by Gayle Eden
Val’s brows rose in confusion, but she asked, “Are you sure she wants a debut?”
“I think she said an introduction to society.” He paused by the garden doors, leading to the study. “Between you and I, I think she proved her point. I think that the taste of independence likely proved she wanted more for herself than the traditional settling down.”
He raised his brows. “I feel certain you and she will get along, and I have no doubt your family will understand her much better than her own does. She is a grown woman, for all intense purposes. Though we will host her, hopefully enjoy her company—ultimately, she will either choose to return home in a year, or have found her place, here in England.”
Nodding, Val met his gaze. “She will be interesting at least.”
“No doubt.” He smiled.
Val eyed that smile too long. When she raised her gaze, he was regarding her with a certain heated expression.
“I’ll be ready in an hour or two.”
“Yes.” He was watching her mouth now.
Val cleared her throat. “Well then…” She turned and went in, crossing the study and going up to their chamber. Whilst the maid packed her bag, she bathed, afterwards emerging to an empty room, bag already taken down.
Deciding to ride most of the short trip, Val took her trousers and boots out of the wardrobe, a supple doeskin jacket and white blouse.
Seated at the vanity, she combed her hair then did it in a simple twist, many pins tucked in to keep it contained.
Rising, she started, not having heard Archard enter, but spotting him with a shoulder leaned against the door, watching her.
“I’ll be dressed in…”
He crossed the room, cupped her face and kissed her breathless.
Val clutched his shoulders, melting, dizzy.
Raising his head amid their heavy panting, he husked with glittering eyes, “I should have bedded you this morning. Three days…perhaps more—”
She laughed, breathless. An eternity.
He dropped his hold, but only to her shoulders, his thumbs caressing while his gaze went over her face. “Ingrid is perfectly capable of taking care of herself, it’s simply that the docks—”
“—Of course you must meet her. Good lord. This is a different country and no lone woman…”
“—Yes.” He agreed distracted then, pulled her to him, his arms around her. Archard groaned. “I can feel you all warm and soft, smell your lovely scent.”
He smelled good too. Her body stirred from his nearness.
He let her go with a sigh and headed for the door, “Everything in me wants to stay and watch you drop that robe. But if I do, we’ll neither of us leave that bed tonight.”
Val smiled at the closed door behind him. True. Very true. She sighed and went on with getting dressed. She would miss him. Days would be an eternity. This part of her marriage was proving to be liberating. It was so wonderful to forget everything, leave the world behind, in his arms.
Chapter Ten
Hawksmoor
“You look better than I have seen you in months,” Alexander, Marquis of Hawksmoor, told Val.
“Thank you, father.” Val strolled with him after the evening meal, the others; Jo, Sonja, Edmund and Alex, were inside at billiards. Val was aware that Van Wyc had a private chat with her father before he left her. She also suspected everyone witnessed the rather passionate kiss he had given her before climbing in the coach, one in which he had lifted her feet off the ground.
Now, gowned in deep purple silk, a light-fringed silk shawl on her arms, her hair perfectly done, she thought perhaps her father could see the high color in her cheeks.
Taking her elbow, to steer her to one of the garden benches, the Marquis urged her to sit whilst he lit a cheroot. Leaning slightly against the back of the bench, he appeared to study the moonlit garden and murmured, “I knew Archard would make you happy. He has always cared for you.”
Val fingered the fringe on her shawl. “He is a good man. A good husband.”
“And—a good lover, apparently.”
Hearing the humor in his tone, she bit her lip.
The Marquis sighed. “I wish your sister Johanna would get over Auttenburg. I half think that Auvary might do her good…”
“I believe he knows himself to be a diversion for her. And vise versa. Alex suspects that Auvary himself avoids truly falling in love.”
“Correct.”
After a moment, Val asked softly, “Have you ever been afraid to be…happy?”
The Marquis obviously thought before answering. Eventually he supplied, “Yes. Although, it was fear of my own mistakes, bad habits, and at one time, avoiding real commitments.”
“It is not that for me—”
“I know, m’dear.”
She looked up to find him studying her in a musing manner. Val said, “I thought I lost myself forever. I was not even aware of trying to find myself again—in this way because—well, because to some extent, what Leland said and did stuck with me. I had shed most of it. However, some things are so personal. I suppose, what I mean is, I feel as if I can become someone entirely new, better and stronger, with Archard.”
Her father’s eyes shimmered and he leaned to kiss her forehead. “That is wonderful.”
Val nodded. “Yes. However, part of me, this unsettling in my stomach. It is a caution. I cannot seem to go that final step.”
“Understandable. That is the good thing about Archard. He understands you, Val. He will give you time and room. He is not going to give you half measure in any respect…”
“I know.”
“Everything will right itself. The more time the two of you have together, building the relationship…”
She nodded, although part of her wished she could just relax and let things develop on their own.
The French doors opened and the voice of the others drifted over. Scanning that direction, Val saw the duchess step out with Alex for air. The raven-haired woman looked ravishing as usual in a ruby satin gown with the upper bodice, to the throat, of lace and seed pearl. Her gleaming hair was half roped up, like a crown, with a long thick spiral hanging down the back.
