Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle

by Bronwyn Scott

  She shuddered at the last, drawing a strange glance from Beldon. ‘It’s just a chill from the sorbet,’ she said lightly, forcing her mind to push away such dire thoughts.

  She was putting a very big cart before the horse with her suppositions and conclusions. She had taken the afternoon and discreetly searched the house, looking for any information that might help her understand Valerian’s post and service. But she’d found nothing. She couldn’t even find the place called Negush on any of the four maps of Europe Valerian possessed.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Valerian asked, too.

  ‘Yes, both of you are old mother hens,’ she teased and dipped her spoon into the sorbet to prove it.

  Convinced, Valerian and Beldon returned to their conversation about Bickford’s fuse. ‘Invention is one thing,’ Valerian was saying, ‘production is another. It won’t matter how incredible an invention is if it can’t be produced in quantities.’

  Beldon waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘That’s what has impressed me so much about Bickford. He’s thought of everything. He’s in the process of finishing his design on a machine that performs the task of winding rope around a central core of gunpowder, then winding a second strand of rope in the opposite direction to keep the fuse from untwisting. He’s already talking about ways to waterproof the rope by using a special varnish. He’s got the plans with him. He’ll be in St Mawes for the rest of the week. We could ride over and see him, Val.’

  ‘I’m free tomorrow. The materials for repairing the retaining wall won’t arrive until the day after so there’s nothing more I can do. Philippa, would you like to come?’ Valerian inquired.

  ‘I would, but the men are coming to hang the silk in the music room tomorrow. I should be here for that.’ It would also give her a chance to look around the house to further assuage her fears. Perhaps it was a good sign that she couldn’t find anything. Perhaps his diplomatic work had been as bland as all the reports indicated. Maybe he had spent all his time hosting parties and squiring around delegates’ wives. That might not be all bad.

  She was suddenly less jealous of his parade of women if they’d kept him from harm. After all, how busy could he have been? He’d had time to visit Italy and study gardens. He’d mentioned at Lucien’s that he’d been actively studying the piano. Those didn’t sound like the hobbies of someone who had time to hatch a treasonous plot against the crown.

  ‘You can advise me as to the wisdom of helping this Bickford with his invention, whatever he is calling it.’

  ‘Safety rods,’ Beldon put in.

  ‘Safety rods,’ Philippa repeated. ‘If you like, you can write to Lucien and tell him about it. It might be the type of investment Danforth’s new bank is looking for.’ She made the offer to be helpful. It did indeed seem to do both sides a favour. Bickford would need funds to build a factory and Lucien needed Bickford’s type of business to make the bank thrive.

  But Valerian clearly disagreed. He pushed back his silver-stemmed sorbet dish and all but glared at her down the length of the table. ‘I’d be very careful what I sent Canton’s way.’

  ‘He has money and good business sense. What could be the problem with that?’ Philippa protested, not so much out of a need to stand up for Lucien, but out of dislike of having her judgement questioned.

  ‘Too good, if you ask me,’ Valerian said pointedly. ‘Have you ever wondered why the financially savvy Mr Canton has his fingers in so many pies?’

  Philippa leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, entrenching. ‘No, I have not thought about it beyond the simple fact that he understands wealth is based on diversified holdings. Apparently, you think otherwise?’

  ‘I do think otherwise. I suspect he wishes to corner the market, as it were. From there, he could regulate the prices to his whim and squelch any budding competition.’

  Philippa laughed. ‘Hah, that is theoretically how such a manoeuvre works, but, realistically, it would be almost impossible to perform such a feat with mining. It wouldn’t be enough to control the mines, you’d need the other industries too, the smelting and the gunpowder. And I don’t see how it would be possible to regulate the new mines in South America. They’ll always provide some level of domestic competition to keep the price of ore fair. Valerian, not even Lucien could pull something like that off.’

  Valerian quirked an eyebrow. ‘Really? Why do you think he was so interested in Danforth’s bank? I rather suspect Danforth’s arrival was less spontaneous than you might have been led to believe.’

