Page 5 of A Deviant Spinster for the Duke (The Gentlemen’s Club #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

“ I cannot believe you came all this way,” Valeria said, beaming with delight as she poured tea into three cups. “You must be mad, the pair of you.”

It had been three days since Duncan’s visit, so when there had been a knock at the door and the butler had hurried in to inform Valeria that she had visitors, she had assumed that it was the duke, defying her wishes. So, it had been a rather wonderful surprise to see her friends in the drawing room, waiting to greet her with open arms.

Amelia stole a raspberry tart from the tray and nibbled daintily at the crimped edges. “It is not mad to want to see a dear friend, Valery.”

“Letters simply cannot compare to seeing your lovely face,” Isolde agreed, receiving her cup of tea gratefully. “And I have so missed this manor. I always forget just how beautiful it is. I think it might be the finest house in England.”

Valeria quirked an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that you think this manor is finer than Davenport Towers? It is half the size!”

“That is its charm,” Isolde insisted. “There is no peace like being here, though I suspect it has more than a little to do with the fact that you are here.”

Valeria blushed with happiness as she sipped her tea and stared at her two dearest friends. To her, being with these women was the greatest peace, regardless of where they were. Society events had not been the same since Amelia and Isolde had withdrawn into their own lives. Indeed, Valeria’s life had not been the same. Quieter, emptier, less joyful.

Outside on the lawns, the shriek of merry children filled the crisp spring air. Amelia’s son, Daniel, and Isolde’s son, Joseph, haring around the old oak tree, chased by their respective fathers, Lionel and Edmund. They were joined by Isolde’s sisters, Teresa and Prudence, and Lionel’s sister, Rebecca. A glorious display of family, brought together in the home that Valeria loved so much: her family by affection, if not blood.

“I have half a mind to tell Edmund that we are not continuing on to London at all,” Isolde said with a sigh. “Yes, I think we shall spend the Season here instead, enjoying the beautiful grounds, your company, and the quiet of this corner of the world.”

“I doubt Teresa and Rebecca would be very happy with that,” Valeria pointed out, chuckling. “Have you forgotten already what it is like to be young and bored, sequestered in family estates, far from the excitement of balls and parties?”

Isolde waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, Teresa would be thrilled. She would burrow away in your library and refuse to emerge until the winter, rather like our dear Amelia once was.”

Amelia shuddered. “ Still am. I am grateful to be out of it. Even now, I hear the word ‘ball’ and my stomach drops. If it were not for Rebecca, I would spend every month of every year at Westyork.”

Rebecca had been out in society for a year already, and though she had been inundated with proposals of courtship, she had refused them all, taking her time to find the right match. As the sister of one of the wealthiest men in England, she had that luxury. Meanwhile, at almost nine-and-ten, it was Teresa’s debut, and the only thing she had asked was that she be allowed to attend the theater.

“I do not envy them the stress of it,” Isolde agreed, her expression immediately shifting to something like panic. “Of course, they have all the time in the world to find husbands for themselves. There is no rush. They could reach your age unmarried, dear Valery, and still be content and successful, just as you are.”

Amelia nodded. “I think Rebecca is following your example. You have shown them that they should not settle for less than perfection, and if perfection does not come along, that is quite all right.”

Valeria had no choice but to laugh. “You do not need to be so cautious with your words, my dear friends. I know the situation that I am in, and I know that I am technically in competition with those darling girls out there.” She took another sip of her tea. “I wish them well, as I have always done. I have no real intention of being their rival. Ever.”

“Does this mean you have… given up?” Isolde asked, picking up a little cake studded with currants.

“On the contrary,” Valeria replied. “I have every faith that this year will be my Season.”

After all, I have a secret weapon. An irksome one, an infuriating one, but, hopefully, a useful one.

Amelia perked up, tilting her head in curiosity. “You are more determined?”

“I am.” Valeria considered telling them that it was not exactly a voluntary decision, but she saw no reason to spoil the mood of the early afternoon.

She saw her friends so rarely, after all; she did not want them to worry about her, when they had so much to be joyful about. Besides, if Duncan fulfilled his promise as he had said he would, then there would be no reason for anyone to fret anymore.

“Then, you should come to London with us!” Isolde urged excitedly. “You can come to the theater, attend the balls and dinner parties with the girls, and find yourself a husband at last.”

Amelia nodded eagerly. “Wherever Rebecca goes, she is swarmed by potential suitors—you could use that to your advantage. She is not interested in any of them just yet, so you could swoop in and claim one for yourself.”

