The Taming of Victoria Colton

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter 26

Now, in a world where love is a premium, and even respect is not cheap, it is a pity to add, by foolish pride, to the number of those who dislike you; but, if there were no other consideration, it is extremely unchristian, to say the least of it.

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

As Gabriel buried himself in his cups at White’s, Vicky was sneaking into Delores’s personal stockpile of sherry for some minor fortification.

For although she had regarded the previous evening at the opera a minor success on her part, she had been made blatantly privy to the sordid, cruel, and vindictive titbits of gossip that were circulating the mills. It had not been a happy day.

Usually the Colton townhouse would be bombarded with callers whenever they were in residence. Occasionally, but not often, Victoria would have to send gentlemen off, allowing their butler to inform them that she was not accepting callers at present. Ever since she had followed Gabriel to London, however, their numbers had dwindled significantly with each passing day and now, on the third day, not one knocked on their door. Well, she amended, not one of reputable attentions.

And this is what concerned her the most. In her reckless pursuit to win the heart of Gabriel Sinclair, she was also winning a tarnished and blackened reputation to the extent that several notorious rakes and elderly, nausea-inducing gentlemen had inappropriately propositioned her.

Delores, for all her stoic beliefs in propriety, could be a cunning old biddy when it came to her nightcaps and Vicky knew for a fact that her grandmother secretly imbibed the spirit just before she retired for the eve. This clandestine information she kept zealously guarded. With a strenuous heave, Vicky parted the lips of her mattress and inspected the space between. Nothing.

Huffing, she dropped the heavy bed down and plunked her hands on her hips. Just where the devil would she keep it? The bottle was here somewhere. She knew it was.

Strolling over towards the chest-of-drawers against the opposite wall, Vicky began to haul them open and rifle through the lacy contents unashamedly.

“Victoria Colton!”

Guiltily, she jumped.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” Delores demanded from where she stood ominously in the doorway.

“Uh…”

“I do not know what has gotten into you lately,” she ranted hotly, trumping into the room and slamming the drawer shut that Vicky had previously been scrounging through, “but snooping through an old woman’s undergarments? This is a new low, even for you!”

They were words deliberately chosen to make her feel wretched and they succeeded. Acutely aware of the laughing-stock she was making of herself, she could only imagine how her grandmother would be taking her public shaming. Not too gently, it would seem. “Sherry?” Vicky squawked and instantly felt tears prick her eyes.

Delores softened at the dampness apparent within her eyes and sighed forlornly, moving to the bed and bending low. From under it she extracted a small chest and, even more astonishing than the chest, from a pocket in her blue evening gown she procured a small key, which she then inserted into aforementioned chest and popped the lid. “I did not bring a glass with me tonight,” she said as she rose to her feet, the bottle clutched in her fist.

“I care not.” Arm extended, Vicky almost yanked the bottle from Delores’s fingers. She popped the cork hurriedly and swigged.

“I apologise for sounding harsh earlier,” Delores began while Vicky busied herself with the sherry, “but I am sure you can understand where my concern is coming from. This is a nasty business, to be sure.”