Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Next day
Archie knew before he opened his eyes.
She was gone.
Morning sun peeking through parted bed curtains, he slitted his eyes open. The space beside him—where Valentina should have been—lay empty, no longer even warm. She’d been gone a while, that cold space told him.
Last night…
She’d been a virgin.
This morning…
She wasn’t.
Right.
It’s different for us.
That simply wasn’t true.
Everyone had feelings and desires, wants and needs. Class made no difference.
No, Miss Valentina Hart had been deflecting.
She hadn’t wanted to have a difficult conversation.
And though he wasn’t exactly known for wading into waters fraught with difficulty—clear, smooth-running streams were much his preference—he wasn’t letting her not have this difficult conversation.
Surely, they could come to some sort of arrangement.
The instant the word arrangement formed in his mind, he felt immediate revulsion. That word put him on a level with certain lords he didn’t particularly like, or respect.
He swept the coverlet away and pushed out of bed.
Twenty minutes later, he was entering the morning room, fully, impeccably dressed, a smile to greet the day on his mouth.
But the room was empty of Valentina, and everyone else for that matter.
He didn’t have a pocket watch to consult, but it only now occurred to him that it might be early morning.
The light was still golden, and the air yet held that specific stillness.
A servant carrying a tray of croissants entered. The surprised lift of her eyebrows when she spotted him was all the confirmation Archie needed. He was definitely early to breakfast.
Further, he wasn’t only early.
He was eager, anticipation racing through his veins at the prospect of greeting the new day with Valentina.
He took his customary seat at the table and allowed himself to be served his usual morning meal—pot of piping hot coffee, toast, eggs, tomatoes, and black pudding. He was absolutely ravenous this morning.
A small silver tray bearing a note appeared to his right.
He sliced the missive open with a butter knife and scanned its contents.
He set the note down, a feeling of satisfaction sweeping through him.
Everything was falling into place concerning the swindle of Lord Nestor.
Tomorrow, Valentina’s family’s money would be secured. And then…
Well, he would never see her again.
He pushed his plate away, his appetite suddenly vanished.
The sound of chatty voices grew near. He’d just slid the note into the interior pocket of his morning coat when Delilah and Juliet entered the room. Their eyebrows lifted to the coffered ceiling when they noticed him.
“Brother,” said Delilah, sliding into her chair, “you’re up and about awfully early.”
“Or are you still awake from last night?” asked Juliet, all wide-eyed innocence and anything but.
“Very amusing,” he said, dry. His gaze flicked toward the doorway. Empty.
Perhaps Valentina was in need of a lie-in.
After last night.
The longer he was awake the more he felt like a rogue. What had he been thinking?
Five…ten…fifteen minutes later, he, Delilah, and Juliet were in the middle of breakfast and a story Delilah had heard about the Marchioness of Wyndham’s wig becoming entangled with a tenacious gooseberry bush during an assignation with a soldier in Regent’s Park.
“No doubt a diverting story, Delilah,” began Archie.
“It is,” said Delilah. “You should wait for the ending. It doesn’t turn out how you’d expect.”
Archie cleared his throat as nonchalantly as possible. “Any news of Miss Hart this morning?”
Two sets of eyebrows lifted in his direction. He hated when Delilah and Juliet did that. Never mind cousins, these two were practically twins.
“Yes,” said Delilah, and left it at that as she speared a sausage.
Juliet, bless her, took pity on him. “She’s gone.”
It was just as well Archie had only picked at his meal, for it all felt ready to come back up. He’d scared Valentina off. That was the long and short of it. He’d never been any good at keeping his desires in check.
And he’d desired Miss Valentina Hart from the instant he’d laid eyes on her. He’d needed to possess her.
And he had.
And now…
He needed to find her.
And his sister and cousin knew something more than they were saying. He saw it in their eyes. “Now, Juliet,” he began, thinking she might take pity on him again. “Perhaps you could tell me where.”
Juliet shook her head slowly. “Miss Hart spoke with Delilah.”
“Remember, she said to call her Valentina,” inserted Delilah. Her head canted with mischief. “But perhaps not you, Arch.”
Though he was desperate to find Valentina, he mustn’t appear too eager, particularly when that feline smile was curling about Delilah’s mouth.
“Shall we play our usual game?” she asked. “Or shall I get on with it and tell you now?”
