Chapter 12 #2
Almost an hour later, leaving behind a pristine kitchen and a relieved cook, Valerie and the two boys made their way through the labyrinth of the castle with their box of treats.
The shortbread was still warm, which had made decorating the biscuits a somewhat catastrophic affair, but they were beautiful in meaning if not in physical form.
However, with each step that the trio took toward the study, the boys became quieter.
Their lively chatter tapered off, their sweet faces etched with nerves.
It was clear that they had relished their time building snowmen with Adrian, but he was still the beast, the devil, the cursed one that they had heard so many stories about.
That fear did not go away because of one reasonably successful venture in the snow.
Why did Mrs. Leggat have to say that he would not like the biscuits? Valerie lamented, while her own nerves began to jitter a little.
Before long, they arrived at Adrian’s study door.
Valerie had not seen it from this perspective before, for she had only departed from it in barefoot haste, with the taste of Adrian’s kiss still lingering upon her lips.
Her heart quickened at the memory, how fiercely he had pressed his mouth to hers, how dismayed she had been when it ended without her grazing reply.
Last night’s kiss had left her dismayed by its abrupt ending too, but at least she had experienced more. At least she had been given the chance to kiss him back, to learn how wondrous that could feel—how wondrous many things could feel.
His touch… the taste of his tongue… the grasp of his hand… the roll of his hips…
Remembering there were children present, and this was not the time for daydreaming, she cleared her throat and knocked upon the study door.
“Come in,” Adrian’s gruff voice responded.
A good sign, or so Valerie thought.
As she ushered the boys and their gift inside, it became evident that Adrian had been expecting Mr. Jarvis and not the trio who had already disturbed so much of his day.
He looked up from a large stack of correspondence, his usual, deep frown frosting the blue of his eyes. Indeed, it appeared that Valerie and the boys were the very last people that Adrian had expected… or wanted to see at that moment.
“What are you doing here?” he asked tersely.
Undeterred, Valerie stood straighter and gestured down to the gift in Isaac’s hands: a wooden box that Kate had found in the cellar, beautifully decorated with open-beaked robins, sprigs of green holly with their vivid red berries, and white-berried mistletoe alongside; a sleigh pulled by snowy horses created the main motif on two sides, while a haloed angel adorned the other two. The perfect box for festive biscuits.
“David and Isaac have made you something, to say thank you for allowing them to stay,” she explained. “They thought you might like to try one with your afternoon cup of tea.”
The furrow of Adrian’s brow moved in the opposite direction, irritation transforming into confusion.
He set down his quill and slowly looked between the trio, the box, and the neat silver tea tray that perched upon the edge of his desk.
As if trying to figure out how they connected, or how Valerie had known about his afternoon tea, taken at the same time every day. Like clockwork.
“There was no need to do that,” he said at last, his manner stiff.
Valerie gave David a light elbow in the arm.
The boy sprang forward, hands clasped. “They’re real good, Your Grace. We made ‘em special for you.”
“I bet they’d be perfect with tea,” Isaac agreed, shuffling toward the bureau with no small amount of courage. With a nervous smile, he held the box out to Adrian.
Narrowing his eyes, Adrian reached over and took the box. “Thank you. It is a… very nice box.” He stared at the boy. “If there is nothing else, you may leave.”
“You have to look inside,” Valerie jumped in, as Isaac began to back away. “It would be better if the boys could see you admire what they have made for you. They are still warm, so it would also be better if you ate one now.”
Sitting back in his chair, Adrian seemed perplexed by the situation. After a decade of solitude, he had likely forgotten how to accept gifts, and had almost certainly forgotten how to pretend to like a gift for the sake of sparing feelings.
He glanced at the boys and, with a sigh and a mutter of “I do not have time for this” he opened up the box.
“What is it?” he asked, dipping a hand inside.
“Shortbread,” Isaac replied eagerly.
Adrian raised an eyebrow as he withdrew one of the messy biscuits, the icing a sea of white that had lost any discernible pattern.
“They did look like snowflakes when we iced them,” David said, chewing his lip. “The cook wanted us out, so we couldn’t wait for them to cool.”
Looking as if someone had just put a live snake in his hand instead of a delicious, buttery biscuit, Adrian took a hesitant bite and began to chew.
His face transformed. A thawing of his suspicion and confusion, the creases of his frown smoothing out, his eyes widening just a little as he swallowed the first mouthful. Another bite followed… then another, and another, until the biscuit was gone.
Without a word, he picked up his cup of tea and sipped, tilting his head as if assessing the flavors.
Then, to Valerie’s utter delight, he dipped his hand back into the box and took out a second biscuit.
“They are not the worst biscuits I have ever had,” he said, brushing crumbs off his desk as he finished the second. “Your efforts were not in vain, gentlemen. Thank you.”
The children frowned, exchanging a look of bewilderment. How were they to know that the duke was congratulating them when he said it in such a way? Would it have killed him to be complimentary, or did he truly not know how to be?
Valerie rolled her eyes, translating for the children, “That is high praise from him, boys. I told you he would like them.”
“Yes,” Adrian said stiffly. “They are pleasant.”
In an instant, the boys’ faces brightened, the pair of them whispering excitedly to each other, words that Valerie could not quite decipher. Perhaps, they hoped they might be permitted to stay even longer. Perhaps, they were just glad that the duke had enjoyed their creations.
She caught Adrian’s eye as he brushed the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Her throat bobbed, imagining how sweet his lips would taste if he were to kiss her now. As if reading her mind, he lightly licked his lips, his gaze never faltering.
The sound of footsteps snapped her out of her wayward trance, her head twisting toward the door as Mr. Jarvis stepped inside.
For a moment, the butler frowned at the unusual scene, before turning his attention toward the duke.
“The butcher’s boy has just arrived at the kitchens, Your Grace,” he said.
“He has informed us that some men from town are beginning to clear the snow on the road. Progress will be slow, but it is expected that it will reach our section of the road in two days.”
Adrian gave a small nod. “Well, gentlemen,” he looked to the boys, “it seems you will be returning rather soon. I do hope that Miss Wightman will have everything arranged by then.”
As the boys’ faces dropped, so did Valerie’s stomach. Two days was not nearly enough time to prepare for a party. Not one of such importance. After all, the undoing of the Blackwall curse relied upon her getting it right.