June 21, 1882 ~ London, England

One foot dangled inside the windowsill in the relative safety of the bedroom. The other desperately searched for a foothold on the lattice that climbed the house as Victoria Brighton precariously straddled the ledge.

Cursing as her skirts snagged on a nail, Victoria looked below her. It was a pretty view, the ivy-strewn lattice climbing the red brick house. But she would be much happier looking at it from over her shoulder.

“Blast,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice down to avoid being heard by anyone who happened to be outside.

Her foot found the lattice and she began inching her way down from her second story window. It was fortunate she didn’t sleep on the third floor, she thought.

Her fingers dug into the wooden lattice and her foot slipped a few times on the tangle of vines as she made the slow climb down. Her gloves scratched against the rough brick wall as her fingers slid through the lattice holes and hit the cold surface. There was still a chill to the air in the late hours of spring, but nevertheless Victoria could feel anxious perspiration dripping down her spine.

What she lacked in coordination, she made up for with determination. By the time she reached the ground her arms were beginning to ache from the weight of what she felt was a very average sized frame.

As she reached down to retrieve the valise that she’d sent flying out the window minutes earlier, Victoria heard the din of voices around the corner. Laughter floated through the air, as the voices of her wedding guests were full of gossip and excitement, lips loosened by too many glasses of champagne and punch.

The wedding in question was one that Victoria was determined would never take place. It would be not a fairy tale of her choosing, but one that would mean a happy ending for her stepfather and groom to be. She was seen as a bank account more than a bride and she refused to spend the rest of her life married to a man who made her skin crawl in all varieties of unpleasant ways.

She didn’t think any of the guests would be disappointed. Rather, this would provide fodder for their gossip for months. How a girl from a common family – though an heiress to a formidable fortune, mind you – could leave the Duke of Lansingberg practically at the altar! Never mind that he had nothing to his name, had destroyed his estate with his greedy ways and had left one widow in his wake – he was a duke.

Victoria would not be wife number two, and would certainly not be making the Duke a widow twice over.

She was, as always, running late. She didn’t know how it had happened, as she thought she had timed everything perfectly. Feigning a stomach illness, she had blamed the richness of the food and her nervousness for the day at hand. No one had questioned her, nor had cared really. The sky was just beginning to darken, and she knew she had to get moving if she was going to make the last train to Liverpool.

Victoria had made a schedule for herself in order to time everything just right – enough time to reach the train station, arrive in Liverpool, and make her way to the docks to board the Parisian. Her hope was that once the others realized she was gone in the morning, there wouldn’t be enough time to catch her before the ship launched. She had told her maid, Mary, not to wake her until late as she needed the beauty rest before her wedding day. It pained Victoria that Mary, as sweet and gentle as she was, might be blamed, but Victoria consoled herself with the thought that she was also saving Mary from a life serving in the household of the Duke of Lansingberg. Victoria had left her with a note outlining what to say to the Duke, including information on where she had arranged another placement for her.

Victoria crept around the back of the house to find the alley clear. Dark tendrils had slipped out of their pins and were tumbling down the side of her face after her foray out the window. She tried to shove the pins back in before heading to the streets to find a hackney. The streets were fairly quiet at this hour, the streetlamps not yet lit but guiding the way to the main road.

Victoria could move at a fairly good pace in her simple gown but didn’t want to attract much attention. She was hoping she had luck on her side.

A few turns later, she finally saw a gentleman disembarking from a hackney up ahead, and she raced to catch it before it continued on. Any questions the driver had about a lone female out at this hour were forgotten when she pulled out her purse, and they were soon on their way to the train station, where Victoria would board for Liverpool.

She had matched an unadorned hat to her plain dress, and had tucked her hair up in pins underneath it, hoping she would look forgettable enough that no one would remember seeing her if questioned later on.

While Victoria had been short-sighted in imagining how far her stepfather would go to achieve his own political goals, her aunt had not been. Her father’s sister, Sarah, had a better sense of a person upon first impression. Months before, soon after the death of Victoria’s mother, Aunt Sarah’s letters became urgent. She sent them through Victoria’s friend Marian, as Victoria’s stepfather made sure to review all of her correspondence. Victoria anticipated their monthly arrival, eager for her aunt’s news of adventure in the western wilds on the other side of the Atlantic, as well as for her comforting words. Victoria had at first disregarded Sarah’s claims, ignoring her aunt’s suggestion that Victoria begin planning a way to escape her stepfather and his conniving ways. While she didn’t necessarily enjoy living under his roof, she knew she only had to wait a few months more before claiming her inheritance and her freedom.

