She believed him. Yet more lurked below, as always did with this man. She decided to let it pass. “My family aren’t like yours.” He needed to understand the sort of family she came from. “They’re not larkers.”
His charming smile didn’t yield. “I’m certain we’ll rub along like bees and flowers.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps not the most apt metaphor.”
Or was it too apt?
She shook off the question. She doubted not that he would be unequal to the challenge of charming her family. Well, perhaps not Mama. Mama was decidedlyun-charmable. It was one of her most endearing characteristics.
“My question remains, Lord Archer,” said Valentina. “Why are you here?”
“Archie,” he corrected. He glanced out the window. “You’ll be at the musicale tonight?”
Ah.Now she understood. He thought she’d left, for good. She saw his question for what it was. A crack. An insecurity revealed. “I shall,” she said.
“Because the outswindle depends on it,” he said. He’d returned his gaze to her. It burned with intensity.
“I’ll be there, Archie.”
This seemed to settle something inside him, and he nodded. “You don’t need time to ready yourself with all the perfumes, ointments, and tinctures ladies use to ready themselves?”
She shrugged. “Half an hour will do.”
He laughed. She detected relief in that laugh. “You truly aren’t from my world.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Why had she asked such a question? She shouldn’t. And yet… Something in her needed to know.
All traces of his charming smile fell away. “Not at all. Very much the opposite.”
Last night was suddenly between them, its substance so dense it was nearly a solid object.
In the new light of morning, she didn’t feel as she’d thought she would. It was this absence of shame. Though she may come to regret her relations with this man someday, it wouldn’t be because she regretted what they’d done last night.
“Are you feeling…” He looked utterly nonplussed. “Erm,rested?”
Valentina opted for the honest answer. “Not particularly.”
He laughed, and the tension released from the carriage.
Outside the window, she could see they were now rolling down the high street of Hampstead, familiar shops to either side passing by. “You can instruct the coachman to let us out there.” She pointed toward the shopfront with the wordAPOTHECARYemblazoned in brass above its front door. “Our family’s quarters are behind and above the shop.”
Valentina felt a smile form about her mouth as she landed on cobblestones whose every curve and divot she knew by heart. “Home,” she said. “Follow me.”
She pushed the front door open, and the bell above announced her arrival with a little jingle. The shop was far from its typically quiet self. Instead, she and Archie found a hive of activity. Thenshe remembered what today was. Twice a year Papa set aside a Sunday to make repairs to the shop and give it a general spiff up.
“Valentina,” called out one of her brothers—Antonio—with a wave. Three others lifted their heads in greeting, but didn’t pause in their duties.
Papa’s head appeared above his prize walnut counter, and a smile broadened across his face. “Valentina!” His eyes shifted, and his smile dipped a fraction, his warm gaze narrowing with assessment. “And who do you have with you?”
She’d known this was coming. Of course, Papa would wonder about this man she’d brought home.
She was clearing her throat to make introductions when Archie stepped forward, face lit by his charming smile, which he’d wisely turned down a few degrees, hand extended over the counter for a shake. “Archie Windermere,” he said. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hart.”
Papa’s eyebrows lifted. It wasn’t only Valentina who’d noticed he’d left theLordoff his name. He was just so utterly and completely a lord, no disguising it. Still, Papa took Archie’s proffered hand and gave it a shake, even as he flicked a quick glance toward Valentina. She could try to explain Archie to Papa, but best to let Archie explain himself.
“Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Where can I pitch in?” He’d already shed his morning coat and was rolling up his sleeves.
A measure of appreciation entered Papa’s eyes. He wasn’t about to turn down an offer of free labor. “Luca,” he called out to Valentina’s youngest brother. “Show Mr. Windermere?—”
“Archie.”
