Valentine's Vow (Avenging Lords Book 3)

by Adele Clee

  Jonathan raised his chin. “A more pressing question might be why the two of you are together at such an hour.”

  Honora approached her son with outstretched arms and drew him into an embrace. “Come. Sit with us. Share a drink and let us speak about this like mature adults. There is much to discuss.”

  Ava glanced at Valentine. “We should take a drink. It has been a long night.” And a rather exhausting one to boot. She smiled at Honora. “We attended Mr Drake’s dinner party where Mr Cassiel provided the entertainment, hence the lateness of the hour.”

  “You saw Mr Cassiel again?”

  “He broke into Miss Kendall’s house while we were rescuing her brother from being beaten to a pulp by Mr Maguire.” Arrogance filled Valentine’s voice as he delivered the comment like a sudden punch.

  Honora appeared unfazed. “Yes, and Miss Kendall has been staying in Hanover Square ever since.”

  Valentine’s eyes widened. “You know about the intruder, about Mr Maguire, about my need to offer Miss Kendall a safe place to stay?”

  “Mr Kendall spoke to Mrs Stagg yesterday when she returned to the house to fill a valise.”

  Heat rose to Ava’s cheeks. By rights, she should have approached Honora for help. It would have been the respectable thing to do.

  Valentine remained silent for a brief time. “Then know that with regard to Miss Kendall, my intentions are honourable.”

  “By honourable you mean honest though not necessarily moral?” Honora replied, though she did not seem annoyed or shocked.

  “I am standing here,” Ava reminded them. They spoke as if oblivious to the fact. “Regardless of how this looks, Lord Valentine is a dear friend who offered his assistance in a time of great need.”

  Honora touched Valentine affectionately on the upper arm. “My son is the most loyal and trustworthy friend a lady might have.”

  “He is,” Ava agreed.

  “But he also carries a position of responsibility that means his conduct is open to scrutiny.” One could not mistake Honora’s meaning. “I’m afraid Lady Durrant has had a lot to say on the matter.”

  Valentine breathed a weary sigh. “I never intended to disappoint you, but you know that I cannot make Lady Durrant an offer no matter how hard you try to convince me of her suitability.”

  A mischievous grin played on Honora’s mouth. “I have never thought Lady Durrant a suitable companion for you, Lucius.”

  Valentine frowned. “But I made a vow.”

  “A vow to marry. A vow not to let past experience act as a deterrent.” Honora glanced at Ava and smiled. “You were the one who mentioned Lady Durrant. I simply went along with the notion, knowing one day you would come to your senses.”

  “Tell them,” Jonathan interjected. “Tell them what brings me here.”

  Ava considered her brother’s tense shoulders, noted the dark circles under his eyes. “Tell us what?”

  “Every gossip in the ton believes you’re conducting an illicit affair,” Honora informed them. “By all accounts, Lady Durrant grew desperate and decided to visit you at home, Lucius. Before alighting from her carriage, she watched you escort Miss Kendall inside.”

  A sudden panic sprang to life in Ava’s chest.

  Guilt flared when she considered the fact that despite her protestations about having worldly experience, she had become one of those foolish girls whose scandalous activities provided hours of ballroom entertainment.

  Valentine shrugged. “I don’t give a damn what the gossips have to say. Surely my own mother must know that I take responsibility seriously. Miss Kendall and I will be married.”

  “I should damn well hope so,” Jonathan mumbled.

  It took a moment for Valentine’s words to penetrate Ava’s addled mind. She should be ecstatic at the prospect of spending a lifetime with the man she loved. But something about the comment left her cold to her bones.

  Did he want to marry her out of guilt?

  Did he want to marry her because his position demanded he act responsibly?

  Did he want to honour his vow?

  An outpouring of sadness, of disappointment, whirled in her chest, growing in size and momentum the more her mind concocted its imagined stories.

  “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Ava did not wait for a reply but turned on her heels and hurried from the room.

  “Ava, wait,” Valentine called, giving no regard to the fact he had used her given name.

