in her chest after hours of strain.

The grandfather clock in the hall struck seven and the air immediately shifted. 

This was it. 

The hour of judgment.

She crossed to the mirror near the entrance and inspected herself one last time. Her gown was of soft cream satin, the color chosen to flatter her dark hair and the warm tone of her skin. Her only jewelry was a pearl pendant that had belonged to their grandmother. Nothing loud or attention-seeking. She wanted no eyes on her tonight, unless it was to tell her about the success of the event. 

Behind her reflection, Georgiana’s image appeared like a witch’s spell. “You look lovely, Vicky. Positively duchess-like.”

“That is not the goal.”

“It should be.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “You are quite annoying, did you know?”

“I am honest. If I were you, I would use this evening to make every eligible gentleman in the room forget his own name.”

“I shall be content with them just remembering that the Hargraves can still throw parties that do not end in disaster,” Victoria said crisply. 

Before Georgiana could respond, a carriage rumbled to a halt outside. Then another. The first guests had arrived and the sisters exchanged a look of both excitement and dread.

“Time to shine, dear commander,” Georgiana whispered. “The troops await your orders.”

Victoria straightened her shoulders. “Let’s do this once and for all.”

Georgiana laughed again, slipping her arm through Victoria’s as they descended the staircase. Victoria greeted each guest with perfect poise, her mind ticking through stupid and tiny details. She was either thinking about the orchestra’s tempo or the servants’ pace. At one point, she caught herself thinking about the temperature of the wine.

Georgiana was already speaking with a young officer near the doorway, her laughter carrying like music through the room. Victoria walked toward them, her eyes sharp. 

“Miss Hargrave,” the officer greeted, tipping his hat. 

Victoria curtsied in response before giving her sister a look. “Try not to bore him with your love of novels before the first dance,” she murmured as she passed.

Her sister threw her a tiny smile. “No promises.”

For a long while, Victoria let herself relax. It seemed like the evening might go well after all. The orchestra played sweetly, and the guests admired everything with polite approval. 

Victoria’s eyes caught an older woman on the side of the ballroom, looking across the paintings and the walls. She exhaled loudly and walked toward her. 

“Lady Winfield,” she said with flawless composure as she curtsied, “how good of you to come.”

“My dear,” the older woman replied, pressing Victoria’s hands in both of hers. “It is a delight to see this place so radiant again. Why, one could almost forget the dreadful chill of last winter.”

Of course. 

“You are very kind,” Victoria responded, smiling graciously and swallowing her thoughts. 

Her mother, in the other corner of the building, drifted between groups with a permanent smile on her face. Georgiana stood nearby, her laughter rising above the crowd like a bright bell. The musicians played on and it was all exactly as she had imagined.

Almost.

A faint aroma of roast and herbs drifted through the air, causing her to stiffen. Her head turned slightly toward the archway that led to the dining hall. The scent was stronger there, curling like smoke beneath the music.

Lady Winfield sniffed gently beside her. “Good heavens, my dear, what is that divine smell? Surely not from the kitchens already?”

Victoria’s composure wavered. “Ah, perhaps Mrs. Morgan is merely… ensuring the sauces are well heated.”

The woman smiled. “If the scent alone is any indication, your guests are in for a marvelous feast.”

Victoria forced a laugh that came out thinner than she intended. “Yes. Marvelous indeed.”

As Lady Winfield moved on, Victoria’s fingers tightened around her fan. It was not a bad smell exactly. On the contrary, it was mouthwatering. However, she had told Mrs. Morgan explicitly that the dishes were not to be served until the orchestra paused for the first dance. 

The scent meant someone was ahead of schedule. And if the food was ready too early…

No. 

She would not think about this. As far as she was concerned, everything was proceeding splendidly.

“Breathe, Victoria,” she muttered under her breath.

Across the room, a servant darted past a doorway, nearly colliding with a footman. Victoria narrowed her eyes as they settled on him. He carried a large platter of something but before she could try to see what it was, he vanished. 

Her heart gave a small, warning lurch and the creeping feeling she had felt right before the disaster last winter crept up her spine. 

Oh God. 

Then came the commotion.

It started as a muffled shout. Then a door slammed open, the sound echoing sharply through the laughter. Victoria watched the guests turn their heads to the direction of the sound and felt her heart drop even more. Another cry followed, this one higher and distinctly feminine.

“Good God.” 

At that moment, chaos burst into the hall on twelve muddy paws.

