“I tried,” Valaria said on a heavy sigh that felt like it came from the depths of her very soul. “But he intends to call again, he says. And I have no idea how to manage him.”
“Then we’ll have to figure that out,” Fanny said, worrying her hands before her. “After all, there are a great many ways to control a man. Coldness, boring him, avoiding him...”
Valaria cleared her throat, and that interrupted Fanny’s continued suggestions on how to bring a man to heel. “I can only hope I’m getting ahead of myself. He wished to check on my welfare. I ensured him I was fine. Now that he is relieved of what he considered a duty, perhaps he’ll simply forget all about me. After all, he must have far more pressing concerns on his mind.”
Fanny seemed to consider it. “Yes, we will hope he’ll move on then. And if he doesn’t, I promise you, Your Grace, together we will find a way to put him off.” She smiled brightly, though Valaria wondered if that was just Fanny’s way of comforting her. “Now, I had some thoughts about how we might best organize your gowns. Would you like to look at what I have in mind?”
Valaria nodded and followed her maid into the dressing room. But all the while they were discussing the ins and outs of how to organize her new life, she couldn’t help but think of Callum.
And how he didn’t seem the kind of man who would forget all about her and whatever promise he’d made in his head to protect her.
CHAPTER 4
Callum had never felt so out of sorts in his entire life as he had in the two days since his encounter with Valaria. She had made herself perfectly clear, after all, that she didn’t want his assistance. And though he knew he would likely offer it again, he wasn’t trying to bother her. And yet he kept thinking about her. He was thinking about her now as he strolled the aisles of Mattigan’s Bookshop, trying to focus on the titles before him and not her.
“Blackvale,” came a voice behind him. He pivoted and felt his smile fall. It was the new Duke of Gooding, Silas’s cousin, who was saying his name. If there was a color that would describe the man before him, it was taupe. He was a forgettable man and had lived a forgettable life. Callum recalled him following Silas around as a boy, trying to make an impression, toadying about and glaring at Callum for being his cousin’s closer friend. And tattling on them. Oh, how he’d love to get the two of them in trouble.
But today the man looked positively lit up. Callum’s stomach turned at the idea that he was…crowing about his new position. One that had been “earned” by the death of someone Callum cared for.
“Gooding,” he choked out, hating to hear that title on his tongue and not have it be Si. “I have not seen you since the funeral.”
“Yes,” Franklin said with a little sniff. “I suppose it has been that long. Thankfully I am out of mourning and back in the world. Finding my place.”
Callum nodded slowly. “Yes, I’ve heard you took your place very recently, pushing your cousin’s wife out to Kent’s Row.”
Discomfort washed over Franklin’s visage and he shifted. “Well, it was time, wasn’t it? She was settled well, bordering on too well.”
Anger rippled through Callum and he clenched his fists at his sides. “Is there a level of compensation that you feel is too high for a woman who lost her husband before she even reached her thirtieth year? I hadn’t heard of that. How telling.”
Franklin let out his breath slowly. “That isn’t what I meant. I was simply surprised to hear that you knew and wondered if she was talking about it, complaining. After all, she was the one who requested that she exit the ducal home.”
Callum clenched his jaw. Valaria had already said that she had been pushed out and not with a great deal of finesse. He felt a swelling desire to press the subject. To confront this man who strutted around in his glee at his change of fortune that had caused so much pain to others. But then he thought of Valaria’s concern that she was a topic of gossip. He would only create more of that by carrying on in this way.
So he bit his tongue and drew a breath to settle himself before he said, “I’m sure that is a great comfort to you.”
“What good would it have done for her to stay?” Franklin asked with a shrug. “She only would have sat around in a parlor, reading books and counting out the days until she was in half-black and then color. She can more comfortably do that on the Row, I’d wager. At least she’ll be surrounded by other ladies in the same position.” He shook his head. “I was just about to go. I only wanted to say good day, Blackvale. I’m certain we’ll see each other out and about much more now that I am duke and we are equals.”
“I’m sure,” Callum said, and arched a brow. “Good day.”
Franklin huffed out a breath and hurried from the shop, leaving Callum staring after him. The man was an arse. Not a villain, perhaps, but truly a fool.
Callum returned to the shelves and stared at the books before him. Franklin had said something about Valaria reading books in her mourning and at least Callum knew that she probably would pass some of the quiet time reading. He knew she liked the pastime—they had spoken of books once or twice in their brief conversations during Silas’s life.
Perhaps that was one way he could help her, actually. It would not be proper for her to come out to a bookshop and browse, but she might like a few new titles. He moved to the front, where the proprietor, Mr. Mattigan, stood behind a raised counter.
“Ah, Your Grace,” he said, his smile widening. “A pleasure to see you. Are you finding what you’d like or would you like to place a special order?”
“Perhaps both, depending on what you tell me next,” Callum said. “What do you have that is brand new? Something sought after.”
Mattigan’s eyes lit up. “A man after my own heart. Let me show you!”
He stepped down to join Callum, drawing him back into the stacks. Callum smiled as he followed because this, at least, felt like it was actually doing something for Valaria. And picturing her reaction when she received the gift gave him far more pleasure than he liked to admit.
As a widow supposedly in mourning, Valaria had very little she was allowed to do in the eyes of Society. She could have small gatherings with friends, which she had begun to do every day with Flora and Bernadette since her arrival on the Row a few days ago. She was growing closer to them each time they spent time together. And if she walked in the park near her home or in one of the larger parks in the heart of London, people only gave her sad looks rather than judged her.
But those two things felt like her only options and she was beginning to go out of her skull at home. There were only so many times a person could reorganize a library or fiddle in their garden. She wanted to go to exhibitions and readings, to museums and salons! Hell, she would have accepted an invitation to a ball, and she hated a ball.
Of course, all that nervous energy was made worse by the fact that she was constantly waiting for Callum to show back up at her door with more offers of help. More of his broad shouldered, smoldering distraction that was so bloody dangerous.
But he had not made himself known in several days, and she supposed that he might have listened to her after all and marked his obligation to her as concluded. She ignored the faint sting of that as she paced into her study and looked at the letters she had to answer. She’d been leaving them for days. While she appreciated the kind words of distant friends and relatives, their assumption that she was deep in painful mourning only made her lack of feeling for Silas even more obvious and guilt-inducing.