Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
You have damned yourself now.
Adrian walked through the darkened passageways of the castle, not entirely sure of where he was intending to go. He just knew he needed to be as far from Valerie as possible. Although, he did not know if there were enough closed doors in the world to manage that.
Why did she have to make that sound?
He paused and closed his eyes at the memory, the beast inside him pawing to be let out.
His hand, which had explored her tantalizing curves and had never wanted to stop, curled into a fist. He smacked the side of it against the wall and sucked in a steadying breath, willing all thoughts of her to leave him be.
Indeed, he had enough nightmares to contend with, robbing him of sleep; he did not need visions of her preventing him from falling asleep in the first place, nor did he want her haunting his dreams. Otherwise, he doubted he would ever rest again.
“More eggs?” Valerie asked with a grin, as she watched David and Isaac devouring their breakfast.
They had already gobbled up second helpings, the pair of them, and showed no sign of slowing down.
It had been the most wonderful thing when Valerie had entered the breakfast room that morning to find the boys staring at the array of food that the cook had prepared specially for the latest guests.
She doubted she had ever seen eyes so wide.
Isaac nodded, already chewing a mouthful of toast and eggs and smoked mackerel. “Yes, please,” he said as he swallowed.
“I’ll have some more of that coffee stuff,” David said, gaining a sharp nudge in the ribs from his friend. “I mean… please may I have some more of that coffee stuff?”
Valerie chuckled and, although Esther and Kate were there to serve, she preferred to do it herself. Nothing brought her greater joy than seeing children well-fed and happy and, already, the two boys were looking pinker in the cheeks.
“You can have as much of everything as you like,” Valerie reassured, casting a pointed glance at Kate. “They can, can they not? We are not expecting His Grace at breakfast, are we?”
It would have been a surprise, for in the days since Valerie had arrived, he had not appeared at the breakfast table. Kate had explained that he usually took his breakfast in his study or had already been and gone, an earlier riser than Valerie.
“He seems to be sleeping late,” Kate replied with a frown. “But, when he does awaken, I am certain he will take his breakfast in his rooms.”
Valerie mustered a smile, returning her attention to the boys. “Then, please, have your fill.”
Where are his rooms? She had asked the same question last night, while lying in her own bed, unable to sleep with so many feverish thoughts passing through her mind.
Not that she had had any inclination to visit, but it had occurred to her that she had no notion of where he disappeared to of an evening.
Her face warmed, and she chided herself silently for even contemplating where Adrian’s bedchamber might be. It was none of her concern.
What happened was… not something I should look forward to happening again. She poured some of the weak coffee for herself to moisten her dry throat. He said it himself; do not ask for too much.
In truth, she did not know what to make of the kiss last night, though she had scrutinized every moment of it before sleep had finally relieved her. Was it just… payment for the party she had asked for? An exchange of sorts: she got to make the orphanage children happy, he got to briefly enjoy her?
I am not sure I like that. Although, she had liked the kiss. Very much. Too much, perhaps.
“After breakfast, what do you say to a game?” Valerie said, to distract herself.
David beamed, nodding eagerly. “I’d say, I think I’ve found meself in heaven, Miss Wightman.”
“Can we build snowmen, please?” Isaac asked politely. “Mrs. Atkinson doesn’t let us.”
David pulled a face. “And we don’t got gloves for it anyway.”
“I think that sounds like a wonderful plan,” Valerie replied, looking to the housekeeper and her daughter. “Mrs. Mullens, Miss Mullens, do you suppose we can find two pairs of gloves small enough? And I think we shall need warmer clothes all around, if such things can be found.”
Kate clasped her hands, her eyes shining with a teary contentment. “I’ll fetch some winter things at once, Miss Wightman. It would be my pleasure.” She patted her daughter gently on the shoulder. “You help with the rest of breakfast, Esther.”
“Afterward, you should certainly help us build snowmen too,” Valerie insisted with a wink, her heart soaring as she watched the young woman’s face light up.
At a certain age, ladies were not supposed to indulge in childish pursuits anymore, but Valerie had long believed in the importance of keeping one’s inner child happy.
Indeed, she pitied the haughty young ladies of society who thought they had to be prim and proper at all times, denying themselves the great pleasure of playing games, climbing trees, running half-wild, and building a snowman when a child asked.
“I would like that,” Esther said quietly, her cheeks rosy with joy.
Smiling back, Valerie sipped her coffee. She might not have been at Gramfield to entertain her siblings, but making a merry place out of this castle would be a welcome consolation.
“What is that infernal racket?” Adrian barked from the uncomfortable, high-backed chair of his study’s bureau.
A sleepless night had already put him in a foul mood, and the fact that he had been sitting there for two hours and had written nothing more than ‘Dear Lord Buckingham’ had pushed his frustration to the edge of detonation.
Now, there were people—children—shrieking and rabblerousing somewhere outside, so loud it penetrated the thick stone walls of the castle.
“My castle has been overrun,” he muttered, teeth clenched. “I have let in the enemy, and they have eviscerated my peace and put its head on a pike, and now they are parading it before me.”
All because of you, Miss Wightman. He threw down his quill and ran a stressed hand through his hair. When she had arrived, he had thought there was a thief at his door. Now, he wished she had scarpered with his valuables instead of slowly pinching his sanity, bit by tiny bit.
