Page 26 of An Unforeseen Kiss (Captivating Kisses #4)

V al awoke. Immediately, he realized Eden was no longer with him in the library. She couldn’t have been gone for long, however, because his skin was still warmed by her body, and her scent clung to him.

He was upset that he had fallen asleep, wondering what she had thought when she awoke, cradled in his lap.

He had wanted to assure her that all was well.

That nothing had changed between them. He could not deny, though, that his feelings grew stronger for her each day.

At some point, he would have to tell her that he loved her.

Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair, knowing there was nothing he could do now. Should he bring it up with her when he saw her tomorrow? Or should he let sleeping dogs lie? He would hope the right answer came to him and that Eden would not do what he feared most and shut him out.

He left the library and returned to his rooms, the bed seeming far too large and empty for his liking.

Ariadne had confided to him once that she and Julian spent their nights together.

He had never heard of such a thing with a married couple but had been intrigued by the idea of holding his wife in his arms the entire night.

Now that he had found the right woman, he was eager to have the same kind of marriage his sister did with Julian.

Val tumbled in bed, refusing to shed his clothes because if he could not have Eden beside him, at least her scent provided him the memory of her.

When he awoke hours later, he stripped off his clothes and washed before ringing for Fisham. The valet was his usual, cheerful self, chatting away about everything from the weather to the new housemaid Mrs. Quigby had hired.

He went down to breakfast and took generously from the buffet laid out.

The newspapers and post awaited him on the table.

He flipped through the post first. The only thing needing his immediate attention was a note from Mr. Clarke.

The vicar asked Val to stop by at his convenience, which could only mean one thing.

The church needed a new roof. With him being the highest-ranking peer in the parish, he would be expected to fund a large portion of it if not pay for the roof in its entirety.

Once he finished his breakfast, he decided to deal with Mr. Clarke first. Going to the stables, he had Perseus saddled so he might ride into Willowshire. He called at the parsonage and was greeted by Mrs. Clarke.

“Oh, Your Grace, do come in. Might I get you a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Clarke. I have come straight from breakfast to see your husband. He sent me a note, requesting that we meet.”

“Then let me fetch him. He is in his study, hard at work writing Sunday’s sermon.”

The couple returned, both taking a seat opposite him.

“I would like to get right down to business, Your Grace,” the vicar said. “No sense wasting your time or mine. This is something I had addressed previously with His Grace, and he showed no interest.”

Annoyance filled Val, knowing that his father had had more than adequate funds and could have given Mr. Clarke any amount that he requested.

“How much do you need?” he asked brusquely. “For the new roof.”

The clergyman looked startled. “Oh, no, Your Grace. We are not in need of anything.” He smiled benignly. “At least at the moment. I reserve the right in the future to come to you if we do find ourselves in need.”

“Then what is it?”

“While I know Her Grace is still in mourning and it would not be possible to do so this summer, I would like to toss out the idea to you for an event for next summer. For a fete to be held at Millvale.”

“What would this involve?” he asked, intrigued by the idea.

“It is something which is held at my brother’s parish in Surrey. Mrs. Clarke and I have visited when it has gone on. It is a day for the community to come together and have a bit of fun. There are games for the children and contests and competitions for adults.”

“Bobbing for apples for the children, for example, Your Grace, and archery and pistol shooting for the adults,” added Mrs. Clarke. “They also have numerous booths where people can sell their wares. For instance, a knitter might sell everything from a dish cloth to scarves.”

“And a small portion of the monies raised for these games and entry fees to competitions would go to the church,” Mr. Clarke added.

“All we ask is that Millvale might host such an event. His Grace—your father—showed no interest in doing so, but I believe it would be good for the community, as well as the pocketbook of our parish.” The vicar smiled.

“You never know when a new roof might be needed.”

He looked to Mrs. Clarke. “What about food?” Val asked. “Would Millvale need to provide this?”

“That is not necessary, Your Grace. At my brother-in-law’s church, they designate booths for food and drink to be sold.

The local inn and tavern did a lively business, selling meat pies and ale.

Your tenants might wish to do so, selling items from their gardens, for example.

It would be a lovely way for them to also be involved. ”

“This is an excellent idea. When would you suggest holding it?”

“Decent weather would be important, so summer is the best time. Kent is at its loveliest then. My brother’s parish holds their event on the day of summer solstice, but naturally, since you are agreeable to hosting, it would be up to you when you wished to do so.”

Val didn’t like the association of the pagan solstice coupled with the church, and so he suggested, “Perhaps we could hold it the last Saturday in June each summer. I do not see why we could not start the event this year. Yes, Her Grace is in mourning, but this would be something I would host as the new duke.” He paused.

“And once I wed, my duchess and I would be responsible for organizing the fete.”

The couple gave him gleeful smiles, with the clergyman saying, “It would be wonderful if we could start this year, Your Grace. Might I announce it in church on Sunday? And since the monthly assembly is tomorrow night, we could also bring it up there. Word will spread quickly.”

