The instant they did, Duncan’s hand fell away from her face, his arm withdrawing from her waist, as he took a step back and bowed his head.
“I trust you are not at further risk of falling over?” he asked, his chin to his chest.
Breathless and bewildered, Valeria shook her head. “I am… balanced.”
“Excellent. I confess, your stumble was my fault, that time,” he said, turning sharply and making his way to the side-table. He poured just one glass of port and took a sip, the angle of his body hiding his face from her.
What is it that you do not want me to see?She frowned, watching his throat bob, feeling as if she had been cast adrift.
When he finally turned to face her, there was a cheery smile upon his face, as if nothing had happened. His mask of mischief and rakish amusements had been donned again, denying her the chance to see the truth of the man beneath it.
At any other moment, it would have annoyed her, but this was a tease too far for her fragile sensibilities. Where before there had only been disappointment and many a swell of exasperated anger, now there was a new feeling, deep in her core: hurt.
“I mean to arrange a house party,” he said blithely, taking another, longer sip of his drink. “There is nowhere better to find a wife than at one’s own residence, so the future duchess might see the townhouse for herself. Of course, I plan to invite a host of eligible bachelors for your delectation and delight. It is only fair.”
She stared at him, her expression hardening as her heart sank like a stone, striking the fresh wound he had inflicted so casually, so cruelly. He was no fool; he knew what she had been waiting for, and knew he had been the one to encourage it. He had given every indication that he wished to kiss her, yet he had not. To add insult to injury, he was acting as if he had done nothing wrong.
“This will be the last time I ask you here,” he said in a softer tone, swirling the port in his glass. “You have proven tonight that you do not need me anymore. I hope you will agree, but I believe that my debt is now settled.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded. “I could not agree more. Thank you, Duncan, for the education. I shall not forget it in a hurry.” She headed for the door, pausing on the threshold. “I look forward to your invitation. Please, do make sure that you invite Lord Campbell and Lord Tarporley. I should hate for either of them to miss it.”
She did not stop to see his reaction, striding out with all the dignity and nonchalance she could muster.
You have done me a great favor, Duncan.Now, she had no more reason to hesitate. Indeed, she would marry the very next man who showed an interest. Hoping for more than convenience and companionship was a foolish luxury she could no longer afford, and she would not let her mistake cost her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was a peculiar feeling, to be returning to Thornhill Grange in broad daylight, using the main driveway, instead of being abandoned at the side of the road to sneak through gates and paths to reach the manor.
Valeria shifted restlessly on the squabs, peering out of the window as the Tudor-style residence came grandly into view, the whitewash gleaming in the stuffy afternoon sunlight, contrasting the shine of the dark wooden paneling. Itwasan exceptional property, with grounds that stretched as far as the eye could see, but she would not have exchanged it for Skeffington House.
She told her father as much, as the carriage trundled on toward the entrance.
“Nor would I,” her father agreed. “The expense of a manor like this must be extortionate. That is the trouble with older residences; they are always threatening to collapse or subsideor crumble down altogether. And I always find them to be so gloomy within, all that mahogany sucking out the light.”
Beatrice chuckled. “I could say that about my home, but the gloom has nothing to do with the wainscoting. Rather, it is the woman who goes from room to room, sapping the joy out of every corner.”
“Beatrice,” Aaron scolded mildly, a half-smirk upon his face. “That is an unkind thing to say about my sister.”
“But is it untrue?” Beatrice prompted.
He grimaced, as if he did not want to agree. “When she was younger, she was as wild a girl as you are ever likely to see. I cannot speak for how she is now. Life has a way of… changing a person, and we must not judge the character of others, lest we invite that judgment on ourselves.”
“My mother was wild?” Beatrice’s eyes bulged with curiosity as she leaned forward. “Tell me more, uncle. Tell me everything. Then, the next time she attempts to scold me for one thing or another, I shall have the means to fight back!”
Aaron cleared his throat, offering his niece a kindly smile. “I will not give you ammunition, Beatrice. You shall just have to ask her yourself.”
“Please, Uncle!” she begged, but he laughed her request away, seeming almost like himself again.
Valeria had hoped that getting out of the city would be good for her father, and it appeared that at least one of her hopes was coming true. She just wished they could have been returning to Skeffington for the rest of the summer instead, preferably with no worries following them.
A short while later, the carriage pulled to a halt outside the main doors of Thornhill Grange, where footmen rushed to meet the guests. There were other carriages departing and arriving in an effortless carousel, suggesting that Duncan had invited most of society to his country house party.
“It’s only fair.”The memory of those words irked her afresh, though she had calmed down somewhat in the five days since she had last seen him. After all, his debt was now settled. She could move on without anxiously awaiting letters and gowns, wondering if he was going to be in attendance at a ball or not, searching for him discreetly in crowded rooms, trying to decide if he was playing games with her or not.
She had put all of that to bed, or so she kept telling herself.
“Valery!” Amelia shouted down from the foyer, raising a beckoning hand. “Valery, you are just in time!”
