Nestor’s show of defiance fell entirely away, and he looked slightly winded. With a few words, his shadowy world built of envy, deceit, and lies had collapsed about his head. He gave his thigh three hard whacks with his palm, pivoted, and charged toward his coach-and-four.
“I’ll give you three days to be out of London,” Archie called to his back.
A cheer went up from Papa and his fellow tradesmen as Nestor’s carriage rolled down the drive. For ten full minutes, Archie was the recipient of dozens of slaps to the back, while Valentina swiped more than a few tears from her eyes. These men—their livelihoods, their families—were saved.
And it was all because of the wild, mad, bold Viscount Archer.
They might not have a future together, but she would never regret their past.
He met her gaze over the crowd. How was it that so much could pass between them without words?
Leaving Papa and the other tradesmen to sort the money, he made his way toward her, stopping an awkward few feet away. Though short, that distance felt unbridgeable.
“Thank you,” she said. Her stiffthanks felt wrong.
“I don’t require gratitude from you, Valentina.”
Her heart in her throat, she managed to nod. A question demanded oxygen.And what do you require of me, Lord Archer?
But she couldn’t give it voice.
It was too intimate.
It would expose her fragile determination to move on with her life and create a fissure. From there, it would take very little—one of his smiles would do it—to crack that fissure wide open and have her all but begging for anarrangement.
Hoyden.
Papa joined them. “Valentina, it’s time for us to leave. Your Mama will have worried her skirts to rags by now.” He turned to Archie. “Would you join us for a meal, Lord Archer?”
“I’m afraid I have a previous engagement, Mr. Hart. So, I shall offer you my farewell here.”
The men shook hands, and Valentina had to glance away. Archie, like her, understood this was the opportunity to break it off cleanly. Their lives apart had to begin sometime. They might as well start now.
When she dared turn, she found Archie facing her and extending his hand. “Miss Hart,” he said, proper. “It was my pleasure.”
Oh, those words in combination with a look in his eyes that only she knew weren’t proper at all. After a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand, though she knew she shouldn’t touch him.
The handshake was over nearly as quickly as it had begun.
Yet her hand tingled with it, as she’d known it would.
Then she pivoted and was walking with Papa, a numbness in her body and mind.
That wasn’t quite true.
Her right hand felt alive from his touch.
Oh, and one other feeling crawled through her.
Despair.
It felt wrong to leave Archie. And yet…
What choice had she?
Chapter Sixteen
A fortnight later
