Page 94 of The Virtuoso

“I had not realized.”

“She did not seem offended. Perhaps you should be encouraged.”

“Not likely. I’ll bring over the statements regarding today’s doings, and you can let us know if they need revision.”

“That will serve.” Sir Dewey fished in his pocket. “If you’re going to tune that piano, you’ll need this key. The assembly rooms are above the shops on that side of the green.” He pointed over Val’s shoulder. “The door is between the bakery and the apothecary.”

“Suppose I have no choice now.” Val stuck the key in his pocket without looking at it.

“None at all.” Sir Dewey grinned as he spoke. “I’ll be waiting for those statements, and when you drop them off, perhaps you might be willing to take a certain juvenile canine back with you?”

Val blinked in confusion.

“A puppy? Mr. Lindsey suggested you might take a puppy off my hands at some point. Favor for favor, don’t you think?”

“What favor?”

“I spent the entire day watching every handsome swain in the shire tease and flirt with your lady, and that I consider a substantial favor.”

“She doesn’t see it.” Val watched as Neal Bragdoll paused to pass the time of day with Ellen. He was a handsome man, big, strong, and capable in matters of the land… and still single.

Sir Dewey shifted to watch Ellen as Val did. “What doesn’t she see?”

“She doesn’t see that she matters here. She thinks she’s invisible.”

“Or maybe,” Sir Dewey suggested, “she wants to believe she is. Talk to her, and come get your puppy. Fair is fair.” Sir Dewey left to fetch his horse, and Val started across the green, only to have his blood run cold.

Freddy Markham was steering his curricle around the square, scanning the market-day crowds as his horses walked along. He stopped just outside the Rooster, bringing his vehicle near the outside table where Ellen sat with the Belmont brothers.

“Why if it isn’t my dearest cousin-in-law,” Freddy declaimed, his attempt at a sneer distorted by his split lip.

“Leave her alone.” Val’s voice rang out decisively, silencing the crowd gathering at the sight of such a conveyance. “Put your whip to that team, Roxbury, and don’t ever show your face here again.”

Ellen’s head slewed around at his tone and his words. “Valentine?”

“Lord Valentine,” Freddy corrected her, “but don’t get any ideas,LadyRoxbury, he’s far above your touch, just as my cousin was. Still, your secrets are safe with me, as I account myself a gentleman, unlike some.”

He had the sense to depart on that note, leaving the crowd to buzz and murmur until Rafe came out, barking they’d best be coming inside to eat or clearing the street so his customers could see his front door. As the onlookers began to disperse, Rafe speared Val with a look.

“I knew it,” Rafe muttered. “I told Tilden, I did. Said you was a lord. Always figured Mrs. Fitz for a lady.”

As people began to eddy and swirl around them again, Val turned to the boys. “Fetch the team and my horse, if you please.” They scampered off, leaving Val seething with a need to do violence—further violence—to Freddy Markham.

“LordValentine?” Ellen’s voice was low, insistent, and unhappy.

“Not here, though we need to talk.”

“Yes, I suppose we do.”

The trip home passed in silence, with Val on Ezekiel and the boys dozing in the back of the wagon. They took both Zeke and the wagon when Val helped Ellen down, leaving Val and Ellen regarding each other in wary solitude on the front steps.

“I don’t want to have this discussion where we can be overheard,” Val said, taking Ellen by the wrist. She’d been so silent, and without a word, Val felt her withdrawing, curling into herself, seeking the only safe place she’d found.

“Where, then?”

“Your cottage.”

“It will be private,” Ellen allowed, but she didn’t seem pleased.