The Duke of Christmas Past (5 page)

Then he heard it. Faint but strong. High above the
crescendo of music. His father's voice, and his heart withered and
withdrew deep into his chest.

"…
Baron DeRosso to encourage his daughter
to set her cap for you. But don't mistake your brotherly affection
for Tess Warren as more. Wouldn't want to give the girl false hope.
No, for you nothing less than a duch—"

"And where have you been hiding, your grace?" Tess
asked, pulling him back to the present.

Norcross cackled. A truly undignified racket. "Hiding
indeed, Miss Warren. As if one could hide while wearing such a
flashy tailcoat. Your tailor has outdone himself, your grace. For
surely a strutting peacock with his feathers spread would attract
far less attention."

Lady Ivy gasped. "Please excuse me. I do believe I
hear my mama calling." She barely took time to curtsey before
hurrying away.

Donovan bristled. Heat flooded his face and poured
out his ears. Had the earl gone dicked in the nob? Surely the man
knew to insult a duke was to commit social suicide. He clenched and
unclenched his fist, prepared to knock the smirk from Norcross's
face.

"Lord Norcross, I would so enjoy a cup of Lady
Kringle's famous punch." Tess's voice was shaky, her face pale.

The earl took her hand and kissed it. "Please, allow
me."

Once he was out of earshot, Tess glared at Donovan.
"Were you honestly about to engage in fisticuffs with Lord
Norcross? You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Me? Madam, I am the injured party."

"Well, what did you expect after you provoked him
so?"

"
Me?
Provoke
him
?"

"Yes, you provoked him. You glared at the poor man
the whole time we were dancing. I was quite certain daggers would
fly from your eyes and strike the earl down. What possible reason
do you have for such vulgar behavior?"

Because you married him.
Not that he could
tell her that. The other truth then. That he loved her. "I—"

"No wonder you and Delia always come to blows.
Neither one of you can keep your temper in check. And neither one
of you can be bothered to say you're sorry, even when wr—"

Delia!

Donovan made his way down the row of chairs to the
open door of the conservatory. If memory served, she'd be in there
with that navy officer, Henry McDaniel, listening to him profess
his undying love.

He tsked.

The man had certainly proved how much he cared for
Delia by marrying the youngest daughter of a baron a few months
after the ball. The heartbreak had been too much for his sister and
she'd run off…

He shook his head, trying to clear the image of
Delia's pain from his mind. He'd been right to forbid the two from
marrying. The swine would have spent Delia's inheritance and left
her penniless.

Fists clenched, he stormed through the doorway. It
wasn't hard to spot Delia's red dress and the blue of the young
man's navy uniform among the jungle of foliage that lined the room.
Even knowing he'd find her in the arms of McDaniel didn't ease his
temper, and the sight of the two embracing sent his fury plummeting
into blind madness.

Slapping twigs and leaves aside, he advanced toward
the unsuspecting pair, removing his gloves as he reached them.
Without warning, Donovan swooped down on his prey and punched
McDaniel, unleashing all the hurt and rage he'd carried toward the
man on Delia's behalf for eight years. McDaniel stumbled backward
and crashed to the floor, taking a potted plant with him.

"Henry!" his sister screamed as she dropped to the
fallen man's side and helped him sit up. "Look what you did. His
eye is already swelling shut."

Donovan stood transfixed, shocked and humiliated that
he'd let his emotions trigger such barbaric conduct. What had he
done? How had he come back to the past and made things infinitely
worse than before? He'd known full well what would happen, had
lived it — still lived it every day. But instead of the knowledge
working to his advantage, it was a hindrance. The scene he'd caused
would be the talk of the
ton
for the next month. His mother
would be beside herself when she found out.

"Let's go, Delia. I'm taking you home." If he could
just get her away from here, away from McDaniel, maybe he could
reason with her and convince her not to make a hasty decision.

Delia stood and glared at him, a defiant gleam in her
eyes. "I'm not going to just leave Henry. I love him. You can't
make me."

"You should do as your brother says, Delia. I'm fine.
Go on home." He touched the area surrounding his right eye and
winced.

