Holiday Reunion (Dukes of War Book 8)

by Erica Ridley

  Copyright © 2018 Erica Ridley

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design © Teresa Spreckelmeyer

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  A Dukes of War Holiday Reunion

  Second Epilogue Bonus Story

  Erica Ridley

  Contents

  Also by Erica Ridley

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Thank You For Reading

  Lord of Chance

  Sneak Peek

  Once Upon a Duke

  Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Also by Erica Ridley

  Rogues to Riches:

  Lord of Chance

  Lord of Pleasure

  Lord of Night

  Lord of Temptation

  Lord of Secrets

  Lord of Vice

  * * *

  Dukes of War:

  The Viscount’s Tempting Minx

  The Earl’s Defiant Wallflower

  The Captain’s Bluestocking Mistress

  The Major’s Faux Fiancée

  The Brigadier’s Runaway Bride

  The Pirate's Tempting Stowaway

  The Duke's Accidental Wife

  * * *

  The 12 Dukes of Christmas:

  Once Upon a Duke

  Kiss of a Duke

  Wish Upon a Duke

  Never Say Duke

  Dukes, Actually

  The Duke’s Bride

  The Duke’s Embrace

  The Duke’s Desire

  Dawn With a Duke

  One Night With a Duke

  Ten Days With a Duke

  Forever Your Duke

  Author’s Note

  New to the Dukes of War? Please note that the following holiday story inherently contains spoilers for previous books in the series, as it takes place after those events.

  Grab a FREE copy of The Viscount’s Tempting Minx, the first romance in the series, at your favorite ebook vendor!

  * * *

  Long-time friends: Thank you so much for joining me on this adventure! I have had such a blast helping the Dukes of War overcome adversity (and sometimes themselves!) on their journeys to love. So much has changed in their lives, and yet one thing remains constant: their friendship.

  It has been so much fun to join up with them again to share one more holiday together. I hope you love being a part of their circle as much as I do.

  * * *

  To all readers: Join the VIP list at http://ridley.vip for a free book, plus a first look at what’s coming next, as well as giveaways and prizes throughout the year!

  If you have Facebook, the Dukes of War reader group can be found at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/DukesOfWar/

  * * *

  Happy reading!!

  xoxo,

  Erica

  24 December, 1820

  Ravenwood House

  London, England

  * * *

  The Duke of Ravenwood strode into the entryway of his sprawling London residence to discover his wife waiting for him just inside the door.

  “This flower reminds me of you.” He handed her a perfect rose he’d plucked from his greenhouse.

  Eyes twinkling, Kate pointed at a spot above his head. “And this reminds me of you.”

  Ravenwood glanced up to discover himself standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe. He wasted no time in slanting his mouth over hers for a kiss. In fact… by his calculation, at least half an hour remained before their friends began arriving for the Christmas Eve celebrations. If they were swift, surely there was enough time to—

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Kate warned him, as she broke the kiss with a laugh.

  He affected an angelic expression. “How could you possibly know?”

  “Because I’m thinking the same thing.” She pressed her lips to the edge of his jaw and murmured, “Tonight. After the party.”

  “Parties,” he corrected with a groan. “Remind me why I agreed to this?”

  “Because you love your friends as much as you adore your sister.” She beckoned him into the front parlor, where they would soon be placing a yew tree.

  He followed her into the parlor. Instead of sitting opposite her at the front bay window, he arranged himself to one side so that she could lean back against his chest as they waited for their friends.

  “Are you certain this is respectable behavior, Your Grace?” she asked him with pretend shock.

  He nuzzled her neck. “It’s our house. We don’t have to be respectable.”

  “Thank heavens.” Kate snuggled into him. “How is your sister?”

  “Unflappable,” he replied without hesitation. “Their soirée isn’t until this evening, but I’ll wager she’s already in the ballroom managing every last detail.”

  “I’ll take that wager,” Kate said with a laugh. “Knowing Lady Amelia, she’ll have planned everything so well that there will be nothing left to supervise.”

  Five years ago, Ravenwood’s sister had married Lord Sheffield, whose family had a long tradition of hosting extravagant Yuletide celebrations. For many, it was the fête of the Season, and absolutely not to be missed.

  “Tonight is the eightieth annual Sheffield Christmas Eve ball,” he reminded his wife. “Amelia will definitely be overseeing every aspect.”

