37

They'd not gone out for an evening affair in...goodness. Years now. Since Lydia was born. Dinners, yes, at his mother's or Victoria's, but not one of these society soirees. Neither of them cared for such evenings, but it was nice to have an opportunity to leave the house. To feel like themselves again, a little, not merely parents. Victoria had bought her first new evening gown in ages. It was the latest style.

Victor was taken aback when he saw her coming down the stairs to join him in the entry. The gown looked as if it had been painted on. Rose pink satin hugged her hips. A fluff of something gauzy framed her bosom and shoulders. Bare shoulders and neck, he couldn't believe his eyes. She had on very long gloves that left a little glimpse of her upper arm. The skirt was narrower than he'd ever seen her wear. And he hadn't seen her in a bodice that figure-hugging since they'd first been married.

The latest style was so...it was very...tight.

He must have been staring openly, perhaps a little slack-jawed, for Victoria asked, "Is everything all right?" as Mrs. Reed helped her into her wrap. Victor was disappointed to see her shoulders disappear so quickly.

"Oh, uh, yes, of course," he replied. He let his gaze linger on her hair. It wasn't pulled back as tightly as she wore it every day. It looked so full and soft and luxurious. With little curls escaping by her ears. "That's a nice dress."

"Thank you," Victoria smiled. She took his arm, and they went out to the waiting carriage.

It was an hour's ride to the country home where the party was being held. In the closeness of the carriage he noticed that she was wearing perfume. Something that reminded him of roses. Musky roses. Usually Victoria smelled of soap and the lavender sachets she kept in with her clothes. He wanted to press his nose into her neck. He couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Say, Victoria?" he ventured, sliding a little closer. He felt awkward in a way he hadn't in ages. She was so alluring it was intimidating. When she was dressed up, and looking so lovely, he was reminded that he was married to a very pretty woman.

"Yes?" she asked, looking up at him. Oh, her eyes were so big. And those curls around her face. If only she always wore her hair like that.

"Would you mind if I..." he said, and while he was speaking he slipped one arm around her waist. Then he assured her, "I won't muss your hair, do you mind if I…?"

And he pressed his lips to her neck, breathing in her perfume. Victoria drew in a little breath.

"I don't mind," she said. She removed her stole and tossed it onto the seat opposite, then relaxed into his arms. He grinned when she leaned backward, bending her head out of the way, giving him good access. "I don't mind at all."

Victor bent to kiss her again. Her neck was just too much to resist. As was her neckline, just low enough to be tantalizing, and her shoulders. Before long Victoria was in his lap, and he had to try exceedingly hard to keep his promise about her hair.

In all, the ride to the party ended up being more exciting than the party itself.

38

"What else does a castle need?" Victor asked, pencil poised above his half-finished drawing.

"A turret!" said Catherine. "A big tall one, with a pointy top."

"A moat," said Lydia. "It needs a moat around it."

Anne didn't say anything, but she was clearly thinking as she studied the picture.

"All right, turret and moat," Victor said. And he set to work sketching in a turret.

His daughters were gathered around his desk chair in the study. Liddie leaned her elbows on the desk, her chin in one hand. Catherine pressed close against his other side. He always had to have her on his left when he drew, as she tended to cuddle in hard and not leave much room for movement. Anne sat on his lap, her large hair bow tickling at his chin.

"Can it have a coach and pony?" Anne said at length. Victor smiled.

"Of co-" he began, but Lydia interrupted him.

"Horses," she corrected. "Horses pull coaches, not ponies."

"It can be a pony," Victor said, hoping to derail an argument before it could get too far from the station. "It's an imaginary castle, after all. So it can be whatever you like."

"It's an imaginary real castle," Catherine said. "A real-life castle that we made up."

Victor blinked. "What?" he asked her. But she just smiled up at him.

"She means realistic," said Lydia. "Our castle is realistic, Anne, so horses pull the coach."

"Oh," said Anne in a tiny voice.

There was a silence. Victor felt the mood souring slightly. He glanced at Lydia, who was studying the picture, wondering whether he should say something. But Catherine, perhaps also sensing the shift, got there first.

"A pony could pull a cart," she ventured. When Victor looked at her he found that she was looking at Lydia for approval. "Horses pull the king's coach and the ponies pull a cart, for the princes and princesses when they're little."

Lydia considered, then nodded. "Yes, that's good, that would work," she said.

"Perfect!" Victor said, mightily relieved. "Coach first or cart first, Anne? And where shall they go?" He was hoping to avoid having to draw horses and ponies, both very difficult. Perhaps everyone would lose interest before they got that far.

"The coach first," Anne said. Then, slowly, she drew the very tip of her finger over the paper until she reached a spot near where he'd drawn a drawbridge into the courtyard. "Here. The queen is coming home."

"You'll have to draw a proper road for it to drive on first," Lydia told him. He rolled his eyes ceilingward at her tone, then gave her a long look.

"I will add the road underneath it," he told her evenly as he could, "after I draw the coach. If you use your manners."

Liddie ducked her head, but not before he saw her cheeks color a little. "Yes, Father," she mumbled into her hands. Feeling guilty even though he knew he shouldn't, he reached over and squeezed her shoulder. Anne fidgeted uncomfortably on his lap at the tension.

"Is a pony just a little horse?" Catherine burst out, bright and loud. "Or a different animal?"

"I don't know," Victor said absently. He knew it was his job to be stern and to correct when needed, but oh. It was a lousy job. It ruined a perfectly pleasant morning of drawing with his children. He sketched out the lines for an ornate coach, picturing the one he'd seen in one of Catherine's books of fairy tales.

For a few moments he worked, his daughters watching as he drew. Catherine was nestling so insistently he finally put his left arm around her, letting her cuddle in. Anne sat quietly, watching, her head bent so close to his pencil he was afraid it might go up her nose. Liddie was quiet, and he worried that he might have spoken too harshly and hurt her feelings. But when she at last spoke, she did not sound hurt at all.

"May I tell her what a pony is, please?" she finally asked, in tones of careful politeness.

Victor grinned over at her. "Yes, you may," he said, putting the finishing touches on the coach. Liddie smiled, and then began her lecture. Politely.