Val Archer reread the letter his mother sent to him for the third time. It was not that he did not understand the words.

 He just kept hoping they would magically change; that she was just writing to check in with him. But the words were still the same, no matter how many times he shook his head:

Dearest Val,

How are you, darling? I feel as if it is ages between your letters. I imagine that is because of the distance between London and the Far East. Still, it seems as though you have been gone forever. As your mother, it drives me mad to not have you close by.

To that end, I need you to return to Archington Manor. It is not entirely for selfish reasons, though I must admit that is a small part of it. I have an important matter to discuss with you, and I wish to do so as soon as possible.

I understand why you fled London, darling. But you are the Duke of Archington. You cannot hide forever. Nor should you. I am proud of you, my son, and so should you be. Please, come at your earliest convenience.

All my love,

Mother

He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he stared out the window of the conservative cottage he had purchased for his stay. He had hired a handful of employees as servants, which he would have to dismiss if he were to leave. His valet, Frank, however, would return with him. If that was, he decided to return.

Idly, he began stroking the left side of his face, unconsciously wincing as his fingertips caressed the scar tissue. And just as unintentionally, his mind drifted back to the reason why he left London four years prior. He vividly remembered the reason he had the scars he was now stroking, as though with a strange fondness, rather than a condemning hatred. And the ruins of his skin had cost him dearly. He would never forget that, either.

He had once been engaged to Lady Jocelyn. She was as sweet and clever as she was beautiful, and he had been madly in love with her. But a couple of weeks before they were to be wed, he was in a terrible carriage accident. He had been unconscious for a couple of days, and Lady Jocelyn was not there when he had awoken. The next, and last, he heard from her, she broke off their engagement.

With a bitter sneer, Val rose from the chair. His waking memories of the accident were vaguer than the memory of Jocelyn’s rejection. His accident memories tormented him mainly in the form of nightmares. But each time he touched his scars, he remembered how his face slid along the splintering parts of the carriage door, just before everything went black.

How could she ask me to return? He thought, forcing his hand away from his face. Why would she want the ton to see her with such a hideous monster?

“Your Grace?” Frank asked from the door behind him. “Is something wrong?”

Val whirled around to see the tall, stout man looking at him with curious concern. He gave the valet a sheepish look.

“It seems as though I have been summoned back to London,” he said.

Frank nodded, walking over to Val, and standing to face him.

“And you do not wish to return,” he finished for his master.

Val shook his head.

“I do not,” he said.

The two men sat in silence for several moments. Frank was the best employee that a man with his deformities could ever ask for. Even the maids on his payroll whispered about him when they thought he couldn’t hear them. But Frank remained loyal and kind, and he had never spoken a bad word about the Duke’s scars. He was patient and understanding and never treated Val differently for a minute.

“When do we depart?” Frank asked at last.

Val chuckled.

“When summer and winter change places,” he said.

Frank laughed heartily. Then, he looked at Val with kindness.

“I understand your apprehension, your Grace,” he said. “But I will be here to help you in any way I can. I know this is uncomfortable for you. But you are a strong and clever man. More so than any other I have ever known. If anyone can find some good in this endeavor, it will be you.”

Val gave the valet a warm smile.

“I hope that you are right,” he said.

                                                                                                        ***

Three things are happening simultaneously, and Val’s heart is racing. He whips his head around, trying to figure out what he should do first. The carriage is headed straight for the men who are fighting in the street, the footmen are shouting, and Val feels the carriage crash into a hole and rattle one of the wheels loose. A moment later, Val understands what is about to happen and that there is nothing he can do.

As he draws breath to order the driver to stop, the loose wiggles its way off the carriage. At the same moment, the coach reaches the fighting men, who at last see the danger and scatter. Val thinks the carriage hit one of them, but he cannot see. And he does not get another minute to try to see if any of them render aid.

In a moment that feels as though he is turning flips in slow motion and suspended in midair, Val is levitating off the carriage seat. With a strange sense of wonder, he realizes that he is about to slam into the top of the coach when it comes back down, bottom side up, onto the road.

But to his horror, the carriage does not just slam down once and remain on its top. It bounces, flying into an instant roll down across the street. Instead of hitting the coach’s inside top, he feels his face slam into the door of the carriage, just as it splinters all to pieces. Searing pain tears through his face as the broken wood punctures his skin…

Val started to awake as the carriage came to a sudden halt. He sat up, his mind struggling to let go of another vivid dream of the day of his accident. It took him a moment to determine that he was not still back at that time and that he was, in fact, safely back at his London home. The realization brought him little relief, as the dream had been a harsh reminder of why he had fled there in the first place.

Mustering a smile, he stepped out from the carriage. Frank and the footmen began unloading his belongings as he approached the door. To his surprise, it was his mother, rather than the butler, who greeted him. She flew into his arms, kissing his face as though he had gone missing in some war. In some ways, he supposed, he had.

“Oh, darling,” she said. “I am so glad that you are here.”

Val could not help laughing as he pulled back from his mother’s embrace to kiss her cheek.

“You sound as though I simply showed up unannounced,” he said.

The Duchess looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

“Of course, I knew you were coming,” she said. “But a mother never ceases her worrying.”

