How long would that take? Would he be stuck in this village for weeks? Months?
Theo rolled over to the window and slid his finger in the crack between the curtains. He gazed outside at the relentlessly beautiful view. Anyone could fall in love with a place like this. It wasn’t too far from his own country pile. Theo’s problem wasn’t the town of Christmas. His problem was—
A familiar figure picked her way down the snow-packed lane. Today, Virginia was cloaked in a coat of berry red. In one gloved hand hung a large wicker basket. The black cat was nowhere to be seen.
Theo let the curtain fall. No doubt the beast was imprisoned inside the basket. An intelligent precaution, but unnecessary. All the windows were closed tight today. Neither she nor her cat would be coming inside.
The faint thud of a knock sounded from the other side of the cottage.
Theo wheeled as fast as he could to throw open his chamber door and growled into the empty corridor, “I am not at home!”
Scant moments later, the butler appeared with a calling card in his hands. “You have a guest.”
“I am not receiving,” Theo enunciated.
“I’ll add her card to the dish in the front parlor.” Swinton paused. “Shall I show her in there or do you prefer visitors here in your private drawing room?”
Theo clenched his jaw. “Neither. Please relay to Virginia—”
“Miss Underwood.” Swinton’s diction was clipped, and his expression detached, but the rebuke was clear.
Theo stared back at him. He had never been interrupted by a butler, or a servant of any kind, much less reprimanded by one.
He reminded himself that Swinton was unaware of Theo’s rank. For all the butler knew, “Mr. T” could be a street sweeper or a boxing-master or a common cutpurse. Nonetheless, he had arrived bearing a promise of hospitality sealed by the duke’s own signet. Swinton ought to behave accordingly.
Theo forced himself to reply in cold, even tones. “I did not know her name was Miss Underwood.”
“Now you do.” The butler’s lack of expression indicated Theo was the one wasting his time. “Front parlor or guest parlor?”
Theo unleashed his infamous quelling glare. No one had ever withstood its devastating effect without cowering in its wake.
Swinton practically yawned.
Theo gritted his teeth. Bloody bandages. A man could not unleash a proper glare when trussed up like an Egyptian mummy.
“Look here,” Theo said. “Did your master not give you explicit instructions on how to extend hospitality to a houseguest?”
“He did, indeed.” Swinton pulled the folded letter from an inner pocket and handed it back to Theo. “Look here.”
Theo read the letter in disbelief.
As promised, Azureford had respected Theo’s wish for anonymity. He was indeed granted the run of the cottage and referred to only as T. That was the first sentence of several paragraphs.
The rest of the contents recounted Theo’s “surly disposition,” “tendency toward reclusive behavior,” and “devil’s own stubbornness.”
The final lines humorously implored the staff not to allow Theo to “get away with too much” and for Swinton in particular to treat their houseguest exactly as he would treat Azureford himself. The duke no doubt had enjoyed a hearty laugh as he penned his instructions.
Sourly, Theo handed the letter back to the butler.
Swinton’s expression did not change, but his eyes hinted at the humor he no doubt found in their circumstance. “Following my master’s orders to the letter, sir.”
Theo gave a thin smile. “Can you please inform Miss Underwood—”
Virginia rushed around the corner and into the corridor, the wicker basket clutched in her hands.
“There you are.” She dug inside the basket and handed him a spoon. “If you don’t eat quick, it’s all going to melt.”
Theo accepted the spoon out of reflex. “All what will melt?”
