Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Of all the ideas I have ever had, this must be the most foolish.
Adrian could neither stand nor sit still, his attention snapping toward the bedchamber door at the merest sound.
And a residence like his made an awful lot of strange and unexpected sounds.
Even before the stories that it was haunted, he could remember Christmas guests shrieking and laughing nervously at noises that, to him, were just part of the ancient fabric of Blackwall castle.
I should have requested a nightcap in the library or the drawing room. Why did I tell her to come here?
It was almost as if he wanted to make the same mistake as earlier…
and make it properly this time. Then again, maybe he was just trying to challenge his discipline, to ensure that it did not happen like that again, where he had very nearly lost complete control.
Truly, it would have been a catastrophe for her in her unwed state.
Just then, a different, more deliberate sound made his head snap toward the door. His neck protested the sudden movement, but his heart was beating too wildly for him to notice it much.
She is out there.
A knock confirmed his suspicion. “Adrian?”
“Come in,” he said, rising from his chair.
The door opened and Valerie took a few uncertain steps inside, closing the door behind her.
To his surprise, she was not attired as she had been in his study, but wore that somewhat vexing housecoat of hers. Hiding the nightdress beneath, though he knew it was all she had on; he could see the lacy hem just protruding from the edge of the outer garment.
“Please, sit,” he instructed.
She gave a quick dip of her head and walked to the armchairs by the fire. At the nearest one, she paused to look around the bedchamber, before slowly sinking into the chair. She did not sit comfortably, somewhat perched, her posture too rigid, her demeanor not at all relaxed.
It bewildered him that, earlier that evening, there had not been a jot of awkwardness between them. Yet, now, it was is if there was some manner of distance in the way that neither of them knew how to traverse.
“What is your drink of choice?” he asked.
Valerie cleared her throat. “Port, if you have it.”
“It reminds you of your mother,” he said, remembering.
We drank it in the library…
A shy smile graced her plump lips. “It does.”
So, perhaps he did not know nothing about Valerie.
He knew what drink she favored and why she favored it.
Yet, as he thought back, he was certain he had asked her about her mother…
or had been about to; he could not quite recall.
Then, she had turned the conversation toward him without really answering anything, suggesting that her mother was not a topic she wished to discuss.
“Tell me about her,” he said, pouring a measure for them both from the nearby decanter. “She must have meant a lot to you, for you smile when she is mentioned.”
Valerie’s pretty eyes widened in something like surprise. “She… did.” She cleared her throat again. “Forgive me, I still find it difficult to speak of her in the past tense. Being away from Gramfield, especially, it is easy to forget that she is not there waiting.”
“I understand the feeling,” he replied, passing her one of the glasses.
A tight chuckle emerged from her throat.
“Yes, I suppose you, of all people, would.” She gazed down into the ruby port and frowned.
“She was the most wonderful mother. Adored us children entirely. I was the lucky one—I got fifteen years with her, while my brother and sister only got three and one, respectively. I, myself, carry some guilt about that.”
“They must look at you as a mother,” Adrian remarked, sitting opposite her.
Valerie gave a small shrug. “Perhaps, though I do not always do well at it. I try my best, I tell them stories of our mother so they do not forget, and I like to think I adore them as much as Mama did.” Her voice hitched.
“My father is not a nice man. I have tried to do as she did, protecting them from his… greed, his selfishness, his wretchedness.”
A memory came back to Adrian, of Valerie in her chambers, so very disturbed by the silence. He remembered her mentioning her father’s drunkenness, and why the quiet unnerved her, for her home was only silent when her father had been imbibing.
“Then, I came north, and I rather feel as if I have failed them by undertaking this endeavor,” she added quietly, and lifted the glass to her lips.
Of course. Her journey to Scotland.
“I am sure that cannot be true. They are with the housekeeper, whom you said treated them like a mother would,” Adrian said, settling into the comfort of her company now that there were things to discuss. “They will be missing you, no doubt, but that is only a sign of how much they cherish you.”
Valerie took another gulp of her port. “They encouraged me to leave, in truth, but when you have taken care of two people for so long, it still feels strange to be where they are not.”