She sat back down and took his hands. "No. I won't
leave you."

"Donovan!" Tess yelled.

"Have you gone quite mad, Gatewood?"

Donovan wheeled around. Lord Norcross stood in the
doorway, glaring at him. Tess averted her gaze and hurried to help
Delia, but not before he saw the disapproval radiating from her
liquid blue eyes. Had the earl's arm been around her waist?

He'd lost Tess to Norcross. Eight years of living
with that finally boiled over. He unleashed it on Norcross with a
vengeance, hitting the earl full force in the nose.

Lord Norcross jerked back, staggered, grabbed the
doorjamb, and kept his feet. Glaring, he whipped out a handkerchief
and dabbed at his bloody nose. Then he threw down the soiled linen
and drew his arm back, coming at Donovan. The gentlemanly thing to
do was to let Norcross have the satisfaction of landing a blow in
return, to take the punch. But he was past the point of feeling
generous tonight. So just as Norcross swung, he ducked and
uncoiled, driving his fist into the man's face. Blood spewed, and
the earl crumbled to the floor, holding his nose.

Donovan shook his hand and cursed violently. An
intense sting burned his hand to the bone. Oh but it was a good,
satisfying sort of hurt. Probably he'd just broken his knuckles.
And it had been worth it—

A sharp pain spiked through his shin — the one Past
Duke had kicked earlier — and he grabbed his leg.

"That was for Henry." Delia had jumped to her feet.
She drew her foot back. "And this is for me."

Donovan whirled around and danced back. An inch; his
poor bruised shin escaped by an inch. "Stop that, you hoyden!"

There was a loud whoosh, and then his skull split in
two, sending him spiraling into darkness.

****

Donovan's senses prickled at his consciousness,
pulling him awake. People chattered in hushed tones, pottery pieces
pinged as they clanked against each other, probably a maid cleaning
up the broken pot, and ever so quietly, music played. Something
cool and soft dabbed at his forehead. His eyes fluttered open, and
Tess's face swam into view.

"It serves you right," she scolded, pressing a cold
compress to his cheek.

"W-w-what happened?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Lord Norcross took
exception to your unfounded attack on his person and broke a chair
over your head."

Over her shoulder, Lord Kringle tsked. "I expect this
type of behavior from Paisley. But you, Gatewood?"

The thrumming in his skull made it impossible for him
to speak, much less express regret to his host for such behavior.
He tried to sit up. Searing pain shot through his head and he
groaned.

"Take it easy. You took a nasty blow to the head."
Tess tried to push him back down, but he wanted none of it and sat
up.

The room swirled in every direction, making him sick
at his stomach, and he dropped his head in his hands. He definitely
should have stayed down longer. Almost wished he was still
unconscious. Then he wouldn't have to face what an utter fool he'd
been, how shamefully he'd acted.
Let me wake up. I beg you, have
mercy and let this nightmare end now.

"I say! You've gone quite pale, Gatewood. Best I send
for the doctor," Lord Kringle said.

"That's very gracious, but not necessary. I'll be
fine in a moment." He'd created enough scandal for one night. It
was past time that he leave.

He glanced around. "Where's Delia?"

"I'm sorry, Donovan. She left."

"Of course she did. Do you know where she went?"

Tess bit her lip. "Promise you'll hold your temper
when I tell you."

He knew. Heaven above, he knew where they'd gone. And
it was all his fault. To say he'd made a mull of it was putting it
lightly. "They headed to Gretna Green, didn't they?"

She sighed. "Delia said it was the only way, because
you'd never consent to letting them marry."

Cursing under his breath, he staggered to his feet.
"Lord Kringle, would you be so kind as to have my carriage brought
around and see that Miss Warren gets home safely."

"The footman is already fetching the coach and my
wrap," Tess said, handing him his hat and gloves. "I'm coming with
you."

"I appreciate the offer, but—"

"You've just sustained a nasty injury to the head and
could very well have a concussion. You are in no condition to
travel alone." She pulled her gloves on. "Not to mention that when
you find Delia, she's going to be in no mood to listen to you."

