Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
With two days to go until the grand party, the town hall was close to completion.
Standing in the middle of the main hall, Valerie could not believe the transformation: it was a wonderland of festive cheer, the walls adorned with so many garlands and wreaths that it felt as if they had brought a forest indoors.
The green and gold and red bows added rich color, while the paper angels—crafted by the children—added whimsy, and draped bunting added the finishing touch.
Once all the candles are lit and all the food is arranged on the tables and the musicians are playing, it will be utterly perfect. She could envision it already, her heart swelling with pride and happiness.
The local church had promised to lend their choir, the baker had eagerly insisted on bringing some delicacies despite Valerie trying to explain that there would already be plenty; the butcher had pledged a roast and had sought out five geese, though Valerie had no idea how he had known they were needed; more children from the town had brought decorations, their mothers coming in to help out the stranger who shared their desire to return the old days of Christmas festivities to their town.
All around, there was an air of merriment, of anticipation, of keenly welcomed nostalgia, of Christmas.
“I cannot imagine there is anything else to do,” a rumbling voice tingled up her spine, though she had no more laurels to fan herself with; they were all on the walls and windows.
She did not turn to look at Adrian, though she knew it was him.
Rather, she listened for the soft sound of his footsteps across the parquet, sensing him getting closer.
Wondering how close he would actually get before he stopped, for all the volunteers were gone; they were entirely alone, aside from a few clerks who were upstairs in the offices, trying to get some work done after days of disruption.
“No, I daresay everything is done,” she replied, her voice unsteady. “At least until the food is ready to arrive, but that will not be until the day of the party.”
Throughout the past few days of her toil at the town hall, Adrian had insisted on accompanying her to and from the venue. He rode on horseback as an escort, she traveled in the carriage… and wondered what sort of seductive trick it was, to not journey in the carriage with her.
She would have assumed it was to make it clear that he wanted distance, if he had not sought any opportunity to be near her once they were actually at the town hall.
Indeed, had it not been for the diversions and accidental interventions of the children and the helpers, she had no doubt that he would have found an excuse to be closer still.
For her own sake, she had been particularly careful to avoid walking under any of the mistletoe that hung in several doorways.
“You have done well,” Adrian said, pausing a short distance from her; she could feel the air thicken between them, the pressure pushing the breath out of her lungs.
Good girl… Come for me…
Valerie’s cheeks burned at the delicious memory, her stomach fluttering wildly.
“I thought we might journey back in the carriage together,” he continued. “If you are all finished here for now.”
“No!” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest in a vain attempt to steady her breathing. “I mean… I am not finished here.”
“Did you not just say that you were?”
She swallowed loudly. “I am finished here, but my duties are not done.” Her voice faltered as her mind struggled to catch up with the ruse, unable to improvise a reason to linger fast enough. “I… I… I must invite the town!”
“Pardon?” Adrian said.
Even without looking at his face, she could picture his frown. One of his softer ones. Bemused, perhaps.
“I thought it might be the decent thing to do, to go from house to house, inviting everyone personally to the party,” she explained.
Despite having just thought of it, it did seem like a rather upright and respectable thing to do.
The townsfolk did not know her and they were naturally wary of the duke who had spent the past decade as a relative hermit in his castle, among his ghosts.
What better way to reassure them and get them to look forward to the party than to offer heartfelt invitations?
“Valerie, I think half the town have already been in and out of this hall these past few days,” Adrian pointed out.
“Ah, but half is not all,” she countered, as she slowly turned.
He was far closer than her senses had guessed. No more than a few steps away, so tall and relentlessly handsome, those blue eyes glittering with plans that did not involve traipsing around an entire town with her. Or, perhaps, she was just projecting her own thoughts onto him.
Everyone will know to attend already—news does not travel slowly in a town such as this. I suppose I could…
“It is essential for the children,” she blurted out.
“The townsfolk may know about the party, but they might not know that it is in aid of the orphanage. Moreover, they may not know that they, specifically, are invited. There was no time to write actual invitations, and some may not be able to read, so… yes, I must go from house to house. That was always the plan.”
Adrian raised an eyebrow. “You did not mention that to me.”
“Because you might have stayed at the castle today if I had,” she said, unable to resist a small smile.
You would, now that I think of it.
“I did not agree to accompany you,” he insisted, subtly taking a half step back as if that would be enough to help him avoid involvement.
She smiled wider. “But I know that you would not allow me to wander around an unfamiliar town by myself, especially with the streets so icy and those terrible clouds in the sky. I would not be surprised if we had snow by three o’clock.”
His eyes narrowed as if he did not appreciate the jest, but the twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.
Every morning they had set off from Blackwall Castle, he had shared the same concerns that the weather might prevent their return.
