This evening, through the dim corridors of Lady Jellerbey’s house, she would see both Lord Tramondeley and the Count di Compressio. Perhaps her feelings would settle one way or the other.
From below, they heard a large crash.
“Lord help us,” Mrs. Right said. “There goes another one of the duke’s belongings, smashed courtesy of Mr. Huberville.”
In truth, the household was getting so used to hearing crashes and shatterings that they’d almost begun not to notice.
Then they heard Mr. Huberville shout, “It’s all right! It was silver, it is not broken!”
Valor glanced at Mrs. Right, as she must imagine the lady had some plan in the works to drive him from the house. Surprisingly, the housekeeper looked a bit downtrodden over it.
Valor had notbeen able to resist having a look across the square when she went out to the carriage. Lord Tramondeley’s carriage was out and she supposed he would set off for Lady Jellerbey’s candlelight picnic near the same time she and the duke did.
They set off and she peered out the window to see Lord Tramondeley and Lord Ledderbey hurrying to their own carriage.Goodness, they would be right behind her.
Did she flatter herself that he had been waiting for her? She did not know, but the idea was thrilling.
As the carriage trundled along to Lady Jellerbey’s house, the duke said, “So Tramondeley hosts a traditional Cornwall party. I suppose we’ll get a look at what he’s been doing down there all these years.”
“Papa,” Valor said, determined to ask a question that had popped into her mind several times, “you seem so friendly to Lord Tramondeley these days. Why did you never contact him before now? Or even invite him to live with us? He is your heir, after all.”
The duke drummed his fingers on his knees as if he needed a moment to compose his answer.
“Lord Tramondeley thinks it was not just because you and his father did not get along. He thinks it was because you might remarry and have a direct heir.”
The duke laughed at the notion. “The very idea. I already had seven of you holding sway over my household. If I’d tried for more, I am confident I’d have ended with eight or nine girls. There must be something in the Dales’ water that does it.”
“Then why did you not ask him to come?”
“I’m tempted to give you some story about it, but I will not. All along, I considered the fact that he was just two years older than you are. I thought, ought I not see if anything might happen there? Had he lived in the Dales with us, he would be like a brother and all possibilities ended. So, I rolled the dice. I do not expect you to go for him out of family duty. I just wished to leave the door open for it in case you did.”
Valor was entirely taken aback. He’d never hinted at such a thing.
“Only consider him if you like him, Val. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t.”
“And what is your opinion on Count di Compressio?” she asked.
“Ah. The Sardinian. I have never stood in the way of one of mydaughters’ choices, though I wondered about Stratton for a while. But a Sardinian count? Do you suppose you would be happy living there?”
“Oh no,” Valor said, waving her hands, “the count intends to settle on his estate in Hertfordshire.”
“For how long?”
“Forever?”
The duke shook his head. “That, I doubt. Sooner or later, he’ll wish to return to his real home. I am sure of it. So, before you positively lean that direction, do consider that point. You’d be very far away from all you know. Your children would certainly be brought up in the marquis’s household and might never know us.”
Those ideas struck a cold ice in Valor’s heart. She did not wish to live on the Continent and have her children’s first language be one she did not even know. She did not wish to go to a strange country.
The count had led her to believe that he preferred England and he wished for the peace of Hertfordshire. But then, her father could always be counted on for good advice. He was certain the count would eventually return to Sardinia…
And why would he not? Did not everybody long for their home?
Why could no gentleman manage to be safe? Where was the gentleman who posed no danger at all? She’d had in mind that baron who collected books. Did one even exist? Perhaps he did, but he was sitting at home, examining his books. She had certainly not seen him in London.
The duke patted her hand. “Just follow your heart, Val.”
She’d like to take that advice, if her heart knew at all what it was doing.