Guilt stabbed at his conscience. Her reputation had
already been tarnished tonight because of him. The last thing he
wanted was to cause her more scandal. But what if he never saw her
again? Things with Delia had already turned out far worse than they
had the first time he'd attended this blasted ball. Now that he
knew what he'd be losing, the thought of letting Tess out of his
sight — out of his life — was unbearable.

Maybe that's what he deserved.

No good had ever come from this blasted holiday. Past
Duke had told him he had to come back to fix the future, and he'd
tried, truly he had. But just as she'd done the first time on
Christmas Eve in 1812, Delia had run off with McDaniel.

Soft laughter drew his attention. In the seat across
from him, Tess had propped her arm against the side of the carriage
and placed the back of her hand over her mouth.

"May I ask what you find so amusing?"

Tess wiped the tears from her eyes. "Do forgive me,
Gatewood. But surely you see the irony? You've worried since Delia
had her début that she'd somehow cause a scandal. Yet… yet… oh the
look on Lord Kringle's face when he saw you unconscious on the
floor of the conservatory — and then when he saw the chair
splintered on the floor, he turned as white as my pelisse. I could
barely contain my mirth when the poor man said, 'I say, Lady
Kringle will be in a state over her hall chair.' But when Delia
told him you'd be more than happy to reimburse him if he'd send an
itemized accounting of the damages, I had to bite my tongue to keep
from laughing out loud."

Donovan narrowed his eyes. "She said what?"

"Come to think of it, I believe she mentioned you'd
buy two new chairs so Lady Kringle would have a matching set."

"Two chairs — madam, I was the injured party, in case
you've forgotten," he snapped.

She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her
brows. "But you started it."

"I did nothing of the sort! That imbecile Norcross
insulted me then accosted me when I had my back turned!"

"You punched him in the nose — twice. And attacked
poor Mr. McDaniel for no reason." She tsked. "You really should
learn to control your temper."

Donovan gritted his teeth and slapped the palm of his
left hand with his gloves. "Innocent indeed. I found him all but
having his way with my sister. What sort of man carries on secret
liaisons with innocent girls? Delia's but a child who just had her
come-out. What was I supposed to do?"

"But he loves Delia. And she loves him."

He snorted. "Loves her. A respectable man wouldn't
have left the Kringles' ball with her, causing a scandal."

"Need I remind you that the scandal tonight was
entirely of your doing? And what should the poor man have done? Let
her leave alone, possibly coming to harm?"

Bile rose in his stomach, burned. He knew all too
well what harm awaited Delia in a few short months if he didn't
find a way to set things right.

"And furthermore, Mr. McDaniel didn't run off with
Delia, but ran
after
her."

He waved his hand in the air. "Irrelevant. If what
you say is true, then the honorable thing for McDaniel to have done
is to see Delia home safely. Furthermore, I—"

"Henry McDaniel is the fourth son of Earl Ralston.
It's commendable that he sought his own income by joining the navy.
Delia told me he asked for her hand right after her début and you
refused him—"

"Yet he still pursues her behind my back and against
my wishes!"

"Has he any other choice?"

"He—" Donovan clamped his mouth shut and slapped his
leg with his gloves. Trying to reason with Tess was proving to be
as effective as arguing with Past Duke.

She sighed. "I do believe you've taken it into your
head to dislike Mr. McDaniel for no other reason than his affection
for Delia."

"That's preposterous! I—"

The carriage lurched. Donovan's head bumped against
the window. He hissed and let out a curse, grabbing the back of his
head.

Tess leaned forward and picked up his hat, placing it
on her seat. Then she crossed to sit beside him and pulled off her
gloves. Her soft fingers gripped his head and pushed his chin
aside. "Let me see. You really should have permitted Lord Kringle
to send for the doctor."

The gentle touch of her fingers as she ran them
through his hair and inspected his injury made him shiver. Her warm
breath against his neck sent an electric current pulsing through
him, making him forget the throbbing in his head. Innocent though
her ministrations were, the passion they aroused combined with the
eight years of pining after her had him burning with desire. The
dam broke, and the floodgate of suppressed emotions and sensual
craving swept logic and willpower away. He twisted and pressed her
against the seat.