“Damn,” he whispered. He whirled around in his chair and grabbed his Scotch and a glass. He poured a small glass with trembling hands and drank it all in one gulp. He considered a second glass, settling on just one more sip straight from the bottle. Then, he took a deep breath to collect himself. He knew immediately that the liquor would do nothing for his nerves. But it gave marginal relief to his dry tongue, and he cleared his throat.
“Very well,” he choked as he rose from his chair. “Show me to her.”
The butler led him down the hallway in complete silence. To Val, it felt like the longest walk he had ever taken in his life. He knew that his mother likely had nothing nice to say to him. He realized that he should have answered her letter. Maybe he could have prevented her coming to him. He wanted to hope that she was more worried than angry. But he knew that he didn’t deserve such mercy. If anyone deserved concern, it was Cecily.
When Mr. Roger reached the drawing room door, he bowed and hastily scurried away. Val sniffed. He could hardly blame the man. No one, including Val, would want to witness the wrath he was sure to incur. He held his breath and entered the room, where his mother had her eyes fixed sharply on the door.
As soon as she saw Val, she stood. She stared at Val for a long moment in silence with her eyes filled with all the anger and disbelief he had anticipated.
“You have a great deal of explaining to do, Val Archer,” she said, shaking her head. “I tried to believe that there was some logic behind your madness when you sent Cecily back to her family. But after seeing the poor girl, I can only see cruelty and thoughtlessness.”
Val’s heart ached as he recalled her sorrowful sobs and the agony in her eyes. He swallowed hard to push down both tears and rising bile. He looked away from his mother, but she immediately stepped closer to him.
“Look at me, Val,” she said. Her tone was stern and commanding, and he did as she demanded. “Why? How could you?”
Val ran his hands through his hair and exhaled heavily.
“It was for the best, Mother,” he blurted.
His mother scoffed.
“For whom?” she asked. “You cannot truly believe that it was what Cecily needed. Or what she wanted.”
Val shook his head.
“I cannot say whether it was what she wanted,” he said. “But I do know that it was what she needed.”
His mother shook her head.
“I want you to give me one good reason why that was what she needed,” she said.
Val looked at her. He was so stressed and depressed and part of him hoped his mother would see it and stop pressing him. But she only held his gaze firmly with a look that told him she was in no mood to be merciful. It also said that he needed to be honest with her.
He had never been good at lying to his mother. Since he was a boy, she had always known when he was not being truthful with her. Her expression told him that she knew he was being dishonest right then and that she would not stand for it. He would just have to hope that she could understand.
With a heavy sigh, dropped his head.
“Because I do not deserve her,” he said.
His mother raised an eyebrow.
“Did you do something to hurt her?” she asked. “Was there trouble in your marriage?”
Val bit his lip and shook his head.
“No,” he admitted. “Not at all. In fact, everything was going very well between us. Far better than I could have imagined, in fact.”
The Dowager Duchess shook her head.
“Then how could you do such a thing to her?” she demanded.
Val looked at her again. She must have seen the sadness in his face, because hers softened, albeit only slightly. Val took a shaky breath and spoke again.
“Because I overheard some ladies gossiping about me at the Faering bakery,” he said. “They were saying terrible things about Cecily because she married me. They think Cecily daft for marrying a monster such as me.”
His mother’s eyes never left his, but her sourness began to relax.
“What does that have to do with you sending Cecily away?” she asked.