“That is acceptable to me. Just to be clear, who would be responsible for creating the games and contests?”

“That usually falls to the host,” Mrs. Clarke said. “If you would like, we can put this off for a year, until your mother is up to planning and hosting such a large event.”

He had seen the excitement in their eyes and knew this would be an excellent way for him to put his own mark on the dukedom he had inherited.

“No, my family will plan everything, with input from Her Grace. Announce away, Mr. Clarke. Once we have some of the planning underway, we will need to meet with you and Mrs. Clarke again and see what progress has been made. Shall we say next Friday morning, a week from today?”

The vicar agreed to the time, and Val rode back to Millvale, knowing exactly who he wanted organizing this fete.

Eden—because he fully intended to make her his duchess.

He would wait and take it up with her during their conversation in the gardens tonight.

She was so efficient, he knew she would be ideal to manage such a large affair with ease.

It would help to get Lia and Tia involved, as well.

And his cousins. All four could assist Eden, and it would give them something to look forward to.

When the appointed time came, he returned to the stables. He had not had the opportunity to ride yesterday with his family and looked forward to doing so this afternoon.

He saw the four girls making their way toward him as the horses were being brought out. Eden was missing, however. He wondered if she had been detained, and his concern grew. The girls hurried to the horses the grooms led out, their usual apples in hand.

“Where is Miss Snow?” he asked casually.

Verina told him, “Miss Snow had some work to do and told us to go without her today.”

Val cursed under his breath, knowing she was avoiding him after last night.

He mounted Perseus and asked, “Where would you care to ride today?”

For the next hour, he rode the estate with the girls but was miserable.

Every second of the ride, he missed Eden’s presence.

She had a way of bringing others together so effortlessly, not to mention she had become his whole world.

Without a doubt, he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Perhaps that was what he should tell her this evening. No more holding back. Whether she was ready to hear his declaration or not, Val needed to let Eden know how much he cared for her.

They returned from their ride, and he went to freshen up, washing and changing his clothes. He went to the drawing room, dismayed that Eden was not already present. She ducked into the room just before his mother began pouring out, avoiding meeting his gaze.

As usual, she was quiet during tea. She would speak if addressed, but she never initiated any conversation. Knowing her as he now did, he understood she would think it not the place of a governess to speak unless spoken to.

When tea ended, Eden said to Justina, “If you are free now, my lady, I think we need to work a bit more on the piece you wish to play for everyone.”

Justina nodded. “You are right, Miss Snow. I am finding the fingering challenging. Bach’s inventions are complicated. Would you help me work through it?”

“Of course. Let us go to the music room and do so.”

Val did not want to follow them. He had hoped for an opportunity to speak to Eden after tea.

Since that was now impossible, he returned to his study and buried himself in work.

He left it to go out to the gardens, eager for their daily time alone together.

That hour was the best part of his day. Declaring his feelings to her must be done at once, else he might go mad.

He entered the gardens and strode down the path, heading to their usual rendezvous. Eden was not there. He sat on the bench, waiting for her, his frustration growing by the minute.

Had he missed her? Had she arrived before him and gone deeper into the gardens, losing track of time?

He rose and hurried down the path, looking everywhere, but Eden was nowhere to be found. Panic surged through him, and he tried tamping it down. Perhaps the music lesson with Justina had taken longer than planned. He returned to the house, rushing to the music room, only to find it empty.

“The library,” he said aloud.

Oftentimes after tea, she went there to prepare the next day’s lessons. He strode there now, hoping he would find her. Throwing open the door, Val spied her sitting at a table, pencil in hand, not acknowledging his presence.

Slamming the door got her attention, she looked up and frowned, only as a governess could do.

He moved toward her, demanding, “Where were you? I worried something had happened to you. I searched the gardens, only to find you here.”

Something was wrong. Her face was expressionless. He had grown accustomed to how she lit up when she caught sight of him.

Calming himself, he asked quietly, “What is troubling you, Eden? Are you upset about something?”

She rose, unconsciously licking her lips, stoking the fire burning within him. Val wanted nothing more than to capture her in his arms and kiss the life out of her.

“I have assessed our friendship and found that the time for it must come to an end.”

Her words stabbed him in the heart. “Why?”

“I do not owe you any explanation, Your Grace,” she said formally, and he realized she was no longer addressing him as Val.

Taking a step toward her, he begged, “Eden. Please. Do not do this.”

She snatched the diary she had been writing in, holding it protectively to her, as if wishing to create a barrier between them.

“If you hold any value to the friendship we have had the last several weeks, you will respect my wishes.”

“Is this about last night? I—”

“I do not wish to speak about last night, Your Grace. In fact, I do not wish to speak to you at all. Goodnight.”

He stood helplessly, watching her go, knowing if he tried to stop her—touch her—she would totally shut him out. If he declared his love for her now, she would not believe him and think it was some ploy.

As Eden walked out the door, Val felt as if she had walked out of his life.