  Indeed, the famous soirée was the reason all of their friends were taking a holiday in London. Ravenwood normally did his best to avoid Society crushes, but even he could not pass up an opportunity to see all of his old friends at one time.

  As children, they had been inseparable. The lads had all gone to Eton together, and then Oxford. The girls stayed home to learn how to be ladies, but as soon as they were all old enough to enjoy a London Season, they’d fit together again as if no time had passed at all.

  Until all the men but Ravenwood sailed off to fight Bonaparte.

  “Are you thinking about the war again?” Kate murmured. “It’s Christmastide. The war is over. All of your friends are safe.”

  Even after four-and-a-half years of marriage, his beautiful wife still surprised him with how perceptive she was.

  “I know,” he said.

  He supposed he was “lucky” that unexpectedly inheriting a dukedom had kept him from joining the military with the others.

  They, too, were lucky. They’d come home. Scarred, perhaps, in ways both visible and invisible, but even the ravages of war had not stopped them from finding happiness and true love.

  War had not won. Love was too powerful.

  He held his wife a little tighter. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

  “Not yet,” she teased him. “We can exchange Christmas wishes at midnight, once we’ve decorated the tree and successfully arrived at your sister’s ball.”

  “Don’t let Sheffield hear you calling it Amelia’s ball,” he warned her with a laugh. “It’s his family’s tradition.”

  “She’s a Sheffield now,” Kate protested. “And, I suspect, the primary reason the tradition has continued so brilliantly.”

  “We should have had Amelia arrange our party, too. Where on earth are those footmen?” Ravenwood
glanced over his shoulder at the empty place of honor across the parlor. “Our guests may find it difficult to decorate a tree that doesn’t exist.”

  “It will be fine,” she assured him. “Probably fine. They have been gone a long time.”

  “How reassuring,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  “At least we have the Yule log,” Kate said brightly. “If all else fails…”

  He burst out laughing. “We are not decorating a burning log with candles.”

  “Because of the mess?”

  “Because my sister would never let me live it down,” he admitted. “Besides, how will the Yule log smolder until Twelfth Night if it’s covered in wax?”

  “Be honest,” she prodded him. “You want tonight to be perfect because you’re hoping it will become the First Annual Ravenwood Tree Party.”

  He grinned, rather than respond. His wife already knew she was right.

  As wonderful as it was that he and his friends had found love and settled down, Ravenwood could not help but miss them. Although he would never admit it aloud, he happened to think an annual Tree Party a splendid idea. It would be like picking up where they had left off.

  When the friends were younger, they had gathered every year at Christmastide. As neighbors, it had been nothing but a short walk from one house to the next. The tradition had ceased when most of the group left for battle. Now that the war was over, perhaps it was the perfect time to start a new tradition.

  Kate shot upright. “Someone’s here.”

  Ravenwood’s heart thumped faster at the telltale sound of carriage wheels on the street outside. First a team of matched greys, then a gleaming black coach, came into view.

  “Oliver and Grace!” they said in unison at the sight of the Earl of Carlisle’s family crest upon the carriage.

  “Should we let the butler answer the door?” he asked.

  “Absolutely not.” Her eyes sparkled. “We have to make certain every guest respects the bough of mistletoe above the door.”

  “As you wish.” He helped his wife from the window seat and offered her his elbow. “To the mistletoe.”

  “We should test it again, too,” Kate whispered. “To make sure it’s still working.”

  Ravenwood’s lips quirked. His wife always did have the best ideas.

  Five minutes later, they opened the door flushed with color and displaying a remarkable shortness of breath.

  The Carlisles met them with warm greetings, each carrying a white candle in their hands.

  “I can’t wait to decorate the tree,” Grace exclaimed in her charming American accent. “I hadn’t heard of the custom until I came to England. News of Queen Charlotte’s Christmastide habits didn’t make it to my small town.”

  “You’ll have to wait at least one moment,” Kate said mischievously, and pointed above their heads.

  The Carlisles glanced up, grinned at each other, and immediately busied themselves with a kiss.

  “Now may we see the tree?” Grace asked when she came up for air.

  “It’ll be here soon,” Kate promised. “Let the footmen take your outer garments, and let’s head to the parlor. I’ll show you where we plan to place it.”

