The Duke and Miss Christmas (9 page)

In the adjoining dining room a buffet table that had been draped with white linen was overflowing with beautifully arranged platters of fowl, fish, and lamb. There were thick slices of bread and cheese, china bowls filled with pickled vegetables, preserved fruits, and mountains of sugary pastries for all the guests to enjoy at their leisure.

Some people danced to the lively music that played while others talked and laughed in small groups or as intimate couples in faraway corners. Gwen had participated in some of the festivities during the course of the evening, but mostly she'd stayed where she could watch the ballroom doorway. The duke had said he was coming, but the hour was growing late, guests had started to leave, and Crispin hadn't arrived.

Gwen hadn't seen him since their afternoon alone on the knoll when they had become one. Five long days and even longer nights because there was nothing to occupy her thoughts in the darkness but the duke and their time together on the knoll. She'd received one note from him the day after that afternoon saying nothing other than he looked forward to seeing her Christmas Eve at Drakestone.

Suddenly Gwen gasped as a pair of small arms wrapped around her waist. “You've got to help us,” Bonnie cried.

Gwen looked down at her sister's face. “What's this, young lady? Are those tears I see swimming in your eyes?”

“Louisa said it's time for me, Sybil, and Lillian to go to our rooms. We can't wait any longer to see the duke and show him how we decorated the ballroom.” She sniffed. “Sybil says it's not fair we can't stay up longer. And she's right. She wants you to tell Louisa to let us stay until the duke gets here so we can see him.”

Gwen's heart broke for her sisters. They had worked so hard putting out every piece of greenery they had collected. But Gwen also realized she was angry at the duke. How could he disappoint little girls? And on the eve of Christmas Day.

He'd lied to her when he said he always had time for family.

Why had she trusted him?

“Will you tell her we can stay up?” Bonnie asked.

With her thumb, Gwen wiped the wetness from the corners of Bonnie's eyes. “You know I cannot tell Louisa anything. This is her house. She is the oldest sister and we all must obey her. She has already let you stay at the ball long over what's proper for children.”

“But we've been good.”

Gwen smiled sadly. She was deeply wounded by Crispin, too. “You've been very good. But we don't even know if the duke is coming.”

“He is,” Bonnie insisted. “I know he is. He said he was.”

Then where is he?

“We wanted to show him how we decorated the ballroom with all the clippings he helped us gather.”

Gwen had wanted that, too. Her heart felt as if it had dropped to her feet when she looked at the large clock on the side table and saw that midnight had long passed. It was already Christmas Day.

He wasn't coming. Maybe he'd never planned to attend.

Suddenly she was fighting an overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry herself. She inhaled a deep breath and let her anger against the duke grow instead.

“But he's not here, Bonnie. I don't…” She hesitated. “I don't think he's coming. Some guests are already leaving. And you know even I have to obey Louisa. If she says it's time for you to go up to bed, you must.”

Bonnie's bottom lip quivered for a moment before she said, “I know he's coming. He said he would. So when he gets here, will you tell him we're sorry to have missed seeing him?” She turned and ran, disappearing into the crowd.

An aching knot formed in Gwen's chest. She should have known she couldn't trust a scoundrel. It was one thing for the duke to lie to her, to hurt and abandon her, but doing this to her sisters was unforgivable. She would see the duke again someday, perhaps in London during the Season, and she would not let him forget what he did this night.

Suddenly the music was too loud, the conversations going on around her too boisterous. Why had Crispin ruined this night for her sisters?

Why had she given her heart, her love, to him? Why had she let him kiss her and touch her and allow her to feel so many wonderful pleasurable sensations when she knew he was a scoundrel? He'd admitted it the first day they'd met. She knew better.

