“And we would like to arrange a party for the children,” Valerie jumped in, her sweet voice lively with excitement. “A Christmas party.”
Mr. Atkinson paid her no attention. “Of course, Your Grace, I would be overjoyed to accept a donation, and to ensure that it is used in accordance with your wishes.” He paused, smiling broadly. “And who would not agree to a party? The town, and myself, would be honored indeed.”
Setting down her tea with a pointed clatter, Valerie began the speech that Adrian knew she had been rehearsing. He had seen her mouthing things to herself in the carriage on the way to town, unaware that she was being observed. He had been glad of the two boys sitting between them on the squabs, for he did not know what he might have done if he had been alone in such a private place with her.
What of the journey back?He realized with some surprise that he had not thought about that.
“We were hoping you could speak to the town hall on our behalf,” Valerie said. “I had the notion that we could host the party here at the orphanage, but David and Isaac said it might not be large enough. We really would like the whole town to be able to enjoy it. If you are not opposed, and the town hall agrees, then we were thinking the eve before Christmas Eve?”
Mr. Atkinson pursed his lips, looking down his nose at Valerie. “You are very forward. Who are you to speak on His Grace’s behalf? It would be better if you said nothing, or went to entertain yourself with the children, so that His Grace and I can discuss this properly.”
“There will be nothingtodiscuss if you speak to Miss Wightman like that,” Adrian snarled, his temper finally snapping. “Sheis the one who suggested I make a donation, she is the one who wishes to host this party, and she is the lady who I have asked to accompany me. If you cannot treat her with respect, you can forget about a donation, and we shall hold his party without it having the name of your orphanage attached.”
He would not punish the children for this man’s idiocy, although he was strongly considering sending someone from the castle to become an overseer at this place. Evidently, the orphanage needed someone who cared. But that was something to arrange when he had returned to Blackwall Castle.
The color drained from Mr. Atkinson’s face, his hand trembling on the saucer of his teacup. Like the feeble creature he undoubtedly was, the man bowed his head to Valerie.
“I apologize, Miss Wightman,” he said in a cloying voice. “I misspoke. I assumed you were… a maid who had been taking care of the boys; I did not realize your importance, and I am sincerely sorry for that. Please, forgive me for my foolishness.”
Valerie took an almost triumphant sip of her tea. “You are forgiven,” she said. “Now, how do you feel about plum pudding with brandy? I know not everyone favors it.”
With an inner smile that did not make it to his face, Adrian sat back and let Valerie take the lead. This party was her creation, after all.
And if it is to be the night before Christmas Eve, then at least I shall have her close until then…
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Pausing on the top step of the orphanage’s porch, Adrian offered his arm to Valerie.
She beamed up at him and weaved her arm through his, not hesitating at all. She was in high spirits, a beautiful flush of happy pink in her cheeks, her eyes gleaming with the fires of victory… and perhaps a touch of sadness that she had to leave those boys. No doubt they had made her feel closer to the siblings she had left behind.
“If I live to be one hundred years old, I shall never forget that horrified look upon that man’s face,” she chirped merrily. “I must thank you, Your Grace. You were right to insist on coming with us; that would not have gone nearly so well if I had been by myself.”
There had never been any question in Adrian’s mind that he would accompany Valerie and the boys, but perhaps she thought he might have changed his mind after the farewell party. Hehadplanned to stay longer at that gathering, but between his waningself-control around Valerie and the obvious discomfort of the staff, he had thought it best if he made himself scarce.
“I cannot abide rudeness,” he said, leading her down the steps to the waiting carriage.
“Is your own the exception?” she replied in a teasing tone, giving his arm a light squeeze.
He glanced down at her. “I am not rude.”
“You were when we first met,” she pointed out, chuckling.
“If you had encountered the sly vixens that I have over the years, you would understand that my… intolerance was justified,” he said flatly, while his gaze flitted to her plump, bitten-red lips. “You are the first to come to my door with no agenda. You were, at least.”
She smacked him playfully on the arm, surprising him. “I have no agenda, Your Grace! I am merely making the most of my situation.Youare the one enabling it.”
“Adrian,” he said thickly, her proximity a maddening thing.
“Pardon?”
He bent his head toward her. “My name. Use it.”
For we are beyond ‘Your Grace’ and ‘Miss Wightman.’And he was beyond pretending that he did not want to kiss her, though he knew he could not. What had happened in the library could never happen again because, the next time it did, he would not be able to resist wanting more. He would not be able to resist wantingallof her.
“Very well.Adrian,” she whispered back, “you are the one enabling my whims. If you had refused me, I would not be organizing a party. I would be in my guest chambers, cursing that my carriage ran into trouble near your castle, cursing that I did not follow the driver those five miles into town.”
He eyed her intently. “Do you regret knocking upon my door?”