“Encouraged you?” Adrian leaned in. “Indeed, what brought you northward in the first place? I do not believe I have asked before.”
For a short while, Valerie did not reply, her gaze so fixed upon the gleam of her drink that Adrian wondered if she had fallen into some manner of trance. Afflicted, as she had been in her chambers when the silence became too much. Perhaps, the quiet had become overwhelming again.
“Valerie?” he prompted gently.
Her head snapped up. “Hmm? Oh… it is a long story.”
“I do not have anywhere to be,” he replied. “The benefit of being mostly a hermit.”
A slight furrow narrowed her eyes, then a small, bright laugh pealed from her lips. The most beautiful sound… and he had been the one to conjure it.
“I can never tell when you are jesting,” she said, still chuckling. “It is a wonderful surprise when I realize that you are.”
He shrugged. “I was merely stating the truth. And you, Valerie, are avoiding the question.”
“No, I am not!” she protested. “I just… do not know where to begin.”
“At the beginning, the middle, or the end; I do not mind,” he encouraged, offering her the same quiet patience that she had shown to him.
At first, he did not know if she would respond at all, or if she would simply move onto something else. Her gaze seemed wary, her fingertips tapping the side of the glass in agitation, her entire demeanor on edge. So much so that Adrian began to regret asking at all.
But then, with a shaky breath, she began to speak, “You see, there are actually four Whitman siblings, but I only discovered the existence of that fourth a few weeks ago, not long before I set out for Scotland. She is… my twin and I intended to travel to Scotland to find her, for that was the last known location of her.”
“A twin?” Adrian could not hide his astonishment. “How could you not know about a twin?”
Valerie shook her head. “She was taken away at birth. I found a letter, written by mother, that detailed our birth. The letter had been hidden for a long time, but the moment I read it, there was… part of me that knew that someone, or something, had always been missing.” She rubbed her throat as if to dislodge something.
“The orphanage she was taken to was in Scotland. That is why I set out upon this journey, to find her. Foolish, I know, but… I felt compelled to, without delay.”
“Was she born sickly?” Adrian asked, not at all certain he was as good at comfort as she was. “Is that why she was removed?”
He could think of no other reason why twins would be separated. Then again, if her father was even half as cruel as his father had been, anything was possible for any reason at all.
Valerie shook her head. “There was no mention of anything like that in Mama’s letter, so I do not know. All I know is that my twin sister was taken away and my mother was devastated by it.”
If Adrian had not been watching her so intently, he might have missed the cagey look upon her face that she hurried to hide by gazing toward the fire.
The trembling sip of port that followed did nothing to quieten his suspicions that she was not telling him the entire story, but he was content to permit omissions; it was not his place to demand every detail, particularly as this was the most she had said about her past in one go.
He would not ruin that by being too aggressively inquisitive.
“I am sorry,” he said instead of pressing her further. “That is a noble pursuit indeed. If there is anything I can do to assist in your search, all you need to do is ask.”
She turned to him, eyebrows raised. “You… would help me?”
“I may have spent the past ten years alone here, but I still have connections and associates,” he replied. “I would be happy to enlist them to aid you. Several visit Scotland quite often. Consider it an apology for tearing down your decorations.”
Color rushed into her face, her gaze lowering. “You do not need to apologize for that. It was my mistake.”
“Yet, it could have been dealt with more peaceably on my part,” he insisted. “So, let me help you. Indeed, a friend of mine is very well connected. He would not hesitate to assist in this endeavor, for he relishes a challenge.”
“That would be… wonderful, Adrian,” she said softly, her voice thick. “Wonderful indeed. Thank you. Truly, thank you.”
He nodded. “You are very welcome.”
It is the least I can do, after what you have done for the town of Blackwall. He did not say it, but he thought it, not yet ready to admit that it had been… pleasant to help her prepare for the party. And pleasant to be around the festivities of Christmas again, however bittersweet.
“In truth, I thought you might be on your way to a wedding,” he said, after a moment.
“You were a lady traveling through awful weather by herself, unchaperoned and seemingly eager to reach Scotland no matter what. I think most people would have been suspicious that you were trying to reach Gretna Green.”