Every evening, when they returned, he repeated, “Well, I am certain it shall snow overnight.”
As of yet, it had not.
Emboldened by the fact that she had almost coaxed a real smile out of him, she bounded the short distance between them and weaved her arm through his.
“Put on your friendliest face,” she commanded, “and let us see to it that the entire town learns that their duke is not, in fact, a character in one of Hetty’s ghost stories but a very real, very pleasant gentleman.”
He bent his head closer to hers, murmuring, “I thought you said I was no gentleman?”
“I… well… what?” she coughed, a fever of bashfulness rushing through her until she would not have been surprised if she could have fried an egg upon her skin. “I do not recall saying anything of the sort. You are a duke; of course you are a gentleman. Society says so.”
Adrian shook his head, that tiny twitch of amusement becoming a full, darkly entertained smirk.
“‘No gentleman could have done that.’ Your words. Verbatim.” He gently swept back a lock of hair that had come loose from her bonnet, tucking it around the shell of her ear, his thumb accidentally—or perhaps deliberately—brushing her cheek.
“Remind me, what was I doing to earn such a remark? Or shall I remind you?”
“I am afraid I do not know what you mean,” she replied, and nudged her elbow into his ribs.
He did not flinch or seem to notice, the hunger in his eyes making her contemplate just how alone they truly were.
With the town hall prepared for its guests, would anyone drop by announced?
Would it thwart everything she had done if someone happened to wander in while she stole a kiss from Adrian’s lips… or more?
You are not a feral beast, Valerie. Restrain yourself.
Following her mind’s sage lead, she straightened her posture and leveled what she hoped was a cool look at the duke. “I am going to deliver invitations. You cannot escape joining me by… teasing me with… um… distractions.”
She tugged decisively on his arm, though he would have to come willingly if she was going to get him to budge at all.
With a sigh, he moved, muttering, “I cannot think of a worse way to spend an afternoon.” He glanced down at her. “Mark my words, this will be the beginning of an endless stream of people at my door, making demands.”
“Well, perhaps it is time that the duke of this dukedom had a little more to do with the people within it,” she pointed out. “You never know, they might bring you things instead of making demands of you, out of sheer gratitude that you have emerged from your castle at last.”
He sniffed. “I think you have too high an opinion of what it means to be a duke. It is nothing but a title and wealth if you are lucky. Why would these people be at all grateful for that? If I were them, I would be resentful.”
“Because everyone likes to know that someone cares,” Valerie replied. “That is what this party will mean to them—that you care.”
Adrian’s nose wrinkled. “It is your party, not mine.”
“If you really believed that, you would be at the castle instead of here,” she said with a knowing smile.
“You cannot fool me, Adrian; you are enjoying this. I saw you making wreaths with Isaac and hanging garlands with David and helping that little girl to put her paper angel at the top of the window. You were having fun.”
“I was making myself useful; there is a difference,” he protested in a sullen voice, as if he did not like that he had been observed with his walls down.
She was so invested in teasing him, after his attempt a moment ago, that she did not notice the small bushel of mistletoe, tied upside down with a red bow, white berries gleaming like pearls, that hung above the doorway they were passing under.
Rather, she did not remember anyone putting it there, where everyone would have to pass beneath it.
Did Adrian do that?
He stopped her abruptly, glancing up.
She followed his gaze, heart racing.
“I hear it is bad fortune to ignore mistletoe,” Adrian said in that husky, seductive voice that made her want to surrender to his every request.
“I thought you did not care for Christmas traditions,” she replied, already a little breathless with the thought of being kissed by him again.
He frowned. “I have never claimed that.”
“No…” she mused aloud, frowning in return “… I suppose you have not.”
Adrian dipped his head, his mouth a whisper away from hers, the tickle of his breath making her mouth part in anticipation.
If she but raised herself up on a tiptoe, she would kiss him…
and be entirely undone. Once she began, she would not be able to stop, and no one would receive their personal invitation and… and…
He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.
His mouth was chaste, pressing a soft kiss to the silk of her glove, but his eyes were anything but, alight with a desire that she could not hope to resist. That fierce gaze did not leave her face as his lips lingered a moment too long to be considered appropriate.
“Come, then,” he purred, slowly releasing her hand.
“Pardon?” she rasped, so warm she feared she might be glistening.
He stepped through the doorway and into the hallway beyond, where he turned back with that infuriating smirk of his. “If we are to deliver our invitations before the snow falls, we cannot delay.”
Adrian Holbrook, I suspect you are a kind of cruel after all… for that was the meanest trick that had ever been played upon her, to stir her up into a fluster and then not leave her satisfied. Indeed, as she hurried after him, she became quite determined to have her revenge.