Page 14 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

He shrugged his shoulders. “You read the letter, didn’t you? You know who it was from.”

“Your lover?” she guessed.

“My mistress.” He averted his eyes, as if ashamed. “My former mistress. I broke things off with her yesterday, and it looks like she is still angry.” He once again turned to leave the room.

“Why did you break things off with her?” Honora asked. Lord Valance’s back stiffened, and he nearly stumbled as he put his foot down. Perhaps he was not so athletic after all.

He faced her again. “I broke things off with her because I got married.” He used the sort of slow, patient, gentle voice she associated with parents speaking to children. She clenched her hands into fists at the sound. She was not a child, and he was not her parent.

Honora lifted her chin up before replying. “But I never asked you to jilt your mistress. Under the circumstances, I would quite have understood if you wished to keep one.” For all she knew, Lord Valance might have been deeply attached to Illegible Scribble.

“Well, I recall vowing otherwise yesterday! You are, of course, free to do as you like, my lady.” This time, the title sounded more like an insult than a sign of respect. “You may, for all I know, be accustomed to meeting strange men in back hallways at every entertainment you attend, but I—”

“How dare you?” Honora snapped. “That was the first time I ever did anything like that, and I only did it to escape Belmont! I thought one night of shame would be better than a lifetime of misery.” Her voice trembled.

“And you were perfectly willing to accept my invitation. So how dare you stand there and judge me?” She blinked her eyes quickly, trying to hold back angry tears.

He flinched. “You are quite right. I must have taken leave of my senses at that masquerade. I have no other explanation for why I behaved as I did. But what do you think would have happened to you otherwise?” He shook his head. “You would have ended up in the deepest disgrace.”

“That would still have been better than being the Duchess of Belmont. And, at the moment, I am not at all certain that being the Viscountess Valance is much better than being disgraced!” She would rather work herself to death as a seamstress than listen to insults from her own husband.

He gasped. “Well, I like that!” The sarcasm in his voice made Honora cringe. “After I spent the entire day making arrangements for your comfort!”

“How was I to know what you were doing, when you left the house without bothering to leave any kind of message for me?” Lord Valance should not get credit for the good intentions behind his errand if he could not even show her common courtesy.

He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and shifted his weight back, rocking onto his heels. “I was not aware that I needed to account for my every movement, Lady Valance. Since I am, after all, a grown man of four-and-twenty. Nearly five-and-twenty,” he added, as if that would impress her.

Honora snorted. He was only three years older than her. That did not give him much of an advantage. What right did he have to act superior?

“In the future, I will submit all my plans in writing to you, so you can approve them or not, as you see fit. Will that suit?” He raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated expression of inquiry.

“Now you are being childish.” Unsettled by the anger in his eyes, Honora looked away from him.

It was as well that she did so, because she caught Bishop Barkley chewing on the fire irons.

“Stop that!” She spoke more sharply than she intended, because some of her anger at Lord Valance carried into her voice.

Bishop Barkley glanced up at her and wagged his tail, but then promptly resumed his gnawing.

“You will break your teeth,” she grumbled as she picked the dog up. She had to pull the poker out of his mouth.

“He is more likely to break the fire irons,” Lord Valance predicted. “He destroys all he touches.”

“Perhaps he was spoiled?” Honora could see how it might be easy to spoil a dog as adorable as this one. That is, as adorable looking. She did not find his behavior at all appealing.

“Oh, almost certainly.” Lord Valance grimaced as he studied the dog. “Must you cuddle that beast? I have too many memories of him biting me.” He shuddered theatrically.

“Does he bite?” That surprised Honora. Aside from his earlier barking fit, he’d seemed friendly enough.

“He only bites men.”

“Very wise of him.” Honora kissed the dog on the head. Perhaps he had reason to bite Lord Valance. His Lordship had shamefully deserted the dog’s owner, after all. Maybe Illegible Scribble spoke the truth when she wrote about his heartlessness.

She lifted her eyes to see Lord Valance staring at her with something like horror on his face. “Did you just kiss that dog because he bit me in the past?”

This accusation came so disturbingly close to the truth that her face burned with shame. “No, I just thought you were being too hard in what you said about him.”

“He doesn’t understand what we are saying! He’s a dog!” Lord Valance threw his hands in the air to punctuate his point. But Bishop Barkley took offense at that and began barking at His Lordship.

“See, he knows you are his enemy.” She smiled down at the dog. “He must be smarter than he looks.”

Lord Valance eyed the barking dog with disdain. “Don’t get attached to him. I plan to send him to the country posthaste. There will be absolutely no lapdogs in the house on Curzon Street.”