Three large hounds barged into the room, their brown tails wagging furiously and their tongues lolling in delight.

“What?” Victoria gasped, stepping forward and looking for any footmen around. 

There was none. 

Before anyone could stop the dogs, they dove straight onto the long table laid with the house’s supper. People around her gasped. Someone screamed from the far end of the hall, and a few men laughed. 

“Is no one going to do anything?” A voice Victoria didn’t recognize rose from the middle of the room. 

At that moment, a few footmen ran in and the nearest one lunged for one of the dogs, but the animal ducked beneath a chair and resurfaced on the other side with a roast pheasant clamped between its teeth. The second hound seized a loaf of bread and the third rifled through the sauces with its nose. 

“Good heavens!” Lady Winfield cried beside her, placing a hand on her chest in shock as one of the dogs leapt onto the table. “What is this madness?!”

The tablecloth rippled as the dog leaped back down, dragging half a platter of toast with it. The other dogs leaped around with no consequence, disrupting the candle holders. 

For one paralyzing instant, Victoria could neither speak nor move. Her entire world narrowed to the sight of the hounds happily devouring what had been an exquisite supper for forty.

Forty. 

Georgiana stepped calmly beside her, her movements a sharp contrast to the nightmare unfolding all around them. Victoria shot her a desperate look but she had pressed a gloved hand over her mouth.

“You were saying?” Victoria called, still staring at her sister.

Georgiana swallowed. “Well, at least someone enjoys the feast.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes, the helplessness of the situation crashing into her. “I am glad you find this quite hilarious, Georgiana!”

However, her sister was laughing in earnest now, her shoulders shaking as guests looked on in stunned disbelief. The noise grew and more footmen rushed forward with frantic apologies, attempting to haul the dogs away. One lost his grip and fell, smearing pudding across his livery. A lady shrieked as another hound brushed her gown with its sauce-smeared fur.

“For the love of God, take them out already!” Victoria’s mother cried, voice near hysterical.

“Right away, Mrs. Hargrave!” a servant panted, chasing one of the hounds around the table.

Victoria pressed her hands to her temples. 

This cannot be happening. 

She had spent weeks arranging this soirée, calculating every detail, and now her guests were watching dogs eat her reputation alive. Her resolve weakened as she realized she would have to say something. 

“Can someone please… shut the doors!” she managed to say, her voice faltering. 

Two other footmen obeyed, though not before one of the dogs escaped with what might have been the last of the roast. 

“Oh God.” Victoria sighed as silence descended down the hall. However, it was only for a short time because soon the murmurs resumed, just as she imagined they would. 

“Are those the Hargrave dogs?”

“Indeed. Magnificent creatures, though a touch… uncivilized.”

“Reminds me of that dreadful incident at the Fairleighs’ ball.”

“I heard that one involved a swan.”

Victoria could hear every whisper as clearly as the pounding of her own heart.

Her father stepped forward, his voice booming above the murmurs. “Ladies and gentlemen, please! There is no need for alarm. What you just witnessed was nothing but a slight… misunderstanding.”

Laughter rippled weakly across the room. Someone even applauded, though Victoria suspected it was more out of pity than amusement.

“I will never show my face again,” she murmured, looking at the wreckage. 

Georgiana looped her arm through hers, still half laughing. “Oh, nonsense. It will be the talk of the county for months.”

“Precisely my fear.”

Her sister leaned closer. “You must admit, though… it was rather spectacular.”

Victoria shot her a look, though the corner of her own mouth threatened treasonous amusement. “You find this funny?”

“Utterly.”

“Then you have lost your mind.”

“Live a little, Victoria. The guests were just as amused.”

Victoria inhaled sharply, then let it out in a slow, resigned sigh. Her father was still laughing with a viscount about the dogs’ good taste in poultry. The cook was wailing somewhere in the distance, but the servants were already clearing the mess. Georgiana on the other hand, was radiant as ever, unbothered by ruin. 

She was still composing the proper apology to Lady Winfield when the butler’s voice carried through the doorway.

“Mr. Thomas Ravenswood.”

Victoria’s breath caught before she could stop it.

He entered with the easy assurance of a man entirely unfazed by the situation. Tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a dark coat that fit as though stitched by the god of patience himself, Thomas Ravenswood paused just inside the threshold. His gaze swept the room, taking in the dastardly sight. Then his mouth curved into a slow, knowing smile.

