Callum had said he loved her. Those words rang in her ears and through her soul like a church bell declaring some joyful Hosanna. No man had ever loved her. Not her father, not her brothers, certainly not her husband.
But this man, with all his gentleness and passion, with his decency and intelligence, he loved her. Or he thought he did. But his story of how Silas had saved him, while it explained some of Callum’s blind allegiance to her late husband over the years…it also made her realize exactly what would happen if the truth of what she’d done, who she was, came out.
Callum wouldn’t love her anymore. He would despise her, just as everyone would despise her. Just as she often despised herself.
She slumped against the seat and began to cry then. Fanny’s eyes went wide before she lurched to Valaria’s side of the carriage and gathered her to her chest. “What is it, Your Grace?”
“I ended it,” she managed between gasping sobs that seemed to come from her gut. “I ended it with him.”
Fanny’s arms tightened around her and she began to smooth her hair gently. “Oh, Your Grace.”
The pity was heavy in Fanny’s voice and it stabbed through Valaria’s upset. She could not be so weak. Slowly, she was able to manage her sobs and sat up.
“I was a fool to think I could have such a pretty thing for myself. Not after what I did. You were right, it was too risky. But surely he will hate me now.” She shivered as she thought of Callum’s abject horror when she had recoiled from him in the parlor. “And he’ll forget.”
Fanny’s expression softened. “I am sorry.”
“I-I can’t be sorry. I must be strong,” Valaria whispered, more to herself than to her servant.
Fanny frowned at that declaration, but she produced a handkerchief. Valaria cleaned herself up carefully and then stared out the carriage window as the vehicle turned them back toward home. By the time she got there, she would have to find a way to put the mask back on again. She had let it slip a little with Callum, but she couldn’t do that ever again.
CHAPTER 18
In the week since Valaria had rejected him and fled his home, Callum didn’t know how many times he’d started a letter to her. His fireplace had burned up so many pages of words that he hoped would touch her heart. He never sent them because he kept recalling that moment when she’d looked like she feared him. His heart broke every time he relived it and it stayed his hand.
He couldn’t push or force her after what he now knew to be true. He couldn’t deny her a say in her own life. It was obvious she’d already experienced such behavior, and far worse, from her husband. So Callum had to practice patience. Show her that he would not push her to do anything. Not ever.
And accept the fact that she might never come back into his life. That he might have lost her forever.
Pain ripped through him at the thought, but he had felt so much pain recently that he was able to ignore it. He had to carry on his life somehow.
Which was why he had accepted an invitation to the garden party of some marchioness or countess—he couldn’t even remember which one. He felt the eyes of other ladies on him as he stood to the side of the group. They were on the hunt and he was eligible prey. Usually he didn’t mind the game, but none of it meant anything to him now. Lovely as they may be, none of those women were Valaria. No one else ever could be.
“Blackvale.”
Callum froze and slowly turned to find the Duchess of Amberleigh approaching, her eyes bright and focused entirely on him. He forced a smile as she reached him. “Your Grace,” he said with a small bow.
She smirked. “Your gaze looks rather terrified, young man.”
He snorted at the idea that he was a young man and shook his head. “Terrified? Of course not.”
“That is a disappointment,” the duchess said as she took up a place beside him to look over the party. “One does work hard to maintain one’s reputation.”
His eyes boggled as he glanced at her. “Well, then I shall not disappoint you. I suppose I cannot deny that you have been a source of awe, if not fear, for most of my life.”
“Good. And have your ears recovered from that boxing?”
He lifted a hand and touched one of those said ears with a smile at the memory she brought up. Him, a boy of fourteen, sneaking into a party, trying to secret out a drink and see what it felt like. And then her, looming above him, a hawk swooping in on a baby rabbit.
“Barely,” he admitted. “I certainly never snuck punch again until I came to my majority.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” she said with a little snort. “But you have grown into a rather handsome man, haven’t you?”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said, tilting his head.
“Hmmm.” She was examining him more closely now. He wondered at the reason, as well as the outcome of her sharp thoughts. “You do not come by Kent’s Row anymore.”
It was a statement of fact, not a question and she arched a brow as if daring him to deny he had been visiting regularly before. He supposed he should have expected that his calls would be noted by a woman like her.
He cleared his throat. “No, Your Grace.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You do not like the hospitality there any longer?”
“I-I do not think it is offered to me anymore,” he said softly. “And I must respect that, mustn’t I?”
“Hmmm.” She faced him more fully. “You know, I never thought much of the Duke of Gooding. He was a hateful child and grew into something not much better, it seemed to me. But you two were somehow friends, I believe.”
Callum bowed his head. “I have begun to reconsider my friendship with the man, actually.”
“Because of her.”
Well, now the duchess had hit the subject directly instead of dancing around it. He drew a long breath. He supposed he could feign ignorance about what she meant and find an excuse to end the conversation, but he didn’t. He shrugged instead.
She seemed to take that as an answer even if he didn’t really give one. “Why don’t you come around tomorrow for tea?” she suggested. “I would enjoy your company. And perhaps you’ll even see some friends, ones you are clearly missing.”
He hung his head a moment and then managed to shake it. “I do appreciate the offer, but would not feel comfortable doing so.”
“And why not?” She was sharper now, demanding the truth. But when he looked at her, he saw no cruelty in her expression. There never had been, as intimidating as she could be. In truth, he had seen this woman be a champion more often than a devil. She liked to help those who were hurt and weary, even if she would have denied it with a sniff and an upturned nose like everything was a little beneath her.
He cleared his throat. “If the friends were not informed that I would be there, I would not wish to surprise them. The person in question has made it clear they…they do not wish to see me.”
“Leave it to me,” the duchess said with a wave of her hand.
Callum sighed. The idea that he would see Valaria again was so utterly bewitching. He could not say no to it. Even if she refused to speak to him or treated him like a stranger, at least he would have a moment where he would breathe the same air, fill himself with the sense of her.