He smiled in return. “Is that not exactly what you have begged me to do?”
Her mouth opened in protest, her smoldering eyes burning hotter, her hands balling into fists at her sides. But she seemed to realize that he had told no lie, as her mouth closed again. Blushing furiously, muttering things under her breath that he could only guess at, she turned on her heel and strode away from him, hurrying to catch up to the other women.
He watched her go, and though he had a full calendar and more invitations than he knew what to do with, he sensed he would look forward to nothing as much as he was already looking forward to that night.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
What am I to do? I should not give into his wishes… No, I should stay precisely where I am.Valeria’s thoughts ricocheted back and forth, matching the agitated steps of her relentless pacing.
Outside the sash windows of the Mayfair apartments, darkness had fallen hours ago. Starlight twinkled like fishing boats in the shadowy sea overhead, a half-moon casting a muted silver glow on the world below, while the clock on the mantelpiece did nothing to help her uncertainty. It was almost midnight, and she still could not make up her mind.
I should tuck myself into bed. I should go to sleep. I should make him wait for nothing.
“You should wear something red,” she parroted, scoffing. “I would look awful in red! Any shade of it. The… the… the gall of the man!”
The creak of a floorboard halted her rant, her breath held as she pricked her ears. She waited for the scuff of footfalls in the hallway outside her borrowed bedchamber, but after a few minutes, there was still nothing but silence.
Exhaling, Valeria knew what she had to do. She could not keep pacing all night, at war with herself. If she retired to bed, she would spend the hours until dawn staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. At least if she went to meet with Duncan, the internal conflict would end.
Annoyed that she could not defy his request, she took her cloak from the back of the door and slipped out into the hallway. Fortunately, she had not changed into her nightclothes… which should have been a glaring sign of the decision she would eventually make.
She crept past the doors belonging to her father’s bedchamber and Beatrice’s bedchamber, pausing outside each one until she heard the sound of slumber. Satisfied that no one would catch her in the act, she pressed on to the front door and, grimacing all the while in case the hinges creaked too loudly, she let herself out.
The Mayfair streets were empty as Valeria headed deeper into the affluent area, walking away from the periphery where she undoubtedly belonged, to the grand townhouses of the truly wealthy.
Her heart ached a little as she hurried swiftly past the townhouse that used to be theirs. A pretty, three-story structure in auniform row. Candlelight flickered in the upstairs room that was once hers—someone was awake at this late hour, and she hoped that, whoever they were, they were grateful for that house; that they would never take it for granted.
Even if I marry, it will not be enough to get that townhouse back.She took a breath.No matter. As long as Skeffington can be saved, that is all I care about.As long as Mrs. Mitford and Mr. Worth retained their employment, and her father was happy in the only home he had ever known, she would be content. Indeed, it was not just a house, but a museum of memory that she refused to hand over to someone else.
By the time she arrived at Duncan’s townhouse, she had been reinvigorated. Of course, she did not like that she was bowing to his command, but his lessonshadworked. There was no denying it. If he continued to help her, maybe she really would be married before the end of the summer, and able to rescue Skeffington before the cold months set in.
I should not use the front door,she remembered, just in time.
Searching for a different entrance, she spotted the steps that led down to the cellar. First glancing around to make sure that no one was watching, she hurried down the stairs and pushed gently on the door below, not at all surprised to find that it was unlocked.
Within minutes, she was inside the townhouse and standing a step away from the drawing room door, left suspiciously ajar.
“I can hear you huffing and puffing out there,” came Duncan’s exasperating, smooth voice. As low and powerful and compelling as the crash of waves against a cliff, and likely as dangerous.
She pushed through. “I was not huffing and puffing, though you made me traipse across half of Mayfair alone.”
“Madeyou?” He sat by a small table to the side of the room, tying a bow on a box of candied fruit. “I offered an invitation, Miss Maxwell. You did not have to accept it.”
Valeria frowned at the box, conflicted.He is keeping his promise to Prudence.
“I have to find a husband in a matter of weeks,Your Grace,” she retorted. “I assure you—if I had had a choice in the matter, I would have refused.”
He glanced up at her. “I am disappointed to hear that.” His gaze drifted slowly down from her eyes to the points of her shoes. “As I am disappointed that you did not wear red.”
“Was that not just a general suggestion?” she said defiantly, shedding her cloak.
He shrugged, leaving silence between them as he got up and went to the nearby drinks table. Taking up two glasses, he poured from a decanter of ruby red liquid.
“Besides,” she remarked, uneasy with the silence, “I had no reason to wear red tonight.”
He frowned, bringing the glasses over to her. “And why is that?”
“Because there are no gentlemen here that I wish to catch the eye of,” she replied with a sarcastic smile, accepting the glass he offered. “And because I have no red dresses. The color categorically doesnotsuit me, and now I fear for the condition of your eyes. Red hair and a red dress? Come now, it could never complement.”
