Except she didn’t want questions. And now he might create them.
Callum didn’t look at Flora when he answered, but his light brown eyes settled on Valaria instead. “We have an old friend who lives in Greystown, which is just a short ride over. He mentioned the beauty of this park, and here we are.”
Valaria pursed her lips. She didn’t think he was telling the truth, but there was no easy way to call him on the lie. Not without creating a scene in front of her friends and even more questions from them.
“Well, we should leave you two to it then,” she said instead, giving the sweetest smile she could muster before she turned away as a dismissal.
“That is much appreciated, but seeing you three here gives me the very best idea. I would love to host you all for supper tonight.”
Valaria snapped her gaze back toward him at that suggestion. “I am in mourning, Your Grace.”
It was said so sharply that both the duchesses and the Duke of Lightmorrow stared at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. Callum looked less troubled and continued to hold her gaze evenly and calmly.
“I realize that,” he said gently. “But this would only be a small gathering of friends. Nothing very different than what you’ve done in the park today. Certainly not something untoward.” He held up his hands. “But certainly I would never cause you discomfort if the invitation feels wrong to you.”
Slowly Valaria looked at Flora and Bernadette. They were watching her with the same close, weighing expression that they’d each had when she first had tea with them upon her arrival to the Row. She knew whatever she said, the answer to Callum’s invitation would create a reaction.
And that was why she feared she couldn’t avoid saying yes. She would have to say she would go and then dance a fine line with him yet again.
“I would not speak for the others—” she began softly.
Bernadette was the one who spoke. “I don’t think either Flora or I have plans tonight. Do we?”
Flora shook her head. “In fact, no. And I’ve heard you have a wonderful cook, Your Grace,” she said, directing her comment to Callum. “Is it true you stole him out from under Prinny, himself?”
“A gentleman never tells,” Callum said. He winked at Flora when he said it and that created a pit in Valaria’s stomach, especially when her friend laughed in response.
Valaria shifted. Since both her friends had said yes, it was difficult to refuse. After all, her lack of appearance for mourning was more meant to restrict her from public events. A supper with friends was more than acceptable, especially after two months of “grief”.
“If Flora and Bernadette can attend, I…would…be happy to do the same,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
Callum’s expression lit up. “Wonderful.” Valaria waited for him to mention his gift of the books, but he didn’t. He simply tipped his hat and said, “I look forward to seeing you all there.”
“As do I,” Lightmorrow said with a smile for the group. “Now come along, Callum, we’ve troubled these ladies enough. Good afternoon, Your Graces.” His gaze drifted to Bernadette. “Etta.”
“Good day,” Bernadette and Flora said in unison.
Valaria pursed her lips and watched as the two dukes made their way off together, talking as they went. They’d gone a short distance when Callum looked back over his shoulder at her. His gaze found hers and then he smiled before he continued along his route away.
She huffed out a breath despite herself and plunked back down on the picnic blanket to retrieve her wine, which she drank in one heady gulp.
She looked up to find Flora and Bernadette staring at her. She stiffened. Damn the Duke of Blackvale. Not only was he creating discomfort for her, he was threatening this tenuous friendship she was building with Flora and Bernadette.
The two women retook their places on the blanket, and Bernadette refilled Valaria’s wine as Flora reached out to cover her hand.
“Is everything…well?” Flora asked carefully. Like Valaria was glass and could be broken too easily. Right now she felt like it. And she couldn’t afford to be glass. She had to be a steel sword, a brick-and-mortar wall.
“Of course,” she lied with a smile.
“You were a bit…sharp with the Duke of Blackvale,” Bernadette said, as carefully as Flora had addressed her. “Do you not like him?”
Valaria swallowed. There was a question. Did she like Callum? She’d known him two years—he had been a constant presence around her home before Silas’s death. She’d watched him, at first with anxiety and eventually with interest on how such a steady man could remain friends with such a volatile one. And then he’d come into her life as a widow so very unexpectedly. Made himself a part of her existence in ways she didn’t like to think about.
“I really don’t know him well enough to like or dislike the duke,” she said when it was clear her silence was creating as much a problem as her words would. “He was Silas’s friend, not mine. I am…surprised he has taken such an interest in me. I doubt we spoke five times in the years I was married, beyond a polite ‘good day’ and a little small talk about the weather and the roads and…and books.”
Except she remembered each one down to the detail. Apparently he did, as well.
“I think it’s kind of him to worry after your well-being,” Flora said with a sigh. “I know my dear Stuart would have been pleased to know his friends or family gave a whit about me.” Her face fell. “Which they most certainly do not. If the Duke of Blackvale wants to stand in your late husband’s stead and be certain you are well, that seems like a good thing.”
Valaria stared at the two women across the blanket from her. They were so kind and after months…years…of isolation and silence. They welcomed her in, perhaps at first because of whatever past kindness she had done for Flora, but also because they seemed to genuinely like her. That was such a rare thing in her recent life that she suddenly wished to do something foolish.
She wanted to tell them the truth.
The truth of her marriage, the truth of her broken heart, the truth of the fear that clouded her every dream and so many of her waking moments. She wanted to spill herself onto the picnic blanket and finally be free of the words that seemed to echo in her head constantly.
She blinked the foolish thought away. If she did that, she wouldn’t feel better. No, everything would be worse. Not only would these women hate her afterward, but she would threaten her own life and the lives of others. So she swallowed the truth, choked it back like she had for so long and forced a smile.
“I realize the Duke of Blackvale seems to have my best interest at heart. I do…I do appreciate that, I assure you. But I think there is another issue for us to discuss which is more pressing than my minimal relationship with Blackvale. Isn’t that right…Etta?”
Bernadette shifted on the blanket as Flora grinned at her and topped off her wine.
“That is true, Bernadette. I didn’t know you were so well acquainted with the Duke of Lightmorrow! Do tell.”
“There is nothing to tell,” Bernadette insisted. “As I said earlier, Theo’s father and mine had adjoining estates in the country and we knew each other as children. I was sometimes called Etta then, by my grandfather. I’m surprised he recalls it at all, since he only could have met the man once. I’m certain he was just being polite.”