Until the night she had overheard a conversation between her stepfather, Edward Travers III, and the Duke of Lansingberg.

She had been in her stepfather’s office, looking for a letter opener to reveal Aunt Sarah’s latest correspondence. As Marian was one of London’s librarians, and Victoria was no stranger to the institution, it was easy to meet up with Marian to receive the letters.

Victoria didn’t enjoy spending time in this office. Its polished wood and brass accents were cold, and the lack of decoration on the dark walls left an austere feeling to the hollow room. The window overlooked the unkempt gardens, left unattended by her stepfather’s dwindling staff.

After finally locating the opener in Edward's massive desk, Victoria was in the middle of slicing through the seal when she heard his footsteps in the hall.

A terrible liar even with preparation, Victoria wanted to avoid any questions regarding her whereabouts in the office or the content of the envelope. Without thinking, she followed through on her first instinct, diving behind the settee in the corner of the office, narrowly missing landing on the letter opener that flew from her hand. She tucked it under her skirts as she folded herself into the cramped corner.

When Edward entered the office, he wasn’t alone, but accompanied by the Duke of Lansingberg, his new bosom buddy. Victoria didn’t know why they had aligned themselves together so often as of late, but she figured there was a reason. Perhaps it was because their respective London societies had spurned them from social gatherings.

“Travers, this had best happen quickly.” The Duke addressed Edward with disdain in his voice. The Travers family had quickly become rich through ownership of a popular London newspaper. His father, Edward Travers II, was a strong advocate against the Scottish protests, and his paper was widely read throughout England. When his father passed and Edward the III took over, the paper began to fall apart. Edward published stories that the bureaucracy would enjoy, not taking into account that the vast majority of readers were common folk. The newspaper was dying a slow death. As readers fell, so did Edward’s fortunes. He tried to keep up appearances, but it was becoming difficult. The dust that currently tickled Victoria’s nose reminded her of the shortage of household staff.

“Be patient Lansingberg,” Edward responded in his gravelly voice. “We have to time it right. We can’t spook the girl. She’s of age, so can leave anytime. But she hasn’t the funds until she turns 21 or until she marries, and we need to be able to take advantage of that.”

Hasn’t the funds. This was about her and her fortune. Victoria was also eagerly awaiting her 21st birthday. If only she could access the fortune that was left to her, she would have been out of this house months ago. She was now counting down the days until that time.

“That time is coming up.” The Duke’s flat voice sent shivers up and down Victoria’s spine. If the villain from one of her novels could have walked off the pages, it would be in the Duke’s image, she could swear it. She and Marian had laughed about it. From the tone of this conversation, however, it was no laughing matter.

“Let’s set a date,” he continued. “June 21^st? We can begin inviting guests two weeks before. You’ll just have to keep her here until that time. Do you think you can handle a 20-year-old girl?”

“Of course I can handle her,” Edward snappily responded. “I’ll have the staff keep an eye on her and lock her door at night. I don’t know why the silly twit doesn’t realize she needs to be married. I’ve tried to broach the subject with her before and she continues to adamantly refuse. So there will be no talking her around to it. The girl doesn’t have any sense in her brain. If she did, she’d realize that a title would take her places. We are doing what’s best. Her mother would have agreed. In the meantime, I’ve had my lawyer drawn up the documents stating the funds I’ll receive upon your marriage — half of the inheritance. And my introduction to society.”

“Why Edward, your trust in my word is so flattering,” the Duke responded, sarcasm dripping off every word. Victoria could just picture him looking down his pinched nose, which was accented by hollow cheekbones. “Very well. Let me take them to my attorney and we shall be on our way to mutual success.”

With that his footsteps clipped out of the room and door snapped shut behind him.

Edward Travers III spent another hour in his office. The time ticked by slowly for Victoria, who remained hidden but wide-eyed behind the sofa. Her mind worked furiously as she digested what she had heard and began making plans to find a way to escape before it was too late. June 21^st was a month away. It didn’t give her much time, but she was determined that come that day, she would be far away from a wedding altar.

She had tried to find a way to escape from her stepfather’s home, but he had been vigilant, and there was never an opportune time, despite her best plans and intentions. When she arrived at the Duke’s estate, she’d found her opportunity, and had completed the plan that had begun that moment behind the settee.

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