Page 55 of A Deviant Spinster for the Duke
“Officially, this is my fourth year.”
“Unofficially?”
She shrugged. “This is my debut Season. My second.” She put a finger to her lips. “Do not tell anyone, or my cousin will be terribly upset.”
“I would not want that,” he replied, with more sincerity than he had intended to show.
His customary, blasé tone kept failing him. In truth, it was becoming rather unnerving, for he relied upon his nonchalance like an elderly old soldier relied on a cane. He would falter without it, losing his balance.
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed, searching his face. “You are not what you seem to be,” she murmured, almost to herself. A moment later, she shook it off. “My fish has gone cold.”
“Would you like it warmed?” he replied, unsettled by her quieter remark.
“No, thank you. That, I suppose, is the disadvantage of having luncheon outside—either the weather is so insufferably hot that no one has an appetite, or the food cools too quickly.” She shrugged. “I shall just savor the view instead.”
She promptly turned away from him to gaze at the woodland in the distance, across an ocean of gleaming green lawn, sipping her lemonade quite contentedly.
What an odd creature…Duncan’s attention returned to Valeria, his heart jumping as his eyes met hers. Her brow was furrowed in consternation, her pretty green eyes creased at the corners in a pained squint, her lips clamped in a pensive line that reignited his perennial desire to kiss her.
An instant later, he realized why she was staring at him like that. It was not because she wished to look at him—he had likely lost that privilege—but because of who he had been talking to.
Immediately, he felt compelled to explain himself, but she was too far away. Even if he were to tell her that he was just making polite conversation with a very impolite guest, he doubted she would believe him.
So, he picked up his glass and raised it discreetly to her.
Eyes flaring, she twisted in her chair, striking up a conversation with the Baron of Tarporley.
It is for the best,Duncan reminded himself, as he reached for the wine after all. He would need it, in abundance, if he was to get through the next three days with Valeria; having her so close, in his country manor where their ‘lessons’ had begun, while knowing he could never risk being that close to her again. For her sake.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Despite the location and the sight of Duncan chatting amiably with Beatrice, the luncheon on the lawn managed to transform itself into one of those perfect summer afternoons that stretched lazily into a balmy evening, brimming with good humor, lively conversation, exemplary food, and the sort of views that could steal anyone’s breath away.
Valeria could not remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so much, nor eaten to the point where she thought she might burst. It made a welcome change to the sparse meals she had become accustomed to at home.
“You have a splendid appetite,” William enthused on her right, his cheeks rosy with contentment… and a glass too many of Duncan’s collection of delicious champagne. “If you were my baroness, you would never want for anything. You could have all the delicacies you desire. We could travel the continent, dining at our leisure, experiencing every culinary delight there is to be savored.”
Valeria almost choked on her own glass of champagne, uncertain of whether to laugh or take him seriously. “What a tempting scene you have conjured, Lord Tarporley.”
“William, please,” he urged. “Whenever anyone refers to me by my title, I expect my father to answer.”
She smiled, rather charmed by this less restrained version of him. Yet, even in this sweetened state, and him offering merry proposals to her, her heart remained unmoved. If she were to wed this man, she doubted her heart would ever stir.
But does that mean I would be unhappy?
Listening to him as he waxed poetic about tasting olives in Greece, sipping champagne in Champagne, enjoying freshly cooked fish by the beach in Naples, and sampling the interesting dishes of Austria, she could not be certain. Maybe, they would have a pleasant marriage of companionship, and that would not be so awful.
At that moment, she heard Amelia and Lionel laughing at something that one had whispered to the other, and felt her heart crack.
It was, perhaps, her own fault, but the moment she had seen her dearest friends fall in love with their respective husbands, she had come to expect it for herself, too. Not to mention the beautiful love that had been shared between her mother and father. Every example of marriage around her had been one ofthe highest respect and affection and unyielding love; she had never stood a chance of not wanting that for herself.
“Remind me to speak with your father in the coming days,” William said abruptly, his eyes glassy with the effects of the tart, bubbling beverage. “There is something I would eagerly like to talk to him about, if you might arrange a formal meeting?”
An invisible hand tightened around Valeria’s throat. “Of course, Lo—William,” she croaked, the sultry heat of the evening suddenly suffocating her. “After we have all settled in, perhaps.”
“Splendid!” William downed what was left in his glass in celebration, before waving it at a passing footman for another.
As sweat beaded on her brow, an icier perspiration prickling down the back of her neck, Valeria cast a sideways glance at the opposite end of the table. There, Duncan and Beatrice seemed to be deep in conversation once more; the latter smiling sweetly at the former, laughing at something he had said.
