Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
“These French women, they are so refreshing! Not once did Mademoiselle Clemenceau ask to be my duchess, though she rather liked calling out ‘Your Grace’ in that irresistible accent of hers,” Richard Harte, the Duke of Delamere, said with a sly grin and a wink.
“You ought to spend six months in France, Adrian; it would do you the world of good.”
Adrian would have preferred to walk out into the garden completely naked and lie down in the snow.
Although, he thought, perhaps he ought to do that anyway, to see if it might shock the memory of his lips on Valerie’s clear out of his mind.
It would certainly help to cool the ardor that tried to rise whenever his thoughts wandered back to that moment.
“Are you listening to a word I am saying?” Richard asked with a roll of his eyes. “I am telling you my best stories and you are sat there like a statue.”
“I did not realize you were done,” Adrian replied drily.
Her mouth was so soft… and, if I am not mistaken, she moved to kiss me back.
“Well, I was not, but a friend ought to interject with cheers of encouragement and whistles of appreciation,” Richard said, as he reached for the decanter of port on the table between them and refilled his glass. “Her body, Adrian—I have never seen a body like it!”
Such curves… that narrow waist… those shapely hips…
that perfect bosom… and, God, that mouth.
Adrian shifted in his armchair and tapped the side of his port glass in agitation, simply to give his hands something to do.
Hands that refused to forget what Valerie’s figure had felt like, and arms that still craved that embrace.
“It would not matter if she could not sing a note,” Richard continued, undeterred, “for when she stands upon a stage, no one is really listening to her sing; they are too enthralled by that immaculate figure. And I, lucky soul that I am, was blessed indeed to see it stripped bare.”
Adrian cleared his throat, though it did little to clear his mind. “Are there any young ladies left in Paris that you have not seen… in repose?”
What would Valerie look like, lying bare upon my bed? Crying out ‘Your Grace’?
“Plenty, my good man,” Richard replied eagerly, no doubt mistaking his friend’s question for genuine interest. “It is better to keep my affairs out of the country. I sail off to France, spend two glorious months in the company of women with every appetite you could imagine, and I return with my reputation in pristine condition. I highly recommend it.”
“You will not convince me,” Adrian said, sipping his own port.
Richard grinned. “Yet, it will not stop me from trying. I am nothing if not determined.” He leaned forward in his armchair and smacked Adrian on the knee. “Come, man, do you not miss it? You might live like a monk now but, you forget, I knew you before all of this.”
“All of this?” Adrian’s tone hardened, his eyes narrowing.
Still, at least in mild anger he was not thinking about Valerie anymore.
“You know what I mean,” Richard replied, wafting a casual hand around the ‘family’ drawing room where they were enjoying their port. “Your isolation. Your retreat from society and everyone in it—present company excluded, of course. You cannot be rid of me so easily.”
Adrian’s temper subsided. He should have known that his friend meant no ill-will in his remark. Indeed, they had been friends for so long that, by now, Adrian should have been able to guess what Richard was going to say before he said it.
Usually, it pertained to women. Richard’s one vice.
In everything else he was prim and proper and a stickler for rules and duty, but when it came to the ladies, he was every bit a rogue.
It was, perhaps, why he could enjoy debauchery at his leisure, his reputation spotless, for who in the ton would ever believe that the righteous Richard Harte could be such a scoundrel behind closed doors?
“I am aware that I cannot be rid of you so easily,” Adrian said with a dry chuckle. “You have proven that tonight, riding here in this storm like a madman. I would not have been offended if you postponed.”
Richard grinned. “I relish the challenge. Besides, it gave me a grand excuse to see what my American Quarter Horse can do, after all the trouble I had importing him.” He sighed contentedly. “Goodness, he is a fine beast. Charged through the snow as if it were nothing.”
“If you had to choose, would it be horses or women?” Adrian said with a raised eyebrow, for the only thing Richard loved more than ladies was his collection of horses. The rarer and more unusual, the better.
Richard sucked in a sharp breath. “Now, there is a trying question.” He paused. “No, I cannot do it. I cannot answer. Meanwhile, you still have not answered my question.”
“I have no interest in dalliances anymore,” Adrian said with a shrug.
In truth, it had been years since he had even had that.
