Page 24 of A Deviant Spinster for the Duke (The Gentlemen’s Club #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

D espite the location and the sight of Duncan chatting amiably with Beatrice, the luncheon on the lawn managed to transform itself into one of those perfect summer afternoons that stretched lazily into a balmy evening, brimming with good humor, lively conversation, exemplary food, and the sort of views that could steal anyone’s breath away.

Valeria could not remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much, nor eaten to the point where she thought she might burst. It made a welcome change to the sparse meals she had become accustomed to at home.

“You have a splendid appetite,” William enthused on her right, his cheeks rosy with contentment… and a glass too many of Duncan’s collection of delicious champagne. “If you were my baroness, you would never want for anything. You could have all the delicacies you desire. We could travel the continent, dining at our leisure, experiencing every culinary delight there is to be savored.”

Valeria almost choked on her own glass of champagne, uncertain of whether to laugh or take him seriously. “What a tempting scene you have conjured, Lord Tarporley.”

“William, please,” he urged. “Whenever anyone refers to me by my title, I expect my father to answer.”

She smiled, rather charmed by this less restrained version of him. Yet, even in this sweetened state, and him offering merry proposals to her, her heart remained unmoved. If she were to wed this man, she doubted her heart would ever stir.

But does that mean I would be unhappy?

Listening to him as he waxed poetic about tasting olives in Greece, sipping champagne in Champagne, enjoying freshly cooked fish by the beach in Naples, and sampling the interesting dishes of Austria, she could not be certain. Maybe, they would have a pleasant marriage of companionship, and that would not be so awful.

At that moment, she heard Amelia and Lionel laughing at something that one had whispered to the other, and felt her heart crack.

It was, perhaps, her own fault, but the moment she had seen her dearest friends fall in love with their respective husbands, she had come to expect it for herself, too. Not to mention the beautiful love that had been shared between her mother and father. Every example of marriage around her had been one of the highest respect and affection and unyielding love; she had never stood a chance of not wanting that for herself.

“Remind me to speak with your father in the coming days,” William said abruptly, his eyes glassy with the effects of the tart, bubbling beverage. “There is something I would eagerly like to talk to him about, if you might arrange a formal meeting?”

An invisible hand tightened around Valeria’s throat. “Of course, Lo—William,” she croaked, the sultry heat of the evening suddenly suffocating her. “After we have all settled in, perhaps.”

“Splendid!” William downed what was left in his glass in celebration, before waving it at a passing footman for another.

As sweat beaded on her brow, an icier perspiration prickling down the back of her neck, Valeria cast a sideways glance at the opposite end of the table. There, Duncan and Beatrice seemed to be deep in conversation once more; the latter smiling sweetly at the former, laughing at something he had said.

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, Duncan did have 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 were just coloring 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. I would rather hear you play, 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 an age. ”

“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.

She looked up at him, smiling tightly. “Thank you, Lord Tarporley, but I should hate for anyone to think that I have help. That would, I believe, be considered cheating.”

Her partner in the game was a lady that Duncan did not know, whose eyes wandered away from the competition. Her gaze settled on him for a moment, a sly smile curving up the corners of reddened lips, but he was only interested in one thing…

“Might I cut in?” he asked, resting a hand on the back of the lady’s chair. “I shall play in your honor. Win in your honor.”

The young lady blushed with delight, as he had hoped she might, and quickly rose from her chair. “I should relish having you as my champion, Your Grace. I confess, I am no good at cards.”

“Luckily for you, I have some talent in it,” Duncan replied, picking up the cards that the woman had set down.

He glanced over the top of them, hiding his smile from Valeria. She stared back at him with a different sort of fire burning in her eyes: the blaze of a challenge, stoked by the kindling of… anger, and the smoldering embers of an emotion he could not place. Or did not want to.

She is upset with me. He had seen it on her face while he had hesitated to kiss her, and when she had hurried from his townhouse that last, wrenching time. She had closed her eyes, giving him permission to kiss her, all but asking him to, and he had… embarrassed her. Who would not be hurt in such a situation, regardless of his reasoning?

After all, she did not know his reasons. To her, it must have felt like a brutal rebuffing, the mean conclusion to one of his games.

“I will not spare your pride, Your Grace,” Valeria said curtly.

He smiled. “I would not expect you to, Miss Maxwell. Shall I shuffle?”

“No, I think it would be wise for someone else to shuffle.” She took his cards as he tossed them into the middle of the table, and gathered them with the rest, handing the pack to the baron. “William, might you do the honors?”

