When Twilight Burns by Colleen Gleason Page B

dreams—the dark, cunning men, swooping down in dark halls, cornering me—”
    Victoria found it necessary to interrupt and, from long experience, knew the best tactic was to completely change the subject. “Mother, I’m feeling quite well today, after all. Thank you for your concern. I truly do appreciate it.” She tried not to glance at the portmanteau. Perhaps if she didn’t see it, it would leave with her mother without fuss.
    Lady Melly leaned forward and patted her daughter’s ungloved hand. “I’m delighted to hear it! Now, of course, since you’ve recovered, you’ll be able to attend the Twisdale’s garden party tonight with me. I’ll call Melvindale in—she’s waiting in the carriage with my trunks—and she’ll—”
    â€œYour trunks?” Victoria was aware that the pitch of her voice was sharp as a roof’s peak, but she didn’t care. Her control of the situation—along with the almond biscuits—was rapidly disappearing.
    â€œOf course, my dear. You simply cannot go on as you have, even though you are a widow. One night is fine, especially if no one knows about it—which is possible, since I came as soon as I heard—”
    â€œMother. Thank you.” Victoria struggled to keep her composure in the face of the runaway curricle that was her maternal parent. “I don’t need a chaperone. I—”
    â€œOh, but Victoria, of course you do! You still must protect your reputation if you want to marry again,” said Lady Nilly, spraying almond crumbs with abandon.
    â€œPerhaps you might even catch the eye of one of the most eligible bachelors to grace our Society,” added Lady Winnie with a familiar gleam in her eyes. “After all, you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting him, and it would be so much simpler—”
    Whatever Victoria might have said to puncture the duchess’s—and, clearly, Lady Melly’s—outlandish hopes was forever lost as the tall white doors to the parlor opened.
    â€œThe Marquess of Rockley,” intoned Lettender.
    As one, the three older ladies surged to their feet and turned toward the new arrival. Victoria steadied the tea table, then turned to greet James.
    He looked rough and windblown this morning, just as unkempt as he’d done yesterday with the exception of his clothing. Apparently the staff had seen to more than just gossip, for he was dressed from head to toe as befit his station.
    Victoria refused to let herself look too closely, for fear she might recognize some of the clothing as Phillip’s…and it was just better not to. She still had his cloak and one of his tall hats stuffed in the back of her wardrobe, and she often used them when she went out at night dressed as a man. She fancied they still carried the scent of his lemon-rosemary pomade.
    By the time Victoria rejoined the conversation, James and his American drawl had been fussed over by the three ladies, and he was on the sofa between Ladies Winnie and Melly. In other words, exactly where they wanted him.
    â€œSo you see, my lord,” Lady Melly was saying, “we certainly will take advantage of your hospitality while my daughter sees to her personal affects being prepared for removal—which I’m certain will take several weeks to be done properly, of course—but it simply isn’t done for her to stay under your roof without a chaperone.”
    â€œI’d be real happy to have you here,” James was saying with what appeared to be complete sincerity. “I wouldn’t want to do anything to ruin Mrs.—er, Lady Rockley’s reputation.”
    â€œAnd aside from that, the duchess and Lady Petronilla and I would be honored to help you sift through those ” — she gestured to a tray overflowing already with new invitations— “and determine which ones to accept, and which ones might be best ignored, if you