“It is a fine idea,” Freddie remarked.
“Thank you,” Rebecca said. “But it will remain just that — an idea — unless we can move forward, and I have simply encountered one brick wall after another.”
“Leave that with me,” Jemima said firmly, nodding at Rebecca’s skeptical gaze. “I cannot promise anything, but at least let me try.”
“Very well,” Rebecca said with a shrug. It wasn’t as though she had any other option. “Jemima, I hate to ask you this, but has your mother—”
“Shared anything about you? No,” Jemima frowned. “At least, not that I know of. My mother thinks she is doing what is best for us, what is best for Val, but sometimes she doesn’t quite understand how to go about it. She isn’t from the aristocracy, and now to be suddenly thrust into this life, she is trying to navigate it by doing what she feels is best, despite the fact that her thoughts might actually be to the contrary.”
“Don’t give up, Rebecca,” Celeste said with a soft smile. “Stars often shine brightest on the darkest night.”
“That’s very romantic,” Rebecca said with a small laugh.
“It’s the truth,” Celeste insisted. “I’ve seen it often enough myself.”
Rebecca reflected on those words as she said farewell to her new friends a short time later. Friends. She couldn’t remember the last time she could have attributed the word to any woman and truly meant it. It warmed her heart, and in all honesty, she did feel a great deal better than she had before they arrived.
If only they had actually been able to help change her situation. But the truth was, all remained the same.
Most hope was lost.
There was only one thing she could do, and that was take Jemima’s advice — and show Valentine just how she really felt about him.
25
“You know, I could find you a fight that would actually bring you in some decent prize money,” Archie said as he helped Valentine into his jacket.
“Not today,” Valentine said, buttoning it himself. “I feel like punching a lord or two instead.”
“Well, that will be oddly satisfying to watch,” Archie laughed as he found Val’s cravat. “I must say, you have well played the part of the brooding duke.”
“I am not brooding,” Valentine defended himself, to which Archie raised an eyebrow.
“Call it what you want,” Archie said, “but you are pining for Miss Lambert.
“I am not,” Val countered. “I am angry.”
“Because a woman designed your house?”
Valentine brusquely shook his head. “You would think that of me after all my sister does? Hardly. I am well aware that a woman’s intelligence can not only rival but best a man’s. No, Archie. It was the deception. She used me. Her own father admitted that they needed the money. She was worried that if I knew the truth, I would be rid of her, and so she distracted me, played me for the fool I am.”
Archie was silent for a moment as he chose a pair of cufflinks.
“Are you sure that was her aim?” he asked, turning around, earning himself a glare.
“Of course,” Valentine bit out. “This is why I choose to surround myself with only those I trust. I have learned my lesson now — the hard way. People take advantage of those in positions of power. Especially those like me, who are not cunning enough to see through others.”
Archie crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
“You’re a bit too distrustful.”
“You should be grateful — it’s why you have this job.”
Archie snorted. “Do you think I am here because I need your money?”
“Is that not why everyone is here?”
Archie came and stood beside him, looking into the mirror with him.
“I am here, Valentine, because you needed a friend.”
At that, Archie stepped away, clearing his throat. It was the most he and Valentine had ever expressed emotion to one another, and he was obviously done with the conversation.
“You also needed your second, although I can hardly play that role at Jackson’s. Best be going now, or else you will miss your match.”
Valentine gave a curt nod and was out the door, ready to be rid of his emotions the only way he knew how.
“You cannot be seriously considering following through with the house plans.”
Valentine wearily rubbed a hand over his face as he looked up at his mother, who had insisted that he take dinner with her. Jemima, unfortunately, was nowhere to be found. He had already checked the conservatory which, he had to admit, was a stroke of genius with its conversion into a laboratory among the newly planted greenery. Her tables were empty of experiments, however, her liquids, instruments and everything else that he had no actual idea of what they were used for, were awaiting her return.
Finally, he’d found Dexter, who had told him that his sister had gone out.
So here he was, alone with his mother.
“We have a fine set of plans,” he said as patiently as he could while he speared peas onto his fork, forcing his bruised knuckles to grip the utensils tightly. “I see no reason to commission another to alter them once more.”
“But Valentine,” she persisted, banging the end of her fork against the table, “these were designed by a woman and a madman! Why, if word got out—”
“How would word get out, Mother?”
She hesitated. “These things always do.”
“Not if you do not say anything.”
“But—”
Valentine sighed as he looked around the dining room. The builders had yet to touch this room, but he could already see Rebecca’s ideas upon the walls, even if they had not been incorporated. She was everywhere throughout this house, and it was driving him mad. If he entered the drawing room, he saw her in the sea-green walls, the bold contrast of the vivid colors and the scenes from classical antiquity she had envisioned upon the ceiling. If he walked through the ballroom, there she was, right up to the depiction of him painted upon the ceiling as a pugilist. He couldn’t even go into the parlor, for he could see her bent over the desk, hard at work.
“Promise me, Mother, that you will not share anything about the Lamberts.”
She lifted her nose in the air, which annoyed Valentine. She was a physician’s wife as much as she was the mother of a duke, but she seemed to have forgotten that.
“Valentine, you wanted her gone as much as I did if I remember correctly.”
Val pushed his plate away, no longer hungry.
“I’m tired, Mother, and I am finished with this conversation and with this dinner.”
“You really shouldn’t go to that boxing club of yours,” she said. “I thought you were done with that life, now that you are a duke.”
“It’s not the life that I needed to leave, Mother,” he said. “What you will never understand is that I love the sport, that I need to be moving, or else I feel like I will wither away to nothing. I am fortunate that I can still be part of it, even in my new position of duke, don’t you understand that? And never fear, it is perfectly respectable to take part at Jackson’s, no matter who I am.”