“Rebecca…” he began, needing to share with her all. They had been as close as could be physically, but she deserved more from him.
“You know that I never wanted this title.”
“I do.”
“And you know it should have been my brother’s, but… he died.”
“I know, and I’m sorry Valentine.”
Valentine paused. “It’s more than that. He’s dead because of me.”
Rebecca was silent, but the trust in her hazel green eyes was nearly more than he could bear.
“I’m sure that isn’t true,” she said quietly.
“I wish that were so,” he responded, hearing the heaviness in his voice as he began telling the story that had been replaying in his mind for the past few years. “We had come to London — this was before we knew my cousin had been deemed illegitimate. I agreed to a prizefight, one against a new young lord, a member of the Fancy who wanted to prove himself. I beat him — soundly. He was humiliated, as he had reason to be, but there was no way I was letting him win just because of who he was.”
He stopped, this part nearly too hard to put into words.
“He sent a group of men upon me the next night, to teach me a lesson. They found where I was staying, saw me leaving the house, and attacked.” He swallowed hard. “Only, it wasn’t me. It was Matthew. We always looked a good deal alike, but especially in the dark, they didn’t see the truth. He— he died from his injuries.”
“Oh, Valentine,” Rebecca said, sorrow in her voice, and he could only nod jerkily.
“The worst of it is that the young lord was killed in another prizefight he should never have entered before I could do anything about it.”
“None of this was your fault,” she said gently.
“It is,” he insisted. “If I hadn’t fought—”
“But you had fought plenty of times before, I'm sure. It was the fault of the nobleman, not of you at all.”
“It should have been me who died.”
She jerked back. “Don't say such a thing!”
“But it should have. My parents never recovered. My father died soon after, likely of a broken heart. He had never approved of me to begin with but after that… anyway. It is why I do what I can now, to try to support my family as best I can.”
“That is admirable, Valentine, but I still believe you are far too hard on yourself.”
“So be it.”
Finally, she leaned back, but only far enough that she could press her lips against his. He accepted her kiss eagerly, like a thirsty man desperate for a drink of water. He picked her up and carried her over to the bed, laying her down as though she were fine china.
They had made love in many ways before — passionately, languidly, with a fair bit of fun and laughter. But this time was different.
This time when they came together, there was a sense of melancholy about their joining. They kissed one another as though it was the last time they would ever do so, savoring the moments, the touches, the caresses.
When they came together, it was as wonderful as it always was, but a heavy weight filled Val’s heart with the innate knowledge that this was farewell, in one way or another.
It was just left to determine how permanent that farewell might be.
Jemima wouldn’t stop staring at him the next morning across the breakfast table.
“What?” Valentine asked around his mouthful of food.
“Are you all right?” she asked, peering at him carefully.
“Of course I am!” he said, though he realized he may have been slightly too emphatic, for she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because Rebecca has left.”
Thankfully their mother had yet to join them at the breakfast table.
“Why should it matter that Miss Lambert has returned to London? Besides the fact that we had to lend her and her father one of the carriages that is in a sorry state of repair. I do hope it makes it to London.”
“You know why it matters, Valentine.”
His sister was far too smart.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he lied, refusing to capitulate. “We will also be in London soon enough ourselves.”
“Yes, I am looking forward to it,” Jemima said. “I have much to discuss with Celeste, and I, for one, am not ashamed to admit that I rather liked Rebecca and I look forward to seeing her again. I am sure she and Celeste would get along famously. Are you looking forward to taking your seat in the House of Lords?”
“No.”
She laughed. “I didn’t think so. But think of all the good you can do, coming with a different perspective than the rest of them.”
“I suppose.”
“My, you are sullen this morning,” she said, tilting her head, goading him.
“Must you be so contrary?” he muttered.
“Yes, until you admit the truth,” she said. “Now tell me, what did you think of Lady Fredericka?”
He shrugged. The truth was, he hadn’t given her much thought, for his mind was too filled with Rebecca.
“She seems like a nice young lady.”
“She is,” Jemima said, her eyes lighting up. “She and I got along famously. She is quite intelligent, speaks of much beyond the silly nothings most women talk about, and I found her quite kind. I wouldn’t say, however, that the two of you seemed overly interested in one another. In fact, you hardly said a word to her.”
“I have other things on my mind.”
“Like Rebecca.”
He glared at her. “No, like getting this estate in order. I have interviews today with five men who may be good candidates to become steward here, and when I return to London, I must find a competent man-of-business. I need someone I can trust.”
“You trust Archie.”
“Yes, but Archie has not the connections nor the knowledge to put this estate in order,” he said. “I need someone with ideas that are outside of the usual.”
“Like Rebecca’s scheme.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, attempting not to show how intrigued he was by Jemima’s words, but regardless needing to know more.
Jemima quickly told him of Rebecca’s father’s failed project and her idea of how to earn back the money they needed.
“A lottery with the houses as the prizes themselves,” he murmured. “Interesting.”
Jemima nodded as she picked up her coffee cup, taking a sip. “Very. She is quite intelligent.”
“So she is,” Valentine admitted. Much more than he, that was for certain.
Archie appeared in the doorway with a nod, telling Valentine that he must prepare for his first interview. Val knew it was quite unusual for a valet to sit in, but he needed someone he trusted to provide a second opinion, and at the moment, Archie was the best person to fit that role.
“Well, good day, Jem. Best wishes on whatever it is you are embarking on today.”
“Thank you, Val,” she said with a wink. “To you as well.”
One thing was for certain — he had to keep an eye on his sister. She was too smart for her own good.