She did not look up at him, denying him the sight of her beautiful green eyes. “I will not be attending the Croston Ball.”
“Why not?”
“I have received no invitation,” she replied stiffly.
He furrowed his brow, for the Crostons were renowned for inviting anyone and everyone to their gatherings, more interested in holding the title for the largest ball of the Season, rather than the most distinguished.
“Another occasion, then,” he said. “I will choose an appropriate event and write to you in due course. Until then, if you think of any other preferences, do let me know. I should hate for you to be disappointed.”
She nodded. “Very good.”
Taking his dismissal, he strode toward the door, pausing on the threshold. “Miss Maxwell?”
“Hmm?”
“One last question,” he said, turning back for a moment.
She finally raised her head, wariness in her expression. “Yes?”
“Why now?”
She frowned, tilting her head in a manner that made him want to march back across the room and graze his lips to the soft skin of her elegant neck.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He took a breath. “Why are you doing this now, after seven years of opportunity, when things would have been far easier for you? Why the urgency now?”
Her face fell, and he wished he had not asked. A ripple of something like pain moved across her uncommonly pretty face, a small line forming between her eyebrows, her lips clamping together to hold back the truth.
All he received was a slow shake of her head, and though he was not one to be dissuaded so easily, hedidknow when to back down and hold his tongue. Therewasa reason for the sudden urgency, and she was not going to tell him.
Not yet, anyway.
“I will clear my debt to you,” he said quietly. “Rest assured.”
And whatever the reason for this decision, I hope that my actions may resolve it.He did not like to see any woman upset, and he had a feeling that she would look exceptionally beautiful when she smiled. Perhaps, he would see that smile before his task was done.
With that, he took his leave of her, feeling the weight of the promise he had just made as he climbed into the saddle of his horse and took off. After all, if she hoped to be married before the Season’s end, he did not have a moment to lose.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Icannot believe you came all this way,” Valeria said, beaming with delight as she poured tea into three cups. “You must be mad, the pair of you.”
It had been three days since Duncan’s visit, so when there had been a knock at the door and the butler had hurried in to inform Valeria that she had visitors, she had assumed that it was the duke, defying her wishes. So, it had been a rather wonderful surprise to see her friends in the drawing room, waiting to greet her with open arms.
Amelia stole a raspberry tart from the tray and nibbled daintily at the crimped edges. “It is not mad to want to see a dear friend, Valery.”
“Letters simply cannot compare to seeing your lovely face,” Isolde agreed, receiving her cup of tea gratefully. “And I have so missed this manor. I always forget just how beautiful it is. I think it might be the finest house in England.”
Valeria quirked an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that you think this manor is finer than Davenport Towers? It is half the size!”
“That is its charm,” Isolde insisted. “There is no peace like being here, though I suspect it has more than a little to do with the fact thatyouare here.”
Valeria blushed with happiness as she sipped her tea and stared at her two dearest friends. To her, being with these women was the greatest peace, regardless of where they were. Society events had not been the same since Amelia and Isolde had withdrawn into their own lives. Indeed, Valeria’s life had not been the same. Quieter, emptier, less joyful.
Outside on the lawns, the shriek of merry children filled the crisp spring air. Amelia’s son, Daniel, and Isolde’s son, Joseph, haring around the old oak tree, chased by their respective fathers, Lionel and Edmund. They were joined by Isolde’s sisters, Teresa and Prudence, and Lionel’s sister, Rebecca. A glorious display of family, brought together in the home that Valeria loved so much: her family by affection, if not blood.
“I have half a mind to tell Edmund that we are not continuing on to London at all,” Isolde said with a sigh. “Yes, I think we shall spend the Season here instead, enjoying the beautiful grounds, your company, and the quiet of this corner of the world.”
