Page 18 of A Duke's Christmas Carol
Peering up at Adrian, who was taller than her even on his knees, she regretted saying so much. He stared back at her with one of his usual scowls, no warmth to be found in those icy blue eyes, his mouth set in a grim line. Seemingly unmoved by the story she had told.
What else did I expect?The earlier softness of his voice had lulled her into a false sense of pleasantry. She should not have fallen for it.
I would pour all of the brandy in his cellar down his throat, until he drowned in it.Adrian’s anger prickled down his spine, as if a devilish hand were trailing a spiny holly leaf along each vertebra.
He could envision Valerie’s tale in vivid detail, perhaps better than she would have expected. Indeed, it was almost as if she had plucked one ofhismemories out of his head and read it aloud to him. Yet, his father had never been quiet in his cruelty. Silence had been a sign of peace within the household or, better yet, of Adrian’s father’s complete absence from the castle.
“Siblings?” he said, clearing his throat.
She seemed surprised by his question. “Two. My sweet Cecil and my dear Nora. He is ten and she is eight.”
“They must be at Gramfield.”
She nodded stiffly. “They are. I… had to leave them behind. Scotland in the winter is barely a place for a grown woman, much less children.” She waved a hand toward the window. “The north is providing a few hurdles, too.”
“The snow does make it even quieter,” Adrian admitted. “Your siblings, are they with your mother?”
He felt a sudden concern for their welfare, though he did not know them. The thought of children being left alone in a manor with a father like that was too familiar, too resonant a situation for him to bear. Moreover, he wanted to keep her talking. He enjoyed the sound and the feeling of being permitted a glimpse into who she was beyond these walls.
Valerie’s throat bobbed, a slight shake of her head confirming his worst suspicions. “The housekeeper is like a mother to them. They will come to no harm.”
Is that what you have been telling yourself? Is that the real reason you cannot sleep or breathe properly?
It was not his place to pry. Yet, he did not judge her for leaving them behind at her father’s manor; evidently, she had a good reason, or she would not have done so. He could see it on her face that it was tearing her up, to have had to make that choice.
“Enough about me,” she said with a strained sigh. “Ishould like to know why you hate Christmas so much.”
Adrian’s eyebrow rose up, his mood dipping once more. “Who said that I did?”
“No one,” she replied: an obvious lie, considering she had undoubtedly won the confidence of the staff. “You stay herealone in your castle each Christmas, you have no decorations though we are well into the festive season, and you do not seem to be hosting any events or parties that I am aware of. Clearly, you do not favor it; anyone could decipher that.”
Any relaxation that Adrian might have gained in listening to her speak evaporated, replaced with a fresh thrum of annoyance.Shemight have been willing to tell stories of her past, but he would not speak a word, in case it somehow summoned a ghost he never wished to encounter again.
“It does not interest me,” he replied simply.
“But I heard that there used to besuchfestive celebrations here,” she insisted. “And I am told that they truly embrace the season at Blackwall—the town, not here. Mrs. Mullens was telling me how beautiful the entire town is at Christmas, and how merry it is, with all the decorations and gatherings and singing and delicious feasts. I am just curious to know why you do not indulge in that merriment, when it is so close? And, I assume, the town is part of your dukedom. You should?—”
He did not get to hear what preposterous suggestion she was about to make, though he could guess, for the discussion was soundly interrupted by a shout from the hallway.
“Miss Wightman!” the housekeeper’s voice crowed. “Miss Wightman, come quickly!”
Mrs. Mullens appeared in the doorway, coming to an abrupt halt as she saw Adrian kneeling there in front of the armchair. Evidently, she had assumed that Valerie would be alone.
“Your Grace,” the housekeeper gasped. “I… apologize. I didn’t expect you to be here.”
Adrian narrowed his eyes at the older woman, suspicion flickering in his chest. “For what, pray tell, do you require Miss Wightman at such an hour?”
The housekeeper paled.
“I would urge you to be honest,” Adrian said.
Dropping her chin to her chest and fidgeting furiously, Mrs. Mullens cleared her throat. “There are… people throwing stones at the windows. I hoped that Miss Wightman would be able to tend to them, for it appears that one is?—”
Adrian was up on his feet and out of the door before she could finish, with Valerie in quick pursuit. Any of the breathlessness that had plagued her before seemed to have vanished as she ran after him, calling for him to stop.
I knew this would happen,he raged in silence.I knew it was a mistake to let just one person through the doors. It always leads to more.
Spurred on by his outrage, he made it down the stairs to the entrance hall in double quick time, and marched across to the front doors. Wrenching it open, braced for the sight of beggars and ne’er-do-wells who had come to demand something of him, he was a little surprised to find two young boys in the snow.
