Chapter 13 #2
He would like what he saw with her every curve on display.
Except the fichu.
He wouldn’t like that.
In the next tick of time, his gaze returned to the man at his side—Lord Nestor.
They exchanged a few words with Nestor’s gaze flicking toward Valentina.
Then Archie began walking. Toward her. Though not in a straight line.
Every few steps, he was accosted by a different acquaintance or friend or even family member, for all she knew.
It was widely known that most aristocrats were related either through blood or marriage or, more than occasionally, both.
And all the while, his too-charming smile didn’t slip a whit.
This was Lord Daniel Windermere, Viscount Archer—Archie—in his natural element. Yet…
His gaze never strayed from her for longer than a few seconds at a time.
The other guests might receive his charm, but she held the entirety of his attention.
She rather liked that.
Too much.
He only stopped when he’d come within three feet of her. Silence stretched between them. There was simply too much to say.
“Smile,” he said at last.
“Pardon?”
“For Nestor.”
And she understood. The ruse was on. A too-large smile stretched across her mouth. All the muscles in her face would be sore in the morning if she kept this up for longer than two minutes.
“Now, pretend we’re talking.”
“We are talking,” she couldn’t help pointing out.
A hint of his true smile shone in his eyes. “Are you…” he began. “Are you being treated well?”
She nodded. “Your family is most kind.”
“Are you thirsty?”
“Delilah and Juliet are fetching me a cup of punch.”
He laughed as if she’d told the funniest joke in the world. “Now you laugh,” he said.
She laughed, knowing it was for Nestor.
“Have you eaten?” asked Archie.
“I’m not hungry, my lord,” she said. “And you?”
“What about me?”
“Did you eat your fill this afternoon?”
He went stone still, the only movement on his body the flare of black pupils pushing blue irises into thin rings. Of a sudden, her question wasn’t about Sunday tea with her family.
Had she intended it that way?
She thought not, but…perhaps…
Hoyden.
“I’ll never have my fill of that particular meal,” he said, shimmering with the dark intensity that so attracted her.
A shiver purled up her spine and crawled through her body, tightening her nipples, making her ready for him. The pleasures he’d introduced to her body, she wanted more of them. Now.
Which was, of course, impossible.
“Now for The Nod,” he said.
She did as instructed. She would do anything he asked, she suspected—and feared.
He tore his gaze from her and nodded at Lord Nestor. He nodded back.
The swindle of the swindler was on.
Archie stepped forward, and Valentina’s heart skipped into a race. “Valentina, about last night…”
“Yes?”
“And this afternoon…”
“Yes?”
Why was her heart suddenly in her throat?
“I may not have been at my best,” he said.
She held his gaze for a full five seconds before a burst of laughter that might have been slightly hysterical broke from her. “That wasn’t your best?”
To Archie’s credit, he did try to remain serious, but the smile that wanted out wouldn’t be stifled. “Blast it, woman, you know what I mean. I’m trying to apologize for being no more than a rake. I’ve had time to think about it.”
Pique needled through Valentina. “But here’s the thing, Lord Archer,” she said. “I’m not apologizing to you.”
“Pardon?”
“What we experienced together was mutual. I made the desired decision for myself, and you made the desired decision for yourself. I believe we each reached the desired outcome.”
Archie’s mouth opened, then closed. The man was thoroughly nonplussed. She felt no small amount of satisfaction.
The ding-ding-ding of metal tapping crystal sounded at the opposite end of the room.
The Duke and Duchess of Ripon stood in the center aisle of the assembled rows of chairs.
“If you will make your way to a chair, the musical portion of the evening will begin.” Every syllable sounded as if extracted with great reluctance from His Grace, while Her Grace stood serenely by his side.
Archie didn’t seem to have heard, for he yet stared down at Valentina, his head cocked, his gaze gone narrow and assessing, as if he were running a mental calculation.
“I believe this is when you escort me to my chair, my lord,” she said.
“Our work for the night is finished,” he said, low. “We could leave and no one would be the wiser.”
He didn’t need to speak the words aloud for her body to know precisely what he was suggesting. They could leave…together.
Then she felt it in her hand. The folio case.
