Swept Away By a Kiss (16 page)

“Oh, dear. I have been acquainted with him such a short time—”

“He and Valentine have been friends since Eton. You have been acquainted with him longer than with me.”

“That does not signify. We were children then.”

“You have had ample time to come to know each other here in town. Did something happen on that corsair, Valerie? Was there a man?”

The breath hissed from Valerie’s lungs. In five months, Valentine and Anna had asked her almost nothing about her experience, seeming to understand her unspoken desire not to discuss it.

She forced herself to laugh lightly.

“What do you mean, silly? I told you everything about that horrid vessel. My quarters were sufficiently comfortable and I was largely left to my own devices. At the time it was harrowing, of course, not knowing how it would end. But then the
Seafarer
showed up, there was a great deal of horrid cannon shot, and then they saved me. Now I am here with you and Valentine. Honestly, the whole ordeal barely registers as a bad dream to me now.”

Valerie narrowed her eyes, infusing them with a teasing glint she had long ago perfected in this very bedchamber’s mirror.

“Anna dear, have you been reading gothic novels? I used to think you were far too intellectual for those, but perhaps you are the one who has changed.” She uncurled from the chair and went to the armoire. From the corner of her eye she saw Anna draw her book from beneath the pillow and study the binding.

“A Bible?” the countess murmured in astonished tones. “In French, no less.” She brandished the volume like evidence. “Valerie, you are simply outrageous to imagine Valentine and I will continue to ignore this sort of thing. This is absolutely unlike you. You cannot possibly think I would believe you learned this from your stuffy Boston cousins, can you? Something must have happened upon that ship you haven’t told us.”

Valerie rifled through the row of gowns.

“I will wear the pinstripe muslin tonight. Lord Bramfield remarked upon my beauty twice when I wore it last.” She called her maid to help her dress, maintaining a steady stream of inane chatter all the while. Anna tapped her fingers upon her lap. Finally, she rose.

“Do not be too long.” She crossed to the door. “Valentine called the carriage for nine o’clock.”

When Anna had left, Valerie barely noticed what her maid buttoned her into. She could not bring herself to care. Still, Lord Bramfield seemed suitably impressed with her looks when she entered the crowded drawing room of the earl and countess of March’s town residence.

“Your loveliness is especially refreshing when it shines amidst so many grizzled countenances and blue-stockinged ankles, Lady Valerie.” Timothy’s blue eyes twinkled. He gestured to her companions engaged in animated discussion. “How you can endure this prattle, I cannot fathom. Give me the theater or a ball any night over this prosing on effete topics.”

Valerie allowed herself a slight smile of appreciation. The viscount’s coat of sky-blue superfine suited his animated eyes and shining copper hair styled forward in the latest fashion.

“If you do not like the conversation, my lord,” she whispered, “why are you here?”

His gaze sparkled.

“The company drew me.”

Valerie held her smile.

“You should attend to this particular debate. It is not precisely elevated. They are discussing horses.”

“My greatest apologies. I became distracted by your beauty. But I will now attend more enthusiastically if you wish.” He grinned and, raising his strong voice, entered the conversation. “I disagree entirely, Fredericks. That criminal Bonaparte rides an Arab, doesn’t he? A little mount like that would be too delicate for our august prince. You are a horsewoman, Lady Alverston. What mount do you imagine would best suit a prince regent should our nation find itself, as it were, saddled with one in the coming months?”

The others laughed. A hand touched Valerie’s elbow and she pivoted. Lady March stood beside her. With a smile she drew Valerie from the group, and they settled upon a nearby sofa.

“I have wanted to chat with you for weeks, Lady Valerie. I hope you do not mind me dragging you away from your beau.”

Valerie suppressed a sigh of frustration. All of society seemed to know Lord Bramfield had courted her since her return. The match was a done thing to everyone but her.

“No need to apologize, my lady. My friends were discussing horses.”

The countess grinned conspiratorially, her six decades resting about her eyes in appealing crinkles.

“I cannot tolerate the beasts, myself. You don’t admire them either, dear?”

Valerie shrugged. “I prefer boat travel.”

“Ah, yes.” For a moment it seemed that Lady March’s gaze sharpened. She placed her hand upon Valerie’s. “I hope your preference will not prohibit you from coming to our home in the country later this month. The Captain and I are gathering a party at Castlemarch for the holiday. I have already invited Lord and Lady Alverston, but I wanted to proffer the invitation to you personally.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Of course Valerie would attend. She would go anywhere to avoid returning home. Valentine might be lord of Alverston now, but for Valerie the corridors and chambers of Alverston Hall would forever reverberate with the late earl’s condemnations.

“I think our little gathering will be well suited to your taste,” the countess added. “There will be a great many interesting people in attendance, including my godson, who, like yourself, has just returned from travels abroad.”

Valerie smothered another exhalation. The countess must be yet another fond sponsor of a gentleman hopeful of finding a well-dowered bride.

“I will be pleased to make his acquaintance,” she responded properly. Always proper. She ached to shout, scream, dance upon her forehead in the middle of the floor, simply to do something improper. She’d thought returning home would cure her long unhappiness, her numb loneliness. She had the daily affection of Valentine and Anna now, and she loved them so dearly. But she had never felt more alone and restless, not even in Boston.

She missed him. She missed a man she barely knew, whose gaze and touch and the fire he ignited in her blood would remain in her memory forever.

