Page 1 of The Earl's Christmas Deal
CHAPTER ONE
Long shadows danced in the firelight as Lord Adam Bentley sat hunched over his desk. His quill moved across the tenancy agreement in front of him, pausing at intervals to mark a particular passage that needed amending.
He rubbed his thumb against the quill’s stem, the tip stained black with ink. Groaning, he straightened his shoulders, trying to dispel the throbbing ache in the small of his back from sitting in the same position too long. As a soft knock sounded at the door, he frowned, his thoughts scattering at the interruption.
“Enter,” he called as his aunt Augusta came into the room. Adam felt the tension in his shoulders return, watching her eyes narrow as she looked about the room.
“Adam, it is near as dark as pitch in here,” she said, closing the door with a flick of her wrist. The floor shuddered beneath his feet as she did so.“Why, if you can see half a foot in front of you, I would be amazed.”
“I have several candles upon my desk, Aunt,” Adam replied, his fingers tightening around the quill as he returned his gaze to his papers. “Granted, it may be darker by the door.”
His aunt tutted under her breath, walking into the room and standing before the fire. The flames sent shimmering light across the fabric ofher deep purple gown, highlighting the grey streaks in her hair. She clasped her hands in front of her and turned just enough to study him from the corner of her eye. Adam’s toes curled inside his shoes as he took in her expression—it was the same one she had worn when he was a child, and he had just misbehaved.
He loved his aunt, but she was the type of woman who would not let a subject drop once she had decided it needed her attention.
He waited as she fidgeted, eventually crossing the room and taking a seat before his desk, staring at him until he looked up. Sighing, Adam lowered his quill and met her eyes.
“Yes, Aunt, how may I help you?”
“Pray, do not adopt that tone with me, my boy. You may be an earl, but I’ve known you since you were the height of my knee.”
“Would it help if I sat cross-legged on the floor, then?” he asked. Her eyes remained narrowed, but there was a hint of a twinkle in them that had not been there before.
“I suppose you understand why I am here,” she muttered.
“Indeed, I am at a loss. However, being interrupted is always a great pleasure. Reading is famously improved by the scattering of one’s thoughts.”
Her fingers flexed in her lap, plucking at a loose thread until she pulled it free and flicked it away across the floor.
“The Christmas season is upon us,” she said as Adam’s stomach rolled unpleasantly at the prospect. He cleared his throat shifting in his seat.
“Mm,” he grunted.
“You need not sound quite so melancholic, Adam. It brings tidings of great joy.”
“Sent by whom?” he muttered, and his aunt tutted again as she looked at the darkness that suddenly seemed to surround them.
“Will you still not permit me to add some holly to this room? The rest of the house is looking very festive.”
“No. Please. No holly. I am content with my fire.”
“You have a fire all year round.”
“And I enjoy it immensely.”
She scoffed. “Do you not think it might lift your spirits and revive your love of the holiday season if you engaged in something other than work for a change?”
Her gaze clouded as Adam’s mood darkened considerably. He could not imagine anything worse than being forced to ‘make merry’ at this time of the year. Nothing had felt festive about Christmas for three long, tortuous years, and that was unlikely to change.
“I beg you, Aunt, I cannot have this conversation again.”
“The Sternwood Christmas party is approaching,” she insisted. “It would be my dearest wish that you attend this year.” Augusta leaned forward in her chair, her icy blue eyes fixing him with an imploring look. “It would be an opportunity for you to engage in some activitiesoutsideof your office. Perhaps you will find that you can absorb the enjoyment of the season from others.” She paused as the tension in his shoulder increased. “You may even find someone to your liking at such a gathering. Lady Seraphina Cheswick will be there, and she is a very fine young lady.”
Adam’s fist clenched against the thin stem of his quill; it gave an ominous creak, and he loosened his grip hastily. His aunt’s references to his marital status were becoming a bore and far more insistent than they had once been. Not a single part of him wished to secure a wife from any quarter—and certainly not someone his aunt had decided was worthy.
“I know you hate speaking of it,” Augusta continued, her voice softening as she leaned back in her chair. “Heaven knows I do not wish to upset you. But Anastasia is gone, and I hate to see you so gloomy. She loved Christmas, and she loved you. She would not wish you to spend the season in the shadows.”
Adam averted her gaze, feigning interest in the documents before him, his throat tight as he pondered her request.