Only she was to blame. He hadn't tried to fool her. Her eyes had been wide open, so why did she feel jilted? Yes, he'd told her she was the woman he'd been waiting for, but he hadn't professed love or offered marriage. She should have known that while his kisses meant everything to her they meant nothing to him, but she had wanted to believe he loved her. All her womanly senses told her he did. She knew his reputation, yet she'd fallen in love with him and had succumbed to his charms as if she'd never heard a disparaging word about him, because that was what her heart was telling her.

“Here we go, Miss Prim. I brought you a cup of punch and”—Mr. Tweedy stopped and gave her a shrug and a smile—“a small offering of flowers I pilfered from the urn over in the corner for the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Gwen cringed inside. The last thing she wanted to do right now was accept a stolen bouquet and listen to Mr. Tweedy ramble on about something completely unimportant to her at the moment. Still, manners dictated she be civil.

“That was kind of you, Mr. Tweedy,” she said, and took the flowers in one hand and the cup in the other, though her stomach was in too many knots for her to try to force down even a sip of the punch.

“I just said good night to your sisters. They've been so well behaved this evening.”

His tone indicated he was shocked that they could be and that irritated her, but she let it pass by saying, “They know their manners; they just don't always choose to use them.”

“Yes, I'm sure most children are that way.”

And some adults,
she thought.

“I was just thinking that since it was December 24 when I arrived and now it's December 25 we have now spent two days in a row together.”

Gwen felt her brow wrinkled. “That's almost absurd, Mr. Tweedy.”

“No, no.” He smiled. “Some might start to think that we are getting serious about each other and start rumors that we're about ready to tie the knot.”

Marry Mr. Tweedy?

She had known him for over six months and in all that time she hadn't had one desirous feeling for him, but not for lack of hoping. And now she knew she wasn't going to. The first time she'd stared into the duke's handsome face, she knew within a heartbeat she was attracted to him. Now she loved him with all her being even though he obviously had no affectionate feelings for her. Why had she thought he had? Because when he'd held her and loved her so completely her world seemed perfect.

Gwen stared at Mr. Tweedy's face for a moment. There was no doubt he was a handsome man, a kind man, but he wasn't the man for her. He never would be. And she knew she would never want to marry a man who had no chance of making her feel the way Crispin had, a man who in the course of six months had never tried to kiss her.

Right now, more than anything she wanted to be away from him. The easiest way to do that was to say, “Excuse me, Mr. Tweedy,” so she did, giving the cup back to him. “I think I'd really prefer champagne. Would you mind taking this back and getting me a glass?”

“Not at all,” he said with a wide smile. “I'll be happy to do that for you.”

As soon his back was to her, Gwen turned to walk away and bumped right into the duke's hard chest.

Her stomach tumbled over itself and her legs suddenly felt weak. For an instant she was so happy to see him she wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him. He looked so dashing in his black evening coat, beige quilted waistcoat, and elegantly tied neckcloth.

“Were you and Mr. Tweedy enjoying yourselves?” he asked in somewhat of an accusing tone.

That didn't sit well with Gwen. All her previous anger came rushing back. “More than you can imagine,” she lied with a smile.

“Have you been dancing and flirting with him this evening?”

“And all the other handsome young gentlemen here tonight as well.”

He scowled. “Have you forgotten what we mean to each other so quickly?”

“Have I?” she asked, showing a scowl of her own. “How dare you question what I have been doing for almost five hours when you haven't been here?”

“Come outside with me.”

“What? I will not.”

“I want to show you something.”

He picked up her hand and started pulling her with him out of the room.

Gwen could go quietly and hope no one would notice the duke held her hand or stand her ground and make sure everyone knew. She chose the first option.

They stepped out on the stone floor. He moved her over to the far side of the entrance and out from under the harsh glare of the hanging oil lamps. He pointed toward the sprawling front lawn and said, “Look, I wanted to show you it's snowing.”

“Snowing?”

How dare he come over four hours late to the ball, make her sisters cry, break her heart, and insist she risk her reputation and go outside with him so he could show her it was snowing! Gwen reached up and struck him across the shoulder with the flowers she held. “You brute! How dare you treat my sisters so shabbily and disappoint them? They went to bed crying because of you. They are little girls and promises mean something to them.”

