Page 12 of A Deviant Spinster for the Duke (The Gentlemen’s Club #3)
CHAPTER TWELVE
I t had been a week since Valeria’s lessons with Duncan, and the seasons were beginning to change. Spring slipped seamlessly into summer, the days longer and warmer, the new buds blooming, the world brimming with potential in those heady afternoons and balmy evenings.
Yet, Valeria had been given no opportunity to put her education into practice. Her father had returned with a terrible cold that had put her plans for courtship on the shelf, her days filled with nursing him back to health. After all, there was no one else to do it, for upon her father’s return, the butler had been released from his employment, and Mrs. Mitford had been partially released from hers. From now on, she would work just two days a week; it was all the Maxwells could afford.
“Papa, what are you doing out of bed?” Valeria asked, looking up from the correspondence that had arrived with the morning post.
Aaron shambled into the drawing room, a bit more color in his cheeks. “I cannot lie there a moment longer. I promise, I am much improved.” He sank down onto the settee, frowning at the jacquard upholstery. “I should have someone come and appraise this. We could last well enough until the winter if we sell some things.”
“It is something to consider,” Valeria agreed, holding up the letters that had arrived. “But allow me another few weeks before we start getting rid of heirlooms and whatnot. I have enough invitations to see every evening occupied until the end of August.”
A flurry of such letters had appeared on the post tray over the past few days, an almost overwhelming quantity.
Aaron frowned. “In London or the counties?”
“London, unfortunately.” Valeria grimaced. “That being said, I know that the Viscount and Viscountess of Mentrow are not using their apartments this Season, given that Catherine is heavily with child. I took the liberty of writing to them, though I am still awaiting a reply.”
Noah and Catherine had become reasonable friends of Valeria’s, by way of Isolde, who had almost married Noah once upon a time. If Edmund had not confessed his affection when he did, Noah would never have found happiness with Catherine, and Isolde would not have had the gift of true love. As such, there were no hard feelings about that past engagement, their friendship blossoming where marriage had not.
Of course, Valeria could have stayed with her friends in London—they would have welcomed her eagerly—but if she was summoned to another lesson, she did not want to have to explain why she was sneaking out. Nor would her father’s pride permit him to reside under someone else’s roof, especially not with his niece in tow—the three of them needed space of their own.
“And when is Beatrice due to arrive?” Aaron asked, his expression tense. “Would it be wise to take her to London? I suppose I could watch over her here, while you venture to the city.”
Valeria waved a hand. “She will do perfectly well in London. Why, I am convinced that she will be no trouble at all, for it is the feeling of restriction that makes her behave as she does. If she feels she is at greater liberty, I am sure she will be on her best behavior.”
Her mother is the problem. She did not say so out loud, but it was common knowledge that Beatrice’s mother—Aaron’s sister—was more concerned with her own entertainment than watching over her daughter. Oblivious to the fact that her absences, and her own ill behavior in society, were mostly responsible for Beatrice acting out.
“I thought we might frame it as a new debut for her,” Valeria continued. “A proper one, this time.”
Aaron pulled a face. “If you think it will work, I have no argument.” He paused. “You did not say when she was arriving.”
“Today, I believe,” Valeria replied, sifting through the letters to find the one that had arrived from her mother to say exactly that.
“Cousin!” Beatrice shouted, tearing out of the carriage and across the gravel, hitching up her skirts as she ran.
Valeria could not help but laugh. “It is a delight to see you, too.”
She opened out her arms to receive her eager cousin, the younger woman pulling Valeria into the tightest of hugs. It had been months since they had seen one another, and though Valeria was somewhat anxious about wrangling the rebellious young woman, there was a thrum of excitement too. The world was always livelier with Beatrice around.
“Free at last!” Beatrice cried, laughing. “I truly thought Mama was going to put bars on my window and lock my door, throwing away the key. Thank you, dearest cousin, for saving me. I fear I would have lost my mind if I had spent another moment in that house.”
Valeria held her cousin at arm’s length, looking her over. “You do not look as if you have been a persecuted prisoner.”
“Yes, well, a gilded cage is still a cage, cousin.” Beatrice grinned. “Now, what is the first exciting thing on our agenda? Are we to dine at a duke’s house? Are we to dance all night at a ball? Are we to attend a country gathering, or race across the grounds on horseback? I have all my gowns and riding attire. Mama did not want me to bring them, but I snuck them into the carriage without her knowing.”
Valeria hesitated, suddenly doubtful of her ability to keep her cousin in line. “Actually, we are to journey to London this afternoon. I realize you have already journeyed rather far, but… I thought you might be bored here, and the other girls are already in the capital.”
