“All but gone.” Valeria smiled sadly. “He is… the gentlest, most generous soul. When friends asked for loans, he gave them without question, and so, naturally, they asked for more and more. When friends asked if he would invest in speculations and endeavors to help them, he did so, having such faith in those friends. Now, those ‘friends’ have either vanished or pretend they do not know him. He has received nothing back, through all these years, and everything keeping us afloat has dwindled. Without me and a fortuitous marriage, we will be destitute.”
“But Mother would take you in,” Beatrice insisted, her voice wavering. “You could live with us.”
Valeria nodded, grateful that her cousin knew at last. “I know, but it would break my papa. He would never be the same if he lost that house, where he lived withher—the love of his life. It would be like losing her twice.”
“I am sorry, Valery.” Beatrice rushed forward, throwing her arms around her cousin. “I had no idea.”
Valeria held her back. “There was no reason for you to know, but… I need you to understand why I must do this, whetherI like the gentlemen or not.Thatis of no importance. Papa and Skeffington—theyare what matter.” She coughed a throaty laugh. “In truth, I did not want you to question me anymore. So, now you know.”
“Dearest cousin, do not hate me,” Beatrice murmured, pulling back, “but… I think itdoesstill matter. What if you come to resent Skeffington House for what it has cost you? What if you never wish to visit, because it only reminds you of happier times? What if you are miserable, and your sacrifice does not feel worth it anymore? Heavens, what if you end up bitter with your father because his choices led to your unhappiness?”
For a moment, Valeria stared blankly at her cousin, unable to comprehend what she was saying. Not once throughout the financial struggles, and the eventual realization that her marriage was the only solution, had she ever considered such things. Even now, she could not fathom a world where she would think ill of her father or Skeffington House.
But what if…?The question nipped at her brain like a barb, sinking deeper with each repetition.
After all, she had not yethadto think of such an existence, not in any meaningful way. She was still living at Skeffington with her father, oblivious to what marriage would be like, to what living in another residence would be like, adapting to the routines and preferences of a relative stranger.
“Maybe it is not my place, but… I needed to say it,” Beatrice mumbled sheepishly. “Itdoesmatter. You matter. And I wantyou to be happy. So, if there is any possible way, maybe you could marry a ferociously wealthy man that will make you happy too?”
Duncan’s dark blue eyes shimmered in Valeria’s mind, though the memory of his vibrant smile did very little to chase off the shadows of her worries. She pictured his arms around her, holding her tightly as if he could protect her from anything, but it left her feeling utterly exposed.
I cannot think of anyone but him, who could do both…
Yet, he had made his position clear when he had not kissed her. He was seeking a bride, a duchess, and he did not want it to be her.
Whatever the feelings were inside her that she could not suppress, they were undeniably one-sided. Maybe, he liked her company. Maybe, he had enjoyed their time together as much as she had, but it ended there.
Indeed, it was probably the most honorable thing he had done, putting a stop to their meetings before something happened that would turn her blooming affection into something stronger, that would only lead to a shattered heart later.
The crack he had inflicted was, at least, bearable.
“Isthere such a man?” Beatrice pressed, with such hope in her voice that it brought tears to Valeria’s eyes.
“No, Bea, I do not think there is,” she replied thickly. “Not for me, anyway.”
Making a hasty excuse that she needed some fresh air, while instructing Beatrice to get some rest, Valeria hurried out of the guest bedchamber as fast as she could. But she could never be faster than the future that awaited her with increasing imminence, the prospect of it chasing her down the stairs and all the way out into the cool, cloudless night.
Quite by accident, Valeria found herself wandering the faint, overgrown path that she had once followed. The world was silent, save for the occasional hoot of an owl and the soft whisper of the trees, and though the manor was filled to the brim with guests, she felt as if she was the only person in existence. A comforting feeling, albeit temporary.
Finding the beautiful meadow that she remembered passing, she paused at the fence and leaned against it, folding her arms across the top slat, her chin dropping onto her forearms. With the moonlight casting an otherworldly glow upon the Thornhill grounds, she admired the swaying heads of pretty wildflowers, like dancers whirling in a vast ball, waltzing around and around.
Will the Duchess of Thornhill stand here one day, gazing at this meadow? Is she someone who knows this path already?She squeezed her eyes shut, willing such thoughts to leave her alone before they ruined her peace and quiet.
“Valeria? Is that you?”
Her eyes snapped open, her heart jumping into her throat. She whirled around to find that she was not so alone after all, a figure standing a few paces away on the same echo of a path. The very last person she wished to see.
“If I had not seen you in daylight, I might suspect you to be a vampire, for you always seem to creep out at night,” she remarked, returning her stubborn attention to the wildflowers.
Duncan approached. “I was just about to say, we really ought to stop meeting like this, under the cover of night.”
“You alreadydidsay that,” she reminded him gruffly. “Unless I misunderstood the meaning of our last parting?”
He did not respond, coming to stand at her side. A notable gap remained between them, deliberately placed. Duncan was keeping his distance now; she had received the message loud and clear.
“You could not sleep?” he asked, after a moment.
She shook her head. “Too much champagne.”