“But you told me you were not going to be a tyrannical husband,” Honora started to remind him. Then she realized the importance of his words. “What house on Curzon Street?”

“That was my main errand today,” he explained.

“I met with my solicitor and informed him of our marriage. He is going to write up a new will for me, so you will be provided for in case of my death. When I asked him to look for a house for us, he said he already knew of one. It belongs to Lord Bloxom, who never uses it. The previous tenant had to break his lease when he left the country for health reasons.”

“Will we need to furnish it?” That would take time and money. Honora stared down at the floor, uneasy at the thought of all the money Lord Valance might be forced to spend because of her.

“No. It is furnished already, but of course you may make additions if you wish. That is,” he added more hesitantly, “if it meets with your approval. Would you like to see it now?”

She pulled a face. “I would, but I don’t have suitable clothing.

I haven’t any walking dresses. Nor any cloaks or pelisses.

They will not get here until later this week.

” She tugged on one of her short sleeves to demonstrate the inadequacy of her gown.

She would freeze if she left the house wearing nothing but a thin silk gown.

“Hmm.” Lord Valance looked her up and down. “Right. You cannot go out in public like that. Wait here.” He walked out of the room with no further explanation. He did not seem to be in the habit of giving very satisfying explanations for his conduct, did he?

But this time Lord Valance returned quickly, carrying a thick wool cloak.

“I borrowed this from Mrs. Dewes,” he explained. “She stands about as high as you do, I think.”

“Oh, thank you!” Honora had grown tired of being stuck in the house.

She reached for the cloak, but to her surprise, Lord Valance tucked it around her himself, bending his head close to hers as he fastened it. He stood so close, she could smell the citrus and spice of his cologne. It was the same scent that had clung to his bedding.

She peered up at him, startled by his proximity.

When their eyes met, the corners of his mouth quirked up.

She returned the smile uncertainly, suddenly very aware that although he was more or less a stranger to her, legally, he was also her husband.

Now he seemed entirely too close. She took an involuntary step back.

When he glanced away, she found herself able to breathe freely again.

“Let’s go,” he said. “My solicitor will be waiting for us.”

They headed to the waiting carriage, and, traffic being light, they shortly reached Curzon Street.

The house looked much like other London townhouses: narrow, tall, with steps leading from the street down to the lower level and up to the ground floor.

It was made of red brick rather than blocks of stone.

Lord Valance did not bother knocking, but walked right in. They found a respectably dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair waiting for them in the dining room. He had been reading over some paperwork, but he greeted them with a smile. Valance introduced him as Mr. Watson.

Mr. Watson walked them all over the house, explaining to Honora the pros and cons of every room.

Honora found it difficult to keep all the information straight, but she could see with her own eyes that this was a comfortable house that had been furnished with good taste.

It boasted a separate breakfast room and dining room on the ground floor, but the dining room was smaller than the one in Russell Square.

“I don’t know how much you intend to entertain?” Mr. Watson asked. “This might not be adequate if you want to host large dinner parties.” He shifted his eyes back and forth between the two of them.

Honora caught Lord Valance’s eye. He raised one eyebrow in a silent question.

“I have no desire to host large dinner parties,” she said. “Maybe small groups of friends?” Not that she had many friends to invite. She knew a few young women from boarding school who spent the Season in London, but those would probably be her only acquaintances in town.

Lord Valance looked relieved by her response. “I think this room will be adequate,” he told Mr. Watson. “It seems comfortable.”

When they reached the first story, Mr. Watson became distracted by a window that had been carelessly left open. While he went to investigate, Valance led Honora into the master suite.

“I knew we should lease this house when I saw this room,” he told her, smiling smugly.

Honora turned around slowly, studying the room.

It was papered in a shade somewhere between blue and green.

The bed was hung with heavy curtains that would keep out the winter chill, and there was a pretty escritoire in one corner.

Comfortable though the bedchamber looked, she could not imagine how it had won him over.

“It is quite charming,” she acknowledged.

“Take a closer look at the wallpaper,” Lord Valance advised.

She walked up to the wall, her husband trailing a step behind. “Oh, it’s a rococo design. Seashells. How pretty!” She still did not understand what was so special about the wallpaper. Was she missing something?

“Yes, seashells. Perfect for my Aphrodite!” He bent down to brush his lips lightly against her cheek.

Then he walked through the door that separated the two bedrooms, leaving her frozen with astonishment.

She wonderingly reached up to touch her cheek.

Perhaps Lord Valance was not as indifferent to her as he had seemed. Interesting.