Page 74 of A Deviant Spinster for the Duke
She has gone, and if it is the only decent thing I ever do, I… must let her go.
For he was not his brother, and he wouldneverbe worthy of a woman like her… no matter how much he wished he could be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Afortnight had never flown by so quickly, blurring past faster than even Duncan’s wildest days, where entire months had blended into one another. He had spent it all at Thornhill Grange, walking and riding and fending off visits from Lionel, Edmund, and Vincent, who had grown increasingly concerned about their friend.
He would still be there at his country manor, hoping that the next twenty-mile stroll might be the one to rid himself of Valeria’s lingering presence in his mind, if he had not received a rather cross letter from the dressmaker, Mrs. Bird.
To the Duke of Thornhill,
The gown has been ready for two weeks, and I have received no coin or correspondence. Please collect it at your earliest convenience, or I shall be forced to put it on display for general purchase. You asked for it to be made as an express priority, and I have kept my end of the bargain. I do not appreciateinsults to my work, so I can only assume there were unexpected circumstances.
Yours sincerely,
Mrs. Bird.
The quiet aggression had been enough motivation to set Duncan upon his horse, heading for London without delay. Although, what he was supposed to do with a gown that had very specific measurements, and a very specific recipient remained a mystery.
So it was that he found himself on the familiar street, walking quickly toward the shop with the jade exterior, praying that the proprietor would not ask too many questions that he was in no temper to answer.
He was almost there when he heard the jingle of the bells above the shop door, scuffing to a halt as a familiar figure stepped out.
Keen eyes fell upon him, as if she had known he would be there. Half a second later, she was in front of him, jabbing a finger at him, her voice low and threatening as she whispered, “No, you cannot be here. You must turn around at once.”
“A pleasure as always, Miss Johnson,” he replied curtly, swatting her jabbing finger away. “Do not presume to tell me where I may go.”
Beatrice glanced anxiously back over her shoulder. “Valery cannot see you.” Her voice softened, laced with a tremble of concern that may or may not have been genuine. “She is collecting her wedding gown. I am supposed to be fetching the bonnet from that shop up there. If she sees you, Your Grace, it…”
She clamped her lips shut as if she had already said too much.
“It will what, Miss Johnson?”
Beatrice grimaced, balling her hands into fists. “It will ruin her day, and this is supposed to be a happy day for her. So, please, if you still care for her at all, you will turn around and go away.”
“What if I wish to pay for her wedding gown?” Duncan asked, looking toward the shop door, willing Valeria to come out while simultaneously hoping she did not.
A strange, sad flare of exasperation brightened Beatrice’s eyes, panic prompting her to shift from foot to foot. “Do not be cruel, Your Grace. Please, just leave. She cannot see you. Her wedding is a week away, and… she does not want anything disrupting it.You, sir, are a disruption.” She swallowed loudly. “I suspect you know that you are.”
“I do not know what you mean,” he insisted, half-serious.
Simply seeing me would not be enough to undo an engagement, surely.Unless, that was why she left the house party in haste, without saying goodbye? He had assumed that she had departedlike that because they were on bad terms, and she did not want to hear him tell her again why Roger was so wrong for her.
“I know all about my cousin’s nighttime excursions, several weeks ago. She is unaware of what I know, and I should like to keep it that way,” Beatrice replied in a hushed voice. “But you turned her brain to porridge for a while, and I will not allow you to do that to her again.”
Duncan squinted at her, fighting to keep his expression blank. “You are mistaken. I helped her.”
“You turned her brain to porridge,” Beatrice repeated fiercely. “And, believe me, no one is more disappointed than I am that things have turned out this way, but I will respect her decision because she is my cousin. She is the person I love most in this world. I will protect her from danger with everything I possess and, right now, Your Grace,youare a prowling tiger.”
He was aware of how rudely she was speaking to him, and that he likely should not tolerate it, but he lacked the desire to throw his authority around. It was the same issue he had had with Beatrice before. He could not reprimand someone who was just trying to defend her cousin.
With a sigh, Duncan dipped his head. “Very well. Good day to you, Miss Johnson.”
He set off down the street, hearing Beatrice’s yelp of, “not that way!” at the same moment that the shop bell jingled a second time. A figure in muted blue stepped out as Duncan passed bythe front of the shop; they missed each other by a matter of an inch.
Valeria gasped, reeling back from the almost collision.
Duncan stopped dead, soaking up the sweet sight of her, hurriedly committing to memory all of the things he had spent two weeks forgetting: the dusting of freckles, her summer-warmed complexion, that extraordinary auburn hair that was, at present, half hidden beneath a bonnet adorned with roses; the striking green of her eyes, the plump pink of the lips he had never kissed.
