Page 43 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“Hill Street, in Mayfair,” he said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“Hill Street, my lord?” Beneath the chauffeur’s polite tone was a hint of disapproval.

“Have you suddenly developed a hearing problem, Cochrane?”

“No, my lord, it’s just…”

“Just what?” Valeran glared at the round shadow that was the man’s head.

“Well, it’s…Billington mentioned you were to be married soon, and I just…” With a sharp bob of his head, the driver carefully maneuvered the vehicle into the street traffic. “Mayfair it is, my lord.”

Valeran muttered an oath at his normally discreet valet spreading the word about his engagement to Amalie. In the next breath, he realized Simpson had spared him the need to make a formal announcement to the household staff.

They’d been travelling for several minutes when Valeran realized his driver was unusually silent. Normally, the younger man provided updates to household events that never failed to make Valeran laugh out loud. Cochrane’s talent for storytelling made whatever news he shared entertaining. Now, the driver was as silent as a corpse.

Frowning, Valeran remembered the disappointment running beneath Cochrane’s disapproval. Like most of the aristocracy, Valeran’s staff believed his dissolute reputation was well-earned. The younger man hadn’t just disapproved of Valeran visiting his mistress, Cochrane had been disappointed.

Irritation snagged at him. Why should it matter what the other man thought? Valeran was doing what he had to do in the line of duty. It should be easy to ignore his driver’s silent judgement. Cochrane wasn’t the only one to judge him as being less than honorable. Amalie’s low opinion of him was worse than his driver’s judgemental manner.

The knowledge tensed his muscles unpleasantly. It was the same sensation he’d experienced at Amalie’s sharp words of contempt, as well as when the Rockwood men had joined ranks to judge and condemn him. Valeran rarely explained his actions, but it was bad enough Amalie thought ill of him, having Cochrane think less of him was damned uncomfortable.

“This will be the last time we visit Hill Street, Cochrane. I owe Lady Chattfield the courtesy of informing her as to my impending marriage.”

“Of course, my lord.”

It was a polite, crisp reply, but Valeran heard the driver’s relief and approval in his voice. Irritation tightened his mouth, before it suddenly twitched with amusement. The staff would forget his reputation in the coming months. Amalie was the only woman he intended to pursue until she gave way to her desire. Even when his desire for her died, he’d promised Jamie to see to Amalie’s happiness.

Humiliating her by taking a mistress was exactly what his bride expected of him, but he would never do that. There was no doubt it would be an uphill battle to change Amalie’s opinion of him. But Valeran was determined to make her see the two of them could have a harmonious marriage as friends and lovers.

The first skirmish in that battle was divesting himself of Lady Chattfield. Valeran’s jaw clenched. The next few minutes would not be pleasant. This morning, Jamie had sent word what time he was calling on Miriam today, and Valeran was happy to drop the woman in his partner’s lap.

When Valeran was inside the main entrance of Chattfield House, he waited for the butler to announce him. Miriam’s strident voice echoed clearly into the main hall as she gave orders to throw him out of the house. Less than a second later, Jamie’s soothing voice quickly quieted the woman’s anger, forcing Valeran to suppress a smile. While he considered himself skilled in his ability to charm women, but Jamie’s skill was unmatched . A fact confirmed by the reappearance of the butler, who ushered Valeran into the salon.

“I’m surprised you have the audacity to show your face here, Sommerville.” Miriam’s icy words made Valeran steel himself not to display any kind of emotion. He knew better than to try and kiss her hand in a polite greeting. Instead, he offered her a small bow.

“I owed you the courtesy of speaking with you in person. I had hoped to share my news before it reached your ears. Clearly I failed, but I would like to part amicably.”

“So you actually accomplished what you set out to do where that mousy little creature is concerned,” the woman snapped, then turned to Jamie. “Forgive me, Lord Westbury, but I’m so upset, I forgot myself and unintentionally insulted your cousin.”

“Of course, Lady Chattfield.” Jamie’s voice was smooth and pleasant, but Val heard the anger beneath his friend’s polite response.

“Does your bride know you planned her seduction the day we had lunch at Rules?” The words dripped with poison, and Valeran’s jaw clenched as fury erupted inside him.

“Christ almighty. Is that true, Val?”

Jamie’s sharp words made Valeran muscles in his face tighten even more at the anger in his friend’s voice. Cursing his failure to mention his conversation with Miriam, his jaw clenched tightly at his stupidity. The other man knew the truth about how Amalie had been compromised. A thin sliver of memory danced on the edge of his conscious brain. It distracted him long enough to prevent him from denying Miriam’s lie before she continued her twisted tale.

“Yes it is, Lord Westbury. Rather than celebrating the new year with me, Val insisted on going to Scotland. He said it was because Miss Rockwood intrigued him.” Miriam’s distortion of the truth only fueled Valeran’s anger.

“I recall the conversation quite differently, my lady. You were the one who made Miss Rockwood the subject of our conversation.” Arching a disdainful look in Miriam’s direction, he shook his head. “I distinctly recall telling you I barely knew her.”

“But you do now, don’t you,” Miriam’s sharp voice quickly became a plaintive whimper of self-pity. “Oh Val, how could you do this to me? I warned you the woman might find a way to trap you. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

“I’ve done nothing to injure you, Lady Chattfield.”

“But you have injured Miss Rockwood. And as I recall, you said you wouldn’t fail to seduce the poor woman. How did you convince her to enter your chamber?”

“Christ almighty. Is that true, Sommerville?”