Page 35 of A Duke's Christmas Carol
The boys looked like they might burst with excitement.
“Who is she?” David asked, squirming. “What happened to her?”
“No one knows,” Mrs. Leggat replied with a smile. “Some say she was a bride, due to be married on Christmas Day, but when her beloved didn’t arrive, lost in a snowstorm, she died of a broken heart. Some say sheisan angel, wandering the earth during the Christmas season, granting the wishes of any who are lucky enough to see her.”
The stablemaster sniffed. “And some say she’s just one of the maids who’s had too much of the master’s brandy.”
A ripple of laughter made its way around the gathered staff, glasses clinking as they toasted to the remark. Such a warming, comforting sound, filling Valerie’s heart up with contentment.
She might not have been at Gramfield with her brother and sister, playing their usual games and enjoying their usual traditions, and she might not have made it to Scotland to fulfil the mission that had taken her away from her siblings, but this was a heartening substitute. A castle coming together, relaxing in merry company, just people instead of their positions.
“Ithink she is a Christmas spirit,” the cook insisted. “When someone sees her and hears her beautiful voice, they can’t help but feel cheerful. And she’s only here in the winter, when everything is gloomy and cold and there are no roses to admire in those gardens.”
Isaac sighed. “I wish I could see her before we leave.”
“I wish I could see a real ghost,” David said, his tone a little disappointed. “She doesn’t sound scary at all.”
“Why must a ghost be scary?” Valerie asked, picking up one of the red marzipan apples that Mrs. Leggat had made.
David shrugged. “Because all the stories about ‘em are scary. The ones Hetty tells. I’ve never heard a nice ghost story before.”
“Well, now you have,” Mrs. Leggat replied with a chuckle. “But if it’s not to your liking, why don’t you tell us one of these scary ones?”
The boy shot to his feet like he had been waiting for this moment, the staff laughing amiably at his enthusiasm.
“The Gray Lady haunts the hallways of Blackwall Castle,” he began, “and on dark nights when it’s bitter cold outside, she screams so loud it reaches the town, and if you aren’t good and you aren’t tucked up in your bed asleep, she’ll come looking for you. She’s got ghost dogs that follow her, big ones, and…”
Valerie did not hear the rest as the door opened quietly, and Adrian slipped inside. If the others noticed, they did not show it, utterly charmed by David’s eager tale of a howling ghost and her pack of hounds.
But Valerie could not concentrate on anything else. The party for the boys was, in essence, a means of distracting her mind from the events of last night. She had thrown herself into its organization all day, for if she had not diverted her attention, she knew she would have stayed in her room just thinking about Adrian’s kiss, the brush of his tongue, and the storm of euphoria that crackled even now, when she but half-thought about the glorious things he had done to her.
David stopped suddenly. “Your Grace,” he mumbled, bowing his head. “I was just telling a story.”
“And I am eager to hear the rest of it,” Adrian said, moving through the room. “Do not mind me.”
He picked up a glass of port, the sight of it flooding Valerie’s skin with heat. She remembered the taste of it on his lips, that spiced, seductive flavor that would now, forever, make her think of him as well as Christmas.
“I can tell another story,” David said, flustered.
Adrian shook his head. “I want to hear this one. I should like to hear all about the Gray Lady and her hounds, who haunt this castle. Otherwise, how shall I know what to look out for?”
A shy smile graced David’s face. “Where was I?”
“The dogs had caught the scent of a naughty lad who wasn’t asleep,” the gardener offered, the staff relaxing a little.
As the boy continued, his wild tale helping the rest of the staff to relax even more into laughter and merriment once again, Adrian came to stand just behind Valerie.
“This is a lovely party,” he said in a low voice that tingled up the back of Valerie’s neck. “Music or the story of the Nativity might have been more appropriate, but I admire the uniqueness. I have never heard ghost stories at Christmas.”
She frowned in bemusement, a half-smile lifting the corner of her lips.Is he… teasing? Does he know how?
“Indeed, I am learning so much about my own castle,” he added, leaving her in no doubt: hewasteasing.
Yet, she did not dare to turn around in case she found she was mistaken and discovered a scowl instead of a smile. Then again, a smile from him might have been more shocking, for she did not know if he was capable ofthateither.
“I am… glad you could join us,” she said quietly.
“I would be a poor host if I did not,” he replied, his tone giving nothing away.