Turning her head again, she looked up and saw that her father, the Marquis though still smoking had his eyes pinned in that direction. Now that she recognized the way Archard looked at, or was, around her, she could read much of that tension on her father.
He drew on the cheroot, glanced down and met her gaze, then, looked away, into the garden again before taking a few steps to crush the cheroot. When he came back and escorted her, she deduced he had used that time to gather himself and replace whatever that tension was, with his charming and urbane host mask.
“Oh, but I quite loved that play,” Alex was saying as they came up to them. “It was frightfully silly, but after a week of somber political dinners with Edmund, I needed silly.”
Lady Summerton smiled at her. “Yes. I suppose there is that.” Those brown eyes looked up, over Val and the Marquis. Val noticed the duchess did her own masking before she murmured some greeting.
Alex took her father’s arm. “I was waiting for you, father. You really must come and play. Edmund is ready to strangle Jo for not taking the game seriously.”
Alexander laughed. “She does that for the very purpose of distracting him.”
“Yes, well it works. And you know Edmund. But the more he glares the more she teases.”
“I think Edmund and I will do a set. Why don’t you ladies rescue him likewise, and drag Jo off for a chat.”
“Yes. I had planned on doing so this break, Father. I may understand what she is about. But we’re all long overdue for a sisterly confidence, and it may do Jo good.”
“Exactly.” He pat her hand.
Left with the duchess whilst Alex went in, expected to return with Jo, Val asked, “Does it really show?”
“Your happiness with Van Wyc?” Sonja slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Yes. In a good way. A glow.”
<
br /> Before Val could do more than flush, Alex came out with two bottles of wine. “The upstairs parlor, ladies.” She turned and led the way. Saying on the way up the stairs, “Jo has been on a high all season, and all day. Now we’re all going to have to listen to her rant about what absolute bounders and wretched dogs, men are.”
Val laughed. “Again?”
Alex threw her a grin. “The plan is to get her sotted instead. I swear, if your husband does not find a way to get the Viscount back here, I may sail there and drag him back myself. For all we tease her, I cannot stand to see my sister with a broken heart.”
“Nor I.” Val supplied. “But there is a possibility that he may never return.”
In the doorway of the parlor now, Alex muttered, “I think that is what Jo is finally accepting.”
“I heard that.” Johanna arose from a chair by the door. She scanned the three with an expression of dry resignation. “At least you aren’t going to lie to me.” She took one of the bottles and a glass from Alex’s hand. “Come ladies, let us get foxed and make merry.”
Val rolled her eyes. Alex and Sonja laughed at it. Val said to Jo, having gone to the sideboard with her, “I thought you were bent on having an affair and finding a lover?”
“I was. I did, actually.”
All eyes were now glued on the titan haired sister.
Jo looked at them and shrugged, then glanced down to finish pouring a full glass of wine. Done, she lifted it and muttered, “A toast of good riddance to my virginity. At least that is one thing out of the way.”
Val was filling the other glasses, now passing them round, as they were still all looking at Jo…waiting.
That beautifully flushed face and sparkling smile, the too bright gaze suddenly transformed—from saucy wit, to tears in Jo’s eyes. She supplied in gruff tones, “Let me get through this glass of wine first, then I will tell you.”
Val drank half of hers down. She had a feeling she would need it. By the time they were all seated on the floral sofa, Jo, shoes off and feet up, in the chair across, and on her second glass—Val felt sufficiently braced to handle it.
“I made Auvary do it.”
“What?” Alex spewed wine, clamping a hand to her lips to cut off the drizzle, before it ran down to the neck of her gold gown.
“I left him no choice.”
It was Sonja who said calmly, “How was that?”
“Oh, I did my usual threats of going out to find anyone to do so.” Jo waved her hand. “I was feeling particularly bitter that evening. Ran into that bitch of a duchess/mistress or whatever you want to call her to Auttenburg—who cast me snide, smug smiles and…I just…did what I usually do, take things too far.”
“How was it?” Alex asked.
Val gaped and glared at her.
Alex muttered, “Well, there is no use in having some fit of outrage, now. ‘'Tis over and done.”
“It was—a mistake.” Jo took a long gulp. “He’s insisted we must wed. Even threatened to kidnap me. And—none of you must tell father. It was a mistake for both of us and all my fault. I tempted him beyond reason and pushed, despite his every caution.” Jo groaned and laid her head back, closing her eyes, and murmuring, “I feel so terrible that I did that to him”.
Val grunted floundering for words before murmuring, “He is a sophisticated man of the world.”
“Yes. But I can be er… persistent.” Jo raised her head and looked at Val. “I had it in the back of my mind that if I did that, I’d fall in love with him, instead of…”
That hung in silence a moment. Alex broke it by uttering, “Poor Auvary.”
“Yes. Under that rakehell exterior, he has a very clear code of honor. He does not seduce virgins. Not that I was seduced. He was. He values father’s friendship. He wanted to go straight to father, and then wed.” Jo winced. “I regret it for his sake.”
“I don’t know how to help you, Jo.” Val shook her head sadly.
