CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NICHOLAS
I watch Victoria sleeping — she looks peaceful. It’s nice to watch her in person and not via a monitor. She opens her mouth and mumbles something about an oat and raisin cookie and then wiggles her perfect nose. I smile because I’m relaxed and happy. I’ve never enjoyed watching a woman this way before. It’s been sex and goodbye, but with Victoria, it’s different. After we made love twice more, we laid in each other’s arms and talked about our childhood for a few hours. She fell asleep, but I wasn’t tired. I’ve got far too much on my mind and none of it good. No matter what Victoria says, I’m responsible for Amelia’s death. All this has been for my succession. I could have said no and walked away, but I didn’t because of William and my fears for myself. I was selfish but no more. Together, Victoria and I will finish this. I slide from the bed and fumble around for my boxers. I eventually find them slung over a vase of fake roses. The flowers are everywhere. It’s as if my mother knew that the girl I would fall for would pick them as her favorite. Tiptoeing quietly, I grab the rest of my clothes and go outside. I need some air to think about what happens next. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Reggie’s number. He may be my butler, but he’s also a confidant.
“My Lord, where are you?” he answers after the first ring.
“My mother’s summer house.”
I can hear him exhale a sigh of relief.
“You didn’t leave. What about Victoria?”
“She’s with me.”
“You have spent time together?”
“If you’re asking if we’ve slept together, then yes. I’ve made my decision — I’m going to marry her. It may not have a been a traditional courtship, but she’s everything that I want in a wife. Together, we’ll disband the society and see that no more girls are hurt by its rules.”
He goes silent on the other end of the phone.
“Reggie.”
“I’ll help you in any way I can. It won’t be easy. Your father is already putting things in place. He’ll check Miss Victoria, the moment you return, to confirm that her virginity is still intact. You and I are both aware of the consequences when he finds out that it isn’t.”
“He won’t touch her.”
“You have to think carefully, My Lord.”
“Is he at home?”
“No. He left after Miss Amelia’s body was removed to her father.” I wince at the mention of Victoria’s dead friend.
“Did he take it?”
“No, she’s caused shame on her family, and he refused her back. Your father has had her placed in the cellar until something can be done.”
“I want you to make arrangements for her to be buried in the local church. They'll not ask any questions. They’re used to random bodies suddenly appearing.”
“I’ll sort it at once, My Lord.”
“Thank you, Reggie. Where’s my father?”
“He went to his flat.” I don’t need to ask what my butler means by his flat. It’s the place where he goes when he wants time to fuck in peace, away from Oakfield, even if it's still on the grounds.
“I need to go check on Victoria. I don’t want to leave her for long. Can you send some food and clean clothing down here for her? I’m going to go and see my father. I want a guard as well, make that two. One for William and one for her. I know you have contacts.”
“I do, Sir. I’ll sort it at once.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up, and the summer house door opens. Victoria stands there, rubbing her eyes. She has the sheet wrapped around her body.
“I wondered where you’d gone?”
“I was just talking to my butler. My father has left Oakfield, but that doesn’t mean you're safe. I don’t know his next move, but I do know that the second he gets hold of you he’ll have you before his doctor, again. That’s not happening. I need to go and speak to him. Tell him I’ve made my decision. I want you to stay here. My butler has contacts. He’s going to get someone to guard you and someone for William, also.”
“Nicholas.” She places her hand on my chest. “I’ve been thinking. We should run away — go to Scotland and marry. He can’t do anything about it once we’re man and wife. You'll be married, and he’ll need to step aside. Then, we can start changing the rules.”
“I wish it were that easy.” I pull her closely to me and press a kiss to her sex tangled hair.
“Your father and the rules.”
“The last task.”
“What is it?”
“The one that’s essential to the society’s business. It’s the one that defines us.”
“I don’t understand?”
I take a deep breath and lead Victoria back into the summer house. We take a seat on the daybed.
“You know you asked me about the Van Gogh picture in the main hall.” I run a hand through my hair with the nerves I feel.
“Yes. The obvious fake.”
“It’s not a fake. It’s the real one.”
“But that can’t be possible. It was stolen eight years ago.” She screws her nose up in confusion.
“I know. I was the one who stole it.”
“What?” She pulls back from me like I’ve just told her that her favorite puppy has died, or something. She’s in shock and confused. “You stole it? The real ‘Poppies’, you have the real painting in your hall.”
“Yes.” I nod guiltily.
“How?” she exclaims.
“I’ve been trained as a thief since almost the day I was born. Most of the members of the society are. Nobody suspects us because of who we are. We have a lot more pictures in our collection than are on show. Most of the stolen Nazi pictures are hidden in special storage under Oakfield Hall. We’re worth billions in collectable art.”
Victoria slides from the bed and puts distance between us.
“And that’s why the society was set up. To collect art. We needed money to maintain our positions. It was the one-way way to do it that the founders all agreed on. Over the years, to keep us going, we’ve allowed others who possess the appropriate skills to join. The majority of work is still the acquisition of paintings, but we also collect sculptures, architecture when we can steal it, and famous photographs and videos.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Are you angry?”
“I’m confused. You steal paintings and think it gives you the right to treat women the way you do?” She looks at me, eyes narrowed, and the expression on her face is harsh.
“When the society was set up, my ancestors were the highest ranked. They took on the most risk. In those days, losing their head would’ve been the least of their problems if they were caught. My four times great grandfather demanded something in exchange. He wanted a choice of brides for his son. The rules and trials were documented and have been in place ever since. My great, great grandfather tried to repeal them during the Victorian times, but the industry was exploding, and the artworks collected were being used for expanding the society’s interests during the Industrial Revolution. New rules were put in place stating that should we try to stop the legacy of our succession, we’d forfeit everything, including our lives. The Dukedom of Oakfield would become extinct because all heirs would be executed. That’s why I’ve fought so hard against this. Not only would I die but also William. He’s an innocent in this. His only crime is having the father that he does.”
Victoria squeezes me a little harder when I finish my mini-speech.
“The decisions of our ancestors have put us in the position we’re in. We'll work together to try and put a stop to it. I’ll trust your decisions. But, when we succeed, we must give the artwork back. It’s not ours to keep.” She sits down on the bed again. Her legs seeming too heavy to support her weary frame.
“Even ‘The Poppies’? I’m quite fond of that one. I nearly got caught taking it.”
She frowns.
“Even ‘The Poppies’. When this is over, you can tell me about how you took it. I’m actually intrigued.
I bend down, kiss her and let go to search out the rest of my clothes.
I have to go and find my father. I need to tell him we’re marrying.”
“Is he going to make me do the last task?” she questions.
“I don’t know, but if he does, I’ll do all I can to help you. Trust your instincts.”
“What is it?”
I nervously lick my lips.
“You’ll have to steal a painting.”