“Ah,” he said lightly, his voice carrying enough to reach every corner, “I see I have come just in time for supper… or rather, what remains of it.”

Laughter rippled through the guests. Even Lady Winfield’s lips twitched.

Victoria felt the tension in her shoulders loosen by a fraction. Against her will, relief flickered in her chest, though the realization stung. She resented needing anyone, least of all this man, to rescue her from humiliation.

Still, his timing was impeccable.

Thomas moved further into the room, bowing slightly to her mother and exchanging greetings with familiar faces. When he reached the remnants of the ruined table, he paused before the destroyed spread.

“My word,” he said solemnly. “I have seen battlefields with less devastation.”

Victoria rolled her eyes as a wave of mild chuckles swept the room. She watched him exhale and then turn toward the nearest footman. 

“You there, fetch some fruit and wine. The night is young, and our appetites are not dead yet, unfortunately.”

Within minutes, servants appeared with baskets of apples, grapes, and loaves that hadn’t suffered the hound invasion. Glasses were filled with port and a wave of relieved laughter rose again.

“To our hostess,” he declared raising his glass, “whose dogs have finer taste than we!”

The room erupted. Even Victoria, cheeks flushed to the ears, could not stop herself from laughing. It was helpless, bright, and wholly human.

“Oh, please,” she groaned, covering her face with her fan.

Her sister leaned close and whispered, “You are welcome.”

The cheer that followed filled the hall like sunlight.

Victoria lowered her fan, her laughter softening to a smile she could not quite suppress. The disaster still lay before her but somehow, it had transformed into something bearable. Guests were talking again and the servants no longer panicked. The evening felt calm once more. 

Her father clapped Thomas on the shoulder, beaming. “Fine work, Ravenswood! You have turned our ruin into a celebration.”

Thomas raised his head modestly. “I merely arrived hungry, sir.”

The guests laughed again and as the room settled into its renewed rhythm, Victoria stepped aside to catch her breath. Her heart was lighter, though her pride still smarted faintly. 

When she glanced up, she found Thomas watching her from across the room. There was nothing in his expression but a wave of understanding. He walked towards her, a glass in hand and his other hand in his pocket. 

“I suppose I owe you some gratitude now. Thomas,” she said when he reached her. 

Thomas shrugged. “It is nothing to fuss about. All I did was save your evening and prevent you from being the talk of the ton for months.” 

Victoria narrowed her eyes. “Oh, please. The ton would have found something new to talk about before the week ended.” 

“Nothing as scandalizing as this, definitely.” 

She laughed and he did the same. “Well, thank you. You have saved my evening.”

Georgiana passed by then, her laughter floating between them. “Careful, Victoria, he is quite the charmer. Next, he will claim the dogs were acting under your orders.”

Thomas turned to her with a playful bow. “The Hargrave hounds are nothing but patriotic, and they demonstrated that today. If my brother were here, I have a feeling he would find them hilarious.”

The three of them laughed and at that moment, Victoria realized how near he stood. 

“You handled it well,” he said quietly. “I have seen women faint over far less.”

“And men, I suppose, vanish entirely?” she replied, matching his tone.

His smile deepened. “Often.”

She studied him for longer than normal. He had not mocked her since he arrived, and she would expect nothing less from a man she had been friends with since childhood. 

“Well, in case you cannot tell, we have work to do,” Victoria eventually said, gesturing to the mess all around them. 

Thomas smiled, nothing but excitement brimming behind his face. “I imagine you do.” 

Chapter Two

The last of the carriages disappeared into the night, leaving the house just as quiet as it had been before the evening began. The ballroom was still a battlefield of crumbs and toppled glassware. Even the roses drooped as though exhausted by the effort of maintaining appearances. 

Victoria leaned against the marble mantel, one gloved hand pressed to her temple. Her head throbbed faintly and her gown carried the scent of candle smoke and stew.

“I cannot believe everything that has happened today.” 

Across the room, Thomas Ravenswood knelt beside an overturned chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows, gathering shards of glass into a tray. He looked up at her after she had spoken, a slight smile on his face. 

“Would you not say this was the most interesting way the night could have turned out?” 

“I would say that if it was not my event, Thomas,” she responded, her voice a bit sharper than she had meant it to be. 

Thomas smiled and returned to cleaning the floor. After a weary while, he looked up again as she exhaled, looking through the flowers.

“I must confess, though,” he said, placing another piece of glass carefully atop the tray, “I have attended livelier evenings, but few so memorable.”

