Though she still had no idea what she was going to do about it.
“How long do you have left in your mourning?” the duchess snapped, dragging Valaria from those very inappropriate thoughts that seemed to haunt her constantly now.
“Er, my husband died two and a half months ago,” she said.
“Well, even half-black will help,” the duchess said with a sigh as she moved to sit in the large, high-backed chair before the fire. She motioned the others to sit on the settee across from her and they managed to wedge in together. “Tunbridge, why don’t you pour the tea?” she snapped, addressing the women the same way one might do a servant.
Bernadette rose up and nodded. “Of course, Your Grace. You take it with milk, no sugar, yes?”
“Indeed,” the duchess said with a sharp look that she swung back to Valaria almost instantly. “It seems that youth is taking over Kent’s Row.”
Valaria hesitated. The duchess appeared to be waiting for her to respond, so she nodded. “Er, yes, I suppose so.”
“There seem to be an alarming number of dead younger dukes,” the duchess said, and then flitted her gaze to Flora. “Except for your husband, of course, Sidmouth. He was almost my age, wasn’t he?”
Valaria cast a quick glance at Flora, who had always spoken kindly and warmly of her husband. Would this direct statement hurt her friend?
But Flora had an amused expression. “He was, indeed, Your Grace. I was his second wife, and very lucky to have had the time I did with him.”
“Hmph,” the duchess said, and glanced up at Bernadette as she handed over a cup of tea. “Well, I encourage you to marry a younger one next time.”
Flora’s smile became sadder. “I…I do not think another husband is on the horizon for me, Your Grace. My financial situation does not require it, and so I think I shall stay an independent dowager and take a page from your expansive book.”
Bernadette gave Valaria tea next, and just as she took a sip, the dowager continued, “Take a lover, then, at least.”
Valaria nearly spit her tea across the room and gulped the hot liquid instead to keep from doing so.
The duchess arched a brow at her. “Have I offended you, Gooding?”
“No, Your Grace,” she said swiftly, and tried once more not to think of Callum. “I’m just surprised.”
“Well, I’m not telling you to take a lover,” the duchess said. “Not until you are at least in half-black. Otherwise it could be seen as uncouth. Discretion is the better part of valor in these situations. Shakespeare was right on that account.” She turned her attention back to Flora as Bernadette gave her a cup and then retook her place on the settee. “Now, you always have excellent gossip, Sidmouth, do share!”
Flora laughed and then launched into a few stories about ladies and gentlemen of the Upper Ten Thousand. Since the Duchess of Amberleigh did not seem to think that Valaria had much to add, she was not pushed to participate. But she listened, and to her surprise she found she rather liked the sharp, observant dowager. One always knew where they stood with her, at the very least.
On the other hand, she wouldn’t want to do anything to put herself on the bad side of this woman either. The Duchess of Amberleigh had power to elevate or destroy and she knew it. She inhabited it. Which meant if Valaria did decide to take up with Callum, she’d need to be extra careful about how she managed it. Oh yes, widows had more leeway, but they could easily be eaten up by Society if they weren’t discreet.
Only Callum didn’t make her feel discreet. He made her feel like opening her legs in a parlor.
“You have the strangest expression on your face, Gooding,” the Duchess of Amberleigh said, and yanked Valaria back to the present.
She felt the heat of a blush in her cheeks and shook her head. “I apologize, Your Grace. My mind wandered.”
“To what topic, one can only speculate,” the duchess said with an arched brow in her direction. “But I suppose that is as good a place for us to part today as any.” She pushed to her feet and it forced the rest of them to rise.
“Thank you for having us today, Your Grace,” Valaria said. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“My dear, if you offend me, you will know it,” the duchess said. “Now let me escort you all.” She turned and exited the parlor in a perfumed cloud. The rest followed and they stepped out onto the front step and the bright sunshine together.
“It has turned out to be a fine day,” the duchess said. “I shall have to take a turn about the park, I think.” Her brow wrinkled as she looked down the Row toward Valaria’s home. “And who is that arriving in your drive, Gooding?”
Valaria jerked her head toward her own home and gulped in a breath. “I…I believe that is the Duke of Blackvale, Your Grace. He was to call on me today at three. But it is two, so we must have had a misunderstanding on the time.”
“Blackvale,” the duchess mused. “I knew his father years ago. The son is far more handsome.”
Once again, Valaria looked toward Flora and Bernadette for help in how to respond, but her friends looked as flummoxed as she felt. “He is…he is a handsome gentleman, yes, Your Grace. He was a very good friend to my late husband and I think he feels some…some obligation to take care of me now.”
The duchess held her gaze a moment and then made a soft snort. “I see. Well, you ought not keep him. Good day, Your Graces.”
Without another word, she pivoted on her heel and returned inside. When she was gone, the three of them looked at each other and then all began to giggle as they moved up the street toward their individual homes.
“Well, she is something,” Valaria said as she kept glancing up the way toward her house. Callum was exiting his carriage now, his lean, tall figure unmistakable even from a distance. “Something, indeed.”
They reached Bernadette’s home first and there they stopped. Bernadette took her hand and squeezed gently. “Whatever you are about to do, Valaria…just be happy. Be free. Be careful.”
Valaria looked at the two women, who both appeared anxious and pleased on her behalf. She nodded. “If I figure out what to do at all, I will be certain to be all those things. Good day, my friends.”
She left them there together, watching her as she closed the last of the distance between her and Callum. The last distance between her and whatever would happen next.
Callum watched from the drive as Valaria came up Kent’s Row, her gaze locked on his. She had called him to join her that afternoon and he had been pacing the floors of his home ever since, trying to glean her intentions from a few scrawled lines in a missive.
“Good day, Your Grace,” she said breathlessly as she reached him. “I did not expect you for another hour. I apologize that I was not home and you had to wait for my approach.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Another hour. Your letter told me to meet you at two.” He removed the missive from his pocket and held it out.
She stared at it a moment, then back to him. “You—you have it with you?”
He nodded. “I have been carrying it since it arrived this morning. I suppose I forgot to remove it from my jacket.”
She took it and read the lines she’d written, then shook her head. “I must have been distracted when I wrote the note. I apologize, it was my error. But do come in.”