Valerian Inglemoore

Valerian met the rude comment evenly. ‘In fact, I do mean to marry as soon as possible. Enough time has been wasted, I think. I find myself eager to embrace matrimony. With the right woman, of course.’

‘Naturally,’ Danforth agreed, oblivious to the social faux pas he’d committed. ‘A wife must have certain qualities. She must be pretty, biddable, malleable, open to a husband’s training and all that. No man wants to spend his life leg-shackled to an opinion-spouting shrew, no matter what her dowry.’

Philippa stiffened at Danforth’s belittling remarks. ‘I think finding a wife is altogether different than shopping for a brood mare, Mr Danforth. At least it is for those of us who hold marriage as something more than servitude.’

Beldon coughed and the vicar looked nonplussed. There was more she’d liked to have said to the sputtering Danforth, but Valerian’s hand pressed heavily on her thigh beneath the damask cloth in warning. She fought back a smile. Was he remembering her infamous temper?

Valerian smoothly intervened with the honed skill of a diplomat. ‘For myself, Mr Danforth, I am looking for different qualities in a wife. I prefer a more mature woman, a woman who can speak for herself, who can hold her own in an argument. In short, a woman of independence.’

Danforth bristled. ‘Yes, I’ve heard that about you.’ His beady gaze met Valerian’s directly in a surprising show of spine.

Everyone at the table stopped eating. Philippa wondered how Valerian would confront his ‘reputation’, as it were. Would he deny it? Part of her wished he would.

Valerian smiled. It was not a friendly smile, but a wolfish one that suggested he was not, nor ever would how Valerian be, the prey. ‘Then you will have also heard that I am not afraid of a woman’s opinions, that I am not a man who will cower behind old-fashioned thought and conventions when it comes to the suppression of the fairer sex. Much would be missed in our world if we neglected half the population. Take, for example, the excellent champagne our host is serving from his excellent cellar tomorrow night.’

Valerian turned to Canton. ‘Pendennys mentioned you’d be offering a Veuve Clicquot, an outstanding champagne thanks to the revolutionary efforts of Clicquot’s widow. Did you know, Danforth, that she is responsible for inventing the remuage process? We have a woman to thank for clear champagne. Without her efforts, we’d have nothing more than a cloudy, fizzy novelty.’ Valerian raised his glass. ‘Here’s to Madame Clicquot.’

In a few short sentences Valerian had eloquently smoothed over Danforth’s uncomfortable claims and moved the conversation into the safer realm of wine. Danforth did not venture out to play with verbal fire again.

Dinner went smoothly after that if Philippa did not count the unnerving sensation of Valerian’s body in such close proximity to her own. In all the numerous dinner parties she’d attended, she had not ever noticed the intimate closeness she was now exceedingly aware of with Valerian next to her. His knee touched hers; she dropped her napkin and his hand brushed her skirt as he bent to retrieve it, beating the footman to the task.

* * *

By the time dessert was served, Philippa’s nerves were jangled beyond reason. She stood as soon as it was politely possible. ‘Gentlemen, excuse me. I’ll leave you to your port and cigars.’

Lucien rose and protested. ‘Please stay, my dear. You are welcome to stay.’ He directed the comment at her, but his hazel stare was directed at Valerian. The look in his gaze was sharp and penetrating, meant to send a message.

So he had noticed Valerian’s casual touches, Philippa thought, and he’d found them as unsettling as she did, but for altogether different reasons. She could feel Valerian’s eyes read every message, spoken or not. She had no desire to stay in the dining room and become a prize to be fought over. ‘Really, I would prefer to retire and give you gentlemen some privacy,’ she insisted, not waiting for permission to leave the room.

Philippa collected a shawl from her bedroom and then made good her escape to a quiet veranda where she could let the cold air do its work. She needed a clear head. Valerian was back and he would have to be contended with. His presumptuous behaviour at dinner suggested he wasn’t the least bit penitent about breaking her young girl’s heart, nor was he disinclined to live down the rumours regarding his profligate behaviour abroad.

Certainly, she didn’t want to be petty. What had happened between them had occurred years ago. They were both adults now. She should put the past behind her. He obviously had if his behaviour at dinner was any indication. He apparently thought she might welcome his advances. But he would have to take her for a fool if he thought she would disregard his well-taught lessons after one flirtatious encounter.

Would she disregard his harsh lesson in love? The thought that she might re-think her position on Valerian was startling. In her mind, she’d often played out an imaginary encounter. In that encounter, she’d been an aloof lady with grand manners, icily polite to a fault and he would know that his attentions had come too late.

Funny how in her imaginings she always assumed he’d care what had become of her. Maybe that was because she could not fathom how he’d gone from a dedicated suitor with words of undying devotion on his lips to that of a cold jilt in the span of a day. Undisputably, he’d broken her heart, but she’d never quite convinced herself it was for the reasons he’d cited. None the less, in the end, the results had been the same.

Valerian would drive her mad! Perhaps it was time to think more seriously about Lucien Canton’s offer. There had been no formal proposal, but much was implied in their long-standing relationship. She did expect a proposal soon. Perhaps Valerian was the impetus she needed for getting on with her life.

Lucien was exactly the kind of man she needed and he’d spent the years since Cambourne’s death proving it. He’d overseen the difficult tangle of financial matters and entailments until she’d learned to manage them on her own. He’d been the one to ride out to the mines and keep the Cambourne industries running while she was in mourning. Besides herself, no one knew the extensive Cambourne holdings better than Lucien. He was competent, handsome, well mannered, comfortable to be with. He was reliable and steady, a constant companion.