And I cannot have you seeing that we have no staff, lest your mother find out. It would be easier to hide the truth in London, for Noah and Catherine had written to inform Valeria that she was welcome to use their apartments, and the staff that they already had there. The letter had simply been at the bottom of the extensive pile, hiding.
“Wonderful news!” Beatrice crowed, her eyes alight with excitement and mischief. “Why, this is perfect. I do not need to bother to unpack my belongings.”
Valeria chuckled. “No, indeed.” She paused. “I thought that we might introduce you to society again. You never had a proper debut, and you were out in society far earlier than you should have been. As Teresa and Rebecca are also debutantes this Season, I figured you might like to accompany them. I, of course, will escort you to events with your uncle. What do you say?”
The giddy brightness of Beatrice’s face softened into a fond glow, her eyes misting over as she looked at her cousin. Her hand moved to her heart, and, for a moment, she dropped her gaze. “I should like that very much, dear cousin.” She tapped her chest with her palm. “I doubt anyone will realize that I am already technically out . No one has ever noticed; they think I am someone’s pesky sister, who has snuck into a ball.”
“Well then, you shall be my pesky cousin, who has been properly introduced at last,” Valeria promised, feeling a pinch of sorrow for the younger woman.
It was obvious to Valeria that Beatrice’s antics over the past few years were a desperate cry for attention and affection, from parents who barely realized they had a daughter. Like most in society, they had hoped for a son and heir, but the years had gone by, and Beatrice’s mother had never had another child. Disappointed, they had clearly decided to pretend they had no children at all.
“Thank you, Valery,” Beatrice said, raising her gaze. “I promise, I shall not let you down.”
Valeria smiled. “No setting anyone’s horses loose, do you understand?”
“I swear it.” Beatrice grinned. “Although, I should say, no one has been able to prove that it was me. In fact, I do not know what you are talking about.”
Putting an arm around Beatrice’s shoulders, Valeria steered her into the house. “Let us keep it that way,” she said, laughing.
While Valeria would have been perfectly content to spend a day or so settling into the apartments on the very edge of Mayfair, Beatrice was not the sort of lady who liked to waste a moment on peace and quiet. Not when there were places to visit, adventures to be had, and acquaintances to be made.
Indeed, the girl seemed twice as exuberant as usual, now that she had the promise of a fresh start and a fresh debut ahead of her.
“This is what London is for, cousin!” she insisted, pulling Valeria along the pathways of Hyde Park. “It is summer, it is a beautiful day; it is no time to be cooped up inside.”
Valeria sighed. “And you should have a parasol, or you shall freckle.”
“Then, I shall look like you, and be perfectly glad of it,” Beatrice protested. “Freckles are beautiful. I shall not hear anything to the contrary. Every time I see a lady with a dusting of them on her face, I think her all the prettier for it.”
“I agree,” Valeria replied, “but your mother shall kill me if I return you with a complexion anything short of ghostly.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Then, it is fortunate that I do not care what my mother has to say. Why, she would not even notice if my face resembled a speckled egg; she would be too busy trying to powder the wrinkles from her own.”
“Very well,” Valeria said in a softer tone, “but at least attempt to stay in the shade of the trees now and then.”
“Consider it a deal,” Beatrice replied, the two women continuing their promenade in a companionable mood.
They spoke of the weather and the flowers and the trees, they remarked upon the other people who wandered by, they talked of philosophy and literature and music. All the while, Valeria wondered why it could not be as easy to speak to gentlemen that way. If potential suitors talked to her of everything and anything, sharing opinions, she had no doubt she would have been married years ago.
And I would not be relying upon the generosity of friends, petrified for the future, terrified of losing my home and seeing my dear papa in destitution. It kept her awake at night. Her father, too, for she had heard him pacing at all hours when he thought the household was asleep.
“Valery! Beatrice!” a familiar voice cut through the peace of the afternoon, drawing Valeria’s attention to a blanket in the shade of a plane tree.
A group of ladies were gathered upon it, picnicking at their leisure: Isolde, Amelia, Rebecca, Teresa, and Prudence. Where the gentlemen and the two boys were, Valeria did not know, but the sight of her friends cheered her spirits like nothing else.
“At last, we are all together,” Isolde said joyfully, as Valeria and Beatrice settled down onto a spare corner of blanket. “I am so pleased you decided to come to London, after all.”
“Was there any question of it?” Beatrice asked, looking a little worried for a moment.
Amelia smiled. “Valery was in two minds.”
“Because I am such trouble?” Beatrice said with a knowing grin. “My cousin should know, I am only trouble for my parents. I would never dare to cause her distress or be any blight upon her reputation.”