Jo smiled, bravely if stiff. “There is no help needed. We have worked it out. Auvary will not escort me again. He will still go about with father and Edmund as before. We crossed the line and both of us realized it. We made a mistake. Deliberate on my part—which, sobers me more than you know.”
Jo sat up. “I’m going to live my life. Make more mistakes no doubt. But I won’t involve friends or family in them.”
“That’s—not comforting.” Alex muttered, grunting.
Sonja sat up too, putting her glass on the low table. Clasping her hands, she stared at Jo a long time before she said, “It is not my place to interfere, and God knows I’ve no right, nor great experiences, to draw upon, but what I do understand is confusion, pain, rejection. And so does your sister, Val…”
When she looked over, Val nodded.
Sonja turned back to Jo. “Take the time to sort out what is passion and what is pain... Otherwise, you will waste the best part of your life. Forget him. Forgive him.”
Jo looked ready to weep but said, “How?”
The duchess sighed. “By recognizing the truth, Auttenburg did not plan on meeting you either. He was not free, nor was he happy with himself. He did what he must, and I believe he loved you, and because of it, he left.”
“And that makes the pain of it vanish?”
“No. It will however, help you to move on.”
“She is right,” Val murmured. “None of us would say a word, were you truly having fun and enjoying yourself.”
Alex added, “You’re a passionate creature, Jo. We all are.”
Val bit her lip at that, realizing for the first time that yes, so she was also. At least—with Archard.
Jo lifted her glass, scanning them before she sipped, sighing, “Here is to finding myself again.”
Val understood her all too well. She drank, arose and went to hug her sister. Holding her hand afterwards, she told her, “I can attest to the fact that we do not remain lost forever. Someone, some part of ourselves, knows the way. He was your first love. But that does not mean you won’t love again.”
“Yes.” Jo smiled and squeezed her hand.
The women talked a long time, past the time the men went to bed. Val told them more about her marriage to Leland. She relayed to them the worst, and found herself comforting them through weeping and horror, strangely removed from it herself now. She realized—in talking—that it seemed like another person had gone through it.
Sonja was equally frank, delving a bit deeper into her past and sharing it.
By the time they parted, Jo, was red eyed as was Alex, and Jo said, “It makes my own problems bloody trivial.”
“Not at all.” Lady Summerton walked to the doorway with her arm around her. “Nothing that changes us, puts us through highs and lows emotionally is insignificant.”
Val, laying in her bed later, as were the others, deduced that Jo was in a transition but did not realize it. Jo was maturing, as all women did, eventually. She would always have spirit and wit, but her mistakes were sobering her, to some degree.
* * * *
The whole group went riding the next morning. Sonja was departing that evening with Alex and Edmund, Val and her father would follow the next day. Alexander needed to take care of a few things with the steward.
Thus, the morning ride was followed by a picnic near the lake. There was much laughter, talk, a lazy kind of atmosphere. Two hours before they were to depart, Val noticed her father (though smoothly doing so) was trying to steal a bit more time with the duchess. In his (host) role, he started some conversation about botany with her and they strolled toward the gardens.
Jo was in a mood. She had a raging headache. She begged everyone excuse her and headed off for a nap. She had announced that she was going to write to the Campbell cousins, and when they came down for the annual gathering at Hawksmoor, she planned to go back to Scotland with them. That was only 4 weeks away.
The Marquis would miss her dreadfully, but Alexander was much more knowing than most men, and they all knew it woul
d not take him long to gather what went on with Auvary. For now, all of the sisters agreed that Jo needed to gather herself. , not that anyone thought the Campbell cousins were tame, but in their way, they would be a balm, and Johanna would hopefully find her footing again.
After talking with Edmund and Alex, saying her adieu early, for they would all soon be in London, Val went to her chambers and changed into a plain skirt and blouse, tying her hair back. She put on sturdy shoes and headed for the woods. She felt close to Archard there, perhaps because she had so many memories of him coming out of those woods, having been at that woodcutter’s cottage, their conversations there…their intimacy.
She left by the kitchens, noticing that Edmund and Alex were on the dock, sitting and talking, arms around each other.
Smiling absently, Val spoke to passing servants, and one of the footmen, who was coming from the stables, and the grooms who were talking with Edmund’s livered coachman.
It was only a bit overcast. A little breeze helped carry the woodland sounds to her ears. Her soles crunched down dried leaves, twigs, and grasses. At the entry of the paths, the trees grew almost together overhead. It made for a most pleasant and cool bit of ground to traverse.
In her own muse, Val absorbed the solitude and scenery whilst her mind was full of thoughts. She walked a good ways in, by the stream, and sat there for a span of lost time, watching leaves float on the water, before getting to her feet.
It was near those cross paths, where she had once encountered Archard, their wedding morning in fact, that Val caught a blur out of the corner of her eye.
She turned, thinking it a deer.
It only took a split second for Leland to be upon her.
Later she would think of finally registering who it was, in a dream-like and surreal way. Leland, looking ever the well-dressed gentleman in a buff and brown suit and perfectly tied, starched, neck cloth. His wavy blond hair and handsome face, perfect. Even his blue eyes were calm.