“We are expected to stay,” she said, summoning every bit of will she possessed, for the plain fact was she wouldn’t mind taking him up on his unspoken suggestion.
Disappointment flashed behind his eyes. Then he held out an arm for her, and they made their way through the crowd to the front row of seats that Delilah and Juliet had saved for them.
“Did you have to sit us all the way at the front, Delilah?” Archie groused.
“Yes,” she said simply.
Nerves filled Valentina. Archie only thought his work finished for the evening.
The Duke and Duchess took their seats to the other side of Delilah and Juliet, and the musicale began.
It quickly became clear the musical entertainments provided by a duke and duchess couldn’t be more different from those provided by the Five Graces.
There, the evening would’ve begun with a contortionist or a puppet act.
Here, two rather burly footmen were hauling out a full-sized, gilded harp.
A lady, whose attire was fashioned in the manner of an ancient Grecian statue, took her seat and began plucking the strings, the music flowing over the assembled like a gentle stream.
Valentina stole a glance at Archie. Where she felt relaxed by the music, his hands were clenched at his sides and his gaze steadfastly fixed on the harpist. She immediately understood.
For Archie, music wasn’t a recreational experience to be enjoyed and forgotten.
It entered his body and fused with his soul.
It was no less dramatic than that, she sensed.
The harpist played three pieces, curtsied, and left alongside her massive gilt instrument.
Next, a piano was rolled into its place, and a woman who could be none other than an opera singer stood before the gathering in a dramatic velvet crimson cloak and set her gaze toward an indistinct point in the distance, waiting, while a slight man took his place at the piano.
Archie remained utterly transfixed when the singer launched into Bach’s “Ich esse mit Freuden.”
The mezzosoprano’s voice burst into life and filled every corner, and all Valentina could do was sit back in awe of her virtuosity. This woman’s voice had been trained by professionals.
And she was to follow her?
Valentina understood she possessed a lovely voice, but it was untrained. Well, there was nothing for it. She had a plan of her own tonight, and she would see it through.
It struck her that she was about to sing for aristocrats, as she’d originally intended. But tonight, instead of exposing Lord Nestor, she would be exposing Archie. Perhaps it was wrong, but deep in her soul, she felt its rightness.
Her soul knew something about Archie’s, and it understood it needed to see the light.
Or the darkness would consume him.
The mezzosoprano sang through several more Bach pieces before finishing her musical set. The crowd clapped politely. Valentina shook her head. Aristocrats. They’d witnessed true vocal virtuosity, and they seemed slightly bored—all except for the man beside her.
The Duchess of Ripon leaned forward and nodded at Valentina. It was time.
She removed the sheet music from the folio case and stood, sudden anxiety jittering through her, giving her hands a slight tremor. Beside her, Archie’s eyebrows crinkled together in question.
She took her place in the bentside curve of the piano and gazed out across the crowd of one hundred slightly indifferent pairs of eyes. She swallowed and found the only pair of eyes that mattered. Then she crooked her finger.
He gave his head a subtle shake.
She smiled, unmoved. She’d anticipated as much.
He must’ve reached the—correct—conclusion that she would stand here all night if necessary, for finally he stood. A few gasps rippled through the crowd, and interest in the night’s musicale perked up.
Archie smiled his charming smile, but the stormy look in his eyes was all for Valentina. He was none too pleased with her.
No matter.
As he seated himself on the bench, she placed the Mozart piece onto the music stand before him. Their eyes caught for a quick instant. She would be explaining herself later, his eyes told her. Oh, if he only knew…
His fingers depressed keys, and the opening notes of Mozart’s “Voi che sapete” lifted into the air, pianissimo, so as not to overwhelm her voice when she began singing.
Again, they met eye to eye, as musicians, and they made music together.
At first, he resisted entering the emotion of the piece with her, trying to be naught more than an accompanist, but she saw the instant he gave over.
He couldn’t help himself. He could give nothing less than his all to music.
It inspired Valentina’s voice to new heights as she gave her all to Mozart.
Too soon, the final notes poured from her and sounded from the piano. The crowd erupted into applause, with Delilah shouting, “Bravissimo!”
Archie made to stand. He’d only reached a half crouch before Valentina shook her head. She pulled another piece of music from the folio case and placed it before him. His gaze swiped over it, and his jaw tightened. His eyes met hers, and he shook his head.
