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Good night, my love.

* * *

Autumn 1741

Victoria hung the blood-red handkerchief outside the window and placed the flickering candles on the stone windowsill. Honestly, she should have stopped removing them by now and should have just left the handkerchief billowing in the wind. They’d been secretly spending time together every night since her debut ball, and she was certain he was already lurking in the moonlit gardens below her bedchamber, awaiting her summons.

She paced the floor, glancing at the clock every fifteen seconds, waiting for him to come climbing through the window. Instead, there was a rap on her door.

Victoria glanced at the window and then back at the door, her breath catching.

“It’s William,” came the hushed whisper from the hallway.

Heart pounding, Victoria rushed on light feet to the door and threw it open, hastily ushering him inside. “What are you doing coming through the corridor? Someone could have seen you!”

He leaned in close, the scent of his skin intoxicating, and placed the warmest, sweetest kiss on her lips. “Nobody saw me,” he said against her lips and then gave her another quick kiss. “I saw your uncle head upstairs to his studio with a woman, so I suppose he’ll be occupied for some time.”

He walked farther into the room and jumped onto the bed.

Victoria followed him and climbed up next to him. “With a model, I presume?”

He rubbed his stubbled chin in thought. “A model, yes, that must be it.”

Victoria rubbed her palms in anticipation. “So, did you bring it?”

“Of course.” He gave her an offended look, though his eyes sparkled playfully. From his waistcoat, he produced a deck of cards. “Now, before we start, you must know the loser owes the winner a forfeit.”

“A forfeit?” She wrinkled her brows. “What is it?”

“A prize, if you wish. Only it needn’t be a physical prize. For example, should I win… I may ask for a kiss.”

Victoria let out a chuckle. “A forfeit. It’s a beautiful word.”

William looked at her with a soft gleam in his eyes. “Yes, quite beautiful indeed.”

Suddenly flustered, Victoria averted her eyes. “Ahem… So, which game should we play?”

“Have you heard of brag?”

Victoria chewed her lower lip. Of course, she had; she played it nightly with her uncle and excelled at it. “It does sound familiar.”

“Shall I explain the rules?”

She straightened her spine, the picture of an eager student. “I would appreciate that immensely.”

As William laid out the rules, his hands nimbly shuffling and dealing the cards, Victoria watched him avidly, enthralled by the cadence of his voice. She adored that voice, the way it seemed to caress her, doing scandalous things to her insides. She could listen to him speak for hours on end.

Unfortunately, he finished explaining quicker than she would have liked, and they proceeded to play. William dealt the cards with a flourish, his deft hands gliding smoothly. Victoria studied her cards with a frown, glancing periodically at William. As he reached for a glass of wine, she slyly switched one of her poor cards, hiding it up her billowing sleeve. With her new switched card, she easily won the first round.

“Well, then, I believe you owe me a forfeit,” she declared proudly, her cheeks burning with excitement and nerves.

“Name it,” he said eagerly.

“A kiss,” she breathed as if she would ask for anything else.

William grinned and leaned in, pressing his soft lips tenderly to hers. Victoria parted her lips, welcoming him, tasting wine on his tongue.

As William pulled away, he cleared his throat. “I don’t believe I ever enjoyed losing as much.”