Page 15 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

Three days after the wedding, the Duke of Belmont paid a call on the newlyweds at Russell Square. Valance felt certain this was the first time so high ranking a nobleman had ever visited Carrington House. He thought it likely to be the last, as well.

Most fortunately, Lady Valance was not at home. She had gone to her modiste to try on her new clothes. Peregrine was meeting a friend at the Cambion Club, and Abigail and Susan were still in Surrey. Valance thus received the duke in the drawing room, alone.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Your Grace?” he asked.

“I came to express my felicitations.” The duke gave him a wintery smile. His silvered hair and the snowy folds of his cravat accentuated the frost in his expression.

Belmont dressed in such style that Valance immediately felt like a country bumpkin, though, in fact, Valance’s coats were made by Weston.

But, as Valance did not have the narrow-waisted build popularized by dandies (and he refused to wear a corset to achieve it), he probably did not do full justice to Weston’s work.

“I am honored, Your Grace.” Valance gestured to an armchair.

“Won’t you take a seat?” The duke sat down, his back ramrod straight.

Valance sank into a chair across from his.

“Now we can have a comfortable coze.” He casually stretched his legs out, and was pleased to see the duke’s smile fade in the face of his nonchalance.

No doubt the duke had expected to intimidate Valance. Well, he need not know how Valance’s heart pounded. Valance reminded himself of his grandfather’s saying, “A Valance should fear nothing but God.” It was an unofficial family motto. Well, Belmont might be a demon of a man, but he was no deity.

For a long moment there was no sound but the snap of the fire. Then the duke broke the silence. “Perhaps you are unaware, but I am a friend of the Grantly family.”

“You surprise me. Lady Valance seems to view you in quite a different light than that of a friend.” Valance propped his head up on his hand and smiled broadly.

The duke’s mouth tightened. Every trace of his smile had fled. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding between Miss Grantly and myself.”

“If you refer to the eldest daughter of Sir Isaac Grantly, forgive me, but I must correct you. She is the Viscountess Valance now.” Valance let his own fake smile drop away, too.

Belmont nodded courteously “Yes, of course. My mistake. You are fortunate in your choice of wife, Lord Valance.”

“I am.” This time, Valance’s smile was genuine. It warmed his heart to know that he, a mere viscount, had stolen Belmont’s chosen bride on the eve of their betrothal.

Lady Valance must be one of the most beautiful women in England, and Belmont was unquestionably one of the most powerful noblemen in the kingdom. And yet the lady in question was Lady Valance now, not the Duchess of Belmont.

In marrying Miss Grantly, Valance had very likely made the greatest coup of his life.

Not that that had been his motive at the time.

In fact, he had not even considered his actions in that light.

He had been primarily concerned with salvaging Miss Grantly’s reputation, along with his own good name.

But it pleased him to view the elopement as a victory now, especially as Belmont seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable the longer Valance beamed at him.

The duke shifted position in his chair before speaking.

“Nevertheless, your sudden nuptials surprised many people. I have naturally spoken to the Grantly family about the matter. Since the young lady disappeared while under my roof, I could not help but feel responsible. And do you know what I found? Even the young lady’s mother was unaware of any attachment between you and the former Miss Grantly. ”

Valance considered his answer more carefully this time.

He did not want to tell any lies that could be easily disproven.

He could not, for example, claim to have met Miss Grantly in town last season, because she had made it clear she had never been to London.

He might have encountered Sir Isaac at the Cambion Club before his death—Lady Valance had mentioned that her parents sometimes came to London for brief visits—but if so, he did not remember the man.

On the other hand, Valance could not reveal the truth about how he met his future wife. No one must know that Miss Grantly had propositioned him with the express purpose of ruining her reputation.

“Our acquaintanceship was of the briefest, it is true,” Valance admitted. “Such is often the way when young people fall in love, is it not? The deepest attachments may form in a surprisingly short amount of time.”

