Page 64 of Scandalous: Family Ties and Spies

For the briefest of moments, Valeran had almost stopped her retreat, but instinct said he would lose ground with her if he did so. Instead, he’d asked her what they should name the animal. They’d finally settled on Comet because almost from the moment Valeran had set him on the floor, the dog didn’t run, he streaked his way to wherever he was headed.

Flowers had become a daily fragrance in the house as well as the sound of Amalie’s laughter as she played with Comet or talked with the staff, and even him. One of the things he enjoyed the most was the evenings when Amalie joined him in the parlor. Valeran would relax in front of the fire, mentally reviewing details he’d collected and memorized in his work for the Crown. Amalie with a book in hand, feet tucked under her and shoes laying haphazardly on the floor in front of the settee, would read.

To his surprise, Comet divided his time between the two of them. In the beginning, the terrier had caused Valeran to stumble whenever the dog was underfoot. But the animal had proven quite intelligent and quickly learned to dart out of the way or walk beside him. When the animal wanted to be petted, he’d launch himself up onto the settee to sit next to Amalie with his nose on his wife’s lap as she absently stroked his head and neck. The remainder of the time, the dog would lie at Valeran’s feet with his nose resting on one of Valeran’s shoes.

Comet had selected Valeran’s room as his nightly resting spot. Amalie had laughingly accused him of bribing the animal, as he had a habit of feeding the dog a dried piece of apple or other treat. She’d laughingly protested his efforts were to ensure Comet slept in his room, her laughter had abruptly died the moment she spoke. The tension flowing out of her made Valeran change the subject as if she’d not said a thing.

In the past three weeks, she’d hinted once or twice as to his not collecting his daily kiss. Every time she’d subtly referred to the topic, he’d desperately wanted to ask if she would object to his doing so. Unwilling to lose the ground he’d gained, Valeran had acted as if he’d been too deep in thought to hear her.

The strategy made his nights habitually restless, which made him venture into the East End almost nightly. It had been the only remedy he’d found to save himself from the torture of lying awake, imagining his wife’s body beneath his. Despite the strain of not seducing Amalie, the two of them had fallen into a routine Valeran found, not only pleasing, but filled with moments of contentment he’d not experienced since he was a boy.

Then, a week ago, his wife had stunned him when she’d announced she’d accepted the invitation to Lady Darlington’s dinner party this evening. Valeran had been speechless for a long moment, struggling to understand why his wife would be willing to enter society’s fray. While the gossip about their hasty wedding had died down to almost nothing, he’d continuously made excuses for refusing invitations they received.

Large gatherings were noisy, and his mother-in-law had strongly emphasized how uncomfortable and draining Amalie found them to be. When he hadn’t immediately reacted to her announcement, she’d mockingly suggested, in that sweet Scottish lilt of hers, he was growing deaf. He’d ignored her teasing before attempting to make her rethink her decision. When Valeran had suggested they not attend, Amalie’s fiery spirit had instantly flared to life. She’d adamantly rejected reneging on the invitation, which was why they were here now.

Why his wife would willingly put herself in such an uncomfortable environment baffled Valeran. They’d been here less than an hour, and already her tension had reached a level almost as high as that of their wedding day. Lightly touching her arm, he bent his head toward her.

“It’s rather warm in here, would you like to go outside for some fresh air?”

“Nae, I’m fine.” That her aristocratic inflection had disappeared from her voice indicated otherwise. Valeran clenched his jaw at her stubborn refusal to admit the truth. The woman was far from fine. She was damned uncomfortable. What the devil had possessed her to insist they come tonight? She suddenly leaned toward him.

“The First Lord of the Admiralty is here. Do you know him?”

“Sir Winston Churchill? I’ve met him once or twice, but I don’t know him well. He’s somewhat arrogant and opinionated.”

“Then ye should nae have a problem speaking with him, when ye introduce me, my lord,” his wife said with satiric amusement.

“Introduce you?” Valeran was too surprised to respond to Amalie’s insult as he stared down at his wife’s shadowed features in amazement. The thin line of her lush mouth told him just how uncomfortable she was in their current surroundings, or perhaps she was irritated with him.

“Aye, I said, introduce me,” she whispered fiercely in a voice no one else could hear. She was uncomfortable and exasperated. “Are ye sure ye dinnae need tae have the doctor check your hearing?”

“The fact that I can hear your erratic breathing is more than enough proof I’ve no need to have my hearing checked.” Valeran chuckled, and he heard her draw in a quick breath.

“Dinnae be absurd. That is nae how ye should test your hearing, Lord Sommerville.”

Amalie’s remark was more breathless than annoyed, and the sound sent Valeran’s heart slamming into his chest. He would never tire of the lilting echo in her voice. With each passing moment, Amalie seemed to be opening up in his presence, and it gave him hope he was close to destroying the invisible wall his wife had erected between them.

“Why the devil do you want to meet the man?” he asked in bewilderment.

“Are ye ashamed of the country mouse ye married, my lord?” Amalie’s question was filled with bitterness, and he stiffened at the pain he heard beneath her acerbic question.

“No,” he growled before expelling a harsh breath of aggravation mix with guilt. “I am not ashamed of you, Amalie. I simply want to know why you’re so hell bent on meeting the man. You’ve never mentioned his name before.”

“Because I want tae see if he is as arrogant as the Earl of Sommerville,” she quipped sweetly. While it was an insult, she softened the statement with a quiet laugh. Nonetheless, her accusation still held a slight sting.

“If I were arrogant, which I’m not, I couldn’t begin to come close to Sir Winston’s level of arrogance,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. Amalie released a puff of air that said she was becoming annoyed.

“Ye dinnae marry a blethering fool, Lord Sommerville. I ken ye are not adverse tae political debates. Ye rarely lose, or ye manage tae make the dispute a draw.”

Astonished by the compliment, Valeran found himself bereft of words for a second time as he stared down at his wife’s shadow in stunned amazement. In return, Amalie shook her head in a motion of unmistakable disgust, then cocked her head to one side to look up at him. Still incoherent, he heard her mutter an unintelligible oath as she studied him with what he could only imagine was a glare of immense displeasure.

“I might have avoided ye by standing in the shadows, Lord Sommerville, but it dinnae affect my hearing, ye bawbag…eejit.”

Quiet belligerence enhanced the musical sound of her voice, which sent a bolt of pleasure straight into his chest. The strength of it startled him, but it was only a passing thought as a strange euphoria surged through him. Valeran tipped his head slightly in a nod of regret.

“My apologies for overlooking the obvious, Lady Sommerville. Would you lead me to the man, please? There are more voices than usual for me this evening for me to single any specific individual out.”

The small lie gave him the opportunity to entwine her arm through his to keep her close to his side. Valeran smiled down at Amalie before redirecting his attention on Sir Winston’s distinctive voice. It took only a moment or two to maneuver their way through the crowded room to reach the First Lord of the Admiralty.