  Once out in the hall, the urge to run came upon her. Before her mind protested otherwise, she opened the front door and ran across the street.

  “Ava!”

  Rain fell, the drops landing like tears on her cheeks as if somewhere amidst the heavens her parents shared her disappointment, too.

  The thud of Valentine’s boots pounding the ground behind sent her pulse racing. As she reached her front door, he grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him.

  “Please tell me you are not running from me,” he said, his blue eyes filled with fear and doubt. “Do you not want to be my wife? Can you deny the passion we share?”

  Part of her wanted to tell him she was silly. What lady would not want to marry him? Part of her had hoped for so much more.

  “How can you ask me that?” Her heart was racing so fast it thumped against her chest. “Have you not heard what I said? I love you. I have given myself to you, the only man with whom I could ever share such an intimacy. Does that not tell you everything you need to know?” She dashed tears and raindrops from her cheek. “For an intelligent man, you surprise me.”

  A smile formed on his lips. The frown on his forehead faded and his eyes shone with a brilliance she had not witnessed before.

  “What?” she snapped. “You find the fact I have bared my soul amusing?”

  “No, Ava. I find the fact you love me makes me grin like a mule eating briars.”

  Still feeling a tad confused, she said, “Well at least one of us is being open with our feelings. But despite the fact Society may deem me the great whore of Babylon, I cannot marry you, Valentine.”

  His amusement faded. “You love me. Nothing else matters.”

  “It is not my feelings that are called into question.”

  Was the man being deliberately obtuse?

  Was it just that he wanted to hear her repeat her declaration?

  Valentine slapped his hand to his chest, covering his heart as if mortally wounded. “You doubt the depth of my feelings? Did I not tell you, moments before we spotted your brother breaking into my mother’s house, I had something I wished to say?”

  He had said that.

  He had said that they shared a deep affection.

  “You did,” she confessed. “What was it you wanted to say?”

  Valentine stepped closer, his muscular body pressing her against the door, reminding her of the first night he kissed her in the mews. He cupped her cheek, and her heart quickened again beneath his touch.

  “There is no other woman in the world for me, only you. You stole my heart the moment I underestimated you on the battlefield. You claimed my soul the moment you lowered your guard and turned to me for help. I am in love with you, Ava. Nothing would make me happier than if you consented to be my wife.”

  The surge of emotion brought tears to her eyes. “You do?”

  “I do.” He pressed his body against her, kissed her with a passion that conveyed the full extent of his feelings. “I have seen you strong, courageous and fiercely independent. I have seen you cry in my arms, seen fear mar your perfect features. I have heard your moans of pleasure, heard your voice raised in anger, and I choose it all. Everything. Every laugh. Every tear.”

  Something between a laugh and a cry burst from her lips. She wrapped her arms around his waist, relished the unique scent that clung to his clothes, to his skin. Love filled her heart, so bright, so intense, so powerful.

  “And I love the honourable gentleman and the scandalous libertine. I choose them both. I choose you, Valentine.�
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  They shared a kiss as hot and as wicked as the one they shared that night in the mews. Soon their breathing grew short and shallow. Had she a key to hand, she would have dragged him by the cravat into her house, though she doubted they would have made it past the stairs.

  Valentine straightened and took a step back. “Thank the Lord it is three in the morning and your neighbours are about their beds.”

  Ava glanced at the house across the street, to find Honora and Jonathan staring at them through the drawing room window. “Not all the neighbours are abed.”

  Valentine followed her gaze. “I almost forgot about our interrogation.”

  “Interrogation?”

  “For once in my life I find myself questioning my mother’s honesty. They share a secret,” he said, nodding to the two people still staring. “And I’ll be damned if I’ll leave here before knowing what it is.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Valentine stared at the guilt-ridden faces of his mother and Jonathan Kendall as they sat together on the couch. After a moment of celebration, where he informed the pair that Ava had consented to be his wife, he resumed the role of judge and jury.

