Page 5 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

“Oh Val, how can you say such a dreadful thing? You know that’s not true,” she exclaimed. Valeran was certain Miriam meant to sound deeply injured by his comment, but she only sounded petulant and spoiled.

“Forgive me, I forgot about your friends, Lady Priscilla and Lady Mary Anne,” he murmured dryly. Of all her friends, the two women were just as vain and filled with venom as Miriam was.

“I suppose I am being a bit unfair to Miss Rockwood,” Lady Chattfield said with a note of pity in her voice. “I imagine her dowdy appearance is most likely due to her size.”

Valeran clenched his jaw as he struggled to keep a tight rein on his anger. The woman wasn’t just being unkind, she was being cruel. Miriam failed to see that one’s physical beauty could be made ugly simply by one poisonous word or cruel action. While his blindness had never allowed him to see Lady Chattfield’s face, he’d been told she was stunningly beautiful.

Even if that were true, as far as Valeran was concerned, Miriam was one of the ugliest people he’d ever met. If he didn’t finish this assignment soon, he was apt to do something he’d regret. From the first moment in Lady Chattfield’s company, Valeran had discovered the woman had the innate ability to put him in a foul mood simply by opening her mouth. It had made his assignment one of the most difficult he’d ever taken on.

For the past three months, the woman had set his teeth on edge on a regular basis. Whether it was inane conversation, vanity, or cruel words, he found the woman revolting. It had become a daily challenge to hide his antipathy toward the woman, especially when he longed to eviscerate the woman verbally. Instead, he delivered his insults from behind a wall of amused irony.

Fortunately, the woman was too self-involved, and she always took his veiled insults as compliments. A fact for which he was grateful. The last thing he wanted was to bungle his assignment. If he failed to reach a definite conclusion as to Miriam’s or her husband’s involvement with the Prussians soon, the last three months would have been wasted.

Not to mention the unappealing idea of C lambasting him like one of the Crown’s Secret Intelligence Service’s new recruits who’d failed to carry out an assignment. Valeran took a sip of his ale before he countered the woman’s derisive words.

“Surely we can find another topic more interesting than critiquing the woman’s imperfections,” Valeran drawled, as if bored with the conversation. He was tired of listening to the woman denigrate Jamie’s cousin, not to mention Miriam’s cold-hearted and insensitive criticism. “Amalie Rockwood hasn’t said more than a simple hello or goodbye to me since the first time Jamie introduced us.”

The moment he mentioned his lack of interaction with his friend’s cousin, Valeran frowned. Slowly setting his glass down, he ran the tip of his finger around its rim. Why hadn’t he realized until just now that he’d never had an actual conversation with Amalie Rockwood? It was unlike him not to notice something like that. Then again, the Rockwoods were a large family.

From the first time his best friend, Jamie, had invited Valeran to one of the Rockwood family dinners, it had been a challenge, even with his exceptional hearing, to determine who was in the room. The family’s deep affection for each other made every gathering one of laughter and boisterous conversation. There were always at least fifteen or more members of the family assembled together in the same room whenever he joined them.

It made sense that he might overlook someone who was quiet. Amalie also lived in Scotland and didn’t come to town often. The moments when he did encounter her, she’d offer a soft, almost incoherent greeting, then dart away. Puzzled, he directed his gaze at Miriam as if he could see her face instead of a gray mask of highlights and shadows that indicated where the woman’s eyes, nose, and mouth were.

“Now that I think about it, I’m wondering if Amalie Rockwood might have been avoiding me since our first meeting.” A small gasp of what sounded distinctly like horror whispered its way into his ear. The dark shadow of Miriam’s arm waved dismissively in the air, and Valeran attributed the sound to the woman across from him.

“She’s probably infatuated with you and too afraid to come near you.”

“A reasonable assumption, given my reputation,” he said with a chuckle of self-deprecation and irony.

It galled him to maintain the image of a man who was a blackguard when it came to women’s hearts. He was nothing like the man the aristocracy painted him, not even with women like Miriam. On most occasions, his relationships ended on agreeable terms. Still, his reputation was a double-edged sword.

It had proven quite valuable in his work for the foreign section of the Crown’s Secret Intelligence Service. Valeran hadn’t deliberately set out to depict himself in the way he was viewed, but he’d found it useful.

Rumors and innuendos had built his reputation as a scoundrel. Valeran simply hadn’t bothered to dispute or correct the gossips. The aristocracy’s belief that he was a reprehensible womanizer gave Valeran the ability to perform his duties for the Crown more easily. A wife was an encumbrance in his line of work. His reputation ensured mothers seeking a wealthy title for unmarried daughters avoided him at all costs.

“Well, the poor thing is practically a spinster. Which is hardly surprising considering how unattractive the woman is.”

Miriam’s grating voice pierced Valeran’s thoughts. While he was certain Lady Chattfield’s words were supposed to reflect empathy, to him they were a snide sneer. The woman’s observations made his muscles tighten with anger. Of all the women he’d ever met, Miriam was the most ruthless and vicious when it came to others of her sex. It was only one of a multitude of things he hated about the woman. Jaw clenched, he took a moment to force himself to drink some ale before setting it down and peered sightlessly at Miriam.

“Unfortunately, since I’m blind, and the fact Miss Rockwood appears to have been avoiding me for some time, I’m unable to agree or disagree with you as to the young lady’s physical attributes or other charms.”

“I can assure you, Val, she truly is a plump brown mouse.”

Somewhere close by, Valeran heard a whisper of sound as Miriam disparaged Amalie Rockwood’s appearance. But with his companion’s vicious and inane chattering, it was impossible to determine where the inarticulate sound originated.

“She even looks like a mouse in those drab gowns she wears.”

The contempt in Miriam’s remark made his mouth tighten with anger. Christ almighty, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could refrain from putting the woman in her place. For the life of him, he didn’t understand why Miriam was so fixated on Amalie Rockwood. All he could remember of Jamie’s cousin was how shy she was. The last time he’d seen her was this past summer, when he was at Callendar Abbey.

Reaching into the recesses of his memory, he vaguely recalled a woman with full, voluptuous curves. Valeran frowned slightly as the woman’s shape solidified in his mind. The truth was, the sweetly curved figure he remembered Amalie having was precisely the kind of full-figured woman he preferred to bed. If Amalie was what Lady Chattfield called plump, Valeran had to suppress the urge to eviscerate the woman by emphatically stressing he preferred women with plump curves versus bony skeletons.

This time, Valeran took a deep swallow of his ale, simply to keep from unleashing hell’s fire on the woman. When his anger had been consumed along with the alcohol, he tilted his head slightly and narrowed his gaze at Lady Chattfield. Valeran knew it was a look that made people believe he could actually see them, when in truth all he saw were shades of black, gray, and white.

“You seem to dislike Miss Rockwood a great deal, Miriam. Why is that?”

“Well, I…I…” Miriam stammered, clearly surprised by the question. “I think it’s because you’re going to Callendar Abbey without me, and she’ll be there, and I won’t. Who knows what might happen?”

For a moment, Valeran stared at the thin shadow across the table from him in amazement. Had the woman just said she was worried about competition for his attention? Competition from a woman who, according to Miriam, was unattractive to look at? If he was correct about Amalie avoiding him since their first meeting, that fact alone made him doubt she’d take advantage of Miriam not attending the house party. Unable to help himself, robust laughter spilled out of him.