  ‘You’re spinning out of whole cloth now, Val,’ Philippa said. ‘He’d have to control Cambourne to at least make a start and I am not sure I am interested in the merits of a cartel at this point.’

  Valerian pushed back his chair with a rough shove, his eyes glittering like sharp, cutting emeralds. ‘Why do you think he wanted to marry you?’

  Philippa rose out of her chair, horrified. ‘Why are you attacking him in this manner?’

  ‘Why are you defending him so vigorously?’ Valerian shot back.

  Beldon rose, eyeing each of them charily. ‘Let’s take some time and think this through,’ he said slowly. ‘Somewhere along the line we stopped talking about Bickford’s safety rods and started talking about something else. I am not convinced we’re really talking about Lucien Canton’s bid to establish a tin cartel.’

  ‘My apologies,’ Valerian said stiffly. ‘I’ll be in the music room.’

  Philippa watched him go with a sigh and sat back down, suddenly weary now that the fight was over. Beldon was right. The fight had been about something else. ‘He’s upset about the garden wall,’ Philippa said by way of a facile explanation for his outburst.

  Beldon relaxed into his chair. ‘Don’t play me for a fool, Phil. Has something happened between the two of you? I thought things were going rather well.’

  Philippa toyed with her spoon, drawing it through the melted remnants of her sorbet. ‘Things were going well, but it is to be expected we’ll have some rough times. Nine years is a lot of time to account for. We have to learn about each other again.’

  Beldon would not be put off. ‘Something has happened to make you question him again.’ He shook his head. ‘Certainly there are events in his life that you do not know about. But you know him and you know how Valerian would handle those events. You know that he can be trusted to act with honour at all times.’

  ‘That does not reassure me,’ Philippa said quietly. ‘It is what concerns me the most. I had a letter from Lucien today.’

  ‘Does Valerian know? That would explain his pique.’

  ‘He might.’ Philippa could see how that would be possible. Valerian may have asked Steves if there was any correspondence and Steves could have reasonably answered that there had been none but a letter from Truro for the Duchess. ‘I never thought of Valerian as the jealous sort.’

  ‘Of course not. Valerian is the least covetous man I know. But he’s also the most protective. He doesn’t trust Canton. Protection is honourable. Coveting is not. That’s the difference between him and Lucien—one of them, at least.’ Beldon shrugged.

  Philippa stared at her brother. His insights, as usual, made perfect sense. When it came to people, Beldon was a genius. ‘I think you could have been a splendid fortune teller, Beldon. You see people so much more clearly than the rest of us do.’ She rose, laying her napkin on the table. ‘Excuse me, brother. I have to go mend fences with Val.’

  The music drew her down the hallway. Valerian was an exquisite musician, his playing both technically perfect and emotive. Tonight, he played a quiet nocturne.

  She listened for a while at the doorway, unwilling to interrupt. ‘The piece is very soothing,’ she said softly.

  ‘That’s why I chose it. I hoped it would help clear my head and my heart,’ Valerian said, his fingers still on the keys, his back to her.

  ‘Has it?’ Philippa moved to stand behind him, her hands on his shoulders, gently kneading away the tension th
ere.

  ‘To a certain extent.’ Valerian sighed. ‘That feels good. I think I will feel better once I apologise for my boorish behaviour.’

  ‘I came to apologise for mine. I didn’t mean to defend Lucien. He assures me that he remains my friend, but I think my refusal of marriage has fractured that friendship regardless. I have not sought him out, even in correspondence, since I declined his second proposal.’

  ‘His second? I hadn’t known.’ Valerian stiffened, leery of such news.

  ‘He asked again the last night in Truro. But I have refused him. He has no reason to hope that my feelings will change. However, he wrote today, citing his prolific friendship for me.’

  Valerian nodded, confirming what she had suspected. ‘Steves mentioned it in passing.’ He put off her hands and stood. ‘I am sorry for the way I behaved at supper, but I am not sorry about my motives for doing so. May we speak reasonably for a moment? Do you think our anger has subsided enough for that?’