‘Philippa.’

All thoughts of Lucien vanished. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Valerian. ‘I came out here to be alone.’

‘Then we have something in common. I came out here to be alone with you, too.’ Valerian took up a position next to her at the railing, leaning on his elbows. ‘I wanted to talk to you. There are things I want to explain.’

Philippa shifted her body to face him. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea unless you want to start explaining why your hand spent most of dinner on my thigh. We are finished. You made that clear nine years ago.’

Valerian would not be put off by her harsh words. It was disappointing, but not unexpected that he could not be handled like the ballroom beaux. A set-down from her usually sent them scrambling for apologies.

Instead of begging forgiveness, Valerian laughed softly in the darkness, a beautiful, sensual sound that promised indecent pleasures. One would have thought she’d spoken love words to him instead of a scolding.

‘You are more sharp-tongued than I remember.’ He paused to look at her, his voice lowering. ‘And more beautiful. You’ve done well for yourself.’

If he refused to be scolded, then she would refuse to be taken in by his flattery. ‘St Just, if you intended that as a compliment, your skill is diminished greatly. I am insulted by the idea that my beauty has done well for me as if my looks were an industry designed to turn a profit. My looks have bought me a few houses and financial security. While those are not unpleasing things, the price for them has been my personal happiness. To think that my looks have done well for me is to be misled by the shallow mind you apparently possess. You show yourself poorly by believing I would settle for so little.’

There, such a scalding set-down should drive even him from the veranda. But Philippa was supremely dissatisfied with the results.

Valerian’s face broke into a wide grin, showing all his white teeth. His voice was low and private, laughter lurking beneath the surface. ‘I am glad to see that along with selling your hand in marriage, your parents didn’t succeed in selling your soul.’ He chuckled, enjoying his humour.

‘You’ve a black sense of humour, St Just.’

Valerian reached for her hand where it rested on the railing, caressing it idly with his fingertips. ‘My dear, when have I ever been St Just to you? Call me Valerian as my friends do, as you once did.’

Philippa snatched her hand away. How dare he come out here to insult her and then expect that he could take liberties? ‘Let me set you straight. I am not your “dear” or your friend. Nine years ago, I paid the price for what passes as friendship with you. I shall not make that mistake again. I have a new life now and there’s no room for you in it.’ It was important that she define the rules first before he had a chance to worm himself into her good graces. He could be charming and she must be wary of letting her guard down, of letting him pretend to be her friend.

His face flushed at her words. She did not think the flush was from her candour, but rather from a rising anger. Valerian gripped her by the arms, his soft sensuality of moments ago replaced by a hard envy. ‘A life that includes Lucien Canton? What is Lucien Canton to you? Is he your lover?’

‘Take your hands off me. I don’t answer to you.’ Philippa looked him squarely in the eye. Something dangerous and erotic lurked in their emerald depths. In an unfair moment she thought Lucien’s hazel eyes merely pretended towards greenness.

He ignored her request. He crowded her against the hard iron of the railing. Somewhere in the far recesses of her mind she thought she should have minded the invasion. But his hot envy had transmuted into molten seduction.

‘Your body answers to me, Philippa. My hands were made for you and you alone. No one has ever felt like you do, Philippa. I’ve not forgotten how your skin feels like rose petals.’ He pushed back the shawl from her arms and trailed the back of his hands down their length, removing the long gloves as he went until her arms were completely exposed.

‘I have not forgotten what it is to span the width of your back with my hand and pull you against me.’ Warm skin met warm skin where the plunging vee of her gown bared her back and she trembled against her will.

‘And you’ve not forgotten either,’ Valerian whispered against her mouth, his lips moving to seal hers, his hands moving to crush her against him, one hand finding the firm mound of breast beneath the velvet bodice. He palmed it, caressed it reverently until she cried out in his mouth from unwanted pleasure.

It was all coming back to her in a rush, how he felt against her, how he could make her body come alive, how she loved the exquisite sensations he could coax from her. How could she have forgotten this?

Philippa burned. Every part of her body was on fire. Heat licked at her from the inside out. Pressure built at her core until she wanted to scream. Valerian was the sum of her world in that moment. He was everywhere—his hands on her body, his scent in her nostrils—and she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted this moment to go on for eternity. She hated herself for it.

She pulled away with the greatest of efforts, panting and desperate. Valerian looked dismayed at her retreat. That was some gratification. ‘Have a care, St Just. Lucien will not tolerate playing the cuckold.’ She gave a slight nod to the empty room beyond the French doors, where Beldon and Lucien had just arrived. She hoped she didn’t look as dishevelled as she felt.

‘Philippa—’ he began in a ragged voice.

She didn’t give him a chance to beg, to explain, to persuade. ‘You have gravely overstepped the boundaries of polite society.’

‘I didn’t do it alone,’ St Just responded, his eyes hot, gleaming dark with unslaked need.

‘How dare you try to implicate me in your base conduct?’ Philippa flamed. ‘Let me remind you that this is not some decadent European court filled with women who are dying of lust for your attentions.’

‘You’re just angry because you liked it.’ He had the audacity to give another throaty laugh.

Philippa’s nerves were stretched to breaking. She raised her right hand and slapped him hard across the face.

‘What was that for?’ Valerian put a hand to his red cheek, stunned.