The Taming of Victoria Colton

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter 16

She does not mind, but rather prefers sitting with “the men” when they are smoking; she rides furiously, and plays billiards. But it is in her marked antagonism to her own sex that the fast young lady is perceptible. She shuts up her moral perceptions, and sees neither beauty nor talent in her own sex.

~ The Habits of Good Society: A Handbook for Ladies and Gentlemen (The Last London Editor; 1860)

 

The crickets were singing.

It was a shrill, high-pitched sound that carried far through the still night air. Occasionally the plaintive hoot of an owl would pierce the insects’ music, causing an imperceptible moment of heavy silence before they plucked at their strings again.

She would like to think that the noisy little creatures were responsible for her sleeplessness that night, but Vicky knew better. The day’s events replayed in her mind with repetitive eloquence as she laid with her head hanging over the one side the large bed, gazing expressionlessly at the window she had deliberately left open to allow the evening sounds and the crisp breeze wash over her. From the topsy-turvy perception of her world, she was provided a view of the inky sky scattered with pristine stars. It was rare that she suffered a bout of insomnia. Although a restless sleeper, she certainly could not recall the last time that she had failed to fall asleep.

Perhaps it was nerves. Perhaps it was the ever-present and invasive thought of Gabriel. Whatever the reason, Victoria could not fall asleep. The little voice of her conscience pricked at her guilt relentlessly soon after Dani had left with the letter safely ensconced in her coat pocket. Oh, it was what she wanted, yes, but did it have to be so underhanded and conniving? Vicky was beginning to feel like the lowest criminal, the vilest fiend, for having gone behind Delores and Henry’s back so.

Groaning with frustration, she flipped over and draped her arms over the edge, tapping her fingertips against the cool flagstones and harrumphing. A lock of black hair fell across her nose and she blew it off with a rude sound.

Then there was Gabriel. Just the mere thought of the man and her skin would erupt in flames. He was too virile, too male, and far too forward. How could she resist that? With his darkly beautiful looks and a smile that could incinerate an aged spinster, he was nigh irresistible. God had bestowed him with every weapon in His arsenal intended on weakening the moral resolutions of the female. Vicky was not immune to his sinfully gorgeous dimples that grooved deeply into his swarthy cheeks or his boyishly unkempt dark locks that flipped carelessly against his temples and the nape of his neck. His eyes… God, his eyes- especially when they positively feasted on her person as if he wished to devour her whole. And she rued the day she had sought him out in his chamber and had stumbled across him in a state of undress. She vowed that if she had not been so idiotic and persistent, she would not have seen him without his shirt on, and then all of these feelings would not have existed. She reasoned that it had been that tantalizing moment that had caused these unwelcome yearnings within her.

Unwelcome they were, indeed!

Drat the man!

He would make a wholly unsuitable husband. Wholly unsuitable.

Out of all the men she could choose to marry, Gabriel Sinclair would be the first to chain her to England and refuse her passage to Africa or the Americas or anywhere else for that matter. The man was like his grandfather in that respect- dictatorial, moody and arrogant. He would make her life miserable as he would endeavour to control every aspect about her. Indeed, he already found her clumsy exploits laughable and expressed no sympathy at her disastrous plight that morning.