Page 21 of An Unforeseen Kiss (Captivating Kisses #4)

V al finished up his meeting with his steward and returned to his study.

His step had been lighter for the past couple of days, things being somewhat settled between him and Miss Snow.

She had not shown one sign of being prickly in his presence.

In turn, he had been a perfect gentleman, one eager to be in her company.

He took a seat behind his desk and found that Quigby had placed the post atop it. He flipped through until he found one in Con’s handwriting and broke the seal.

My dear Millbrooke (Oh, that sounds rather stuffy and formal, doesn’t it? I shall try again.)

Your Grace (My, that sounds downright pretentious. Then again, I have never written to a duke before. Perhaps the third time will be a charm.)

Val (That sounds better—but why do I feel guilty calling a duke by his given name? I am looking over my shoulder to see if Mama, who is a stickler for rules, is ready to chastise me thoroughly.)

All joking aside, my dear Val, I must inform you that I cannot leave town at this time.

No, it is not because I am sniffing about pretty young things.

It is due to my obligations regarding Lucy.

You know how protective you were of Ariadne during her come-out Season, and my feelings are the same as far as my sister is concerned.

Lucy already has drawn the attention of several gentlemen, but I am most concerned about the Marquess of Huntsberry.

I sense something already between the pair, and I must keep my eyes upon what is unfolding. So, my dear friend and cousin, I will not be able to come visit at Millvale at this point. I hope you will forgive me and that you understand my duty lies in town for now.

Do continue to write to me, though. It was odd, receiving your letter, because I could not recall another time I have ever done so.

We have been in each other’s company almost daily for years and years.

I find myself growing a bit solemn, knowing you are now a duke and will off doing dukely things.

I hope we will remain close, no matter what our futures hold.

I will keep you apprised of what is happening during the Season, and you must write to let me know what it is like being an all-powerful duke. Of course, Mama has already been talking about how you will need to come to town next spring and find your duchess.

It seems almost comical to me, the way she talks about things, as if she is in charge of the family now and not you.

Then again, that is Mama. I think Lucy is ready to escape Mama’s clutches and blossom into the person she has always been meant to be when she weds and leaves Mama’s household.

Note that I say Mama’s and not Papa’s. My father may be the Earl of Marley, but the real power in the Alington family is—and always will be—Mama.

I do miss you, Val. Terribly. You are the brother I never had and the friend I will always cherish to my grave. Write to me again.

Constantine Alington,

Viscount Dyer

(See, I know how to close a letter and use my courtesy title as should be done. I fully expect the next letter you send me will mirror the same. Love to you, Cousin. Con.)

Val placed the letter on his desk, missing Con more than ever at this moment.

His cousin’s lighthearted ways had always been entertaining, and he wished he could confide in Con about Miss Snow.

He decided he would continue to let the situation between him and the governess slowly unfold.

If he thought matters progressed beyond friendship, he would make a trip to town and talk things over with Con.

For now, however, he was content to explore the budding friendship between him and Miss Snow.

He decided to go and tell Mama that Con would not be coming.

He had casually mentioned to her that he had asked his cousin to visit, and he supposed it would be the decent thing to let her know Con would not be arriving anytime soon.

Knowing she and Aunt Agnes spent a lot of time in Mama’s morning parlor, he went there now.

As he approached the door and started to knock, he heard peals of laughter coming from the room and paused. He could not recall the last time his mother had laughed so merrily, much less since his father’s death and her mourning period had begun.

Waiting for the laughter to die down, he then rapped on the door and opened it.

His mother now appeared every inch the Duchess of Millbrooke, haughtiness in her features and posture.

He almost questioned if he had actually heard her laughing.

On the other hand, Aunt Agnes looked positively guilty, which intrigued him.

As he entered the room, Aunt Agnes rose and said, “I will leave you and your mother, Millbrooke.”

When she passed him, Val said, “You do not have to go, Aunt Agnes.”

She glanced to his mother and then back at him. “Oh, but I believe I should. You are overdue a long talk with your mama, Millbrooke.”

Aunt Agnes departed the room, closing the door behind her, and he went to sit opposite his mother.

