“We need not speak of it further, Winston,” he said, not wishing to stir more memories or cause his valet sadness and hurt.
“I do not mind speaking of her,” his valet surprised him by saying. “In some ways, it is quite lovely to remember. I often wonder what would have happened had she not gone… However, I am happy in my position here with you, my lord. The distraction of performing my duties has been appreciated daily.”
He found himself wondering if Clementine had been busying herself with a similar distraction with all her matchmaking. Winston had thrown himself headlong into his service as a valet. Clementine had dedicated herself to making certain other couples married when she had been denied the husband she loved.
More of the ice inside his heart melted.
But,damn it, this was not what he wanted to happen. Not what he needed to happen. He was supposed to be plotting the means by which he could sever their supposed betrothal.
“I did not lose Lady Anna in the same sense,” he said slowly, struggling to make sense of his situation, of his valet’s unexpected revelations, oflife, complicated and bloody confusing as it was. “But for some time, I believed I would never find love again. Do you believe it is possible, Winston, finding love with another?”
Color tinged his valet’s cheekbones. Unmistakable color.
“Have you found love with another, if I may be so bold to ask?” he pressed, already guessing at his answer.
Winston’s lips compressed. He looked as if he wanted to say everything and yet nothing all at once. Finally, his shoulders slumped. “I have been enjoying the company of Lady Clementine’s lady’s maid, sir. If I have overstepped my bounds, and you wish to sever ties with me, I understand.”
“Sever ties?” He was incredulous. “By God, Winston, do you think I could find another valet nearly as accomplished as you? I do sincerely hope you do not think me that much of an ogre. You have my blessing to pursue Lady Clementine’s lady’s maid as long as you are intent upon adhering to propriety.”
What a hypocrite he was, lecturing his man over propriety when he had been ignoring it for the better part of the last four years. Dorset knew a pang of shame creeping into his heart.
And a pang of something else as well.
“Thank you, sir,” Winston said, nodding, his expression grave. “I am thankful for your approval. I would never have asked for it—”
“And you need not,” he interrupted. “I want you to be happy.”
“Are you happy, sir?” Winston asked.
What a question.
He sighed again, still stroking his cleanly shaven jaw. “I am not certain I have the answer to that just yet.”
* * *
Clementine slanteda glance in Dorset’s direction as they fell into step behind the rest of the small group which had been assembled at the marquess’s prompting following breakfast. She could not help but to admire the slashing prominence of his jaw. He was despicably handsome. And those lips of his…
Why could she think of nothing but the way they had felt, masterful and claiming, moving over hers?
It was disconcerting, vexing, and altogether wrong. These wicked thoughts had to stop.
He cocked his head to the side, his stare—a shade of verdant green to rival the vibrant grassy knoll upon which they strolled—meshing with hers. “I must apologize,” he told her, his voice low.
Ahead of them, Olive, Melanie, Charity, and Viscount Wilton were near enough to eavesdrop if their voices were to carry. She allowed her steps to slow a bit more, widening the gap and providing them more privacy. When Dorset had approached her with the idea they take a leisurely stroll, she had leapt on the invitation.
All the better to sever their ties.
“Why must you apologize?” she asked him, her voice equally quiet and cautious as she cast another glance in his direction.
Dorset was frowning. “I paid you a dishonor yesterday, and that was never my intention.”
His kisses had most certainly not felt like a dishonor. But she must not say so aloud.
“It was badly done of both of us,” she admitted as they walked toward the River Derwent, which ran through Fangfoss Manor. “I daresay we seem to bring out the worst in each other. We are fortunate indeed that we are not marrying in truth. The two of us would never suit.”
“I could not agree more.”
“I was thinking,” they both said simultaneously.
