Heat flashed in his eyes at her set down. It was similar to the look of admiration she had seen in Mr Fairfax’s eyes when the scoundrel thought to ply her with port so she might lose the use of her mental faculties.
“It is not what happens in any given situation, but how you react to it that matters.” Lord Valentine folded his muscular arms across his chest. His arrogant grin conveyed satisfaction in delivering yet another Epictetus blow.
Ava scrambled to recall a quote to throw back in retaliation, but his comment gave her pause. Being in such a desperate hurry, she did not have time to sit and argue. Of the many battles she would invariably face today, this one held no real importance.
“Very well. Sit there if you must.” Ava tapped on the roof of the hackney. She sighed with relief when they rolled forward and were soon on their way.
“So, you spent time in Greece?” Lord Valentine said, breaking the prolonged silence.
Still secretly seething, Ava lacked the enthusiasm for conversation, but it would be rude not to answer. “Five years.”
He raised a brow as if impressed that a woman of her breeding had survived without the luxuries afforded one living in town.
“My brother and I returned to London eighteen months ago, following the deaths of our parents.”
“Allow me to express my condolences on your misfortune.”
“Thank you.”
“I also recently returned from a five-year stint abroad. I worked in India and the Far East.”
“Worked?” Lord Valentine certainly knew how to shock and surprise. Why would a
gentleman with his wealth and fortune seek to soil his soft hands? “Your mother said you went with friends, that you returned together to pursue important goals.”
“We were in partnership, bartering and trading goods, mostly. Lord Greystone was the mastermind behind the venture.” Nothing in his manner or voice conveyed shame for having demeaned his position.
Ava found that she admired his honesty. But had he told her because it made him appear more progressive? Had he told her because it showed he differed from the rest of his ilk?
“Well, I imagine your work gave you purpose else you would have returned home sooner.” At least he had not spent five years on a Grand Tour as an excuse to live a life of debauchery.
“I cannot recall another time when I felt more fulfilled.” The lord glanced briefly at the window although the drawn blinds prevented his gaze from lingering there for long.
“And so you have come home to claim the hand of your one true love.” Ava’s tone carried a hint of mockery. She couldn’t help herself. In her experience, wealthy men rarely married for love. Lady Valentine made no secret that she wanted her son to sire an heir, that she wanted grandchildren to dote on, to carry the family name for generations.
“I came home to support my friends who were eager to address their grievances,” he corrected.
Confusion clouded Ava’s mind. Was he not attending a dawn appointment to prove he was worthy of Lady Durrant’s affections? Had he not come home to do his duty?
“But that is not the only reason you came home,” she said, pressing him for information.
A faint groan left his lips. “No. I made a vow.”
“A vow? To your friends?”
“To my mother.” He wore his frustration like a moth-eaten coat—with embarrassment, with a hint of annoyance that he had fallen foul to such a demanding creature. “She wants me to marry.”
“To marry Lady Durrant?”
He nodded. “My mother encouraged an alliance with the lady before I left for India.”
“You do not strike me as a man who does his mother’s bidding.” He seemed so strong, so self-assured. A man wholly in charge of his own destiny.
Ava waited for him to chastise her, to insist she kept her untamed tongue on a leash. She expected the cock of a reprimanding brow at the very least. But no. Deep furrows appeared on his forehead. His gaze turned meditative, distant, as if witnessing a scene long since passed, one that caused immense pain.
“A man cannot run from the past forever,” he suddenly said, though offered no further explanation.
Run? What did a man of his wealth and exceptional looks have to fear?