Half an hour later Victoria trailed her fingertips through the lush foliage of the Westley's greenhouse. Sunlight streamed in through the glass windows that surrounded them to illuminate the potted orange trees that rimmed the circumference of the room and the tiny planters that lined the center in well organised rows, each with their own small cream cards of identification. Scientific species and genus. The bevel of Victoria's thumb rubbed distractedly at the velveteen fur beneath a Mentha spicata leaf.

What would happen if she let go of the infinite remorse she felt at not seeing who Andrew truly was earlier? Where would her anger go if she let it loose for once in her life and stopped trying so desperately to play the dutiful debutante? And more importantly, what would replace it? She tried to remember who she was before that horrid night alone with Andrew in the garden and all she could remember was twirling in ballrooms and drinking tepid lemonade while being so eager to please, to be admired and petted. She didn't think that she was that girl anymore. Firstly she wasn't entirely convinced that the approval of some of the ton was something to be sought, and secondly she realised that she had never taken the time to love the women she saw in the mirror every day. She barely knew who that woman was. Perhaps it was time to get to know her.

Anthony watched the furrow in Victoria's brow across the plethora of potted herbs. She wandered, lingered, and touched a plant here or there but her mind appeared to be far away from the warm embrace of the greenhouse. He wondered if he had pushed her too far, too soon. He wanted to remove her shell but not leave her bare and bruised by the harsh light of her own circumstance. As a duke born into power and privilege he was the last person to truly understand the gravity of the ordeal she had faced, and yet if she could not find a way passed whatever had happened between her and Andrew she would never find happiness. For some reason that bothered him.

It was true that he needed to find himself a bride for more mercenary reasons than love. He could feel a second war on opium approaching like a threatening swarm of bees in the distant and when it arrived he wanted a marriage licence firmly in his hand. Certainly the youngest, most promising debutante would have been the logical choice. But Victoria had a certain resilience and it was a quality that he could use if things indeed did go awry. The fact that he enjoyed her company, and her body was entirely a bonus.

Victoria nibbled at her lower lip, subjecting the plump flesh to the press of teeth in an attempt to peck away at a problem.

"I am not proficient at agriculture nor botany but even I can tell you Miss Hasting that your own lips are not able to be consumed." Anthony commented sardonically.

The stem between her fingers snapped and she let out a sharp gasp of surprise followed by a furtive look around the room to check for witnesses.

Anthony winked at her with a smile and she responded by busying herself with rearranging the small shrub. He drew closer to her with a mischievous glint in his honeycomb eyes. "Enlighten me, Miss Hastings. Is that plant particularly useful in treating your uncle's ailments?"

"Hmm?" Victoria jerked her head up distractedly. "Oh, umm, yes. Definitely"

"Interesting."

"Mentha spicata." Anthony tilted the tag up with a look of avid interest. "And could you please advise me of the common name for this helpful plant?"

"Umm..." Victoria hesitated. How was she to explain that she had snapped off an entirely innocuous plant because she was pondering the duke's advice? He would conclude that he had some effect on her and that was the last thing that she wanted.

"Shall I subscribe to your aunt for the answer if you cannot recall the name?" The duke gestured to her relative who stood tittering in the furthermost corner of the room with Lady Summerton avidly discussing something that lay in the opposite direction of their charges.

"No." Victoria snapped pulling the sleeve of his coat back towards her when he took a step in the direction of her chaperone. "If you must know, it is spearmint."

"Spearmint? Really? Who would have thought it would be so useful in the treatment of...."

"Consumption."

"How ingenious." Anthony plucked the leaf from her fingertips, brushing them with his own before popping it into his mouth. "I think I can feel its healing properties already." He gave her a small secretive grin and poked the tip from between his teeth. "Care to share?"

"Urgh," Victoria groaned exasperated. "Fine. It was a mistake. Spearmint's only use is to make ones breath a touch more bearable to be near. So perhaps it is a useful treatment for you, Your Grace."

"I certainly haven't had any complaints." Anthony grinned. "But I defer to your better judgement."

Victoria's eyes narrowed.

"Not what I meant." Anthony hastened to correct her. He continued to pluck leaves at random and sample them as he spoke in such a casual, unguarded manner as to make any one think that they routinely traversed his greenhouse discussing botany. "You certainly are defensive. Your body looks primed for battle- brace the doors, fortify the rampart." He chewed slowly as his eyes mapped the features of her face.

