Page 54 of One Day for a Valet

And then he kissed her so soundly that every argument faded away. She wanted him to keep kissing her. To kiss her until she forgot everything but the feel of his mouth slanting against hers, until her conscience was silenced, until the only awareness that remained was centred on him—them—and how perfectly right they felt together. “Come back. After you see Oliver home, come back,” Sofia whispered against his lips.

“Sofia,” he groaned, and she heard as much reluctance as desire in the drawn-out syllables. “I cannot debauch my best friend’s governess in his home.” He apologised with kisses. Soft, pleading kisses that felt like a handful of buttercups from a repentant child. They were undiluted sincerity and sweetness. “And if I came to you tonight …” His eyes slammed shut, whether to steel himself against the temptation of her offer or to fully immerse himself in the fantasies in his head, she wasn’t certain.

She wondered at what he saw behind closed lids, his lips parted. She would very much like to take part in whatever erotic scene was unfurling in the privacy of his mind. Her body swayed closer. “What are you thinking about?”

“Complicated cravat knots. To bed with you. Now.”

“Stubborn English arse,” she grumbled, then kissed his cheek.

Christopher watched Sofia’s door close soundlessly, then stared at the heavy wood that separated them for long minutes after. He imagined the burrow of his fingers into her restrained curls. He’d pluck one pin after another until an anarchy of spirals tumbled free. In his mind, he could see her pupils dilate, could hear her breaths grow faster in cadence with his own, could feel her body respond to his own unchecked arousal. His cock thickened in his trousers and he forced his mind in another direction to avoid embarrassment.

Oliver. He needed to rejoin Oliver. First, he returned to the dining room, discovering it empty save for a few maids who paused in their work to smile at him. He checked the drawing room and music room and found them equally quiet. Oliver would not return to the cabin on his own if that meant leaving Keene unchaperoned with Sofia. Then another thought occurred to him. Increasing his pace, Christopher made for Gabriel’s study, where the sideboard offered an abundance of beverage options.

Passing by a pair of footmen and brushing off their invitation to play cards, Christopher identified the queasy feeling in his gut as worry. Not irritation at having to play warden to an escapee or even unease at the thought of Sofia’s reaction to her brother’s lapse. Damn it all, he had actually come to like the man.

Sure enough, Oliver stood in profile near the unlit fireplace. He held a gold pocket watch that Christopher recognised as Gabriel’s. Oddly, Christopher was more relieved to find the sideboard untouched than he was alarmed to find Oliver teetering on the brink of theft.

“I was going to take it,” Oliver said in a sanguine tone.

“Yes, that’s what it looks like from over here.” Christopher leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms.

“But my hand doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.”

A long silence passed. Oliver idly stroked his finger over the watch.

“I’m in trouble, Christopher.”

Christopher filled two snifters with water, offering one to Oliver.

“The men who roughed me up … I ran up a debt, gambling for … well, you know what. I didn’t think they would find me here, but one of my old drinking acquaintances showed up at the cabin this afternoon. Told me that Simms—that’s one of the men who beat me—knows where I am. That’s why I brought the duchess home. I didn’t want her tangled in the middle of my mess. I was going to take this to pay Simms off. Figured the duke has one to match every waistcoat anyway. But I can’t.” He drank the water down in several long gulps. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Run, I suppose.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You aren’t going to run. Sofia needs you.” Christopher took Oliver’s empty glass and set it on the sideboard.

Oliver’s gaze dropped to his boots. “She doesn’t need me. Truth is, I’ve been nothing but a burden. She’s better off without me. I can’t look at her without seeing all the damage I’ve done, and I don’t even remember most of it. But I can see it in her eyes—fear, disappointment, resentment.”

“I don’t know whose eyes you’re looking into because that’s not what’s in Sofi’s eyes at all. She’s hopeful, Oliver. She wants to trust you.”

“She shouldn’t trust me. I’m not better. Christ, just look at me. I’m failing her now and I’m not even drunk. And don’t think for a second that I don’t want to be.” His gaze fell to the sideboard. Lingered there. “There isn’t enough good left in me for her to love.”

“And now you’re being a self-deprecating idiot.” Christopher whisked the pocket watch from Oliver’s hand and dropped it onto the table. “Come on.”

Christopher ignored Oliver’s questions as he led the way down the hallway, up a flight of stairs, and into his room. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a box, unlocked it with a key from his pocket, and flipped open the lid. “How much do you need?”

“Fucking hell, that’s a lot of money!”

“Yes, well, I am exceptionally good at brushing out formal wear. How much money do you need?” he repeated with an impatient glare.

“Thirty-seven pounds,” Oliver begrudgingly replied. “But I can’t take your money.”

“Yes, you bloody well will take my money.” Christopher counted out the relatively small amount and thrust the bills toward Oliver’s chest, waggling his hand when Oliver remained still. “Take it. Gabriel’s brilliant with investments and I’ve spent twenty years taking his advice. I’m not going to miss thirty-seven pounds, but Sofia will miss her brother. So you will take it, pay your debts, and that will be the end of this conversation.”

After a tense moment between them, Oliver accepted the money, shaking his head, then shoved the notes into his pocket. He looked stunned.

“I’ve been nothing but a pain in your arse. Why not use this as an opportunity to be rid of me?”

“Because I love your sister. And because she does need you. Not broken and bloody because of a mistake you made. She needs the brother you were, the one who filled the void left by her parents’ apathy, who cared more for his little sister’s fragile heart than his own adolescent amusements. And don’t try to tell me that man is gone because you are as soft for Sofia as you ever were. You just lost the ability to be that person for a little while. But I see him, and I’m not going to stand by and let you forget what it is to be him. Not ever. So take the fucking money and stop arguing with me.”

“Christopher.”