  Philippa took his arm and they began to stroll the halls, coming to the long portrait gallery that ran the length of the second floor. Their anger had indeed passed and the peace between them was a balm to her earlier agitation.

  ‘What shall we talk about?’ Philippa said after a while, sensing Valerian’s reluctance to break the quiet.

  ‘In all honesty, have you considered why Lucien felt compelled to offer for you?’

  ‘I did think about it, but I could not come up with a reason beyond his need for an heir.’

  ‘I did not say it well at dinner, but have you considered that the reason is that he would gain control of Cambourne when you married? Marriage to you would solidify the cartel’s success. Without the Cambourne mining interests, the cartel is nothing but businessmen with venture capital. Without Cambourne, they can’t regulate prices or control the supply and demand in the marketplace for ore.’

  Philippa took a deep breath. ‘No, I had not thought of that. I overlooked the issue of holdings simply because he had no obvious need for my wealth. He has plenty of his own.’

  Valerian gave a deprecating snort. ‘A man like Canton always wants more. He’s greedy and ambitious. He can never have enough. I fear that that avarice puts you in danger, my dear.’

  ‘I can handle Lucien,’ Philippa said. ‘You forget I’ve been on my own for some time now. I know how to take man’s measure.’

  Valerian stopped their strolling and turned to face her directly, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘If you will not be guided by your lover, be guided in this by your friend and listen to my advice as that friend. Canton will not brook your refusal lightly, not because his feelings are hurt—I doubt the man has any—but because it now puts his purse at risk. He must have Cambourne or give up his dreams of a cartel entirely. Your refusal has put him in an untenable position. Short of trying to coerce you into selling out or breaking up the unentailed holdings, he has no options left.’

  ‘Coerce?’ Philippa said. ‘I am far too intimidating to be forced.’

  ‘Coercion doesn’t have to be obvious, Philippa. It could be sabotage.’

  Sabotage. Philippa blanched at the word. Surely Lucien would not betray her in such a way? He’d been a steady friend, someone she’d counted on in numerous ways. Friends didn’t sabotage each other, they respected each other’s decisions.

  ‘You mean like causing accidents to happen at the mines?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t worry on that account. Accidents now hurt his profit, if he later acquired the mines.’ No, she felt confident that Lucien would not resort to such ridiculously extreme tactics.

  ‘What did Lucien write to say?’ Valerian said, veering on to another topic of conversation.

  ‘Only to reassure me of his friendship,’ Philippa said, glossing over the letter’s contents. She was more than glad she’d waited to discuss Lucien’s concerns. Tonight was definitely not the time to mention them.

  She had too much to think about. Valerian’s comments had placed Lucien’s letter in an entirely different light. She had thought that the letter seemed odd, not Lucien’s usual style. Now she wondered if the letter hadn’t been a strategy of some sort. Lucien would see Valerian as an obstacle. If Valerian were out of the way, perhaps Lucien believed she might reconsider his offer. But the consequences were too terrible to think of. She couldn’t believe even Lucien would see a man dead or ruined simply to achieve a goal.

  A shiver ran down her spine.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not catching a cold? That’s the second time tonight,’ Valerian inquired.

  Philippa smiled up at him, playing the flirt. ‘Perhaps I am a little chilled, after all. Why don’t you take me to your chambers and warm me?’

  Valerian flirted back readily. ‘I do know a clever trick they use in the Danubian provinces during the cold winters for warming up people.’

  Philippa gasped in mock modesty. ‘Do tell!’

  ‘Well, they take off all of their clothes and crawl beneath a blanket and hold each other.’

  ‘It sounds scandalous.’

  ‘Not scandalous, scientific. The belief is that the body of the warm individual is passed to the colder recipient. With clothes, so much heat is lost in the transfer.’ Valerian made a great display of shaking his head. ‘A shame for so much heat to go to waste.’

  Philippa laughed for the first time since Lucien’s awful letter had arrived. She put her arms about Valerian’s waist. ‘What are we waiting for? Do you by chance know a cure for lightheadedness?’ she asked, teasing heavily.