"You are not wrong, Your Grace." Victoria ventured tracing the dichotomous lines of a leaf. She sighed and words slipped from her that she had not meant to speak. "Recently, I have lived my life ready to defend my honour in spite of the apparent loss of it. But, I confess that I don't exactly know how to conduct myself in any other way." She chewed at her lips again distractedly. Why she chose to divulge her failings to him she could not fathom, but in the friendless world of the ton it seemed reasonable for a sapling to lean on an oak for support against the wind.

"If you are going to chew anything at least make it something edible. Here take this." The Duke of Westley snapped a ream of green berries and offered it.

"That is pepper, Your Grace."

"It certainly is not." Anthony frowned. "Pepper is black."

Victoria chuckled and grasped the stem delicately between thumb and forefinger to place it back on the table. "Which is made from the unripened fruit of the Piper nigrum. Anyway, why does it bother you so, that I bite my lip? It is a nervous habit."

Anthony certainly was not going to reveal to her why such a gesture would be distracting. "It does not bother me. But you seem to want to maintain a certain level of decorum and I assure you that women of stature do not have nervous habits."

"Well maybe I am tired of maintaining a certain level of decorum." Victoria huffed.

"And the Diamond finally reveals her sharp edges." Anthony smiled leaning across her to seize a deep red cherry, brushing the front of her dress with the length of his muscled arm.

"Did you know that your namesake is one of the few stones that can cut through glass? Quite fitting I think, don't you?"

Victoria was aware of the physical properties of a host of gems but she never once thought of the strength a diamond imbued. She doubted that the males of the ton would have given such a hardy name to delicate debutantes in their first flush of youth if they thought of them as anything more than lustrous gems to adorn their households. And yet she could not deny it. A diamond was so much more than just its surface.

"Diamond?" Anthony queried her silence.

"Yes, I certainly am." Victoria replied with a quiet smile.

"Are you almost done, child?" Aunt Beatrice bustled over. "I am sorry to hurry you my dear, but I must return to your uncle." Her aunt did indeed appear distressed at having to separate a tete a tete between a duke and her niece but it seemed it could not be helped.

"Of course, Aunt." Victoria quickly nodded and assessed her small basket of herbs. Oregano, thyme and garlic were all carefully plucked and parceled. "Just one last item." She assured her hastily.

"Have you any myrrh, Your Grace."

"Myrrh?" Anthony frowned.

"It is a resin or gum from several species of the thorny trees of the genus Commiphora. You may know it as Frankincense."

The duke's brow smoothed. "Oh, yes of course. I collected some in my travels. We have them already packaged in our stores. Would you like to select them now?"

"You are most obliging, Your Grace." Aunt Beatrice fluttered her aged lashes before a gleam flashed within her soft blue eyes. "Victoria would you please accompany His Grace and I will meet you at the door. I would like to apply to Lady Summerton's cook one last time for that butter biscuit recipe. I will meet you at the door."

Victoria could only nod mutely. It was hardly acceptable to comment on the propriety of such a manoeuvre.

Lady Summerton at least showed a mild perturbation and narrowed her eyes in the direction of the duke for half a second before her smile resumed. "It is certainly a worthwhile endeavour, Beatrice and I am sure the detour should not delay us long Anthony. We will see you both presently." Her gaze rested carefully on the daffodil yellow of Victoria's well pressed gown as if memorising its current creases lest they alter. She may have wanted her adopted son to marry but not nearly as much as Victoria's own aunt who was willing to slide her niece under him to procure it.

"Well, would you look at that, alone again." The duke drawled once the patter of footsteps had retreated. "Lucky me."

"Indeed." Victoria quipped. "The stores, Your Grace?" she reminded him politely.

"Certainly." Anthony offered her his arm. "Allow me to escort you."

Victoria hesitated. Any time she touched this man little good came of it except to stir her own libido, and a spinster of her age did not need any encouragement in that matter. She looked at the angle of his elbow. It was an innocuous forty-five degrees but then again, at what angle would it have appeared illicit. She sighed and slipped her hand into the starched crook. Her fingertips brushed along the supple silk of his coat beneath which lay the long corded muscles of his forearm and her breath caught in her throat. At a distance it was easy to forget that his body was crafted by his labours in the East, but near him it was impossible. There was a fire about him, a smoky haze that was perfumed with a sweet intoxicating scent and a certain measure of danger. Yes, she must never forget that.

"Come with me, Miss Hastings." He smiled and Victoria wondered if this was how Persephone felt. She always doubted that the goddess's daughter had been kidnapped. After all, who wouldn't be tempted with Hades' flames licking at your feet?

They traversed the length of the greenhouse and approached a door at its end in less than a single minute.

"Here we are." The Duke of Westley grinned.

