Page 21 of The Glorious Bastard

“Do you want me to try and contact him?” Kensington asked. “I can’t say he is easy to find.”

Victoria chewed her lower lip. “You don’t have to worry about that. I know exactly how to contact him.” She stood and curtsied to the room at large before leaving her uncle’s study and climbing the stairs leading to her bedchamber. Once inside, she walked toward her side table where a little wooden box adorned with silver filigree sat and took out a blood-red handkerchief stored inside.

She clutched it between her fingers and, for a brief moment, pressed it close to her heart. After a deep sigh, she walked toward the window and gently hung the handkerchief outside. Next, she lit a few candles and positioned them on the windowsill, ensuring the handkerchief, gently swaying in the wind, remained within the path of the soft candlelight.

Chapter 5

Autumn 1741

Victoria sat on a solitary bench in the garden. She could still hear the music playing in the ballroom and the cheers and the chatter going on nearby, but all that was just noise to her.

This was her night, her coming-out ball! She had waited for this night forever. And yet, all she felt was utter and complete disappointment.

Her sole goal for her Season was to meet an eligible man to marry a foreign princess, someone she could bring to Russia to further her sister’s political agenda. However, all those gentlemen inside the ballroom, on a mission to impress her, showing off their wealth and power like peacocks displaying their tails, only managed to confuse her.

She couldn’t even remember half of those men’s names. How in the world was she supposed to choose a husband?

And her uncle was of no help. All he did was usher more and more men toward her, further adding to her confusion.

But the most disappointing part of it all was Victoria herself. She knew the goal, she knew what her priorities should have been, but all she wanted was to feel some kind of connection to the men while all she could see were their peacock tails.

She’d grown overwhelmed with all the prospects, and as a result, had slipped out of the ball to get a lungful of fresh air.

She let out a wistful sigh.

This wasn’t the only reason why Victoria felt disappointed tonight. A couple of weeks ago, she’d met a man… briefly.

She had been deliriously ill at the time. At times, she even wondered if he was a figment of her imagination. If it weren’t for the blood-red handkerchief he’d left with her, the one she was now twirling between her fingers, she might have been convinced of that.

He had been kind, understanding, and rather agreeable. Although in her feverish delirium, she might have attributed qualities to him that he may have never possessed. Still, she had immediately felt a sort of kinship with him. She’d felt he understood her in a way no one else did. Butterflies fluttered inside her belly every time she thought of him.

That was another reason she wasn’t able to choose a prospective husband so easily. No other man in that ballroom had made her feel this way.

Victoria had hoped that he would make a formal introduction to her during her debut, but he was nowhere to be found.

Once more, she had to admit that it was her fault for dreaming up a romantic scenario of meeting a mysterious and handsome man—was he even handsome? She’d barely seen him in the dark. All she remembered was his smoky, low voice—which she might have remembered wrong due to the ringing in her ears—and falling in love.

She sighed once more and looked down at her gloved hands.

“You do not sound like a lady happy to be making her debut,” a low, dark, and mesmerizing masculine voice said from the shadows.

Victoria shivered, unsure if it was from fright or anticipation.

She squinted at the dark silhouette of a man as she composed herself. Could it be? Was it him? “I don’t suppose you are enjoying yourself either, since you are out here and not in there,” she said, pointing back to the house. Her voice was breathless, but to her joy and surprise, it wasn’t shaking.

The silhouette moved closer, silent, graceful, and almost deadly, like a snow leopard ready to strike. “Your observation is correct. Can I assume mine is correct as well?”

Victoria cocked her head to the side. “Step into the light, please.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, Victoria thought he might refuse. But after a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward, letting the light from the windows bathe his features.

Victoria caught her breath.

She had never seen a creature more gorgeous than the man before her. She still couldn’t make out if he was the handsome stranger from a few weeks ago, although how she could mistake this angel for anyone else was beyond her. Even if she had been delirious and it had been completely dark.

Unlike many other gentlemen, he wasn’t wearing a wig, which stood out to Victoria the most. She loathed the powdered wigs, both the smell and the ridiculous look of them. They looked like sheep resting on the heads of unkempt lords!

Instead of atrocious headwear, the gentleman’s thick, gold, silky hair framed his face perfectly, accentuating his strong, square jaw, sharp cheekbones, and straight aristocratic nose.