Chapter Five #2
Miss Vale returned minutes later with the tea service, moving through the ritual of preparation with practised grace. Adrian found himself watching her hands—delicate, unmarked by labour, steady as she poured.
“Where in Edinburgh did you work?” The question emerged more sharply than he’d intended.
Miss Vale’s hands trembled slightly, sending ripples across the tea service. “A private residence, Your Grace. Nothing grand.”
“And your employer’s name?”
“She’s deceased now. I’d rather prefer not to speak of her, if it pleases Your Grace.”
“You seem uncomfortable with my questions, Miss Vale.
Her chin lifted—that unconscious defiance that simultaneously irritated and intrigued him. “I’m afraid I’m not used to such interrogation, Your Grace. Most employers hire companions for their skills, not their histories.”
“Perhaps most employers don’t find their companions looting their study.”
Her cheeks flamed. “I already apologised for that particular transgression, Your Grace. If you find my presence unsuitable, I can seek employment elsewhere.”
Say yes. Dismiss her. End this absurdity before it can become any more complicated.
“That won’t be necessary.” The words emerged before he could stop them. “I merely wish to understand who I’ve allowed into my household.”
“Just a regular woman in need of work, Your Grace. Nothing more mysterious than that.”
Liar. Beautiful, maddening liar.
Before Adrian could press any further, the drawing room opened to admit Henry. His cousin stopped short, his gaze moving from Adrian to her with an interest that immediately set Adrian’s teeth on edge.
“Cousin! I didn’t expect you home so early.” Henry’s gaze shifted to Miss Vale with a hunger that made Adrian’s jaw tighten. “Ah, Miss Vale. Still attending to my aunt, I see. I do hope you’ve been treated well?”
“Lady Flora is a delight, sir.” Miss Vale’s voice had cooled to professional distance—good instincts, at least.
“I’m certain she is.” Henry’s smile turned calculating as he looked between them. “Though I notice my cousin seems…particularly attentive to household staffing matters today. How unusual for a man who typically delegates such concerns to Mrs Whittaker.”
Adrian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Did you have business to discuss, Henry? Or have you come merely to critique my household management?”
“Just passing by, cousin. Though I’m glad I did.” Henry’s eyes lingered on Miss Vale with uncomfortable interest. “I found myself curious as to how your meeting with Bedford went, actually.”
This finally dragged Adrian’s attention away from Miss Vale. “Did you finalise the arrangement?”
“I did.”
“Splendid! And when do you meet the blushing bride?”
“Next week.” Adrian was intensely aware of Miss Vale’s sudden stillness. “A dinner at their townhouse.”
“How perfectly proper.” Henry helped himself to tea without invitation. “And what does the Scottish Earl’s daughter bring to this transaction, besides her dowry and breeding?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is. You’re my only family, cousin.
I have a vested interest in your happiness.
Or, at least in ensuring your wife doesn’t bore you to death within the first year of marriage.
” Henry’s smile turned sharp. “Though I rather suppose that is the nature of arranged marriages, isn’t it?
Duty over passion. Contract over feeling.
One marries for practical reasons and finds one’s pleasures… elsewhere.”
The words hung in the air, weighted with vulgar implication. Adrian was suddenly, viscerally aware of Miss Vale’s presence—the way her spine had gone rigid, her face carefully blank in a way that suggested she was feeling far too much.
“Miss Vale, you are excused,” Adrian said abruptly. “My aunt can ring if she requires anything further.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” She set down the teapot with hands that trembled slightly. She curtsied and fled the room.
After Henry had departed—having somehow extracted a promise from Adrian to attend some tedious social function he had absolutely no interest in, Adrian found himself alone with his thoughts.
Dangerous territory, that.
He moved toward the window, staring out at the perfectly manicured gardens without truly seeing them.
The rational choice before him was clear: proceed with his engagement to Lady Cecilia Bedford, dismiss Miss Vale, and return to the ordered existence he’d so carefully cultivated.
The only problem was that rational choices had never made his pulse race or his control slip. They’d never made him want to abandon propriety entirely just to discover if a woman’s mouth tasted as intoxicating as her defiance suggested.
The drawer incident replayed in his mind with unwelcome clarity.
How close he had come to kissing her—close enough to smell the hint of rose on her skin, to feel her breath quicken against his mouth.
The way her body responded to him with an intensity that had left him half-aroused and aching long after he’d dismissed her.
There was definitive heat that flared between them—primal, undeniable, and utterly inappropriate for a duke and a member of his household.
A day later, it still haunted him, and he could still feel the silk of her skin beneath his thumb.
No. He shouldn’t care who Clara Vale really was. Shouldn’t want to unravel her secrets, or the laces of her dress.
In a week, he’d meet with Lady Cecilia Bedford properly, proceed with their arranged marriage, and Clara Vale would become irrelevant.
Clean. Simple. Practical.
Except nothing about this felt simple.
“You’re brooding.”
Adrian turned to find Cassian leaning against the doorframe, studying him with uncomfortable perceptiveness.
“I’m thinking.”
“About the mysterious Miss Vale?” Cassian’s eyebrows rose. “Henry mentioned he noticed something between you two. He was remarkably interested in her himself, as a matter of fact.”
“Henry notices too much.”
“As do I.” Cassian entered, closing the door behind him. “How exactly are you planning to handle this?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Nothing. She’s my aunt’s companion. That’s all.”
“I thought you would heed my earlier advice.” Cassian’s tone suggested he’d seen straight through the lie. “Because from where I stand, you seem like—”
“Like nothing.” Adrian cut him off. “In a week, I’ll be formally engaged to the Earl of Bedford’s daughter. Everything else is irrelevant.”
“And what if your curiosity doesn’t cooperate with your logic?”
Adrian returned his gaze to the darkening window. “Then I’ll freeze it out. It’s what I do best, after all.”
But even as he said it, he could still feel the phantom sensation of her body pressed against his, could still taste the almost-kiss that had haunted his every moment since he’d pulled away.
The Ice Duke, the ton called him.
He’d never wanted to thaw before, until now.