  “You say you owed our father a debt,” Ava said from the chair next to Valentine’s, positioned purely to appear more intimidating. The low table between them acted as a barrier to prevent Valentine from launching forward and throttling Jonathan Kendall.

  “A debt it has taken me almost eighteen years to repay,” Honora confirmed.

  “May we know what it is?” Valentine asked with some impatience. It was hard to focus on the task when love for the woman at his side filled his thoughts.

  Honora turned to Jonathan Kendall. “Trust that Valentine will protect her until we resolve this matter.” When Kendall nodded, she focused her attention on Valentine. “Hamilton Kendall once came to my rescue when your father suffered from his first disturbing episode. We were at a ball, and Hamilton offered his assistance. I told him then that I considered myself in his debt. As the years passed, I never expected he might seek to remind me of my vow.”

  A wave of regret swept through Valentine. He would have liked to meet Ava’s father. If only to ask what the hell had happened to Jonathan when it came to inheriting family traits.

  “My father came to you when he purchased the house across the street?” Ava asked. “That was the last time he came home before he died.”

  Honora smiled. “When Hamilton realised I occupied the house opposite, he paid more than the market value to ensure you would have a home close to friends.”

  Ava gave a contented sigh. “He was always thoughtful like that.”

  “Hamilton asked me to keep something safe for him. He gave me a sum of money—even though I refused the offer numerous times—and told me that upon news of his death I was to hire an agent to keep a watch on his man of business.”

  “Mr Fairfax?” Ava shivered visibly upon mentioning the name.

  “Indeed.”

  “Father suspected the man had devious intentions that went beyond his designs to marry you,” Jonathan interjected, “and he was not wrong.”

  Ava sucked in a breath.

  Valentine was thankful Fairfax had perished in the mine else he might have had to track him down and beat him black and blue.

  “While I would not wish death upon anyone,” Ava said, “I am rather glad he met his end.”

  A look passed between Honora and Jonathan that cast doubt upon the statement.

  An icy chill ran the length of Valentine’s spine.

  Ava gripped the arms of the chair so tightly it looked as if the bones might pierce the thin skin covering her knuckles.

  “Despite the agent’s reassurance, Mr Fairfax did not die in the mine.” Jonathan spoke softly, as though he knew the fact would cause his sister great pain. “Mr Fairfax is alive and well and behaving as deviously as Father predicted.”

  “Alive?” Ava gulped. “Oh.”

  Valentine attempted to piece together the snippets of information. “Are you saying Hamilton asked you to safeguard something fearing what Mr Fairfax might do?”

  Honora straightened. “Just before Hamilton returned to London, he bought another five-year licence to mine in a particular spot on the coast of Greece. Few people are granted permission. I have that licence.” She paused and swallowed deeply. “He also gave me a … a rare ruby on the understanding that I would keep it a secret from his children until such a time as the agent proved that Mr Fairfax was no longer a threat.”

  Honora tried to hold Valentine’s gaze, but a flicker of shame flashed in her eyes.

  Valentine knew why. “So Hamilton did not sell you the ruby as you claimed?”

  “No,” she said, briefly lowering her gaze, “but you understand why it was important that I not mention it to anyone.”

  “Not even to your son?”

  “Not even to you, Lucius.” Honora winced as if the words pained her.

  “I see.”

  “You must understand, had Hamilton not come to my aid in the ballroom, everyone would have learnt of your father’s illness. I trusted him to keep our secret, and I afforded him the same courtesy.”

  Valentine accepted her reason for withholding the truth—lying was too harsh a word. But what about the theft of the gem? Did Mr Fairfax know Honora had the ruby? If he was the one responsible for stealing into the house and making the swop, why was Valentine instructed to investigate his mother’s friends?

  “What of the paste replica sitting in the goblet in the display cabinet?” Valentine said. Judging by the way his mother shuffled uncomfortably in the chair, he did not have to say anything more.

  Jonathan Kendall’s pained expression served as forewarning, for Valentine knew that Honora’s next comment would invariably cause him distress.