A reluctant laugh escaped her. “Oh well, at this point, a Hargrave event is bound to be both lively and disastrous.”

His mouth curved. “Ah, but one always prefers a story worth telling. Tonight’s, I suspect, will survive the century.”

“Do not remind me,” she groaned softly, pushing a rose aside. “I had hoped to begin this Season with dignity, not infamy.”

“At least you have achieved distinction,” he said lightly. “Dignity is overrated.”

Victoria turned to him, eyebrows arched. “Spoken like a man who never had to host forty gossips with an appetite for scandal.”

“True,” he admitted. “Though I have dined among worse critics. My aunt’s terriers, for instance.”

She laughed looking back at him. “Can you be serious for just one second?”

“This is me being serious,” he responded, rising on his feet and dusting hands against his waistcoat. “I daresay the dogs’ invasion has spared the county from ever calling the Hargraves dull.”

“Spared us?” she echoed dryly. “They will call us every synonym of foolish before morning.”

“Then let them,” he said, picking up a stray napkin and folding it. “The world needs its entertainment, and you have provided it magnificently.”

Victoria gave him a look torn between disbelief and amusement. “I shall treasure that compliment always.”

He smiled, soft enough that it tempered the tease. “I meant it kindly. You handled this better than most war generals handle minor inconveniences.”

Her expression faltered for a moment. “You have a peculiar idea of praise, Thomas.”

“We have been friends for years. You should be used to this by now, should you not?”

Victoria opened her mouth to speak but Georgiana’s laughter rang from the hallway, accompanied by the sound of her shoes as walked past. 

Thomas’s smile deepened. “Your sister appears to have recovered admirably.”

“She thrives on chaos,” Victoria said. “I, on the other hand, am built for order. And tonight has been… the opposite.”

“The perfect balance. You know how I feel about disorder,” he replied.

She waved her hand. “Yes, yes. You think the world needs it sometimes. I remember you saying this at Lady Beaumont’s musicale after the piano fell.”

Thomas laughed. “We have had quite the adventures, have we not?” 

“Unfortunately,” Victoria responded, rolling her eyes in faux exasperation. 

They had had their share of fun indeed, and she wouldn’t have it with anyone else. However, for now, she didn’t want him to have another reason to look even more smug than he did. 

“Well, I still stand by it,” Thomas responded. “Disorder often reveals character. And I daresay yours has proven remarkably steady.”

She felt her cheeks heat under the steady glow of the firelight. “I would not expect you to say anything else.”

“Well, it is true.”

Silence pressed down for a moment, filled only by the low crackle of the logs burning in the fireplace. Victoria continued gathering the last few pieces of broken glass from a nearby table. Thomas joined her, his tone lighter again.

“Tell me, though, when or if you decide to plan your next soirée, will you require canine supervision once more?” 

“Why? Are you offering?” 

“No. I am offering my dogs. You know how they feel about veal, though.”

She gave him a sharp look still dripped in humor. “If you mention this to father, he might actually adopt the notion at once.”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “A pity. I was about to propose embroidered collars.” 

“What?” 

*Picture it. ‘Guest of Honor,’ written in gold thread.”

Victoria pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. “And what else? matching napkins for the gentlemen?”

“Only if you insist on monograms for the ladies,” he countered smoothly.

She shook her head, giving in to laughter again. “You are something else, Thomas.”

He shrugged. “What can anyone do?”

They continued to clean as the other servants finished their jobs on the other side of the hall. For the first time since the invasion of the hounds, Victoria felt something close to peace. It was funny how everything still managed to end in this relaxed kind of way. Her eyes turned to Thomas, who was wiping sauce off the refreshments table, his lips pursed in utter focus. 

“Thank you,” she said after a moment, her voice lower. “For helping. You need not have stayed.”

Thomas turned to her. “And miss the aftermath? Impossible.”

She smiled faintly. “I fear the actual event was more interesting.”

“Not to me,” he said without hesitation.

Victoria nodded. “All in all, I am glad to have you here.”

Thomas nodded. “Do not mention it.” Then Georgiana’s laughter echoed again, shattering the moment like gentle glass. 

Victoria palmed her face. “Will she be quiet about this already?” 

He grinned at her, boyish and unrepentant. “After tonight, society will be merciless,” he said. “You know, I heard a few ladies this evening saying it is a surprise we are not married because of how close we are.”

Victoria turned, one eyebrow rising in mock alarm. “How alarming indeed. I had planned to remain unwed at least until Tuesday.”