“I will not use dear Rebecca as honey to attract the flies, Amelia,” Valeria chided playfully. “I still have some semblance of pride remaining. If a gentleman does not approach me because he wants to, then I fear he would not be the suitor for me.”

“Oh, goodness!” Amelia gasped. “That is not what I meant at all! Of course, you can still attract excellent gentlemen of your own accord. You are as beautiful now as you were at your debut, and quite the most amusing person I have ever met. Naturally, you would need no assistance. I did not mean?—”

“I was teasing, Amelia,” Valeria interrupted with a soft chuckle. “I am well aware that gentlemen hear ‘five-and-twenty’ and run for the hills, regardless of how I look or how entertaining I am, but I am not without hope. You shall just have to trust that I have it in hand.”

“We have every faith in you, dearest Valery,” Isolde said. “Now, what do you say about coming with us? It shall be like old times again, the three of us together in London! I know that Joseph would be glad to spend more time with you.”

Valeria shook her head. “I am afraid it will not be possible. I may join you there in due course, but my cousin Beatrice will be arriving sometime in the next fortnight. Her mother is at her wit’s end, so we are to be her watchers for a while.”

“Beatrice? Oh, but that is perfect! She can spend time with Rebecca and Teresa, making friends.” Isolde clapped her hands together. “She has been out in society for several years, has she not?”

Valeria pulled a face. “There was some… incident and, as punishment, her mother has forbidden her from engaging in society this year.”

“But she was out in society.” Isolde frowned. “I remember it. She was there at that dinner party, when Edmund and I were still being fools about our affection for one another. She danced. She gave me her words of wisdom about attraction and butterflies. Why, Amelia, you said that she was formidable with gentlemen, making them flee from her with her sharp tongue.”

A prickle of unease caught Valeria in the ribs. “She has technically been out in society since she was five-and-ten, causing all manner of trouble, as you well know.” She cast a look at Amelia, who knew Beatrice better than Isolde. “Her mother has since realized that she was out in society far too young, and has been far too wayward with that privilege, and so she is to be sent here instead of attending the usual events. I believe there were complaints, you see.”

“What manner of incident? What sort of complaints?” Amelia asked warily.

“But I assumed she must have been at least eight-and-ten!” Isolde cried, blinking in disbelief. “She behaved as if she was much older. Why, I thought she was older than me, at the time. She spoke as if she was.”

Valeria nodded wearily. “She was left alone a lot in her youth, which I suspect forced her to mature quicker. No one kept an eye on her, so she did as she pleased. And when she asked if she could make her debut at five-and-ten, I suppose her parents saw no issue, believing she would soon become someone else’s problem. Of course, that did not happen, for gentlemen are terrified of her.”

“Poor thing,” Isolde murmured, frowning.

“As for the incident,” Valeria continued. “I believe she caught wind of a betrayal, by a gentleman to a friend of hers, and she may or may not have turned all of his horses and his dogs loose, before sneaking into his bedchamber and cutting the legs off every trouser at the knee, and putting holes in the rest of his clothing. There was also talk of a carp being stuffed into his pillow but, as I say, that cannot be confirmed or denied.”

Amelia blinked slowly. “Heavens…”

“But I am looking forward to seeing her,” Valeria said with a mischievous smile. “Whether or not I shall bring her to London—we shall see.”

“I am evermore certain that Teresa would benefit greatly from such influence. Perhaps, Beatrice could bring her out of her shell. Prudence, however…” Isolde chuckled. “Maybe it would be wiser to keep Prudence and Beatrice away from each other, or society itself may be burned to the ground!”

Amelia relaxed into a smile of her own. “Rebecca, too. She is… somewhat rebellious and needs no further encouragement. She is already destined to be exactly like her grandmother.”

The three ladies settled into less fraught chatter, discussing the beauty of the Westyork gardens, the repair of Davenport Towers’ northern wing, before dipping here and there into nostalgia.

They spoke of balls they had attended together, and how Valeria used to have to prize Amelia away from the wall, where she preferred to hide and read. They spoke of Isolde and her sisters, and how they liked to torment their only brother, Vincent, often driving him to despair.

“Has he not yet found a bride?” Valeria asked, considering possibilities.

Isolde laughed wildly. “Goodness, no! The poor boy would not know where to begin with flirtation, and he is far too busy being an earl and a fatherly figure to even glance at a woman with any intent.”