  This time, Honora held Valentine’s gaze. “I had the paste replica made, fearing Mr Fairfax might discover its whereabouts.” She coughed to clear her throat. “The real ruby was not stolen but is stored at the bank.”

  Valentine sat in stupefied silence.

  The world he knew tilted, leaving a sudden imbalance.

  What astounded him most of all was not that his mother had concocted a story based on a vow she had made in the past, but that she had involved him in this invented tale. Why?

  “I know you’re disappointed, Lucius.”

  “Disappointed?” Hell, this was the first time in his life his relationship with Honora had ever been called into question. “You lied. To your own son. You led me on a merry dance.”

  Honora flashed a mocking grin. “Hardly. Other than attending the meeting here the other day, you have made no enquiries into the stolen gem.”

  Anger bubbled in Valentine’s chest.

  “No, because I have been assisting Miss Kendall in her efforts to save that fool.” He stabbed his finger at Jonathan Kendall. “To save that fool from ending up dead in a ditch.” He shook his head and exhaled. “Besides, the damn thing hasn’t even been stolen.”

  Ava shuffled her chair closer to Valentine and placed her hand on his forearm. “Honora would not have lied to you without a justifiable reason.”

  Valentine cast Ava a sidelong glance. “I understand her reason. It hurts that she felt she could not trust me.”

  “I know.” Ava offered a weak smile.

  “My father once told me that if I ever found myself in trouble, I was to seek your mother,” Kendall interjected.

  Valentine gritted his teeth. He refused to listen to a man with the brains of a trout. “Don’t tell me you have been pestering my mother to pay your damn debts. I hope you received the long lecture about family and responsibility.”

  “Won’t you at least allow him to finish,” Honora chided. She rose from her seat and moved to the console table to refill her glass with sherry. “Perhaps then you might have a different opinion.”

  The fool had gambled away his inheritance, disrespected his father’s name, trampled over the years of hard work. The bu
ffoon showed little regard for Ava’s welfare, did not protect her as a brother should. Valentine doubted anything would change his opinion.

  “Then please continue.” Valentine gestured for the man to speak. “Feel free to enlighten us.”

  Honora appeared at Valentine’s side. She thrust a tumbler of brandy at him, offered Ava a glass of sherry. Perhaps they needed a drink in preparation for whatever nonsense Kendall was about to spout.

  “The debt I owed to the Maguires was not a gambling debt,” Jonathan began.

  Valentine arched an arrogant brow. “You mean the debt you now owe me.”

  Jonathan sighed and dragged a hand through his mop of dark hair. “I do not have a gambling problem, but it serves me for Fairfax to think that is the case.”

  “You don’t?” Ava sat forward. “Then why are you pawning your belongings? Why did you sell Mother’s ring?”

  Jonathan hung his head and rubbed his chin.

  What could be so damning that he found it difficult to speak?

  Honora crossed the room and placed a tumbler of brandy on the table in front of Kendall before dropping back into her seat.

  “Your brother borrowed money from those ruffians at the Pit, ignorant to the exorbitant rate of interest,” Honora said, clearly aware of Kendall’s dealings with the Maguires. No doubt she knew of Ava’s attendance and of Valentine’s involvement, too. “Money he used to pay Mr Fairfax. The scoundrel is blackmailing Mr Kendall.” She cast Kendall a sidelong glance and shook her head. “Oh, if only you would have sought my help sooner.”

  A heavy silence descended, almost suffocating in intensity.

  The colour drained from Ava’s face as she stared wide-eyed at her brother.

  Valentine sat back in the chair as if someone had slapped him to his senses, while Kendall’s cheeks turned crimson.

  “Mr Fairfax is in London?” Ava’s voice trembled.

  What the hell had this blackguard done to make her fear him so?

  “No. I meet him at the coaching inn near Frimley,” Jonathan explained. “As long as I pay him the agreed sum, he assures me he will not venture farther north.”

  “Frimley?” Ava’s hand shook as she gripped the stem of her glass. “But that is only thirty miles away.” She brought the glass to her lips and drained it of sherry before shuddering visibly.