Anyone but her,Valeria begged silently, struggling to breathe.Any duchess but her, please.
It was one thing to have to see Duncan for three days at this manor, where she had first warned herself about his games and amusements, but it would be quite another if she had to see him at family gatherings.
If she had to sit at a table with him, knowing he was the husband of someone else; the husband of her beloved cousin, whom she would deny nothing to. Nothing but Duncan.
It would crush me like a grape underfoot.
She rubbed the heel of her palm against her chest, her lungs tight at the wretched thought; her sore heart throbbing with a fresh ache.
At that moment, sparing her from the embarrassment of potentially fainting at the table, Duncan got to his feet and raised his glass, declaring, “If you have all eaten your fill, then might I suggest that the gentlemen retire for port and cigars, while the ladies chatter ruthlessly about us in our absence!”
A ripple of laughter swelled up and down the table, where a fairly even split of ladies of gentlemen numbered almost fifty. Then again, Duncandidhave a manor large enough to accommodate a crowd. Skeffington House, on the other hand, would have struggled to accommodate half that number.
The guests began to rise, streaming toward the manor in pairs and clusters. The manor itself looked extraordinary in the middle-evening haze, the winking windows reflecting the dusky, pinkish hues that werejustcoloring the sky. It rather reminded Valeria of a painting, come to life.
“What shall we do about this, hmm?” Amelia asked, linking arms with her friend.
Valeria’s mind jolted in panic. “About what?”
Does she know about Duncan? Is it written on my face? Is that what Lionel was staring at earlier?
“With our evening, my dear Valery. Shall we play a game of words or cards? Oh, do you think Beatrice might play the pianoforte for us? We could dance before the gentlemen return,” Amelia enthused, putting Valeria at ease.
Beatrice appeared as if summoned, taking Valeria’s other arm. “I will not subject anyone to my ‘talents’ on the pianoforte.Iwould rather hearyouplay, Amelia. You are the one with the real gift.”
“No, I could not,” Amelia insisted shyly. “Perhaps, you could entertain us, Valery. I have not heard you play the pianoforte in anage.”
“Because I am terrible,” Valeria insisted. “Now, if there was a violin, that would be a different tale.”
She fixed her attention on the path ahead, and the trickle of guests making their way into the manor. She could not yet look Beatrice directly in the eye, worried about what she might see there—an affection blossoming, perhaps, for the duke of this very manor.
They did not like one another initially, but that means nothing.She swallowed past the catch in her throat.And I gave no indication that I…
She refused to finish the thought. It was pointless, and her troubled heart could not take it. Indeed, she would be better served focusing all of her attention on William, and saving her family seat with all that the baron could offer.
“I noticed you were finally able to have a civil conversation with His Grace,” she said, smiling at Beatrice with every morsel of willpower she possessed.
The younger woman wrinkled her nose, pulling a face. “Hardly.” She paused, patting Valeria’s hand gently. “I was only civil for you.”
“For me? What do you mean?” Valeria replied, her heart in her throat.
But Beatrice just chuckled, tugging her cousin forward. “Come, let us find you a violin!”
It had always been Duncan’s favorite part of the evening, when the ladies and gentlemen reconvened after the former had indulged in their gossip and the latter had done the same, but with cigars and liquor. Previously, he had used it as an opportunity to survey the gathering, deciding who might welcome a pursuit.
That night, however, he sought only one face among the guests.
She sat at a table by the garden doors, studying five fanned out cards with the utmost concentration, while a gentle breeze teased the wavy locks of auburn hair that framed her beautiful face. He almost laughed, for he had never been jealous of the wind before.
“Will you sit with us, Lockie?” Lionel asked, distracting him for a moment.
There seemed to be a small congregation gathering around a table at the back of the drawing room, where a vigorous game of chess was underway. Moving the black pieces, Valeria’s father. Moving the white, Lord Campbell.
Interesting…Duncan raised an eyebrow at the odd scene, wondering what was at stake. If Roger won, would he receive Valeria’s hand in marriage? He was almost tempted to challenge Aaron Maxwell himself, so that Roger could not.
“In a moment,” Duncan replied, heading toward the garden doors instead, where someone else had sought Valeria out before him.
“No… no, you should not get rid of that,” William insisted in a rather loud whisper, as he stood at Valeria’s side, eyeing her cards.
