The Duke's Christmas Greetings (Regency Christmas Summons Book 3) (24 page)

Mr. Lentz choked and his expression sobered. “No.” His voice sounded just as rough as hers had. “Perhaps we'd better get back to Simkin the Dashing and his plans of debauchery…” He trailed off and it sounded oddly as he said something about discussing Simkin's depraved ambitions was safer than discussing his own genuine ones.

Daphne bit her lip and the blood thundered in her ears anew. Except this time it didn't send a thrill of excitement through her body as it had earlier. Instead, it was a wave of mortification at having just ruined any favorable thoughts he might have had toward her. She nearly snorted.
Why did that even matter?
She wasn't going to marry him. Especially now that she'd all but accused him of being a debaucher of innocents. “Don't you have somewhere else you need to be?” She did: anywhere but there.

Mr. Lentz folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “No. Not until I find out what happens to Simkin the Dashing.”

“He didn't survive,” she said flatly. “The kings found him and ordered him a punishment worthy of any such immoral and devious man: drawn and quartered.”

Aaron winced. “Bloodthirsty wench.”

“Didn't you know all of my sex are bloodthirsty,” she teased, reaching for the deck.

Aaron's hand covered hers. “I don't believe they all are.” He gave her hand a slight squeeze. “Now that I know how the tale ends, I'm curious to know how Simkin is caught.”

Daphne sighed. “I don't think—”

“Sometimes that happens to me, too,” he cut in with a quick grin. “I shouldn't have said what I said so soon. So let's call this even, shall we?”

“So soon?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled and he sent his left shoulder up in a lopsided shrug. “Your trick, Miss Daphne.”

“Right, my trick—” she licked her lips— “your hand.”

Mr. Lentz removed his hand from hers, but not before running the tips of his fingers over her knuckles.

Daphne cleared her throat. “When word of Simkin's betrayal reached the kings—”

“Who were feasting on turtle soup.”

“And enjoying it far more than we,” Daphne added. “They were furious and four of them who had somehow learned the secret of reincarnation, or perhaps knew how to travel through time, decided to go after Simkin and capture him.”

Daphne picked up the top card. “King Louis the Fourteenth, decided to search the lowlands.” She shoved it in toward the bottom of the deck, then picked up the next card on top. “King James, decided to ride to the middle of the continent.” She pushed that card in the middle of the deck and picked up another from the top. “King George the Fourth grumbled about it since he
is
the reigning monarch, after all, but eventually agreed to ride fifty miles from his palace.” She pushed that card back into the deck near the top. “And King Henry the Eighth. Well, he was too ill to actually ride, so he stayed at the palace to wait for their return.

“With three such strong and skilled kings on his trail, Simkin was soon captured and brought to the palace where King Henry the eighth was waiting! King Henry ordered the alarms to be sounded and messengers be sent out to find the other kings.” Vaguely aware her voice was getting louder and she was adding more emphasis than was really necessary, she continued on. “One by one the other three kings returned until they were outside the closed doors to the gate that surrounded the palace where they were made to knock on the door...” Using her knuckle, she gave three gentle taps top of the deck, then one by one, overturned the top five cards to reveal the four kings and the scoundrel jack Simkin the Dashing.

Aaron clapped his hands together twice. “Impressive.”

Daphne wasn't sure if he really was impressed or just saying that. Nor could she bring herself to ask him. “Do you know any tricks?”

“None that are nice.”

“The one where you send them all to the floor?” At his nod, she scrunched up her nose. “My father taught me that trick.”

“But not to shuffle?”

She took a slim stack of cards from the front of the deck and moved them to the back. She used her forefinger and her middle finger to grab up about an inch worth of cards from the middle and systematically dropped a few in the front of the deck and a few in the back. “Perhaps he thought it would make my husband happy that I couldn't gamble away his money like my mother did.”

Something about her words hit Aaron right in the gut. “You can do such an impressive card trick, but you can't shuffle a deck. Aren’t you a mystery?” he mused, with a grin, still racking his brain to make sense of what she'd said and how to fix it.

“I’m glad you think so. I’d hate for all of my secrets to be on display.”

“So would I. It'll be far more enjoyable to discover them all slowly.” There he went saying something he shouldn't again. Unfortunately, he couldn't stop himself from doing so when she was around. Something about her drew the boldness right out of him.

“My my, are you always so forward, Mr. Lentz?”

“No.” His eyes stayed locked with hers. “Only with you.”

That pretty faint pink blush from earlier stained her cheeks again. “And what is it about me that makes me so special?”

“You're you.”

Daphne idly played with the deck of cards in her hand. “I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not, Mr. Lentz.”

“I'd be delighted to clarify that if you'll refrain from referring to me as Mr. Lentz.”

“That is your name, is it not?”

“It is.” He smiled. “But so is Aaron.”

She lifted the cards in her left hand and let them slowly fall to her open right palm. “Would your middle name be Forward, perhaps?”

“If you'd like it to be, it can.” He shrugged and reached his leg toward the hem of her skirt. She wanted to call him forward, he could be forward. “I'd prefer if you'd call me Aaron instead of Forward; but I'll take whatever you're willing to use as long as it's not Mr. Lentz.”

“And why should I call you by your Christian name?”

“Other than because I gave you leave to do so?”