On rare occasions, when the nightmares were at their peak and he had not slept for days, he had invited a few ladies to the castle to keep him company.
To distract him, really. It had never been worth it, though, and he had a suspicion that the rumors about him had only intensified after such encounters.
Would it be worth it with that… frustrating vixen? The same hunger that had led to his earlier mistake gnawed at the back of Adrian’s mind once more. How could his thoughts not wander to more now that he had known what she felt like pressed against him?
“Dalliances? Nor do I, my dear friend.” Richard smirked. “Indeed, I am to be a married man.”
Adrian had chosen a bad time to sip his port, almost spitting out the mouthful as he stared at his friend. “Pardon? But… I thought you said you were not marrying the French chanteuse?”
“Can you imagine?” Richard snorted. “Do not be a dolt, Adrian; I am not marrying any Frenchwoman. Rather, I am due to marry a sedate, boring, sensible Englishwoman. So, there shall be no more dalliances… just secret trysts and ‘business ventures’ that take me abroad from time to time, so no one—least of all my wife—is any the wiser. Meanwhile, I get everything a man could possibly want.”
Distaste left a somewhat sour flavor in Adrian’s mouth. “If you are not serious about marriage, Richard, you should not enter into it.”
“Oh, but I am perfectly serious,” his friend insisted.
“It is my duty, and I have always been serious about my duties. Still, I would not be the first gentleman to have a marriage of convenience, and if my wife is not averse to sharing, then she need not be in the dark about my… alternative enjoyments. But I have yet to meet her, so I cannot say what her reaction will be.”
“And if she is a jealous creature?”
Richard shrugged. “I would not be unkind. I would protect her by not telling her the truth.” He took a long sip of his drink. “All I need is a duchess to play the part of loyal wife and doting mother to my heirs, nothing more.”
“Why marry if it is only for show?” Adrian countered.
He hoped to keep his friend talking as a means to distract his own mind from the woman upstairs. The woman he had not seen since she left his study barefoot and stockingless, flashing glimpses of her ankles as she had hastened from the room.
Richard feigned a yawn and pretended not to hear Adrian.
“As you know, I prowled around London for a while before coming north to visit you,” he said.
“I happened to encounter the most charming actress at Thornton’s Music Hall.
Perhaps, as my gift to you upon this charitable season of giving, I might arrange for her to spend Christmas here with you?
A little company through the dark and dreary nights? ”
He wiggled his eyebrows, undeterred by Adrian’s less-than-impressed glare. Richard had sent women before, usually without forewarning Adrian, and those singers, actresses, muses, and socialites had a tendency to be devious and light-fingered.
In truth, Adrian had assumed that Valerie was one such ‘gift’ at first, though he was beginning to think he was wrong about her intentions. Either that, or she was trying to bide her time before she stole something of great value.
There was nothing disturbed in my study, unless I can be counted.
Indeed, the behavior of Mrs. Mullens and Jarvis was different too.
Jarvis, at the very least, had treated previous visitors of the female persuasion with an aloof distance.
Yet, he truly seemed to care about Valerie having a pleasant time during her stay at Blackwall Castle.
The man had even asked Adrian how Valerie’s appointment with the healer had gone, as if Adrian would know such a thing.
“I can see you are tempted; do not deny it,” Richard goaded, oblivious to the fact that Adrian was thinking about someone else entirely.
“I should hate that, thank you,” Adrian replied. “Abhor it, truly. So, no, I must politely reject your Christmas offering. This Christmas, I shall be perfectly, happily alone and undisturbed.”
At least, that is the plan. There was just one hurdle to overcome: getting Valerie away from his castle before Christmas Eve, and before she could inflict any further damage upon his ordinarily disciplined mind.
She was everything he hated most in people: all smiles and blushes, brimming with a feisty spirit and a sharp wit, with such an easy, affable manner to her that even sensible folks, like the butler and the housekeeper, were besotted.
The sort of woman who was, no doubt, universally adored.
A lady of undeniable charm, unflappable in the face of his cold demeanor.
Yes, Valerie Wightman was the sort of person he should have despised, yet all he could think about was kissing her again. Kissing her and more. Kissing her and carrying her to his chambers, to indulge in the sort of things that would make Richard’s tryst with a French singer pale in comparison.