"Here?" Victoria arched a brow incredulously. "You made it seem as though it was some distance away."

"Well of course." Anthony winked. "How else would our relations have left us alone and it may well be the last time we are afforded any privacy once our engagement is announced."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "What benefit is an engagement for you, Your Grace?"

"I told you. I want an uncomplicated wife." He raised his hand as her mouth opened to object. "And not a debutante barely out of the schoolroom. My life can be a tricky thing at times." His eyes went cold and she saw the flare of shadows that always flickered in their corners. "I need someone with nerve who can stand at my side and will not cry to return to her Mama."

"Lucky for you, I have no Mama." Victoria shrugged.

"Nor do I." He stepped closed and wrapped his hand over hers, pulling it close to his chest. "We will be each other's family."

Victoria met his gaze as the darkness bled into warm, molten lava. She pulled her hand back furtively. "You have yet to win, Your Grace. And as you well know, diamonds have hidden depths."

Anthony's lips curled into a slow, decadent smile. "Oh, I am counting on it. So what do you say, Diamond?"

"I say...," she paused to enjoy the thrill of making him wait. "That I would like some myrrh today please."

"Myrrh today, marriage tomorrow?" Anthony remarked with a casual charm as he flicked the lock and ushered them inside the darkened room.

Thin slats of light penetrated the small space to illuminate floating moats of dust in the air. Hessian sacks lay stacked along the wall and tiny glass bottles and decanters lined the shelves from floor to ceiling each marked with a tiny  written tag. Inside the cool chamber scents of what she could only assume was the orient swirled about them. There were undulating honeyed notes that rolled into floral bouquets spiced with cinnamon. Powered roots and resins sat still in vials from foreign countries and still somehow moved her into motion. Victoria's fingertips ran across the chilled glass with the awe of someone who had never left her homeland.

"Chose one." Anthony's eyes flared in the darkness.

"Which one is myrrh?" Victoria scanned the tags for a name she recognised.

"No." Anthony stilled her hand with his own. "Choose one for yourself."

Victoria looked up at him sharply. "I could no sooner choose a favourite book in a library."

"You know Diamond, it is moments like these that make a man wish to give you the world."

"And why is that?" Victoria tilted her head curiously.

"Because you are the only woman of my acquaintance who would not ask for it."

Victoria scrutinised his countenance in the dim lighting. He certainly appeared sincere but he was offering her a game. A chance to trial a more hedonistic life under the guise of an engagement. If she succumbed she married her seducer and if not she walked away unscathed and the ton would have believed that she was capable of breaking a duke's heart for a season. The risk came if she truly did fall victim to her passions and the Duke of Westley decided to make it known to society and cry off. She would be twice burned and she would never recover. But if she was able to keep her own desires in check, then everything could change for her. It was up to her to determine if the risk merited the reward.

"Yes." The pools of her eyes lit up like the Serpentine on a sunny day.

"Yes?" The duke raised a brow.

"Yes, you may court me. But remember our deal Your Grace. If I come out of this as nothing more than a stock standard spinster you are to relinquish this futile game and see me fit into the ton once more."

"Agreed." The Duke of Westley loomed over her with a renewed fire. "But it seems a pity to have you at so obvious a disadvantage from the outset."

"I can't say I understand your meaning, Your Grace." Victoria's breath hitched and the smell of orchids did little to ease the burning in her chest as he approached.

"Stock standard spinster?" Anthony tucked a long golden strand behind her ear and leaned in to whisper, the warmth of his body hovering inches away from hers. "Try as you might you will never fit in. Rough or polished, Diamond, you were born to stand out."

~

VOTE

~

Author's Note:

It has been a long hiatus for this story but I am planning to have it finished before I start the second book in the Maid for More series. If you haven't already checked it out, Persuasion in the Pantry is COMPLETED! A few characters and story arcs link with this one and that book occurs just before this one. It isn't necessary to read it first but you might enjoy seeing some of your favourite characters make cameo's. 

Seduction of a Spinster follows the more accepted pattern of a historical romance than PITP so if you are here for a relaxed read with only a dash of history/politics thrown in, then this is the book for you. 

xx Inara

Glossary:

Consumption was the contemporary term for tuberculosis, a potentially fatal mycobacterial infection that primarily affects the lungs. It begins with flu-like symptoms which progress to a persistent cough, and consequent weight-loss or general wasting of the muscles. This can sometimes be a protracted process with periods of remission or latency. Human tuberculosis is usually spread when aerosol droplets of infected sputum ejected by the coughing of the infected person are inhaled by those in prolonged and close contact.