Valeria put her hand on Beatrice’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know that, dear cousin. I was not in two minds because of you—not entirely. It was more to do with accommodations.”
“I cannot understand why your father would sell the townhouse,” Isolde said, shaking her head. “I realize he does not visit London often, but a townhouse in Mayfair is always a grand thing to possess.”
Valeria’s cheeks warmed. “He has always hated excess, and anything deemed unnecessary. I suppose he thought that another family could make better use of it.”
She told her friends everything, but that was one thing she could not bring herself to disclose. If they knew the dire situation she was in, they would try to remedy it for her, and she refused to take their charity. They had families and concerns of their own; she did not need them worrying over her.
“I think that is very noble,” Amelia said, offering a plate of strawberries to Valeria.
She was about to take one, when a loud buzzing jolted her upright, a blur darting back and forth in front of her face. Yelping loudly, she wafted her hands at the wretched creature, but it would not be dissuaded. The wasp seemed determined to sting her, coming so close she swore she could feel the tiny gust of its beating wings against her face.
She leaped to her feet, batting wildly at the insect, stumbling away from the picnic blanket… and straight into the path of what, at first, she thought was a tree.
A hand caught her by the arm, while a handkerchief whipped out, striking the wasp. The creature fell to the grass, twitching, dazed but alive, and hopefully ready to think twice about stinging unsuspecting ladies.
“Thank you,” Valeria wheezed, turning to discover the identity her savior.
Her eyes widened as she looked upon a reasonably familiar face; his hair even redder than her own, his eyes a pleasant brown, his cheeks dotted with many a freckle. He was half a head taller than her, and slender of build: Roger Grove, the Viscount of Campbell. A gentleman she had encountered many times over the years, their conversations always brief but friendly.
“Are you well, Miss Maxwell?” Roger asked, his voice concerned.
Valeria recovered quickly. “I believe so.” Ordinarily, she would have left it there, but Duncan’s teachings swept into her head. “Unless, of course, that wicked creature decides to summon friends to teach me a lesson. I fear it will demand a duel now, and I lack the sting to win the strawberry.”
Roger’s brown eyes widened slightly, a smile gracing his lips. “I would gladly take your place, for I am quite adept with a handkerchief.”
“I noticed,” she replied, fluttering her eyelashes a little. Testing what she had learned on the first gentleman that had given her the opportunity.
She had always liked Roger well enough, though not in any romantic capacity… but he was there, and she needed the practice. What was the harm in trialing what she had studied with Duncan? Indeed, it could only be to her benefit to make her first attempt with someone familiar instead of a complete stranger.
“Be careful of where you step,” he warned gently, his hand still on her arm, guiding her around the fallen wasp.
She smiled. “Thank you, Lord Campbell. You are too kind.”
“Not at all, Miss Maxwell.” He let go of her arm, staring at her curiously for a moment. “Are you… enjoying the afternoon? It is a pleasant day, is it not?”
Valeria nodded. “Very pleasant indeed. My friends and I were just celebrating the fact that summer has come at last. And you, Lord Campbell? What brings you to the park on this lovely day?”
“I am on my way to a rather dull meeting,” he replied, glancing at the picnickers. “I daresay I would much rather be reveling in the sunshine with friends and good food. Perhaps, another day, I might… join your party?” He hastened to add, “when there are other gentlemen present, of course.”
“Certainly,” she replied. “The more, the merrier.”
He dipped his head. “Well then, I hope to see you again soon. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, and do try not to enrage any more wasps.”
“I will do my best,” she told him, watching in confused surprise as he wandered off down the main thoroughfare of the park… and looked back once, a smile upon his face.
Is it really that easy? She was astounded, her confidence positively soaring.
The only trouble was, she did not like Roger that way. Had never thought of him as a prospect. Even now, she felt nothing, not a single giddy rush or flutter in her stomach. Why, she had felt more in Duncan’s drawing room while putting on a performance of interest than she had just now, enduring a real encounter.
“Who was that?” Beatrice asked, appearing at her side.
Valeria swallowed thickly. “An acquaintance.”
“A suitor?” Beatrice wiggled her eyebrows.
But Valeria shook her head. “No, nothing of the sort.”
And that, she feared, might well become a problem. She had learned how to accept the approaches of gentlemen, she had learned how to flirt, she had learned how to hold their attention. But there was one hard lesson ahead of her, one that could not be taught: how to accept that butterflies were a luxury, and that love might have no place in her future marriage.
She glanced back at the picnic blanket, where Amelia and Isolde were conversing. Her heart weighed heavy with understanding, for what they had found with their husbands was not necessarily on the cards for Valeria.
And I am running out of time…