“Excuse me?”
“Oh, I’m not an idiot, Valentine. I know you’ve had your eye on Miss Lambert.”
Well, in truth, he had more than that upon her, but he certainly wasn’t going to share that with his mother.
“She is quite striking,” his mother continued, waving her hands as she paced around the room. “But I hardly think she has the dowry we require. And while she has spent much of her life around nobility, she has no title herself, and would not further us in any way.”
“Tell me, Mother,” Valentine said dryly, “am I the one to be married, or are we all going to wed my future bride?”
“Oh, Valentine, do not be daft,” she huffed. “You always did manage to bungle every situation. I should think it would be easy. Find a woman with a dowry and marry her. You’re a duke, and you are not bad looking. Many women will forgive an unconventional background in order to be called Duchess.”
“I would hardly want such a woman who might think that way.”
“Valentine, I wish you would just do as your parents bid you,” she said with a sigh, collapsing into a chair, the unspoken words between them — that he would do as Matthew always had.
“We are talking about the woman who will join our family and who I will spend the rest of my life with, going to bed with and waking up with every day,” he said with frustration. “It is not as though I am simply picking out a bolt of cloth.”
“No,” she said, standing now and walking over to him, placing her hands on his cheeks. “I know this has been difficult, Valentine, but I must tell you that your father would be so proud of you now.”
Her words caused anguish to coil in his gut. It was what he had always wanted to hear, and yet somehow now that she said the words, they didn’t provide the fulfillment that he would have assumed.
“Father is not here anymore,” he responded without emotion.
“Even so,” she said. “It would be what he always wanted of you. We never thought, of course, that the title would find its way to our family, and if it did—”
“Then it would have been Matthew’s,” he finished for her.
“Yes,” she said, her smile sad, and he was reminded of how much she missed his older brother. How much he did, as well. Matthew would have done the right thing. Matthew would have known what to do. Not for the first time, he wished, more than anyone, that Matthew had lived.
“He always loved you so,” she continued, and Valentine nodded. As different as they had been, as much as Matthew had always received his parents’ approval as opposed to Valentine, who was constantly testing them, he and his brother had gotten along well.
“I am sorry if I seem particularly harsh,” she said, resuming her seat, “but I am only doing what is best for our family.”
As he should be doing as well, were her unspoken words, as she fixed him with that stare he knew so well.
“I have a suggestion,” she said, and Valentine sighed. He was finished with his mother’s suggestions.
“What is it?”
“We tell Mr. Lambert that his services are no longer required.”
“What?”
“We have a master-builder. We no longer require Mr. Lambert. Pay him, and let him go on his way. Along with his daughter.”
“Mother, we have invested so much with him. Do we not want the renovations completed correctly?”
“I am sure that Mr. Burton would be fine on his own.”
“Mother,” he said, standing and making for the door to signal that this conversation was finished. “You wanted these renovations. If we are going to do them, we are going to do them right.”
“But—”
“I must go,” he said, refusing to argue with her any longer. “I have a man-of-business to find.”
After he ushered her out, he closed the door behind her, wishing he could finish with everything else in his life in such a way.
21
Rebecca now lived for those stolen moments when she would see Valentine at Wyndham House in London. Now that the builders had begun their work, she accompanied her father from time to time to answer any questions and to oversee the construction. Wyndham House was currently the priority before they would continue on to Stonehall.
“That cannot be an enjoyable task,” Jemima remarked one day as she and Rebecca stood at the back of the ballroom, staring up at the painter, who was painstakingly covering the ceiling. The workers were currently split between the ballroom and the conservatory. While both Jemima and her mother insisted that Jemima didn’t need anything besides an empty room with some tables, Rebecca was adamant that the conservatory work take as much priority as the ballroom. She understood how important it was to have a dedicated workspace. She loved her little study at home, where the sun streamed in upon her desk, angled perfectly from where she could work.
“It is rather tedious work,” Rebecca agreed, arching her already stiff neck to watch the painter, who completed his work on a system of pulleys. “It will be beautiful, however, and completely worth it once it is finished.”
“I hope so,” Jemima agreed. “Those are not the angels that my mother discussed are they?”
“No,” Rebecca said, shaking her head with a smile.
“It almost looks like they have raised their fists at one another.”
Rebecca’s grin widened ever so slightly.
Jemima turned to her with wide eyes. “You are having him paint pugilists!”
“Perhaps,” she said, laughing now, and Jemima took a deep breath, her smile beginning to match Rebecca’s.
“My mother is going to absolutely hate it.”
“It will be done very tastefully, I can promise you that.”
“But Valentine will love it,” Jemima finished, and Rebecca’s cheeks warmed. She hoped he would. That was her goal. She wasn’t sure whether he was going to be upset with her or pleased. She hoped for the latter, but she couldn’t be entirely sure.
“I thought you hated the fact that he fights.”
Rebecca looked around her for a moment as she considered her answer. The finishing was being added to the pillars, which had already been in place prior to their arrival. The room would be completed before Mrs. St. Vincent’s deadline, as they were primarily polishing what had been a large, empty canvas. A few benches around the side, and it would be ready for all of London’s finest to attend — including the women who would vie to be the next Duchess of Wyndham.
“I hate the thought that he could be injured. That he is putting himself through it in order to try to fund this dukedom,” she finally said. “But if he loves it… well, I understand seeing through on your passions.”
Jemima nodded.
“You have done a wonderful job with this house,” she remarked, to which Rebecca shook her head, evading the compliment.
“It was already nearly finished anyway,” she said.
“Yes, but you have ideas that are quite impressive,” Jemima persisted. “I am looking forward to seeing them put into place.”
“All in good time,” Rebecca murmured. “I do get the sense that your mother no longer welcomes my presence. Why, I’m not entirely sure.”