There was a brief silence as her unspoken words lingered in the air. She specifically would never stop worrying, especially while he was traveling by carriage. In her mind, the accident that had nearly killed him could very well repeat itself. He could not entertain such notions for long, though. Otherwise, he would never travel again.

“I am famished,” he said, desperate to lighten the mood.

His attempt was successful, as his mother beamed at him.

“I just called for tea moments before you arrived,” she said. “Come. Let us take it to the parlour.”

Val nodded, following his mother inside. Archington Manor looked exactly as he had left it, which should have been comforting to him. However, the memories of his time after the accident and before he fled to the far East remained the same, as well. 

Many of them flooded back to him as he walked with his mother to the parlor. He shook them away, trying hard to not ruin his first minutes home with his mother. He hated London and everything about high society since the accident. But he adored his mother, and he wanted to enjoy his time with her.

The Duchess led him to the parlor sofa and patted the spot beside her as she sat. She served him some of the fresh tea and pastries displayed on the table in front of the sofa and then helped herself to some, as well. But no sooner than they had had a sip of tea did she set aside her treats and look intently at her son. He placed his saucer in his lap, laughing lightly at the strange look in his mother’s eyes.

“You can see that I am all right,” he said. “Now, will you please worry less, so that we can enjoy our time more?”

The Duchess nodded slowly, raising her eyebrow.

“I can see that you are physically unharmed,” she agreed. “But that hardly means that you are all right. Have you been taking care of yourself overseas?”

Val flinched. His dark brown hair was becoming unruly, as he had not had it trimmed in some time. He supposed he could have done a better job shaving, so that he looked less haggard after the long journey. And he was sure that the dark circles beneath his eyes lingered, even after his nap in the carriage. But he did his best to grin and nod.

“Of course, I have,” he said, glancing over at Frank, who had just joined them and stood at Val’s side.

Frank rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

“I shall see to my duties, your Grace,” he said.

Val glared at him, though it was with nothing but affection. The man was more of a friend to Val than any other man in the ton, and he was grateful for him.

The Duchess cleared her throat, clicking her tongue.

“This is why I wanted you home,” she said.

Val looked at her, bemused.

“Because I am not caring for myself?” he asked.

His mother nodded curtly.

“Indeed,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I want you to marry and find yourself a wife who can help take care of you.”

Val stared at his mother, trying to see if she was serious. When she did not budge, he pointed dramatically to the left side of his face.

“Perhaps, you did not notice, but that is never going to happen,” he said. “No woman would ever wish to marry such a hideous man.”

His mother shook her head. Clearly, she had given her speech some thought, and she would not be swayed.

“You must let go of your insecurities over your appearance,” she said. “You are a wealthy duke with your father’s good reputation when it comes to your dukedom and your business ventures. And it is that very dukedom of which you must think. Bearing an heir to inherit the fortune and title when you pass is crucial.”

Val clenched his jaw, but he did not persist with his argument. He knew that his mother was right. If he did not produce an heir, the family name and title would die when he did. He had already had such a close call with the accident. He needed to think harder about settling down.

Still, he was aware of how the ton would reject him if he publicly sought a wife. Lady Jocelyn had proven to him that no woman would love him. He could never expect any woman who knew nothing about him to overlook his scars and be attracted to him enough to bear his children. What could he do about marrying, when there was no one who would ever accept him as a husband?

“I should not have thrown that on you the moment you arrived,” his mother said quickly, giving him a sheepish smile. “Let us talk about other things.”

Val sighed with relief. He knew they would speak of it again, but he was glad to forget it for the moment.

“Thank you,” he said. “How have you been?”

His mother’s eyes lit up, instantly melting his displeasure at the topic of marriage.

“I have been very excited as of late,” she said. “I invited the Earl of Dervinshire and his family to join us for dinner tomorrow evening. I wanted to do something special, yet small, to celebrate your return home. I really would appreciate it if you would attend, darling.”

Immediately, Val remembered why he had been so reluctant to return home. He hated social gatherings even more than he hated the idea of forcing his hideous visage on beautiful young women. But his mother looked so hopeful, and clearly it was something she looked forward to greatly. Perhaps, if it were an event hosted in his home, people would be less willing to insult him.

“Very well,” he said with great reluctance. “I will attend.”

With his mother pacified, he excused himself to his old bedchambers to rest and get settled back into his home. She happily obliged, rushing off to see to the dinner preparations, leaving him in relative peace. The moment he laid on his bed, he was asleep and back in the world where he remembered every detail of his accident.

                                                                                                        ***

Later that day, Val made another trip. This one was much shorter, and it was one that pleased him a great deal. He jumped out of the carriage when it stopped in front of a stately townhouse, rushing to knock on the door. When the master of the house answered, Val grinned more widely than he had in years.

“Val, you old cad,” Mr. Henry Gatrall, youngest son of the Earl of Gatton, said, pulling him into a fierce hug. “It sure is damn good to see you back.”

Val laughed as his friend pulled him into his home.

“Likewise, my friend,” he said.

Henry led him to the parlor, hurrying to fetch a bottle of brandy and glasses. Val gladly partook, sitting on the sofa beside his friend while Henry poured the drinks.

“Come,” Henry said, raising his glass high in the air. “Toast with me to friendship and to your safe return to London.”

Val nodded and complied.

“I will definitely drink that,” he said.