Page 3 of A Duke's Christmas Carol
She could have asked more simply, but she wanted him to know how politeshewas determined to be.
The man continued to stare, as if he could not quite believe she was there. “You wish to stayhere?”
“Indeed, if it would not cause you any inconvenience,” she replied with a cheery smile.
The butler—at least, she assumed he was the butler—hesitated for a moment, glancing back over his shoulder. And Valerie had the most awful feeling that he was about to refuse her.
“I assure you, I shall be gone by first light,” she urged.
The man returned his attention to her and, with a nervous chew of his lip, opened the door wide enough to let her through. “Very well,” he said in a hushed whisper, closing the door quietly behind her. “But you mustn’t, under any circumstances, leave the drawing room.”
“Oh, that is no bother. I daresay I have dozed in worst places,” she joked, realizing that she, too, was whispering.
As the butler led her toward the drawing room, he gave her a look that seemed to say:No, Miss Wightman, I don’t think you have.
CHAPTER TWO
“This is lovely, thank you,” Valerie said, cradling her cold hands around the cup of steaming hot tea.
The butler, who had finally introduced himself as Mr. Jarvis, could not have done more for her once he had deposited her in the promised drawing room. He had lit a fire for her, fetched her a pot of hot tea with a fruit scone on the side, offered her soft woolen blankets, and generally seemed more at ease with her presence.
“You’re welcome,” he said, returning to the fire to coax it into higher flames. “I’m sorry it’s so cold in here, but it will warm up in no time.”
She sipped the soothing tea. “No, no, do not apologize. I am the one who unexpectedly intruded; I am just grateful to be indoors instead of out in that storm.”
Not rain, as she had expected, but heavy snow had begun to fall about a minute after Valerie had been permitted into the entrance hall of the castle. It was a somewhat rustic foyer that seemed not to have been changed in decades, if not centuries. A hall of stern-faced portraits and dusty stag heads, and dulled swords that had not been swung in at least a few generations.
As for the drawing room, it could have used some reupholstering, a less oppressive choice of wallpaper, and a lighter wood for the wainscoting, but it was otherwise inoffensive. Pleasant, really, and becoming more pleasant with each wave of warmth that began to ripple from the fire.
“We don’t have visitors, you see,” the butler said by way of explanation.
“Ever?” she asked, laughing, certain he had meant to say they didn’t havemanyvisitors. “Or not in winter, when sensible people stay at home?”
Mr. Jarvis looked at her with utter sincerity. “Ever.”
“Oh…” Valerie’s laughter tapered off into an awkward cough.
As the daughter of a less-than-popular Baron, she was accustomed to households that did not have many visitors, but to havenone? She had never heard of such a thing. Even society’s recluses were called upon from time to time, mostly out of curiosity.
Has this recluse slipped through the net?She had to admit, she could not recall ever hearing about a Duke of Norwood. Then again, she did not know too much about northern gentry, aside from those who wintered in London.
“That is why you must stay in this room,” the butler said. “I apologize that I can’t offer you a bedchamber, as would be befitting, but… the duke doesn’t like guests. Nevertheless, I think you’ll be comfortable here, and you won’t be disturbed as long as you?—”
“Do not leave this room,” she interrupted with a smile. “I quite understand, Mr. Jarvis.”
The weary, gray-haired man sighed. “Apologies, Miss Wightman. I don’t mean to repeat myself so much. As I said, we never have guests; I have forgotten how to receive them, or so it seems.”
“You are doing excellently,” Valerie assured, taking another sip of her comforting tea to prove the point.
He seemed pleased by the remark as he put the poker back and dusted off his hands. “I’ll fetch some bedlinens for you,” he said, hesitating. “And… soup, perhaps? Would you care for some soup? I always find it to be the best thing on a snowy night.”
“That would be perfect,” she replied, her stomach growling in agreement. “Thank you kindly.”
“You are very welcome, Miss Wightman. I shall return momentarily.” The man bowed his head and departed, leaving in such a flustered hurry that he left the drawing room door ajar. Watching him go, Valerie felt a little sorry to have caused the butler so much trouble; even though he had gone, his anxiety remained like a chill in the air.
What sort of duke would be so severe about guests?She shook her head, for who could ever understand the entire breadth of human character? It was not her place to judge someone for not liking company. A time or two,shehad envied the life of hermits and recluses, wondering how she might go about hiding herself away in a quaint cottage somewhere. A place where no one, no duty, no expectation, would find her.
She rose from the timeworn yet surprisingly comfortable settee and wandered to the long casement windows, leaded in a diamond pattern.