Valance knew he was talking nonsense, and Belmont must know it too, but his words nevertheless had an effect. Belmont, who must be nearly fifty, flinched at Valance’s emphasis on the word “young.”

“No doubt that is true,” Belmont snapped. “I only hope the young lady does not regret her impulsive decision. If she does . . .”

“If she does?” Valance narrowed his eyes. Were they finally getting to the real reason for Belmont’s visit?

“I do not usually take other men’s discards,” Belmont said coolly, “but I would make an exception in the case of so rare a prize as Miss Grantly. Excuse me—I mean Lady Valance, of course.” He smiled mockingly.

“If ever she tires of you, Lord Valance, or you of her, I should be very happy to take her off of your hands.”

If Belmont intended to rattle Valance, he succeeded. Valance sprang to his feet, clenching his fists. His immediate impulse was to break Belmont’s nose, but he forced himself to use his words—and to choose them carefully. “I think you forget something, Your Grace.”

“Do I?” Belmont rose from his chair so gracefully that Valance felt a twinge of envy. Belmont was rumored to be an excellent fencer, and it showed in his supple movements.

But Valance was significantly larger than the duke, both in height and breadth, and he was as much a Corinthian as he was a scholar. Though he did not fence, he regularly boxed at Gentleman Jackson’s. He pulled himself to his full height to emphasize his physical advantage.

“Three somethings, in fact,” he explained. “First, Lady Valance is a human being with free will, not a prize to be traded between noblemen. Second, the lady has made it abundantly clear that she prefers my company to yours. And thirdly, she is my wife. You will touch her over my cold, dead body.”

“That can be arranged.” Belmont spoke softly, but his cold blue eyes remained locked with Valance’s.

“Oh, can it?” Valance took a step closer to Belmont. Before he could say anything further, a black-and-gold blur detached itself from the hearthrug and launched itself at Belmont, barking furiously. Bishop Barkley had taken offense at His Grace’s threat.

Unfortunately, Bishop Barkley was too small to reach any higher than His Grace’s boots.

Even more unfortunately, the duke reacted by kicking at the little dog, as if he had been no more than a dirt clod in his path.

Bishop Barkley ducked in time to evade the blow.

He scurried back to Valance, his tail between his legs.

Valance trembled with rage as he scooped the frightened dog into his arms. “You have been very straightforward with me. Allow me to be equally plain, Your Grace. If ever you harm anyone or anything in my household—anything from the rats in the cellar to the bats in the attic—I will shoot you where you stand.”

Belmont responded with only a chuckle.

“You may laugh,” Valance said more calmly, “but you can ask anyone you like, and they will tell you I am reckoned to be the best marksman in my club.” That was not saying much: the Cambion Club catered to magicians and scholars rather than athletes.

Still, Valance was a good shot by anyone’s standards.

Belmont’s confident smirk faded. “In any case, Lord Valance, I beg you to keep my words in mind. And do remember, for your own sake, that people who cross me often come to regret it.” His hard, clipped words were a threat, not a warning.

“I will keep that in mind, sir, but I beg you to remember my words. I do not speak idly . . . I wish you a good day, sir.” Valance spoke cordially. He even smiled, though he longed to kick Belmont out of his house. He followed the duke all the way to the door to make sure he really left.

Once the door shut behind Belmont, Valance looked down at the shivering terrier in his arms. “I hope he didn’t hurt you. You all right, boy?”

Bishop Barkley wagged his tail and licked Valance’s face. He took that to be a “yes.”

“Let’s go to the kitchen and see if there’s some steak for you. I believe you’ve earned it, you brave boy!” Bishop Barkley could not have understood his words, but he recognized the friendliness in Valance’s tone, and his tail wagged with greater abandon.

Valance whistled as he wandered toward the kitchen in search of a treat for himself as well has his dog. It was not every day that he stood up to a murderous duke. He felt he had acquitted himself well in the encounter, all things considered.