“Jarvis!” he shouted, for his butler was never far away.
No one responded. No footsteps in the hallway outside. No polite knock on the door and Jarvis’ familiar face peeking into ask what Adrian needed.
“Jarvis!” he called again, his irritation transforming into a tangible disturbance in his body, like the background ache of a strained muscle.
To his fleeting alarm, the opposite door creaked open. Not the interior door that led deeper into the castle but the exterior door that led out into the gardens; the same door that Valerie had used when she had intruded on this very study’s sanctity.
“Did you call, Your Grace?” Jarvis stood there, red-faced and bright-eyed, with clumps of snow clinging to his shoes and melting flakes in his hair.
It was the very last straw.
“Are you part of this cacophony that is making it impossible for me to get anything done?” Adrian snapped, rising sharply from his chair. “Have you forgotten your duties?”
The butler lowered his gaze. “I apologize, Your Grace. I should have known better. I should have—”
“Do not blame Mr. Jarvis,” Valerie’s sweet, infuriating voice interjected, her beautiful face appearing in the doorway. “I asked for his assistance with a rather large ball of snow, to make the body. If you want to be cross with someone, be cross with me.”
Adrian stalked toward the door, his eyes narrowed. “To make the body? What on earth are you talking about?”
“A snowman without a body is just a snowball with eyes,” Valerie replied, her smile so radiant that Adrian almost forgot how annoyed he was supposed to be.
The winter air had done something… remarkable to her. Her already luminous skin was positively glowing, her cheeks and nose were rosy with the nip of the cold, her eyes alight with a merriment that he could not fathom. Who could be happy about being out in the freezing cold?
Maintaining his glare, Adrian looked out to see what all the fuss was. The storm had eased, but it was still snowing lightly, falling down upon the blanketed gardens. However, the pristine mantle of white had been annihilated in places, great scars cutting diagonally across a large patch.
And in the center of that garden square was a growing army of monstrosities: huge balls of compacted snow stacked on top of each other, with crooked twigs sticking out, glinting fragments of coal and gleaming stones forming unnatural eyes, mouths, and noses.
“We’re making one for each of us!” Isaac said cheerily, oblivious to Adrian’s wrath.
David nodded. “Mine’s the best!”
“Is not,” Isaac remarked, the two boys descending into a lively argument.
As they quarreled, Valerie sidled up to Adrian; the closeness of her made him stand up straighter, his limbs tense. Being near to her was a risk, even with others around.
“We have yet to immortalize you in snowman form,” she said with that accursed, lovely smile. “You could help us, if you want?”
Adrian sniffed. “Do not be ridiculous.”
“You never know, you might enjoy yourself,” she urged, her arm gently nudging his. “Boys, might you begin a snowball for His Grace? We would not want him to feel left out, would we?”
The two children ended their argument abruptly, firm friends again as they ran to obey Valerie’s request.
Adrian had no intention of joining in with the silliness that had sucked even sensible souls like Mrs. Mullens and Mr. Jarvis in, but he could not resist watching as the boys began. He had seen snowmen, of course, but he had never built one himself.
As he observed, the scars in the snow slowly made sense. The snowmen began their life as a small snowball, rolled across the snow, gathering more of the crystallized powder. Hypnotic to watch, and, though Adrian would never admit it, rather impressive.
The ball grew larger and larger, until it was almost up to David’s chest. Huffing and puffing, both boys put all of their strength into rolling it nearer to the other snowmen.
Snow-people, I suppose, Adrian mused, unable to figure out which of the snowy creations was supposed to be Valerie.
“Now you,” Valerie encouraged, another light nudge of her arm conjuring up a smoldering fire in him that would undoubtedly melt whatever snow he touched.
“I have correspondence to attend to,” he countered. “I have no gloves to wear. Indeed, I am not appropriately attired for such… larks at all. So, if you could all go elsewhere, then I—”
“Mr. Jarvis,” Valerie interrupted, glancing across Adrian to where the butler stood, still cowed by the earlier reprimand. “Might you let His Grace borrow your gloves for a while? Indeed, you could warm yourself in the study while he wears your coat and scarf, too.”
Jarvis cleared his throat. “Happily, Miss Wightman, but I do not think His Grace wishes to partake.”
Valerie peered up at Adrian, a slight smirk upon her lips. “At the very least, will you help us to put the next ball on top? We shall not be able to lift it, if the size of the first is anything to judge by.”
To validate her point, the boys were in the midst of rolling the second ball and, already, it was up to Isaac’s waist. He was the shorter of the two children, but the snowball would still be immense.
Should I be insulted that they are making it so large? Or is it simply true to life?
Adrian frowned. He did not want to involve himself in the game of it, for it was an activity for children not grown dukes, but Valerie had asked for his help.
How could he refuse her, when she was probably thinking all sorts of grim things about him?
The way he had kissed her and dismissed her for a second time did not paint him as anything other than a devil.
But, perhaps, he could soften that opinion slightly if he were to do this.
Why do I need to soften it? It is better if she thinks I am a wretch.
“Please, Your Grace,” Valerie said quietly, her voice earnest. Tempting him in a manner that overwhelmed his logical thought.
Grumbling under his breath, certain that he would come to regret this, Adrian held out his hand to his butler. “Give me your gloves.”