She reached to strike him again.

Chapter 10

Crispin raised his arm to block the flowers that were coming apart as she slapped them across his chest again.

“What? Wait? Give me those flowers.” He wrenched them from her hands and threw then aside. “I watched that magpie steal them from an urn and give them to you as if he'd just plucked them from his own garden.”

“How dare you waltz in here as if you hadn't done anything wrong? And to accuse me of cavorting with Mr. Tweedy.”

“Damnation, Gwen!” he whispered and grabbed hold of her. A prickle of fear that he didn't fully understand caused Crispin to gently squeeze her arms. But he knew he couldn't lose her. “I don't want him touching you. Or anyone else for that matter. Don't you know I was trying my best to get here?”

“No. Why should I know that?”

“Because I promised you and your sisters I'd be here. I am here now.”

“Too late for them. They had to go to bed. You were not here on Christmas Eve.” Her voice cracked, but she kept going. “It's Christmas Day. You made me and my sisters fall in love with you and now you have forsaken all of us!”

“Forsaken? That's quite a damning word, Miss Christmas.”

“It fits!” She whirled away from him. “And don't you dare call me Miss Christmas again. I am Miss Prim to you, Your Grace, and don't forget it.”

No, she was his. She might not be convinced yet, but he was.

“I didn't want to disappoint you or your sisters.” He reached for her, but she stepped back.

“It's a little late to say that, too.” She inhaled deeply and lifted her shoulders. “There is no need for you to stay now. Most of the guests have already left. The girls are in bed and I— I've lost my desire to see you, too.”

Her expression seemed so sincere Crispin felt a rare moment of panic.

“I told you I never wanted to do anything again that I had to spend the rest of my life apologizing for, but it seems I must. I did not want to be late.”

“It matters not to me what you do anymore.”

She turned and walked down the steps and into the snow. He followed and caught hold of her arm and turned her around. She struggled to free herself, but he held her firmly in his grasp. “I rode back to Hurst to see my family. My horse threw a shoe and cost me time on my return journey.”

She stopped struggling and gave him her undivided attention. “Is your mother sick again?”

“No, thankfully she is still fine.”

“Oh, but obviously it was very important for you to return,” she answered sarcastically.

“It was. I had to invite my family to come here for Boxing Day, to hear a special announcement I'll be making, and they've agreed.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a gold ring with a sparkling sapphire set in the middle of it. “And I needed this. My father gave it to my mother the day they married. She took it off the day she remarried and gave it to me to give it to the woman I loved and wanted to marry.”

Gwen gasped and she looked from the ring to him. “Marry?”

“I didn't want to ask you to be my wife until I had this with me. I wanted my family here with us when I told them we're getting married. I wanted them to meet you and celebrate with us. Gwen, don't you know by now that not only do I love you and adore you, but you are everything I want my wife to be? You are filled with courage, passion, family loyalty, and—” He stopped and smiled. “The list goes on. Say you'll marry me, Miss Christmas, and be my Christmas bride.”

“Don't you want to know whether I love you before you ask that?”

He felt a leap in his pulse as he watched the snow collect in her hair and fall silently on her soft cheeks. “I knew you were attracted to me the first time we met. You felt it, too. I've watched you fall in love with me ever since. I had no problem recognizing it because I was falling in love with you, too. But now would be a good time for you to confirm that.”

“I love you,” she whispered so intensely it soothed him like a feather-soft blanket. Crispin bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips as he slipped the ring onto her finger. Her arms slid around his neck. He pulled her tightly to his chest and kissed her with all the passion and hunger he was feeling. She matched him kiss for kiss until Crispin lifted his head and whispered, “I haven't heard a yes, yet, Miss Christmas.”

She leaned her face away from his and laughed. The light of love shone in her eyes as she whispered, “Yes, Sir Ogre, I'll marry you.”