“You do not think we should get married?”

“You think we should?” 

Thomas narrowed his eyes at her. “Why not? We have a lot in common.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“All I am saying, Victoria, is that our families have been friends for almost four decades. We both enjoy a lot of the same things. Fashion, art, music.” 

Victoria huffed. “So?” 

Thomas shook his head, clearly aware of what Victoria was trying to do. “So, it is not exactly groundbreaking if we end up together.” 

“Are you not missing one thing?” 

“What?” 

Victoria scoffed. “Love.” 

“Oh, please.” 

Victoria’s eyes shifted to the fireplace for a fraction of a second before settling back on his face. “What?” 

“Love is overrated. We are good friends.” 

“You do not think it is better to marry someone you are madly in love with?”

“I believe in convenience, Victoria. And us being married will be exactly that. Convenient for the both of us. Love does not guarantee a happy married life.” 

“But the absence of it certainly guarantees an unhappy one.” 

A wave of mildly uncomfortable silence settled between them. Victoria felt her heart pound in her chest before deciding to break it again. 

“I believe in romance, Thomas. That should not come as a surprise to you. I want to marry a man who is as madly in love with me as I will be with him. Convenience alone does not cut it for me.” 

Thomas paused his cleaning to look up at her, then he gave an understanding nod and returned to the table. “Then let us make a bargain.” 

“A bargain?” 

“It is clear you want something I believe does not exist.” 

“I would not be so certain.” 

“Are you going to listen to me or not?” 

Victoria exhaled, a sly smile settling on her face. “Alright. What do you have in mind?” 

He looked up at her, the earnestness in his face nothing but obvious. “If neither of us has found a spouse in ten years’ time, we shall settle the matter ourselves and marry each other. Think of it as a marriage of mutual defeat.”

Victoria pretended to consider, chin tilted in mock gravity. “Ten years is quite the sentence, Thomas. What makes you think I shall not be safely wed to a duke before then?”

“Oh, I am certain you would not.” He said easily, giving her a smile “I suspect any duke would find you terrifying.”

Her eyes widened, though amusement tugged at her lips. “Terrifying?”

“Formidable,” he amended, pretending to shiver. “And entirely unmanageable. Two admirable qualities, to my mind.”

She shook her head, trying to suppress a smile. “I most certainly cannot wait to prove you wrong.”

“So,” he stated, his tone light but his gaze unwavering. “Do we have a pact?”

“Absolutely not,” she replied, though her lips betrayed her. “I have no wish to make promises built on absurdity.”

He pressed a hand to his heart in mock despair. “Then I shall consider myself refused.”

She tried to return to order, gathering another wilted flower from the table, but his voice followed her like a smile she could hear. 

“Imagine it,” he continued. “Ten years hence. You, still terrifying. Me, still adaptable. We meet again, surrounded by equally unwed souls.”

Victoria laughed in spite of herself. “Yes. Making it sound like a tragedy will definitely prompt me to change my mind.”

He tilted his head. “More like a comedy, I think. A well-written one, with a nice balance of humor, sharp dialogue and poor judgment.”

She looked at him then. The mischief in his expression had softened and the laughter in his eyes had been replaced by something quieter. Her smile faltered. 

“If I did not know better, I would say you actually mean it.”

Thomas’s voice stayed gentle. “And if I did?”

The question was far from bold. It wasn’t even suggestive, but it carried an air that unsettled her in ways laughter could not disguise. The fire crackled softly between them, the sound filling the silence that followed.

Victoria forced a light tone, unwilling to let the air grow too heavy. “Then I must warn you, Thomas, people around you would have a dreadful time of believing what you say.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes.”

He gave an exaggerated bow, one hand sweeping toward the hearth. “A man should recognize when he has been beaten. I withdraw my offer at once and shall remain silent until the decade’s end. You will hear not a word of matrimony from me until the appointed hour.”

Victoria laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “That, my dear friend, may be the first wise thing you have said all evening.”

He straightened, eyes bright. “And yet I fear you will miss my nonsense when it is gone.”

“I assure you, I will not.”

“I will take that as hope disguised as denial.”

Her laughter spilled out again, unexpected and free. For the first time that night, the room felt warm rather than weary. Yet beneath the humor, something spiked in her. Did he truly believe she couldn’t get married in ten years? 

Was she that hopeless? 

Did men truly find her formidable? 

She wanted to believe anything else.