<div class="floatleft">(http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f142/capwilly1/Westinghouse/Tori_avi.jpg)</div><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Lady Victoria Stuart</span></span> </strong><br/><strong>Current Location:</strong>In a Coach on the Road<br/><strong>With:</strong>Claude Moreau<br/><br/>Lady Victory Stuart sat nervously in the coach that was carrying towards the long awaited reunion with her brother, Hank.  She was looking forward to seeing him with all her heart but afraid that when she arrived she would find Lord Henry Stuart, Duke of Albany had completely taken his place. He had moved so easily from one level of society to the great heights of another with such ease that Victoria was afraid she was losing him. He even made a scandalous marriage with divorced woman, although, in fairness, Victoria did admit that Vivienne, the new Duchess of Albany, did seem very nice.<br/><br/>Victoria just hadn’t been able to adapt to their change in circumstances as easily as he seemed to. She found it difficult to think of herself as anything but Ria or Miss Stuart the governess, and to her he was still just plain Hank the footman. The newly acquired wealth and title meant little to her – she still half thought it would disappear as quickly as it came. With that in mind, she only spent half of the money he sent her for a new wardrobe and safely invested the remainder, confident it would support her for years if things went badly and she was very frugal.  Of course, not wanting to disappoint him, she had bought beautiful clothing – a full wardrobe - everything from top to bottom, from inside to out, she had simply done it very carefully.<br/><br/>She did everything very carefully now, it was the only way she could make certain nothing ever hurt her again. Nothing and no one.<br/><br/>So, she sat in the carriage with a jaunty green hat perched on her red curls, a matching green velvet traveling gown corsetting her slender waist, making it appear tiny while accenting the full curves of her breasts.  Her glove encased hands folded neatly on her lap; she looked every inch a lady but still felt like the run-away governess.<br/>