She nodded.

“Calling me Mr. Lentz. It makes me feel like an old man.”

Daphne pinched her lips together to hold in the laughter that was threatening to break free. It was a hard task, to be sure.

“I already know you think I'm one—” he flashed her his devilishly handsome grin— “but perhaps calling me Aaron will help you forget.”

“I never said I thought you were an old man.”

He arched a single brow. “Never said it, but did you think it?”

Daphne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, whether it was because their talk was making her uncomfortable or because his foot had somehow made its way under her skirt and his ankle had brushed hers, she didn't know. “Well...er...” She trailed off, her mind unable to form a coherent thought with what was going on below the table.

“So you
do
think I'm old.”

“No. I...um—” Her words died on her lips as a wide grin split his face.

Winking at her, he said, “It's all right. I
am
old.” He ran the tip of his index finger over the faint lines that fanned out around his eyes. “But not as old as I look.”

“Well, that's good, you look to be at least fifty.”

“So young?” Grinning, he bobbed his head as if he were bowing to her. “Why thank you.”

This time Daphne couldn't stop her laughter any more than she could stop the spring rain. “I do hope you know I was only jesting.”

“Oh.” Mr. Lentz, or Forward, as was a more appropriate name for him, twisted his lips into such an overstretched frown his row of bottom teeth showed. “I didn't realize. Unfortunately, I wasn't jesting...”

Finally spending more than ten years as a vicar and hearing delicate matters had a reward! Aaron schooled his features to look impassive while the fetching young lady seated across from him moved her lips, but made no sound.

He wasn't fifty. At least not yet. He would be one day, but he still had more than a decade to reach that rank. But she didn't need to know that quite yet.

“May I ask just how old you are?”

“You may ask.” Aaron set his foot back on the floor where it was safer, then held his hands out for the deck of cards. “But keep in mind my dignity and pride.”

“And tender sensibilities,” Daphne teased, handing him the cards.

“Yes, those, too.” Aaron shuffled the deck. “I was born in seventeen seventy-eight.”

Silence momentarily enveloped them.

“That makes you thirty eight.”

“No, not yet,” Aaron said in mock indignation. He shuffled the cards again then before pushing together the two stacks of cards that were merged in the middle, he lifted his thumbs, and used his fingers that were under the cards to push them up like a bridge and let them shuffle again from bottom to top.  “But I will be on December thirtieth.”

“Oh, forgive me for aging you.”

“I'll consider it,” Aaron said, plunking down the deck of cards in front of Daphne. “But for now I'll teach you how to shuffle.”

Daphne was in trouble. Deep trouble.

And it had nothing to do with the current interrogation being conducted by Jane...

It took every ounce of determination Daphne possessed to keep a straight face and act disinterested when Jane asked her about her card game, and then consequently her luncheon seated next to Aaron.

A delicious tingle ran up her spine at the memory of his low voice whispering against her ear and his hands over top of hers as he taught her how to shuffle a deck of cards.

“I'll take that to mean you had an enjoyable time,” Jane said, a broad smile spreading her lips and a glint of laughter in her brown eyes.

“Well, of course. He didn't threaten to eat me at luncheon.”

“No, I'm sure he'd rather expend his energy in other ways,” Jane murmured. She cleared her throat. “Do you think you'd enjoy his company for more than just a card game or meals?”

Daphne frowned. Was Jane trying to marry her off to the first bidder, too? Surely if anyone would understand not wanting to be forced off on someone it'd be Jane. “I've only just met him yesterday!” Never mind that he'd already given her leave to use his Christian name and she'd certainly not admit to anyone that his very presence brought her entire being to life.

“Yes, I know you hardly know him.” Jane's tone was quiet. She tilted her head to the side. “I only asked if you'd like to spend time a little more time with him—not a lifetime. But now that you mention it...”

Daphne's top teeth dug into her bottom lip. She hardly knew anything about Aaron other than he was a shameless flirt and nearly twenty years older than her. She frowned. That alone would be enough for her brother Michael to refuse his suit.

“Perhaps you'd enjoy a sleigh ride with Mr. Lentz tomorrow afternoon?”

“Oh.” Daphne's heart slammed in her chest and her pulse quickened. When had he asked Jane for permission to take her on a sleigh ride? Or had he? “Did he ask your permission?”

Jane just smiled. “Yes, you goose.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“What was I supposed to tell him?” Jane inquired, pulling a hairpin from her bun.

That brought Daphne up short. What
was
Jane
supposed
to have said?

Jane slid another pin from her hair, making her long hair fall all around her. “Do you want to go?”

Yes
. “I shouldn't.”

“Shouldn't?” Jane set her hairpins on her vanity. “Is there something about Mr. Lentz you find disagreeable?”

“No.”

Jane waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, so then you find him too agreeable.”

“No!” Daphne choked. She cleared her throat, flushing. “I just meant—” She shook her head and flopped down on her sister's bed. “I don't know.”

“He's quite handsome, isn't he?”

Daphne couldn't argue that. An image of his high cheekbones, chiseled jaw, faint lines in his face and sparsely greying temples flashed in her mind. “In a...mature sort of way, yes.”

Jane idly twisted a lock of her mahogany hair. “I think he's handsome.”

“He is,” Daphne agreed.