  ‘Why?’ Valerian looked wary.

  ‘Because I think I might swoon.’ Philippa passed a dramatic hand over her brow and let Valerian take her full weight.

  ‘Minx, you just want me to carry you to our room,’ Valerian laughed at her theatrics.

  With a quick sweep of his arm beneath her legs, he hefted her up, making it seem so easy. Philippa rewarded him with a kiss. ‘I hear kisses heal almost anything.’

  Valerian held her gaze, his eyes merry, but his voice soft. ‘I’ve heard that about love, too.’

  Philippa was glad he was holding her or she might have really swooned, so powerful was the effect of his simple words. He loved her. And the very knowledge of that held her fears at bay, like a night fire against the wolves.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Philippa was in the music room overseeing the hanging of the wallpaper and new curtains when the summons came. The usually unflappable Steves appeared to be slightly winded as he delivered his message. Philippa thought it highly likely he had run all the way from the front door.

  ‘My lady, there is a woman here to see the viscount,’ he puffed, trying to hide his rapid breathing.

  Philippa began untying the apron she wore, her mind working quickly. The caller was unexpected. If Valerian had had an appointment, he would not have agreed to ride out with Beldon to talk with the fuse inventor. The caller was also a stranger. If she’d been from the area, Steves would have recognised her and have been less flustered.

  ‘I shall see her, Steves. Did she have a card?’ Philippa said calmly. In spite of the spontaneous nature of the call, it was not beyond the realm of acceptability. There could be any number of reasons that a chance visitor had stopped at Roseland: a broken carriage part, a desire to see the gardens, or an old acquaintance passing through the area. Those things had happened often enough at Cambourne. The Duke had had an enormous number of acquaintances and they had on several occasions dropped by.

  But Valerian hadn’t been home long enough for that, nor had he publicly announced his return. She’d sensed he was waiting to make his return official once the Season was under way in London.

  ‘Where did you put her? Does she have a name?’ Philippa asked, smoothing her skirts and catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror to make sure she didn’t have a bit of plaster in her hair. It wouldn’t do to meet the caller, whoever she was, looking like the housekeeper.

  ‘I put her in the
small receiving room downstairs. She said her name was Lilya Stefanov.’

  Worry came to Philippa for the first time. She started to understand the source of Steves’s unease. The woman’s name indicated she was foreign. Was she someone, then, from Valerian’s past? She fought a sudden wave of nausea at the implications. Was this woman one of his reported lovers? Perhaps more than a reported lover? Surely they had shared some substantial connection if she felt she could call on him.

  ‘Did she say what she wanted?’

  Steves shook his head and said quietly, ‘No, your Grace. However, she does have a young son with her.’

  Philippa’s stomach roiled again and she was doubly glad only toast and tea had appealed to her at breakfast. She chided herself. She was not acting like the Dowager Duchess of Cambourne. The Duchess would regally sweep down the stairs and take charge of the situation. She would not be standing in the music room letting nerves get the better of her.

  The problem was, she hadn’t thought of herself as the Dowager Duchess for more than a month. In the six weeks she’d been at Roseland, she’d been Philippa Stratten again, a woman in love and resident lady of the manor. She’d not thought of herself as anyone’s duchess, widow or viscountess; she’d rather liked defining herself as a person instead of a title.

  Now it was time to put the cloak of official authority back on. Philippa straightened her shoulders, reminding herself that it wasn’t appropriate to show emotions or weakness in front of the servants. Loving Valerian had made her more careless than she’d realised over the past weeks. ‘Have Cook send a tea tray to the parlour, Steves. We’ll show our guest the best of Roseland’s hospitality, whatever her mission may be. Tell Cook to put some of her special sugar biscuits on the tray and a cup of milk for the boy.’

  Steves smiled his approval. ‘Yes, your Grace,’ he said crisply, his relief evident that someone other than he was about to handle the delicate situation that had arrived on Roseland’s doorstep.