Flora, on the other hand, was breezy and open and playful. She made no secret the fact that she had been very happy in her marriage to the late Duke of Sidmouth, despite their vast thirty-year age difference. She smiled warmly when she spoke of him and seemed to have no regrets whatsoever.
Valaria tried not to hate her for that.
“We’ve prattled on for so long,” Bernadette said at last, and reached across to grab Valaria’s hand for a brief squeeze. “Tell us about yourself.”
Valaria shifted and withdrew her hand slowly. “I’m not sure what there is to tell that you wouldn’t already know. I’m a…a very recent widow, only a couple of months. My husband died in an accident.” She swallowed. “A tragic accident.”
“I recall when it happened,” Flora said, her expression truly stricken. “I cannot imagine. And you found him? I’m so very sorry.”
Valaria felt herself go a little numb as shifted into the responses she had trained herself to give over the last eight weeks. “Thank you.”
Bernadette’s brow wrinkled slightly, and for a moment she stared at Valaria. A little too hard, like she could see something Valaria didn’t wish to share. Then she smiled. “Certainly we are far more than our pasts or husbands. Will you tell us of your likes? Your pursuits?”
That should have been a kinder topic. Valaria could see she meant it as one, and yet the pressure in her chest only seemed to increase. The fact was, she didn’t have an answer. The last two years of her life since her marriage she had been…isolated. Her movements watched and judged, her pursuits limited and spoiled by the reactions of a man who…
No. She cut that thought off in her mind. She was not going down that path, not in front of these women who were practically strangers. She couldn’t risk the reaction those thoughts sometimes created.
She forced a smile instead. “Oh, I think I’m fairly typical in my pursuits. I do needlepoint and read.”
Flora tilted her head. “Do I recall you being proficient in…what instrument was it…oh Lord, why can’t I recall? Everyone used to talk about how beautifully you played.”
The reaction Valaria had been trying to avoid overwhelmed her and she blinked at the tears that filled her eyes. “The harp-lute. Yes, I once played. But I…I stopped.”
“That’s a shame,” Flora said. “Bernadette is wonderful on the pianoforte.”
“She is too kind. I am passable on the pianoforte. I never practice enough,” Bernadette insisted with a smile.
Flora shot her a look before she continued, “And I sing.” She hesitated. “Though I would not say well.”
Bernadette laughed, but Valaria could sense the other woman reading her again. “Well, it is best we do not make a triplet, then. No use frightening the poor servants.” She pushed to her feet. “Flora, speaking of reading, I have that book I borrowed from you. I finished it last night. We could go fetch it.”
Flora’s brow knitted. “I…fetch it now? Could that not wait?”
“I will forget if I don’t return it to you now,” Bernadette insisted with a meaningful stare.
Valaria swallowed. This was her opportunity for the escape she found herself craving. She got to her feet, as well. “You know, I should get back to my home. We are still settling in and there is much to be decided and worked on that requires my input.”
“Of course, we understand,” Bernadette said. “But I hope we will regularly make time to be together. There is a vast difference between being a young widow and a widow of advancing years. And though I do love our older neighbors and I hope we’ll have a gathering soon where you can meet them all, I think I see a kindred spirit in you, Valaria. A person I’d love to call friend.”
Valaria caught her breath at the genuine expression of welcome and acceptance on both the women’s faces. She’d almost forgotten what that felt like. She nodded slowly. “I-I would very much like that.”
Flora’s wide smile was instantaneous and she caught both of Valaria’s hands briefly. “Excellent news. Come, let us see you out.”
Valaria allowed it, and after she’d waved her goodbyes, she could feel the two women watching her as she made her way back down the lane toward her own door. There was relief in the meeting ending. She was not yet fully trusting of her own reactions to people after so long separating herself.
And yet…there had been something so lovely about the time spent. It was certainly impossible not to like the two dowager duchesses, and to feel welcomed into their little circle. They had painted a picture for her of a future of friendship. Independence. A future where she might be, dare she hope, happy?
She found herself smiling at the idea as she turned into her drive, but the expression fell at what she found there. A carriage was parked before her door and she recognized the crest emblazed on the side. Blackvale. Which could only mean that Silas’s best friend, the Duke of Blackvale, had come to call.
Without sending word ahead of his intention, of course. Without giving her a chance to say no. Because men like him, like her husband, they didn’t think of these things. They didn’t care.
She lifted her chin and stiffened her spine, hoping she could control the sudden pounding of her heart so he would not see her weakness and pounce upon it. She moved toward the door, but before she could reach it, it opened and Blackvale, himself, stepped out with Higgins at his heels.
“Yes, I understand. I don’t know how that could have happened, but I shall—”
He said no more because he looked down the stairs at that moment and his gaze met hers. Valaria hated how she made note of his appearance. It was a failing she’d always had when it came to this man, even though she knew that physical beauty in a person meant less than nothing when it came to actual goodness. But he was undeniably handsome with his lean, lanky frame, well-defined jawline, light brown eyes and the mop of brown curls that always seemed rakishly imperfect.
“Valaria,” he breathed, and then blinked. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I did not expect to see you.”
She folded her arms. “I don’t know why. You came to my home. Unannounced, I might add. Why else would you do that except to see me?”
His brow wrinkled at her peppery tone. “I—yes, how foolish of me. I did intend to see you, but not unannounced. I sent word last night that I intended to call, but the message must have been misdelivered by my courier. He was taking care of several missives at once, you see, and perhaps he lost track of the one for you.”
She worried her lip. That was a reasonable explanation, but not one she was ready to accept entirely. She knew the men of his kind too well. And she also knew not to upset them, so she forced herself to soften her tone. “Well, I suppose that must happen. As you can see, though, I was not at home.”
He nodded. “Yes, your butler told me you were off to visit a few of the other dowagers here on the row. I hope you had a nice time.”
He smiled and her heart did the strangest little patter that she forced herself to ignore. Nervousness would do that. It meant nothing else.
“What did you want here, Blackvale?” she asked.
“I was only checking in on you, Your Grace.” He glanced back toward the house. “I did not have an appointment, so I know I may be intruding, but might we have a moment? Just to talk.”