“I am so glad you will come. Oh, dear, there is the Captain looking for me. What could he want?” Lady March rose hastily. “Dear girl, I look forward to seeing you at Castlemarch in a few weeks.”

Valerie stood to rejoin Anna, and nearly ran headlong into a white satin waistcoat.

“Ah, Lady Valerie. As beautiful as ever.” The Marquess of Hannsley took her hand in large, smooth fingers and lifted it high to his lips.

Valerie had met the wealthy duke’s heir at an earlier salon. Later that evening, the marquess was expelled for calling out his cousin over a quarrel concerning mercantile taxes, a minor upset, but apparently not uncommon at the Countess of March’s political gatherings.

“Good evening, my lord.” She tugged at her hand, but he held it fast. He was extraordinarily tall, and bent to come close to her.

“A lovely lady like yourself must crave more suitable entertainments than listening to a group of overly opinionated politicians.”

“Oh, I don’t mind it so much.” It kept her mind too busy to dwell upon memories.

The marquess’s thick, overtly sensuous lips curved down at the corners.

“I could not be mistaken, could I?”

“Mistaken, my lord?”

“You were speaking intimately with Lady March just now.” He peered at Valerie. “But you do not know the purpose of these salons, do you?”

Valerie shook her head.

“My cousin hosts these gatherings hoping to dredge up support for insurgents and criminals, celebrating the cause of revolutionaries.” Hannsley studied her from beneath heavy lids.

Valerie hadn’t known about Lady March’s radical interests. But given her own spotted past, she didn’t much care. In any case, the Marquess of Hannsley seemed disturbed enough for the both of them. His hooded eyes looked downright threatening.

“Such plain speaking, my lord,” she said, a sticky chill gathering at the base of her neck. “Are you certain I do not share Lady March’s views?”

Lord Hannsley smiled reassuringly.

“Of course not. I must have suffered momentary madness to think you would concern yourself with such matters. A beautiful woman’s head is never filled with more than the lightest of concerns.”

His smile widened. Valerie stared, at once mesmerized and repelled.

“Some ladies like to ponder weightier topics,” she suggested. Some ladies could not avoid it after spending days aboard a pirate ship crewed by revolutionary former slaves.

Hannsley shook his head, as though gently chastising an errant child.

“Not if their husbands control them as they should.”

“I regret to be the one to tell you, Hannsley, but certain ladies will not be controlled, and certain gentlemen are glad of it,” Lord Bramfield boomed at Valerie’s shoulder.

Lord Hannsley drew a silver snuffbox from his waistcoat pocket and lifted a pinch of tobacco dust beneath his nose. With polite contempt, he sniffed and sneezed.

“A gentleman, Bramfield, would be played for a fool if he allowed such behavior in his woman. Please excuse me, madam.” The marquess bowed and sauntered away as the butler called the announcement for dinner.

Valerie met Timothy’s unrepentant glance. He offered his arm into the dining room.

“Do you think I should have called him out for saying such an outrageous thing to me?” He chuckled.

Valerie smiled, an odd sort of tight relief settling in her.

“I think you delight in disturbing people’s composure, my lord.”

“Hannsley is a pompous popinjay. And I know at least one lady who has historically taken great pleasure in the same kind of behavior of which she now accuses me.”

“How uncivil of you to mention that, sir.”

“I confess I have no justification for such behavior,” he admitted as he pulled her chair out before a hovering footman could act. Against her neck Timothy’s breath stirred the tendrils of hair cascading from her coiffure. “Unless it is that I have indeed become a fool for a certain lady who refuses to be controlled.”

Valerie laughed lightly in response.

Hours later, as she lay cold and rigid upon her feather bed, sleep came slowly.

Chapter 17

N
ot far from its well-preserved medieval village, the red-and-gold brick Elizabethan mass of Castlemarch rose solid and square around an ancient keep, the remainders of its architectural origins. Stocky columns supporting a shallow porch above an entrance stair rose to rows of mullioned windows, the entire building topped with intricately fashioned crenellations. The Alverston carriage drew up behind a brace of elegant vehicles clustered in the broad, curving drive. Grooms tended cattle, and smartly liveried footmen bustled about with trunks and bandboxes, wisps of snow twisting in the frigid air.

Valerie entered the castle’s ancient hall behind her brother and Anna. Across the broad chamber, the Earl and Countess of March moved from a group of guests and came forward to greet them.

“Welcome, ladies,” the earl said. “What a great pleasure to receive you here. Alverston, you lucky fellow. Your travels must have been enjoyable with two such enchanting companions.”

“My sister fidgeted throughout the entire journey. But we made do.” Valentine winked. Valerie pinched her brother’s sleeve.

“I cannot believe that of such a seasoned traveler,” Lady March said. “How beautiful you look after so many hours in a carriage, dear girl.” She took Valerie’s arm. “Most of our guests have already arrived. Before long the castle will be full, just the way the Captain and I like it best for the holidays.” She patted Valerie’s hands fondly. “You and Lady Alverston must wish to refresh yourselves after the long carriage ride. I will have the housekeeper show you to your rooms. May I send up my companion, Amelia, to help you unpack? She is a delightful necessity to me. Helps me remember where I have put my head sometimes.”

The countess’s acute gaze belied her claim of forgetfulness, and her voice sounded peculiar, but Valerie smiled as expected.

“My maid is following in the carriage behind us. But thank you, ma’am.”