Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,45

could she do? It had taken years for her to secure a gentleman of good fortune.

Victoria’s steps paused, her hands twisting together as a weight settled onto her shoulders, threatening to crush her beneath it.

It had taken years to secure a gentleman of good fortune whom she also admired. Victoria had never bothered hoping for love; it was too much to believe she could find that and the means to secure her family’s happiness in the same gentleman. But friendship was enough, and Victoria had hunted for years to find just such a gentleman.

And now, he was slipping through her fingers like London fog.

What would happen to her family then?

Scowling at herself, Victoria sent a scathing rebuke inward. She was no flighty miss who cried defeat at the first sign of difficulty. Besides, she and Mr. Kingsley shared a mutual admiration and friendship, and that had not changed since Miss Banfield had arrived, so why would Victoria allow herself to be overtaken with thoughts of despair simply because Mr. Kingsley enjoyed the company of another as well?

“Miss Caswell.”

No other sound could strike Victoria with such force; it wasn’t the words spoken but the clear, distinct tone that belonged solely to Mr. Dixon. His voice wrapped around her, delving deep into her heart and filling her with such strength that she felt as though she could sprint back to London and not feel the slightest bit faint.

“Good afternoon,” she replied, though her thoughts were more focused on calming her heaving lungs. A slow breath in and out. Again and again. And with each breath, sanity prevailed, not only robbing her of the elation she’d felt but filling her limbs with a leaden weight until Victoria was certain she could not move from that spot, though she ought not to stay.

“I am surprised you are not with the other gentlemen,” added Victoria, tucking her hands behind her and not allowing herself to meet the gentleman’s eyes.

Mr. Dixon’s footsteps were muted by the soft dirt path, but Victoria sensed him moving closer, though her gaze remained fixed on the tufts of grass and ferns sprouting along the base of the trees and the moss climbing its trunk.

“My family did not have time for luxuries like fishing, so I never learned as a lad, and I see no use in picking it up now,” he replied. “It seems a useless pastime.”

Her breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a huff, and Victoria found herself shaking her head at his bold declaration that revealed his humble origins. Yet even as exasperation colored her feelings, buried beneath it was a pulsing admiration for that fearlessness—and shame that she was so bound by her fear.

“You needn’t be so critical of yourself.” His declaration drew Victoria’s gaze, and her dark eyes crept upwards to meet his. Mr. Dixon stood just a few feet away from her, his hands in his pockets as though he were strolling a London thoroughfare. His blue eyes were so striking, contrasting with his dark mop of hair and making them seem all the brighter despite the shadows of the forest.

“My circumstances taught me to embrace my lower-class origins,” he said with a shrug. “If I’d been raised in your situation, no doubt I would be as fearful as your family is of someone discovering your limited finances.”

He motioned with his hand for her to continue on her way, and Victoria strode next to Mr. Dixon, the pair weaving through the forest as all thoughts of her original destination vanished from her mind.

“Have you enjoyed your time in Bristow?” she asked.

Mr. Dixon’s dark brows rose, a teasing smile curling his lips, but rather than avoiding her insipid question, he answered it. “It’s lovely, but I miss the city. And I look forward to curtailing my frequent trips there on Mr. Flemming’s behalf. Having made the journey several times since we’ve arrived, I am heartily sick of it.”

“You are a weak traveler,” she said with a wicked grin.

Leaning over, Mr. Dixon bumped her with his shoulder. “I told you that in confidence. Had I known you would mock me at every opportunity, I would’ve kept silent. How can anyone feel at ease when being bumped and jostled so?”

“If you do make a fool of yourself on these journeys, you can have some peace knowing there is no one of your acquaintance to witness it.”

Mr. Dixon laughed, kicking at a stone in their path. “That is a small comfort.”

Their path and conversation meandered along, and Victoria