“I assume you are talking about her feelings for Theo.”
Flora turned back. “Yes.”
“I agree they would be well-matched if they could manage to hoist themselves over each other’s walls. But we’re not talking about my life with Callum—that is happily resolved. We’re not talking about Theo and Bernadette—that is a work in progress, a longer-term project. My dear, we are talking about you.”
“I loved my husband,” Flora said wistfully.
Valaria got up and now she looked uncomfortable. “You say that, but…”
Flora drew back. “Do you doubt me?” Her heart throbbed in her chest and upset lifted, but it was more directed at herself than her friend. After all, her memories of Stuart, her feelings for him…they were fading over time.
“No, not at all,” Valaria said. “I know you loved him. The warmth in your voice when you talk about him is so genuine. But I also know your age difference was vast. And judging from what we’ve discussed, the relationship between you wasn’t overly…passionate.”
Flora felt the flame of humiliation heat her cheeks at that delicate subject. “I-I…just because you and Callum can’t bear to not touch each other for more than ten minutes put together doesn’t mean that’s everyone’s path. Stuart was older. We were loving companions and connected friends. He was my whole world for a time.” Now the tears stung and she welcomed them, because they made her feel like she hadn’t forgotten him after all. “Perhaps not everyone was made for a great passion.”
Valaria took her hands and squeezed gently. “Perhaps that is true. I didn’t mean to upset you, and I apologize that I did. But you must know that I adore you. And I’d love to see you find a second life, a second wind. You are still young. And you have freedoms that you were not afforded before your first marriage. So if you do not find some great new love, you might still be able to have some fun.”
“Perhaps,” Flora said. “I don’t think I’d ever considered it before now. But handsome or not, Roarke…Mr. Desmond might not be the man to pursue such things with. After all, we were talking in the park and then I must have bored him because he excused himself rather suddenly.”
Valaria pursed her lips. “Well, if any man could be bored by you, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“You look like you’re ready to go to battle with him,” Flora laughed.
“I will if you’d like. Take up my sword and smite him for not appreciating you!”
“I adore you for that,” Flora said, and wrapped and arm around her friend. “But perhaps it’s for the best. I can admire his handsome visage from afar and not be too pressured in any other way. And now we’ve discussed this far too much. Let’s talk about the wedding plans. Have you decided how you two will announce your engagement once your official mourning period is over and how long you will wait until you wed?”
Valaria’s eyes lit up and she didn’t hesitate as she began to wax poetic about her future. Flora couldn’t help but be warmed by her friends’ happy glow. Still, she also thought about Valaria’s comments that she, herself, should consider a second act in her life. She just didn’t know if she could move on, let alone if she wanted to.
But when she thought of Roarke Desmond’s intense green eyes, she still felt butterflies.
CHAPTER 5
Roarke had less than a minute from the time he handed over the reins of his horse to when the door to Flora’s house opened. One minute to calm his expression and try to manage his pounding heart. He was not here because he found the lady attractive or interesting. He was here to put an end once and for all the investigation his cousins demanded of him and collect the other half of the money he would earn for doing so. Tonight he would determine decisively that she had no lovers or secret relationships.
He only wished that didn’t make him feel like the worst kind of arse. Even thoughts of his mother and her needs couldn’t change that.
The minute passed and the door opened. A stern-faced butler nodded as Roarke gave his name and handed over his coat and hat. “They are gathered in the parlor, sir,” the man intoned as he led Roarke down the hall.
He heard voices as they neared the room. Laughter and chatter of several people at once. When Flora had sent the information to him after their meeting in the park a few days earlier, she had not given much detail. Just the time of the meeting and the date. Now he wondered how many people would be gathered there and if he would have time for his investigation, after all.
The door opened and he stepped inside, hardly hearing as the butler announced his name. The room as a whole turned and he realized it was only five others gathered there. Lightmorrow, of course, he knew. The duke was standing next to the Duchess of Tunbridge, who Roarke had met at the ball a week before.
Next was the Duke of Blackvale, who Roarke had also gone to school with. The lady who had her arm linked with his he didn’t recognize. She was very pretty, with dark brown hair and gray-blue eyes. The fact that it wasn’t Flora he was attending gave Roarke a thrill he didn’t particularly care for. That wasn’t his role. When would he remember that?
And finally there was Flora, herself. She was lovely, always more lovely than he recalled her to be, which had been shocking when he saw her in the park and was no less so now. Her auburn hair was done in in a complicated twisting style that highlighted her face perfectly. She wore a dusky blue gown with translucent layers beautifully folded and tucked over one another.
She all but flowed forward toward him, hand outstretched and eyes bright. “Mr. Desmond, welcome.”
He smiled as he took her hand, wishing he could school the throb of his heart when he touched her. “Your Grace. It seems I am late—my apologies.”
“Not at all,” she assured him, as she withdrew her hand and placed it on her heart almost absently. “I believe you know almost everyone here. I will introduce with first names, as that is our way when we’re all together. Too many dukes and duchesses in a room and it becomes a comedy of errors when one Your Grace bleeds into another.”
First names. Roarke shivered at the thought of being allowed to call her Flora. Of her saying Roarke. That was intimate, inappropriate in most company. And he longed for it.
“I can imagine,” he said. “As long as no one is offended by a lowly non-duke saying their first names.”
“As long as you do it with cheek,” Lightmorrow said with a laugh.
Flora joined the laughter. “Theo and Callum I think you know.”
Roarke inclined his head. He hadn’t ever called either man by their first name, but neither seemed offended by the idea. “Gentlemen.”
“Roarke,” Callum said with a warmth to his smile, like he was giving permission.
Flora continued, “You met Bernadette as the Duchess of Tunbridge at Theo’s ball last week. I believe the only stranger to you here is our dear Valaria, the Duchess of Gooding.”
Roarke’s eyes went wide. He had heard of the death of the Duke of Gooding. Whispers of a violent accident had reached even his ears, but it hadn’t seemed too long ago. The lady ought not to have been out of mourning and yet she wore full color in this company, and the way she stroked her fingers along Callum’s arm made it clear she was attached to his old schoolmate.