“Your Grace,” the Duchess of Sidmouth said, stretching out an elegant hand in greeting. “Good afternoon, and welcome to Kent’s Row.”
Valaria shook the offered hand. “Good afternoon, Your Graces. How kind of you to welcome me.”
And it was kind, though she had to assume this direct approach was also driven by a desire to have the first look at their new neighbor. She could see curtains along the row were drawn back, other dowagers watching this exchange and, Valaria was certain, judging her.
Her stomach turned at what they might see. What she might show accidentally. This was her new life, after all, but could it truly be a happy one after everything she had endured…and done? Could she have a future with the secrets of the past just waiting to haunt her?
She realized the women were still talking and forced herself to focus.
“I am the Duchess of Sidmouth, but you’ll find many of the dowagers don’t stand on ceremony here. Too much Your Gracing gets very confusing. So I am Flora.”
Valaria smiled at Flora. She was petite and curvaceous, with dark red hair that hung in little ringlets around her pretty face.
“You and I came out the same year, I think,” Valaria said.
Flora nodded. “We did, indeed. I always admired your beautiful gowns. And you may not recall it, because that year was such a crush of debutantes, but you were of help to me—”
Valaria caught her breath. “I do remember! Someone had spilled wine on your gown, wasn’t it?”
“A rival,” Flora agreed. “Someone interested in my eventual husband’s fortune. She purposefully spilled the wine to keep me away, and you just appeared out of nowhere and swept me off and cleaned me up.”
“It was Prudence Foster, wasn’t it?” Valaria said with a scrunch of her nose. “Wretched thing.” She did not add that Prudence had made a great game out of Valaria’s life afterward. She had been the one to laugh loudest and make the snidest expressions when anything went wrong.
“Yes, wretched thing,” Flora said with a shake of her head. “At any rate, I never forgot your kindness, even though I didn’t get to speak to you much afterward thanks to the Season’s schedule. But we are remedying that.” She glanced at her companion. “And this is the Duchess of Tunbridge.”
“Bernadette,” the other lady said. She seemed shyer, as her dark eyes drifted away from Valaria’s face. But she was uncommonly lovely with her dark hair arranged perfectly to frame an oval face. She wore a pretty yellow gown that made everything seem a bit sunnier.
“Your Grace,” Valaria said.
“Flora spoke so highly of you when we realized you were moving into the Row that I couldn’t wait to meet you. Though you may find I am certainly much closer to fitting in with our neighbors,” Bernadette said. “As I came out three years before you two.”
“You make it sound as though you are ancient,” Flora said with a laugh.
“Sometimes I am made to feel that being just south of thirty is ancient, my dear,” Bernadette said. “At any rate, we saw you arrive as we were having tea, and Flora could not wait one moment but to greet you.”
“Not a moment,” Flora agreed, and her eyes danced with real pleasure. “After all, it isn’t every day we get a new duchess on the Row, and when we do, she is never our age.”
“Not that we don’t enjoy our older neighbors,” Bernadette hastened to add. “They are nothing but kind. But there is something about having friends close by who are of an age with oneself.”
Valaria blinked. Friends. She hadn’t had many of those in the last two years. By design. And here these two women were chattering away to her like it was a given that they would be thus.
Something that could easily change, she knew. She found herself taking a slight step back and glancing back apologetically at Higgins, who had moved away from their group but was still waiting for her now at the top of the stairs.
“You must forgive me,” she said. “It is such a busy day.”
Flora opened her mouth as if to say something, but Bernadette interrupted. “Of course it is. And we have intruded in our excitement. But now you have been welcomed and we will leave you to your settling in.”
“With our insistence that you join us for tea tomorrow,” Flora added.
Bernadette shot her a look. “You cannot strong arm the poor woman into joining us. You will frighten her away with your insistence.”
“I will not.” Flora shook her head. “You aren’t so easy to scare are you, Your Grace?”
Valaria swallowed because the question, however teasingly meant, carried a weight neither of these ladies could understand. She put on the mask she so often wore with others and forced a laugh. “Not at all. I would be…pleased to join you for tea tomorrow.”
“Excellent!” Flora said, tossing Bernadette a triumphant look. “At my home, which is three doors down from yours.” She motioned down the lane. “Three o’clock.”
“I’ll be there,” Valaria agreed.
That settled, Bernadette caught Flora’s arm and began to drag her away. “We’ll let you settle yourself. Good afternoon!”
They headed off, heads close together, talking and laughing as they strolled arm in arm. Valaria stared at them a moment. They seemed genuinely fond of each other. And genuinely interested in her. A strange sensation after years of putting up carefully crafted walls so no one would see the truth of her life.
But the idea of perhaps being allowed friends in this new life was bewitching, indeed. She would just have to be careful about it. And if there was anyone who knew the ins and outs of being careful, it was her.
“Are you ready, Your Grace?” Higgins called out gently.
She smoothed her hands along the front of her gown and pivoted to face him. “I am. And thank you for your patience. Now lead the way.”
He did so and she followed, feeling a bit of a lightness to her step as she did. One she didn’t fully trust, but oh, how she welcomed it.
Callum Osgood, Duke of Blackvale, made his way through the crowd at his club, scanning the room for friends. Not cronies, not acquaintances…he looked for friends. They were a commodity he’d come to value all the more in the past few months.
He found one as he moved toward the fireplace with its enormous mantel where one of those friends, Theo, the Duke of Lightmorrow, was having a drink. Lightmorrow’s gaze lit up and he waved to indicate that Callum should join him.
He did so with a grin he didn’t have to force. After the pair had shaken hands, Callum looked around. “I must say I do prefer Fitzhugh’s to any other club.”
Theo grinned. “As do I. I know one cannot avoid White’s and the like, but the company here is far more lively and genuine. I suppose it reflects the ownership.”
“I suppose it does,” Callum agreed as both men looked toward the bar where Fitzhugh, himself, stood, seemingly unimpressed by everything around him. The man did have an air of mystery around him. One Callum rather envied. It seemed everyone always knew his business. Whether he liked it or not.
“So what brings you out tonight?” Theo asked, and motioned to one of the footmen, who brought a whisky over for Callum.