had been unfaithful. She didnât care that the Major had gone to another woman; in fact, she was grateful, if it would continue to keep him away from her.
But the public nature of his betrayal upset her deeply. He had gone to thatâthat
whoreâ
barely twenty-four hours after their wedding, and everyone on the ranch knew it. She wouldnât have believed Angelinaâs word, but sheâd seen the truth in Roperâs usually impassive eyes.
The house staff knew, of course. The ranch was a small world in itself, so insular that everyone knew what everyone else was doing. No wonder Carmita had been so solicitous this past week.
She was Victoria Madelyn Marie Waverly; her mother was a Creighton. She had learned that lineage and tradition counted for little without money behind it, but pride had been bred into her as surely as the aristocratic bones of her face. Her husband had offended her in a way that no woman could forgive, exposing her to public humiliation. She also had to live with the galling knowledge that she had no means of recourse. Her husband did not love her, did not desire her, so she had no power in his life. She could threaten to expose his impotence, but it wasnât in her nature to publicly humiliate him. So she could only sit and let the realization creep into her that she could do nothing. She would have to continue as if she didnât know anything about it and therefore force everyone else to ignore it, too, at least in her presence.
But she was still outraged at Angelinaâs presence on the ranch. Though now she understood the whispers sheâd heard as a girl about men who had kept fancy women on the side, she knew that the mistresses and the wives were always kept well separated. Again, she would have to ignore it, for if she tried to force Angelina to leave, everyone would know that she was aware of her husbandâs infidelities and would think she was acting out of jealousy. To be thought jealous of her husband and that whore was unbearable, and so she would let things remain as they were.
A soft tap on her door distracted her, and Celia poked her head in. âI thought we were going to do themending.â There was no accusation in her voice, only puzzlement.
Victoria forcefully composed herself and patted the chaise. âCome sit with me for a moment.â As difficult as it might prove to be, she knew she had to try to make Celia understand why she must stay away from Garnet, from any man who tried to touch her. Given the realities of the world they now lived in, Victoria knew this was a duty that could not wait.
Celia happily sat down beside her sister. She had something on her mind she wanted to ask her sister. She had complete faith in Victoria. She loved and trusted Emma, too, but it was her sister who had washed and bandaged her skinned knees, who had patiently answered all of her questions, soothed her after bad dreams, and returned her love unstintingly. She twirled a strand of her blond hair and mustered her courage. âDo you think the Major would let me ride Rubio? I
so
want to!â
Victoria was startled, and worried, because Celia often acted on her desires. âI donât think he would, darling. Rubio is a stallion, and stallions arenât used for pleasure riding. Theyâre too strong-willed and dangerous.â
âMr. Roper rides him. Iâve seen him.â Awe and envy mingled in Celiaâs tones.
Something deep in Victoria tingled at the mention of his name. âIâm sure he just rides Rubio to exercise him. And Mr. Roper is a man, sweetheart. He is much larger and stronger than you are.â
Celia thought a minute, admitting the truth of that. But she wanted to ride Rubio so much that she couldnât let it go. âIâm a good rider, arenât I?â
âItâs been a long time since any of us were on a horse.â Another change wrought by war; all of the horses had been taken by the