Compromising Kessen (Vandenbrook #1)(66)

“For yelling? At me?” Duncan moved to stand in front of Christian and crossed his arms. “This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you're falling in love with her, would it?”

Christian lost the ability to breathe as Nick and Duncan both brought their attention to his rapidly coloring face.

“Wh-a-at?” he managed to croak, all the while pulling at his suddenly too tight shirt. How did they know? How could they tell? It wasn't as if he had a sign plastered across his forehead, or did he? Is this how men acted when they were in love? Totally crazy, as if they would snap at any minute? And, goodness, somebody open a window. He made a sudden move to the front door but was stopped by two large bodies with equally large grins.

“You can run,” Duncan said.

“But you can't hide,” Nick, mouth still full, finished.

“I'm not.”

His denial was followed by Duncan looking heavenward as if a bolt of lightning would drop at any minute.

Nick, sensing Duncan’s distress, moved quickly away from Christian, just in case a lightning bolt was to drop. But he wasn't lying, not really. He was merely hot, and what was that earlier he was thinking about checking on? Oh yes, the vegetable garden.

“I need to go … outside.” He swallowed out of habit, even though his mouth had suddenly gone dry as a desert.

Duncan moved out of the way. “By all means.” He pointed towards the door in amusement.

Christian, in all his haste and irrational panic, didn’t notice the door was locked until he slammed into it.

“Son of a—” He let out a yell, immediately followed by Lady Newberry’s warning, “My Lord, please do something about your language. There are ladies present!”

A door slammed.

Christian looked guiltily towards Nick and Duncan, but they were pointing at him in order to corroborate his guilt.

If this was any clue as to how his night would turn out, he needed to seek out something stronger than tea, and fast.

He pushed past his deceitful friends in search of a drink.





Chapter Twenty-Six


Kessen was not doing well.

The embarrassing altercation with Christian in the hallway had completely unsettled her nerves, not to mention the fact that the entire household, her grandmother included, had heard their little exchange. She had at that point prayed a sinkhole would appear in the middle of the stairway and suck her down with the rest of the household.

She waited in vain.

The hours sitting in the large salon slowly ticked by while she stood next to Christian like a statue. Granted, he must have been sweating a lot more than she, considering he was the one with his voice raised. And in all honesty, it wasn’t that he had raised his voice, but that they had come dangerously close to having the talk.

The conversation every couple has when they become consciously aware they are falling harder and faster than they had originally planned.

She had never made it past this part of a relationship, and frankly, it terrified her straight out of her wits. Her grandmother continued to pour small glasses of wine for her, concerned she was perhaps nervous about the wedding night.

Hardly, is what she wanted to say, but then again that wouldn’t be ladylike; if anything the wedding night would ease some of the tension between her and Christian. At least she hoped it would; it would either do that or fan the already out-of-control flame, which continued to light up every time they touched each other.

Kessen had to sit and watch as her grandmother did her own hair and discussed who would be present at the ball. About two hours into the conversation, Kessen realized she hadn’t been listening at all and had at some point been led to one of the seats next to her grandmother to have her hair arranged.

A maid came up behind her and laid a black mask with blue feathers across her lap. “What’s this?”

Her grandmother chuckled as she powdered her nose, “Oh dear, I knew you weren’t listening to a word I was saying. It’s Christian, isn’t it? I knew he would distract you. If I were a little younger, cupcake, I’d probably be just as entranced as you. Your grandfather was quite the looker in his day too. He and I used to—”

“Grandmother, please spare me the details and explain why I have a mask in my lap.”

Lady Newberry blew a kiss at her own reflection in the mirror and began fastening her gloves. “Well, cupcake, if you had been listening, you would know. The ball is a masquerade.”

Kessen fought to hide her excitement. It was like her fairy tale come true. It took everything in her not to squeal with delight and dance around the room with a giant grin on her face.

But her grandmother was still talking. “And I’m not sure how he did it, but he managed to pull it off so everyone in attendance, even if they didn’t get the message, will receive a mask at the door, so no one will be recognizable. It makes me wonder if he did it for you?”

“Did what for me? Whom are we talking about?” Kessen’s silly grin was still plastered to her face as she rose from her seat to grab her dress.

“The future duke, of course,” Lady Newberry scolded. “It was his idea to do a masquerade—something about Vandenbrook tradition before a wedding.” She stretched her arms in a catlike manner and yawned. “I do not presume to know the minds of men. I only nod my head and smile. It’s all they expect a senile woman like myself to do.”