Page 15 of A Duke's Christmas Carol
Get a hold of yourself, man!Adrian’s mind sternly reprimanded, cooling the simmer of his abrupt ire.
What did it matter of Richarddidcharm Valerie? She was not Adrian’s. He did not want her to be his, or so he insisted to himself. And, besides, Richard was due to be married, he would not be so bold as to have an affair before the wedding.
“Do not let me stop you from making a fool of yourself,” Adrian said, as he pushed the door open himself.
The laughter in the room died, two figures standing up sharply from the settee and the armchair, respectively.
Valerie was not there. It was just Mrs. Mullens and Jarvis, enjoying a moment’s respite. Adrian had permitted them the use of this particular drawing room, for he never bothered with it, which was precisely why Jarvis had thought Valerie would not be noticed if she stayed there.
“You see,” Adrian said to Richard, who wore a look of utter disappointment.
“I maintain that you have been strange all evening,” Richard replied, stalking back out of the room.
Hewould not have allowed his staff to have a drawing room all their own—another of his seemingly random rules of what was proper and what was not.
Adrian gave a nod of acknowledgement to the butler and the housekeeper and closed the door on them in order, so they could resume their peaceful evening.
“I have not been well,” Adrian said. “I did not tell you sooner because you came all this way, and it would not have been polite.”
Richard halted and spun around, frowning at his friend. “Unwell? How so?”
“I am not a physician; how should I know?” Adrian replied grumpily. “What Idoknow is that I am in no condition for visitors. You should go on to Roseby’s and return after Christmas, or you shall have a rather miserable, solitary festive season. The New Year, perhaps.”
John Roseby, the Marquess of Matfen, was another schoolfriend of theirs. Adrian had not seen the man in years, but he knew that Richard always visited Roseby for the New Year.
“It would simply be a matter of reversing your usual schedule, and I know Roseby would be glad to have you,” Adrian added, anxious to have Richard sent as far from Blackwall Castle as possible, as soon as possible. Before he could set eyes on the woman that Adriandidhave hidden there.
Richard’s mouth twisted in consternation. “I suppose it is not so far… but I came here to seeyou.”
“And you will, once I am more myself,” Adrian insisted. “Do not make a bad host out of me, Richard. Come on New Year’s Eve, and I shall hear every tale you might wish to tell me, with at least a few words of encouragement.”
Richard hesitated. “If you can promise you will not be so morose, I shall depart.”
“I promise,” Adrian replied, his hand to his heart.
Richard smiled. “Well then, what do you say we finish that bottle of port, and I shall prepare to leave at first light?”
“A sound notion,” Adrian said, hoping that his friend could not see the fierce relief that swept through his veins.
Indeed, he had no hope of sleeping tonight anyway, not with such perennial thoughts of Valerie tangling in his mind. And after his dismissal of her, he was mostly certain that she would not venture downstairs tomorrow morning until Richard was long gone.
From dawn tomorrow, I must be the one to sequester myself.He exhaled a stilted breath.I must stay far, far away from that woman, lest she unleash the beast in me once more.
In starving himself of touch and human contact, he had not realized how ravenous that beast could be, and now that it had sampled a taste, he could not trust himself not to devour her completely.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Jarvis?” Adrian called out from the library, as he saw the butler pass across the open door.
Jarvis walked backward a few steps and entered the cloying heat of the room, kept warm by two enormous fireplaces. “Yes, Your Grace?”
The man’s eyes widened a little at the sight of all the books lying open on the writing desk, around the writing desk, under the writing desk, where Adrian sat. No doubt, he was wondering how long it would take to clear everything away once his master was done.
“The Wightman woman,” Adrian said stiffly. “Tell me of her.”
Surely, that wrist is healed by now, and she can soon be on her way.
It had been two days since he had last seen her in his study, two days since he had crushed her in his embrace and stolen a kiss from her lips, two days since he had lost control of himself. Which was exactly why he had chosen now to delve into his ancestry, reading through every book on his lineage, as far back as the annals went. Nothing tempered wayward thoughts so well as dusty tomes about dull and distant members of his family.