She nodded.
He shook his head again.
Their audience laughed, assuming Archie was only being his usual Windermere self. What new jape had he in store for them?
Valentina had come prepared for this moment.
She pulled a slip of paper from the folio case and slid it across the gleaming rosewood fallboard. He scanned the two simple words.
I’ll speak.
It was a gamble. He could easily call her bluff. But she felt he wouldn’t. It would ruin tomorrow’s plan for Nestor, and Archie wouldn’t let that opportunity slip by.
A muscle in his jaw jumped, but that was the only outward sign of his anger as the first notes of the composition—his composition—fell from his fingertips. She could have picked any one of his thirty-two compositions, but she’d chosen this one—the one they’d created together.
She stepped away from the piano and returned to her seat in the front row. She wanted to watch his performance along with everyone else.
He began the piece slowly, so it sounded almost like a dirge, but despite himself, he entered the music.
As he played, it was only him and the music, and everyone in the room sensed it, even if they didn’t fully understand it.
How was this the Viscount Archer playing that music?
Skilled fingers flew across the keyboard, displaying his mastery of the instrument.
Even if the room didn’t know the beautiful music pouring from his soul was his own composition, they witnessed his command and skill.
Valentina had never seen him more gorgeous than he was at this moment—the composition building on itself, gathering intensity, casting a spell over the room. She would wager not a single breath was drawn during the entirety of the performance.
Then the final notes echoed out and faded. Three beats of silence held before the assembled burst into rapturous applause.
Archie stood and gave a bow, his mouth held in the tight approximation of a smile, a far cry from the usual devil-may-care one all knew well.
All Valentina saw was thinly veiled fury.
He stepped away from the instrument and made for the front row…
For her.
He stopped inches from her and held out a hand. “You’re coming with me,” he said, low and utterly, entirely intent.
“Now Archie—” began Delilah.
He shot his sister a silencing look. “This has nothing to do with you, Delilah.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“We’ll cause a scene,” said Valentina.
And he smiled. Valentina didn’t like that smile. It held a menacing quality. “Oh, it’s nothing to the scene we’ll cause if you don’t come with me now.”
And that was how Valentina found herself arm in arm with Archie, being marched down the central aisle, curious, shocked stares and mutterings being thrown their way as they exited the mansion through the open set of double doors.
As they strode into a moonlit garden, he remained silent.
His pace didn’t abate as they followed one gravel path, then another, through shrubberies and rows of fruit trees, the garden growing more enchanting with every step away from the mansion and its music and the crowd’s chatter growing fainter.
This garden was in the middle of London?
They stepped inside a walled-off portion, all grown over with vines and climbing roses. A secret garden, lit by small hanging globes. But she hadn’t time to stare in appreciation for she had a furious lord to contend with.
Archie dropped her arm and placed some distance between them before pivoting. This man had something to say to her.
Which was just as well.
She had something to say to him.
“Apologize,” he said—demanded.
She should’ve known he’d be capable of this sort of fury, but it still came as a shock. “I don’t believe I shall.”
She had some ground to stand, and she would.
His eyebrows lifted in perplexity.
She’d surprised him.
Good.
He cocked his head. “Do you think what you did was right?”
It was a genuine question. She would give him a genuine answer. “I’m not certain. But I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to stop being a fake.”
There, she’d said it.
“A fake?” An incredulous laugh escaped him. “You’re the one pretending to be an Italian contessa.”
She shook her head. “The two are not at all the same, and you know it.”
His jaw clenched, and the thunderstorm returned to his eyes. He couldn’t deny it.
Here, Valentina found the opening she needed. “You have two selves.”
“You make me sound like a bedlamite,” he said, as lordly and dismissive as she’d ever heard him. She’d definitely struck a nerve.
“The Lord Archer that the world knows, and this other man only revealed in the dead of night,” she began. “I don’t understand why it’s so necessary to keep them separate.”
He looked as if he wouldn’t respond, then he said, “Everyone loves the Lord Archer they know. He’s always up for a lark and a laugh.” He shrugged, as if indifferent. “Does the world really need another temperamental artist?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Why is that, pray tell?”
“So you can stop living half a life.”