Perhaps the duke could share some of his flirting with Vincent. Valeria smirked, certain that Duncan could survive without a portion of his ‘charms.’ It would certainly make her encounters with him easier if he got rid of some of his flirtatious habits, so she would not have to roll her eyes so much.

“Once he has Prudence and Teresa married, I suspect he will start to search for a countess, will he not?” Amelia prompted.

Isolde shrugged. “One can hope. Of course, his lack of interest has not stopped our mother from harassing him about it. The girls have a wager—how many minutes it takes during breakfast for her to mention it. The quickest thus far has been thirty-six seconds. Vincent had not even sat down.”

The ladies laughed, but Valeria was not as amused as her friends.

It would be a simple option. Vincent is wealthy, he is well-connected, he is known to me already, and he would be kind to me. Moreover, it would make Valeria a true member of Isolde’s family. But the more she thought about it, the more the notion made her feel queasy. She knew Vincent Wilds too well, and there was something about marrying a friend’s brother that was decidedly unpleasant. Weird.

Just then, Lionel appeared in the drawing room doorway, with Daniel half asleep on his shoulders.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said with a fond smile at his wife, Amelia. “Prudence and Rebecca are complaining that we will be late to the theater, and I suspect Teresa has the same worry, though she is not saying so. I should hate to rush you, but I think we must leave soon.”

Isolde jumped up. “Where is Joseph?”

“Asleep on the grass,” Lionel replied. “These boys have exhausted one another… and their fathers, too.”

His laughter made Amelia’s face light up, a privilege to behold. Valeria observed them with a smile, wondering if her hurried marriage would ever be anything like theirs. Or like that of Isolde and Edmund, who were so besotted with one another that it was like staring into the sun when they were together.

“Go on,” Valeria urged, finishing off her cup of tea. “I will not forgive myself if you are delayed because I have kept you too long. The young ones must have their theater, while this old maid has herbs to pick.”

Lionel smiled. “You will join us in London?”

“I am considering it,” Valeria replied, so grateful that both of her best friends had found such rare love; she could not have relinquished them to marriage for anything less.

Within a matter of ten minutes, Valeria was standing out on the bottom step of the wisteria-draped porch, raising her hand in a wave as her friends all departed. They were in three carriages—the Duke and Duchess of Davenport in one, with their son; the Earl and Countess of Westyork in the second, with their son; and the girls in the third, their shrieks of giddiness drifting out into the spring air.

“Will you calm yourselves!” Teresa’s voice cut through, bringing a smile to Valeria’s lips. In many ways, they reminded Valeria of her friendship with Amelia and Isolde.

They will certainly have their hands full in the city.

Waving to them until the retinue had turned out of the gates, vanishing behind a tall hedge of boxwood, Valeria stayed on the porch a while longer. She inhaled the warm, fresh air and gazed at her lovely part of the world, praying that she had it within her means to save it all.

She was about to turn, when the thud of hoofbeats caught her attention. Whipping back around, she raised her hand to her brow to block out the sunlight, squinting toward the rider that raced down the driveway toward her.

Is it him? Her heart jumped a little, an echo of how it had thundered the other day, when Duncan had moved too close to her; how it had hammered against her ribs when he had asked if he could just kiss her instead of being her matchmaker. It had been out of anger at his impertinence, of course, or annoyance and embarrassment that he thought she could be charmed by his transparent antics.

The black feather was still in the vase of lavender, untouched: a solid reminder that she had not imagined his appearance in her home.

“Miss Maxwell?” The rider brought his mount to a halt, revealing himself to be a simple messenger.

She relaxed, taking a breath. “Yes, that is me.”

“A letter for you.” He dipped into this bag and handed it over, tipping his hat to her before he urged his horse back into a gallop, kicking up dust as he went.

Valeria stared down at the letter for a moment, tracing the ink of her name with her fingertips, admiring the elegant cursive of handwriting she did not recognize.

Turning it over, she broke the wax seal that bore Duncan’s crest, and opened the letter out, reading his words in the soft spring sunlight.

Dearest Dark Angel,

I garnered you an invitation to the Croston Ball. Be there at eight o’clock. I will send a carriage for you… and a gown. If we are to get you married, you must look the part of irresistible temptress. Do not argue.

I shall see you tomorrow.

Lockie.

She heard the laugh in every written word, sensed the glint of mischief in his unusually blue eyes, and thought it wise he had not delivered the message himself. It would have ruined her afternoon, for who was he—this stranger—to tell her what to do and what to wear?

Oh, I shall argue, she warned silently. You may count on that.