Here, Grant wanted to rail. I'm directly here and can hear everything you say.
"I wouldn't leave you with him unless I trusted him to care for you."
"I know," she said, but a tear fell anyway.
"Ah, come here, Tori."
He hugged her; Grant was certain he'd kill his cousin in the street.
"It's going to be fine. You'll do fine."
They finally parted, and Ian helped her in, closing the door behind her. He stood back, looking more determined than Grant had ever seen him, as if anticipating a fight he had to win. He saluted Grant, then gave a last wave to the ladies before charging into the swirl of people.
When they pulled out into the traffic, Victoria was still twining around to see Ian. Grant knew they were just friends, that Ian had "adopted her" as a sister and planned to have her meet Emma, Sadie, and Charlotte as soon as she settled in at the Court. Still, had he not known better, they would've looked like parting lovers. Grant wished he could comfort her, say the right things, but that chance was gone.
He sensed Victoria's unease, but she hid it well. Compared to Cape Town, London was a hundred times louder and more congested. Aproned fishmongers, bootblack peddlers, and a boy screaming, "'ot eels!" all descended on the carriage, startling her. She looked at Grant in bewilderment before turning away.
When they finally made the covered drive of the Sutherland town house, Victoria exhaled a breath and rushed inside, pulling Camellia with her. Grant followed and had the housekeeper show them to their rooms. After arranging for food to be brought up to them, he adjourned to his study intending to take care of his most pressing business. Yet after two wasted hours he realized he couldn't focus with Victoria just upstairs, not with thoughts about her plaguing him.
Grab her. Pull her into my room and take her in my own bed. Until neither of us can walk.
As though chased, he left his home and made for his club to catch up on months of news. He did not expect to see Ian--much less a miserably drunk Ian.
"Good God." Grant couldn't hide his surprise at his cousin's condition. Ian was a drinker, and often a drunk, but never had Grant seen him this bad.
"Gran'!" Ian's face brightened. "How's m' girls?"
"Fine. Camellia's sleeping and Victoria's managing."
"Good girls." Ian's face fell.
"What's the matter with you?" Grant asked.
"Can't find somethin' I want," Ian slurred.
"I see." Grant looked around for somewhere else to be.
"Hope I haven't lost it."
Grant was hardly paying attention to his cousin's drunken ramblings. "I daresay if you can't find it, then it's lost." Grant heard a sharp breath. "Ian?" Grant was unsettled by the utterly lost look in his cousin's eyes. Ian appeared devastated, which couldn't be right since he rarely cared about anything enough to be even mildly distressed. "What is it, Ian? What's wrong with you?"
"It's her."
"Ahhh," Grant said as if he knew what the hell Ian was talking about. "Time to go home, Cousin."
Twenty-one
Camellia and Victoria had already breakfasted and had their belongings loaded into the traveling coach when Grant came down the next morning. Victoria's face didn't light up as it used to. Instead, she gave him a businesslike nod, the same nod Grant might give someone at a party whom he didn't particularly like. Camellia immediately quit the room to wait in the coach. Grant's mood--already at an abysmal level--sank.
"You don't have to accompany us to Belmont Court," Victoria assured him over her shoulder as she strode to join Camellia. "We have detailed directions."
That would be the end then. Part of him was tempted to test his theory about being away from Victoria, but there was no way he could surrender them to the dangers of coach travel. "I didn't sail thousands of miles to lose you somewhere in England. I'll go on to the Court."
He heard her mumble, "The estate. Always the estate."
He scowled. "I don't want you hurt."
She twisted around and smiled meanly. "And I think I know exactly why." With that, she climbed up the steps to slide onto the coach's squab seats. Grant shook his head and followed her in.
Three hours into the journey out of London, Victoria had become much more animated. The more rural or wild the countryside, the more excitement she showed. She obviously didn't like crowded cities, and Grant was glad the Court was far from any. But the excitement he sensed in both women wore off as the snowy roads continued to worsen. "We need to stop," he said, and was about to call new directions to the driver.
"Nonsense. Not on my account," Camellia said in what might have been an attempt at crispness.
"You need rest," Victoria said.
"We can stop in the next town," Grant suggested. "I don't think they have an inn, but we can try--"
"No," Camellia protested. "The only thing that is getting me through this journey is thinking about warm food and a warmer bath."
"Cammy, are you certain?"
"I am asking both of you to continue on."
Victoria looked at Grant. "Very well."
So they did, but with the next lurch of the coach, Camellia's lips thinned.
With the nearest inn still some distance away, Grant thought to detour to Whitestone. Nothing could compete with the comfort they'd find at his brother's estate. He hadn't wanted to go there and entangle his family in his affairs. All would ask him questions that he wasn't prepared or inclined to answer.
He looked over his exhausted charges, at Victoria petting Camellia's hair while the woman slept, her face drawn with worry, and realized that avoiding his family wasn't important. Certainly not more important than watching out for Victoria and Camellia. Decided, he gave the new directions to the driver.
"Is that your brother's estate?" Although Victoria finally spoke to him, she still looked out the window.
"Yes. It's closer for Camellia."
She nodded her assent, then put the back of her hand against the glass. "Will your family be there?"
"This close after Christmas, I imagine they will."
"Aren't you worried I might embarrass you? My ways are beyond backwater, aren't they?" she asked.
He frowned at her, puzzled that she would ask. To be honest, he was worried. His voice low, he said, "I won't be embarrassed if, for instance, you could refrain from skipping up to my brother to ask if your breasts have grown."
Camellia stirred. Victoria put her finger over her lips, then faced the window again. Grant stared at her long after she'd turned from him, knowing he would never understand her.
A few hours after dusk, after they'd traveled far into the Surrey hills, their coach rolled into Whitestone's lamplit gravel drive. Grant felt a welling of relief, and when his family rushed out to meet them, he knew he'd made the right choice.
"Grant! You're home," his mother cried, hugging him the second he stepped out.
"Looking as fetching as ever, Mother."
Derek stood next to her and extended his hand. Grant took the hearty handshake, nearly wincing as his large brother slapped him on the back. "I'm glad you're back," Derek said simply, but Grant knew what wealth of sentiment his words held.
"Grant!" Nicole rushed up and hugged him as well. When she stepped back, her attention was drawn behind him and her eyes widened. She plowed past him. "Oh, my Lord. Is that?...Is she?..."
"This is new. My wife is speechless," Derek joked, but he turned serious when he saw what had caught her attention. "Why didn't you send a message? My God, you found her."
Victoria was just emerging, and Grant rushed to help her down. When he set her away, he reached in to help Camellia out. "I was worried the message wouldn't be safe. I imagine the papers would like to stumble onto a story about castaways."
Everything went quiet. His family stared at his charges as though they were ghosts. Just as the situation grew uncomfortable--
"Castaways!" Nicole squealed. "Things just got interesting!"
"Don't you want to introduce
us?" Derek said under his breath.
Grant felt himself flush as he made introductions.
Nicole immediately asked, "You really were stranded on an island?"
Victoria nodded, though she looked overwhelmed. Camellia clasped her arm for support. Grant saw his mother focus on that, then look questioningly at Camellia. For the most part, his mother acted as if she had a head full of fluff, but she actually missed nothing.
"Dear, are you feeling all right?"
"The traveling must have caught up with me--"
"Grant, get her inside!" Her tone was strident, her movements brisk. "I know just the thing for Miss Scott. Marta's chicken soup."