The Taming of Victoria Colton

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 17

An agreeable, modest, and dignified bearing is, in the younger period of a woman’s existence, almost like a portion to her. Whatever may be the transient tone and fashion of the day, that which is amiable, graceful, and true in taste, will always please the majority of the world.

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

Day 6 of the Comb for a Colton Groom

Noon: Fishing

Dinner

 

“Miss? Miss? You must wake up or you’ll miss the activity.”

“Mmmf.”

“Don’t be like that.”

Vicky considered briefly ordering Bethany to throw herself out the window but thought better of it. No doubt she’d never hear the end of it if she did something like that. Miserably, she threw the heavy quilt to one side but that was all she managed for the time being.

“That’s it,” Bethany cooed encouragingly. “Now, all you have to do is sit up.”

Easier said than done, Vicky thought bitterly. As she reared into a sitting position and automatically detangled the sheets entwined about her limbs, a niggling sense of unease began to develop in her mind. Something didn’t seem right. Bethany had pulled the drapes open and bright sunlight filtered into the room obstreperously, causing Vicky to grimace as sharp needles of pain pricked her eyes. It was a marvellous day, of that she could be sure, and due to the brightness of the hour, Vicky could only assume that she had been allowed to remain abed late into the morning. It would only seem natural considering Mrs Littleford had resigned and she was no longer subjected to hideously early deportment lessons.

Stifling the feeling of embarrassment that memory invoked, Vicky squinted at her little maid and asked groggily, “What is the time?”

“It’s nearly noon, miss. You’re already going to be terribly late for the fishing that the other gentlemen and guests are doing but Lord Sinclair said to leave you be-”

“Lord- you mean Gabriel?” Vicky asked sharply, a vague memory beginning to push at her frontal lobe. She should not have woken up in her bed, of that she could be certain, which would explain the feeling of unease she was experiencing. Hmmm.

“Yes, miss.” Bethany looked at her with bright eyes. “We should really be getting you ready now. You’re already late and have missed the party going down to the lake.”

“Alright, alright,” Vicky grumbled despondently and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. If she hadn’t been in her bed last night, then where had she been? God, her mind worked slowly in the mornings. It was terribly irksome. Staggeringly, she groaned to an upright position, her legs wobbling with the ability to remain so. Her last recollection of the evening had been searching for something to ease her incapability for sleep. She had, she recalled, decided on some of Henry’s strong brandy and had proceeded towards his study.

Yes, that’s right. She had gone to his study for a nightcap. She had pushed open the heavy door and squinted into the consuming darkness of the room, unaware that she had not been alone.

She gasped as the memories flooded back to her. Bethany gave her a strange look as she was in the process of readying an outdoor gown for Vicky to wear. Belatedly, Vicky realised the garment was pink- a colour that did not suit her complexion in the slightest- but she hesitated to say anything, too absorbed in remembering the details from the evening before.