William? Hearing that man’s name from her lips, spoken so intimately, stung like a wasp had snuck between Duncan’s ribs.

Wearing a foolish grin, the baron promptly began to shuffle the cards, cutting them and slotting them back into each other. All the while, he gazed down at Valeria. All the while, she gazed back up at him, ignoring Duncan altogether. A peculiar form of torture that he did not like one bit.

“Five cards each,” William said, skimming them across the table to their respective holders. “Best set wins.”

It was a game that Duncan knew well enough, mostly from his days at Eton and Cambridge, but he had to admit that he was somewhat rusty. Still, he was certain it would come back to him as he played.

“May the best player win,” Valeria said, her eyes lowering to her cards as she turned them toward herself.

Duncan did the same, revealing nothing on his face. “In that case, perhaps you ought to start, so you have at least one advantage.”

Her eyes flitted up in a scowl. “I shall start, but I will win on my own merits. I do not need to explain; you will see, soon enough.”

“Oh, but what will the prize be?” William asked abruptly.

A wide smile spread across Duncan’s face. “The winner gets to make one request of the loser.” He paused. “A debt, if you will. And the loser cannot deny the winner anything… within reason, of course.”

Valeria’s eyes widened, but before she could protest or say anything in reply, William clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Oh, this shall be quite the competition!”

And as those words rang out, a crowd began to gather. Beneath curious stares and whispers of excitement, Duncan and Valeria made their first moves.

“A royal run!” Valeria yelped victoriously, throwing her five cards down with a breathless flourish. “Do you see that, Dunc—Your Grace? A royal run!”

Her cheeks were rosy with the evening warmth and the heat of her enthusiasm, her eyes bright with the thrill of the game. Duncan doubted he had ever seen her look more exquisite, even in that gown of Italian velvet. And her smile… It was the sort of smile that one felt lucky to be in the presence of, even in gloating.

“I can see it,” he replied, grinning. “You have, indeed, beaten me. And it only took…” he glanced across the drawing room to the clock on the mantelpiece “… an hour to achieve victory.”

And it was one of the finest hours of my life, he neglected to add.

They had played a cutthroat, vigorous game, locked in a back and forth of soaring hope and crashing failures, both of them coming close to winning at several tense moments, only to have it snatched away by the other.

“An hour?” She blinked in astonishment.

“You played well,” he told her, setting down his cards. “Why, I am as exhausted as if I had been riding for hours. My mind has not had that sort of exercise in far too long.”

Their exuberance for the game, however, had sadly been lacking in their spectators. The two of them had begun the game with a fair and lively crowd, but as time had ticked on, and the pair had sunk deeper into the bubble of the competition, more and more watchers had wandered off toward other entertainment.

No one was watching now.

“Goodness, I did not even notice the time passing,” Valeria confessed, sitting back in her chair. “Where did everyone go?”

Duncan gestured vaguely. “They lost interest.”

“So, I am triumphant, and nobody is here to witness it but you?” Valeria pulled a face, though her enchanting green eyes glittered with a merriment he had feared he would not see again.

He began to shuffle the cards. “William tried to stay, but he began yawning, and I do not think he wanted you to see that, so he joined the gentlemen in the corner.”

Over Valeria’s shoulder, he noticed that William was not with the gentlemen at all, but talking to the young lady who had vacated her chair for Duncan.

“Shall we play another?” Valeria asked brightly, apparently unbothered by William’s absence.

Duncan could not deny that her indifference pleased him, but something held him back from agreeing to another game. The debt he already owed her. The part of it that had not yet been paid, regardless of what he had stated to her in his townhouse.

“Maybe, you ought to concentrate on a different game,” he said firmly. “The game of courtship. True, you have beaten me tonight, but I would hate to see you lose a greater prize in the meantime.”

He nodded toward William, watching with a knot in his stomach as Valeria turned to follow his line of sight.

“Yes,” she mumbled. “I think you might be right.”

She rose to her feet, pausing for a moment with her hand resting lightly on the back of her chair. “I know that I won, but I do not need the prize. You are not indebted to me anymore, in any way. I relieve you of this debt—I insist, this time.”

With that, she wandered off in William’s direction, though she did not approach him directly. Rather, she used the lessons that Duncan had taught her, drawing William’s attention to her as she feigned a stumble, putting on an embarrassed laugh that no man could possibly resist.

Duncan observed it all, a tight feeling swelling in his chest. I taught her far too well.