Page 37 of A Duke's Christmas Carol
Only Adrian lingered on the street, drawing his gaze away from the trio to take in the town of Blackwall. He could not clearly remember the last time he had been here, but there had been snow on the streets then, too.
It was all so cheerful, and I hated them for being so happy.
The town looked as it had back then, every house and shop and gate and fence adorned with festive decorations: pretty evergreen wreaths studded with bows and holly sprigs; garlands of ivy, interwoven with lengths of green and red fabric; mistletoe hanging in doorways; sprigs of ivy in the windows, holly branches peeking out vibrantly from behind the frosty panes.
In other parts of the country, he knew it was in poor taste to decorate before Christmas Eve, but Blackwall had never cared for the customs of other places. They decorated as early as possible, and if the wreaths and garlands and sprigs began to wither, they simply made more. A town that relished Christmas. A town that missed his mother as much as he did.
With all the snow that still lay on the ground and on the rooftops and in the gardens, he could not deny that it looked beautiful.
“What?” a sharp voice snatched Adrian’s attention back to the orphanage door, where a man now stood, glaring out at Valerie.
Valerie put her arm across the boys and straightened up. “I have come to return David and Isaac,” she said with stilted courtesy. “They have been residing at Blackwall Castle since they… got lost in the snowstorm.”
“Blackwall Castle?” the man scoffed. “Aye, and I’ve just spent the last week in Cadiz.”
Adrian took his cue, striding up the steps to face the man who thought he could speak so curtly to Valerie. “They were indeed my guests,” he said gruffly, flashing the man one of his darkest looks. “And who might you be? I would know you are legitimate before I return these fine boys into your care.”
The man blanched with shock, eyes wide as saucers, mouth slack as if he could not believe what he was seeing. “Y-Your Grace?”
“Indeed.” Adrian rested his hands on Isaac’s shoulders. “Who is this, Isaac?”
“I am Mr. Atkinson,” the man hurried to speak first, adopting a jarring, affected voice. “Matthew Atkinson. I am the proprietor of this orphanage, and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. I daresay I haven’t seen you in Blackwall in years.”
Adrian shrugged. “It has been some time, but the important task of bringing these boys back has made it unavoidable.” He paused. “Are we to wait out here in the cold all day?”
Mr. Atkinson jumped back and swept his hand out. “Please, do come in. I shall have my wife prepare some tea.” He turned, bellowing, “Mrs. Atkinson, we have guests! Make some tea!”
The harsh tone rankled Adrian. He had no reason to defend Mrs. Atkinson, from all the stories the boys had told, but he could notabide husbands talking to their wives like that. It made his hands curl into fists and his impulse to punch surge rather high.
Remember the children. Do not lose your temper, or it may see them punished.
He took a breath and ushered the boys inside, Valerie walking in behind them.
Ten minutes later, Adrian and Valerie were seated in a warm parlor with Mr. Atkinson. Having already said their farewells, David and Isaac had run along to tell their friends and fellow orphans all about their adventures at Blackwall Castle, and though Adrian did not want to linger in this place, there were matters to discuss.
“I’m sorry if those boys caused you any trouble,” Mr. Atkinson said, pouring a cup of tea for the duke. “I don’t deal with them much myself—my wife does that—so I had no idea they were missing. Still, it is an honor indeed to have you here in my humble establishment.”
Adrian arched an eyebrow as the other man put the teapot down, having served himself and Adrian, but not Valerie.
Undeterred, Valerie reached for the pot herself and poured a cup. “They were no trouble at all, Mr. Atkinson. They are charming, sweet boys and they have represented your orphanage very well.”
The proprietor seemed annoyed that she had spoken instead of Adrian but quickly returned his attention to the duke. “It is a lucky thing that they began clearing snow from the road when they did,” he said. “I hear it might snow again soon. You might have been stuck with the boys until Christmas otherwise. New Year’s Day, even!”
“They would have been welcome,” Adrian replied stiffly. “Children do not make demands as others do.”
Valerie cast him a sideways glance, but he had not been talking about her; he just did not want the townsfolk of Blackwall to get any mistaken ideas.
“That being said,” Adrian continued, “it has come to my attention that the children are not appropriately tended to in the winter months. They have nothing to warm themselves.”
Mr. Atkinson spluttered through a mouthful of tea. “I don’t know anything about that, Your Grace. I buy plenty of coal. If my wife isn’t doing as she ought to, I’ll see to it that she does.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Adrian replied coolly, “but I will be checking on my investment. You will not be informed ahead of time of any visits, so it is to your benefit to ensure that the children are warm and fed and content at all times. If I see anything to the contrary, you will not like the consequences.”
“Investment, Your Grace?” Mr. Atkinson’s eyes widened, shining with a hunger that Adrian understood all too well. Greed.
If it makes the lives of these children easier, it will be worthwhile.
Adrian kept that in the forefront of his mind as his temper threatened to fray again. “I wish to make a donation to the orphanage,” he said. “A monetary donation and a donation of coal that issolelyfor the children’s use. If a single lump finds its way into your or your wife’s fireplace, I shall know.”
