Page 56 of The Hidden Heart

“I was not—” Richard shouted, then cut himself off abruptly, clenching his jaw and balling his hands into fists. It astonished him how much he wanted to grab Jessica and shake her. Why did she have to be so difficult? So stubborn? So infinitely desirable?

He took a moment to pull himself back under control, then went on in a lower voice. “What I did or did not plan to do is really none of your business, Miss Maitland. Nor are the state of my house and the feelings of my servants, who, by the way, are well treated and quite loyal.”

“Indeed, they are,” Jessica agreed. “And that is precisely why they are so sad and concerned. They worry about you and your sorrow. They know how low you have been, and how near to—”

“Nonsense!”

Jessica gazed back at him blandly. “How do you think I leaped so quickly to the conclusion that you planned to shoot yourself the other night? It was because of the concern of your servants.”

He stepped back, his brows drawing together. “No, they could not know.”

“Of course they know. Servants know everything. This house is their world, and you are at the center of it. Their very livelihood depends upon you. Of course they know your moods, your feelings. Moreover, your servants are quite fond of you.”

“Not fond enough, apparently, to follow my orders,” he retorted. “They knew I did not want these abominable decorations all over the house.” He cast a black glance at the holiday greenery over the mantel.

“I would have said cheerful, rather than abominable. However, the fact is that they did not ignore your orders. When I questioned them, it turned out that it was fully two years ago that you had told them not to. So I pointed out that if it were still important to you, you would have told them this year, and since you had not…”

“Miss Maitland, I will thank you not to be educating my servants on ways to get around my orders.”

“I merely pointed out that it would be unreasonable to expect people not to celebrate Christmas for years upon end.”

“You are treading on dangerous ground here.”

“Indeed? Well, Your Grace, unlike your servants, I do not live in fear of you or your moods. And I am certainly not going to pretend that you are reasonable about this whole Christmas issue when you clearly are not.”

“My people are not afraid of me.”

“No, they are afraid of hurting you. They are afraid of pushing you over the edge. They are afraid—”

“All right! I understand your point. But I am master of this house. I do have the right to decide what will or will not be put up in it.”

“You have no right to deny everyone else the joys of the Christmas season. There are your guests to think of, stuck here far from their homes during Christmas.”

“I did not invite them. They are a damned nuisance, and I wish they would all leave.”

“I am sure you do, but they cannot. So they must make the best of it, and I would think you could do the same. You certainly do not have the right to deny Christmas joy to Gabriela. She has been through enough. She should not have to spend her Christmas sunk in a black mood simply because you are too selfish to let anyone around you be happy.” Jessica was warming up to the argument now, her blood pumping fiercely through her, energy flooding her.

“How dare you?” Cleybourne took a long step toward her, light flaring in his eyes.

Jessica drew herself up, meeting his ire head-on instead of stepping back, and said, “I dare because it is the truth. The sight of Christmas things makes you unhappy, so you forbid them to everyone else in the house. Not just for one year or even two, but for four years.”

“I do not forbid them Christmas. They are welcome to—”

“Where? How? Your servants live here, they work here. There is church, I suppose, where they could find some little bit of cheer and happiness. Otherwise, their only choice is to leave your employ, and they are all far too fond of you for that. However, Gabriela does not work for you, and neither do I. Why should she have to endure the same restricted life that you and your servants do? I see no reason for Gabriela to miss what joy she can find in the Christmas season because you are too coldhearted to allow a few bows and bits of greenery to be hung about the house.”

“A few bows and bits of greenery? The place is covered in them!” Richard growled. He felt ready to explode with rage. This woman was the greatest damn nuisance he had ever met, and all the time he was looking at her, he kept remembering bits and pieces of the night before—how soft the orb of her breast was beneath his hand, and how her breath had caught in her throat when he toyed with her nipple. He could imagine her legs locked around his back as he sank deep inside her.

Richard whipped around, pacing away from her, struggling to control his voice. Finally he turned and said in a lower tone, “And, may I remind you, while I may not employ Miss Carstairs or you, I am her guardian.”

“You have given up your guardianship.”

He fixed her with a piercing glare. “Until I have turned it over to someone else, I am her guardian. And you are both residing in my house.”

His words hung on the air as Jessica said nothing, merely regarded him for a long moment. Richard began uncomfortably to realize that what he had just said sounded overbearing, even faintly like a threat.

“I realize that we are here on your sufferance,” Jessica replied, looking at him in a way that spoke of anything but submission. “And, of course, if you choose to have your servants take down the Christmas decorations, there is nothing Gabriela or I can do to change it. I will, of course, explain your position to Gabriela. However, if you want the vast amount of greenery and bows taken down, it is your servants you need to speak to, not me. As you pointed out, I have no control over them. I suggest you tell them to take everything down.”

Jessica looked back at him challengingly. She thought she knew the Duke of Cleybourne well enough to know that he would not, in the end, have the heart to disappoint his servants by telling them to take down the decorations.