“Now, if you wouldn’t mind too much.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “She’s gone to visit her family. It’s Sunday.”
“What’s the significance of Sunday?”
“Keep up, Archie.” Delilah rolled her eyes. “Valentina is visiting her family to assure them she’s alive and well. Juliet and I are caring for Miss Hiss today.”
As if she’d only been awaiting her cue, the kitten sauntered into the room with a haughty swish of her tail, hopped onto an empty chair, and began licking her fluffy gray fur with queenly dignity.
Archie returned his attention to Delilah. “In Hampstead, correct?”
“Indeed,” supplied Juliet.
“I thought Valentina told Delilah,” said Archie. Truly, these two could exasperate the feathers off a chicken.
“Well, I was standing right there.”
Archie didn’t have time for Delilah and Juliet’s games. He shot to his feet. “I’ve, erm, just remembered an appointment.”
Delilah pulled out her pocket watch. She was the only Windermere possessed of any association with time. Something to do with her chosen vocation of acting. “At eight in the morning?”
Was it that early? Still… “Yes.”
As one, Delilah and Juliet’s eyes narrowed on him. He wasn’t sure which would ask the question that had formed in both their minds. All he could do was brace himself. It was Juliet who spoke. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your intentions toward dearest Valentina?”
Sudden heat flushed through Archie. “As a matter of fact, I do mind you asking.”
Two sets of eyebrows lifted.
Archie wasn’t known for being touchy. Quite the opposite, in fact. He should’ve given Delilah and Juliet a rakish smile and let them think what they liked. But he couldn’t.
Not when it concerned Valentina.
He walked from the room with a measured stride. But the instant he was out of sight, his feet picked up their pace until he’d struck into a flat-out run. He had a Valentina to find somewhere between here and Hampstead.
And not a second to lose.
Valentina let her legs dangle off the back of the donkey cart and inhaled early morning sunshine, all golden and fresh.
It felt good to get out of London for the day. To return to her real life. The life she’d been living at Casa Windermere certainly wasn’t real life. Or, at least, not her real life.
She needed to see her family, to bring them reassurance that she was well. They hadn’t been thrilled with her idea to seek out Lord Nestor, but they hadn’t been able to stop her. She’d simply had to do something—anything—to help fix the situation.
Recently spoken words returned to her.
“You’re wilder than you think, you know.”
She hadn’t known.
But now she certainly did.
Last night, she’d been absolutely wild for the man who had spoken those words.
And this morning?
She might still be.
Which was another reason it had been imperative to get out of his house for the day.
A cart wheel hit a deep rut in the road, and a loud, “Argh!” lurched from her lungs as she grabbed onto the sides to keep from being dumped onto the road. The farmer who had offered the ride likely wouldn’t have noticed, for he was quite deaf.
A coach-and-four appeared around the bend they’d rounded a few minutes ago, charging up the road like the demons of hell were nipping at its wheels.
She wasn’t sure how the coachman expected to move around the farmer, who couldn’t hear its approach, which she kept an increasingly alarmed eye upon.
The carriage wasn’t slowing, but rather increasing its speed.
Only when the lead pair of horses had come within a few yards of the donkey cart did the coachman rein in the team.
Valentina gripped the cart tighter. What was this about?
Then from the side of the carriage poked a head—a head of golden, tousled curls…
Archie.
Valentina couldn’t help herself. She laughed. It was just such a very Archie thing to do.
“Valentina,” he shouted. “Do you need a ride?”
“I have one,” she shouted back. It was merely a statement of the obvious.
His jaw took on a mulish set. He’d become determined, and a determined Archie was an implacable Archie, and an implacable Archie was a relentless Archie.
She knew from recent experience.
Her body heated up by a few degrees.
Still, the farmer hadn’t any notion of the coach-and-four at his rear.
Valentina supposed she should alert him, for Archie wasn’t going anywhere.
She tapped the farmer’s shoulder. He glanced around to discover the unexpected situation at his back before guiding the donkey cart to the side of the road, clearly expecting the lord’s coach-and-four to pass.
But it didn’t. Instead, it stopped, too, and out stepped an impeccably dressed lord in a forest-green morning coat, buff superfine trousers, and snow-white cravat. The Platonic ideal of an English lord stood before them.
The farmer held his hat in his hands and shuffled his feet. “Now, I don’t know what this be about, milord,” he said, wary. “But I’ll not be wantin’ trouble.”