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Authors: Jerrica Knight-Catania
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gleaned during conversation. So Victoria assumed that for him to have infiltrated this clan of dandified gentlemen, he must have been wealthy. Probably in trade. But if one had enough money, the means by which they came by said money might be overlooked.
So she flirted with him the most, and by the time she insisted she must depart, he was practically salivating. Victoria couldn’t deny she was a bit flattered by his attention, but she made a point to not let it get in the way of her job.
“Miss Barclay,” he said as he escorted her from the box. “Might I call upon you tomorrow afternoon?”
“Well, of course, Mr. Woodmore ,” she replied with another innocuous bat of her lashes. “You would be most welcome.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Victoria tried desperately to ignore the shot of excitement that shot to her belly at his touch. Goodness, he really was quite handsome.
“Until tomorrow, then,” he whispered.
“Until tomorrow.”
***
Fin watched Victoria with unveiled disgust. What the devil was she doing over there, flirting like a silly schoolgirl with those fops? She was batting her eyelashes and laughing at all their jokes. It was most unlike her. She never laughed at his jokes, and she certainly never batted her eyelashes at him.
Of course, he wasn’t sure what he would do if she ever did. How awkward that would be for her to flirt with him in such a way. But still, she never flirted with anybody that Fin knew of. He became more suspicious by the minute.
“Don’t you agree, Leyburn ?”
Damn. He ought to be paying attention to his dinner partners, not blasted Victoria. “Yes, of course, my lord. I couldn’t agree more.”
Thankfully, his answer seemed satisfactory enough that Lord Grantham continued on with his storytelling without asking any more questions. Fin tried to pay attention this time, focusing his full attention on the viscount. But as the man droned on about some nonsense or other to do with the House of Lords, Fin found his attention slipping once again. It didn’t help that Victoria’s laughter rose above the din of music and conversation. It wasn’t that it was so distinctive, but just that he was so attuned to it now, after so many years of acquaintance.
Fin shook his head. Hadn’t he just told her he didn’t want anything to do with her? Then why in hell was he so damned focused on her now?
Unable to help himself, he turned back to the box where she flirted so shamelessly, only to see her leaving in the company of Mr. Woodmore , the biggest fop of them all. His father had been in trade—furniture, or musical instruments—Fin couldn’t quite recall, except he knew it involved wood. That was how he remembered the name. Woodmore makes wood . Woodmore the Younger had inherited the business and subsequent fortune upon his father’s passing several years ago. Lucky for Woodmore , the company was well established by then, so he had nothing more to do than join in the fun of the ton. If one could call this life fun.
Fin always thought it would be much better to travel, see the world, much like Tom had done. He envied his friend, but something had kept him here all these years, grounded to this blasted city and bound to people like Victoria. Much of his connection to her and her family had to do with his own lack of family. His parents were dead now, and he’d been an only child. Well, not always. Thank goodness you were the heir and not the spare, Phineas , his father had always said. However, Fin had never found it amusing that his spare didn’t make it past the ripe age of three months. By then, his mother was too ill to try for more children.
So Fin was alone in the world, except for a reclusive aunt and uncle who lived somewhere in Wales.
He shook off his melancholy, not wanting to focus anymore on his loneliness, and turned his attention back to Victoria and Mr. Woodmore . They were no longer in the box, and Fin hoped that meant Victoria would
So she flirted with him the most, and by the time she insisted she must depart, he was practically salivating. Victoria couldn’t deny she was a bit flattered by his attention, but she made a point to not let it get in the way of her job.
“Miss Barclay,” he said as he escorted her from the box. “Might I call upon you tomorrow afternoon?”
“Well, of course, Mr. Woodmore ,” she replied with another innocuous bat of her lashes. “You would be most welcome.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Victoria tried desperately to ignore the shot of excitement that shot to her belly at his touch. Goodness, he really was quite handsome.
“Until tomorrow, then,” he whispered.
“Until tomorrow.”
***
Fin watched Victoria with unveiled disgust. What the devil was she doing over there, flirting like a silly schoolgirl with those fops? She was batting her eyelashes and laughing at all their jokes. It was most unlike her. She never laughed at his jokes, and she certainly never batted her eyelashes at him.
Of course, he wasn’t sure what he would do if she ever did. How awkward that would be for her to flirt with him in such a way. But still, she never flirted with anybody that Fin knew of. He became more suspicious by the minute.
“Don’t you agree, Leyburn ?”
Damn. He ought to be paying attention to his dinner partners, not blasted Victoria. “Yes, of course, my lord. I couldn’t agree more.”
Thankfully, his answer seemed satisfactory enough that Lord Grantham continued on with his storytelling without asking any more questions. Fin tried to pay attention this time, focusing his full attention on the viscount. But as the man droned on about some nonsense or other to do with the House of Lords, Fin found his attention slipping once again. It didn’t help that Victoria’s laughter rose above the din of music and conversation. It wasn’t that it was so distinctive, but just that he was so attuned to it now, after so many years of acquaintance.
Fin shook his head. Hadn’t he just told her he didn’t want anything to do with her? Then why in hell was he so damned focused on her now?
Unable to help himself, he turned back to the box where she flirted so shamelessly, only to see her leaving in the company of Mr. Woodmore , the biggest fop of them all. His father had been in trade—furniture, or musical instruments—Fin couldn’t quite recall, except he knew it involved wood. That was how he remembered the name. Woodmore makes wood . Woodmore the Younger had inherited the business and subsequent fortune upon his father’s passing several years ago. Lucky for Woodmore , the company was well established by then, so he had nothing more to do than join in the fun of the ton. If one could call this life fun.
Fin always thought it would be much better to travel, see the world, much like Tom had done. He envied his friend, but something had kept him here all these years, grounded to this blasted city and bound to people like Victoria. Much of his connection to her and her family had to do with his own lack of family. His parents were dead now, and he’d been an only child. Well, not always. Thank goodness you were the heir and not the spare, Phineas , his father had always said. However, Fin had never found it amusing that his spare didn’t make it past the ripe age of three months. By then, his mother was too ill to try for more children.
So Fin was alone in the world, except for a reclusive aunt and uncle who lived somewhere in Wales.
He shook off his melancholy, not wanting to focus anymore on his loneliness, and turned his attention back to Victoria and Mr. Woodmore . They were no longer in the box, and Fin hoped that meant Victoria would
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