“Is something going on, Mama? Something I should know about?”

She looked at him in pity. “To be so intelligent, you wear blinders when you view me, Millbrooke. You always have.”

Confusion filled him. “What?”

She sighed. “At least I know my charade has been effective because if anyone asked, you would be the first to say that I have been in deep mourning for His Grace.” She paused. “And that simply is not the case.”

Confusion turned to intrigue. “What are you telling me, Mama?”

She smiled, not the cold, wintry smile he was used to seeing upon her lips, but a genuine one.

One of joy . . .

“Frankly, I have been the happiest of my life since Millbrooke was lowered into his grave. You were as close to him as he let anyone get, but he disguised who he was. The world did not know of his cruelties. I am glad the old goat is dead.”

Her words stunned him. With concern, he asked, “Did he... hurt you, Mama?”

Resolve filled her eyes. “I am not one to dwell on the past, Millbrooke. Only know that I been liberated by his death. Oh, I have played the part of the grieving duchess, as is expected of me. I am only sorry that the twins are paying an even greater price than I. If it had been up to me, I would have allowed them to go ahead and make their come-outs, but Polite Society would have skewered me for such behavior.”

She smoothed her hair. “I think the girls have already suffered enough. I know you have taken them riding, along with my nieces. Help them to get out more. Take them to the village and let them shop or have a scone and cup of tea. The monthly assembly will be occurring soon. You should escort them to it. I do not want to deny them a little fun, simply because the man who sired them is gone. They had no relationship with him and should not suffer unduly.”

“If you think it appropriate for them to attend the assembly, then I would be happy to escort them to it.” He hesitated. “Will you and Aunt Agnes attend?”

She laughed merrily. “No. Let them think I am still brokenhearted. When my year of mourning ends, however, I plan to thoroughly enjoy myself in town at the new Season.”

Shocked, he asked, “Are you considering marriage again, Mama?”

“Heavens, no, Millbrooke!” she exclaimed, looking aghast at his question. “I have escaped one jailer and have no desire to find a new one.” With a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, “It does not mean, however, that I will not take on a lover.”

Mortified by their conversation, Val felt the back of his neck go hot. He quickly stood.

“That will be up to you, Mama. I know you will be discreet if you choose to engage in an affair, particularly because I will be trying to arrange good matches for Tia and Lia, as well as pursuing the Marriage Mart myself for my own duchess.”

“Oh, I will watch myself,” she promised.

“I will be a paragon of virtue at each event Polite Society holds. I will do my best to help assist my daughters in finding their husbands. Of course, Ariadne did such a wonderful job on her own. Perhaps she will also become involved and assist her sisters in finding husbands.”

“You have surprised me, Mama,” he admitted. “And I think you no longer need to tiptoe about the house, looking sorrowful. Our servants have already judged and have their opinions of us. You are the Duchess of Millbrooke. Behave as you wish in your own home.”

“Thank you for your advice. I believe after three months have passed in mourning, I might be open to accepting dinner invitations in the neighborhood, but I will not host anyone. Until then, though, I will play my part of the grieving widow if I am in public. Please let your sisters know that they can enjoy themselves a bit. I will not interfere.”

“I will do so, Mama. Shall I send Aunt Agnes back to you?”

“Do not feel betrayed by her, Millbrooke. I know you asked her how I fared, and she told you that I was lost. In a way, I was. I wed when I was very young and have never been without the duke telling me what to do and how to think. Agnes was only protecting me, just as you would protect Con.”

“Ah, that is the reason I came to see you in the first place,” he remembered.

“I received a note from Con. He says he cannot come to Millvale at this point. The Season is in its infancy, and Lucy is attracting suitors, one marquess, in particular. Con believes he must stay in town to protect Lucy and her interests.”

“I am sorry to hear he cannot come to see you. Perhaps you might go to town and visit with him if you have the need to confide in him.”

“I may do so at some point,” he shared. “I also need to go in person to visit my other estates at some point. I will not be derelict in my duties.”

“You are the duke now, my son,” Mama said, tears misting her eyes. “I already knew you would be a better duke than your father.”