  “Where are Lord David and Lady Abigail?” Oliver asked, glancing about.

  “In the nursery,” Ravenwood answered. “You can drop in to see them, but it’s best not to let those two get too close to candles.”

  “Or to cups of tea,” Kate added. “Or rocks. Or grass. Or marmalade.”

  “Someday you’ll find out,” Ravenwood promised Oliver, with a tone of dire warning. “Hide everything you don’t wish to be chewed, thrown, or slobbered upon.”

  As she settled their guests in the parlor, Kate turned to Grace. “Did your mother receive our invitation?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Grace said. “She and Captain Blackheart are off on another adventure.”

  Oliver slanted her a look. “Please use his Christian name.”

  “His pirate name is more romantic,” Grace protested.

  “‘Captain Blackheart’ sounds romantic?” Ravenwood said doubtfully.

  “See?” Oliver grinned. “I’m not the only one.”

  “Men,” Kate stage-whispered to Grace in mock disgust. “Now tell me. Where are the romantic duo off to?”

  “I’m not certain,” Grace admitted. “All Mother said was that a Royal Navy captain has positively identified Antarctica as a land mass. And then they were off.”

  “To Antarctica?” Ravenwood said in disbelief.

  “Probably not,” Grace admitted. “Adventure tends to find them before they get very far.”

  “They’re probably swashbuckling in a Caribbean cave somewhere,” Oliver agreed. “Old habits, and all.”

  More carriage wheels sounded from outside.

  Ravenwood and Kate sprang up from their seats. So did the Carlisles.

  “At ease,” Ravenwood said. “We’ll be right back.”

  “Not on your life,” Grace said with an impish smile. “One ought to witness the magic of mistletoe.”

  They raced to the entryway just as the butler swung the door aside, revealing Edmund and Sarah Blackpool. They had come to London from Maidstone, where most of the group had grown up.

  In one hand, each carried a candle for the tree… and with the other, held hands with one of their identical twin sons.

  “Nursery,” Sarah begged. “These adorable demons have been stuffed in a carriage far too long and desperately need to play.”

  Grace pointed overhead. “First things first.”

  Edmund glanced up and chuckled. “Don’t you know that kissing is exactly how all this starts?”

  “House rules,” Kate said firmly, not even bothering to hide her mirth. “Or none shall pass.”

  They exchanged a kiss hotter than the flames of a Yule log.

  Sarah wagged her finger at Kate. “I hope you have twins.”

  “How could you,” she gasped, clutching a hand to her chest. “I thought we were friends.”

  “Friends don’t let twins out of the nursery,” Edmund put in with a chuckle. “Ravenwood, if you don’t mind, I remember the way.”

  He shook his head and motioned for a couple of maids to lead the four-year-olds to the toys. “Come into the parlor. We have wine.”

  “A lot of wine?” Sarah asked hopefully.

  “So much wine,” Kate assured her. “Spiced and warm. Come, let me pour you a glass.”

  But before any of them could quit the entryway, wheels sounded outside once more.

  When the butler opened the door, Edmund’s mirror image stepped over the threshold, one arm linked with his wife’s.

  “Bartholomew! Daphne!”

  The greetings were chaos, each person talking over the other, until Kate pointed out the mistletoe over the new arrivals’ heads.

  Daphne wrapped her arms about Bartholomew’s neck, and he arched her backwards in a sweeping kiss.

  “See?” Edmund whispered. “That’s how people kiss before they bear children.”

  His brother burst out laughing. “Did we miss the twins?”

  “They’re in the nursery,” Sarah answered. “We won’t send them to bed until after we decorate the tree, so you’ll have plenty of time to see them.”

  “Where is the tree?” Daphne asked.

  Ravenwood cleared his throat. “It’ll be here soon.”

  He hoped.

  “There’s spiced wine,” Kate informed the new arrivals. “As well as pastries, and bowls of almonds and raisins. Right this way.”

  “Where have you been these last few months?” Edmund asked his twin brother.

  “Where haven’t we been?” Bartholomew answered with a laugh. “Daphne has so many worthwhile causes to champion, I’m surprised she allowed us a brief holiday for Christmas.”

  Daphne surreptitiously elbowed him in the ribs before turning to Ravenwood. “I’m looking forward to seeing Lady Amelia at the ball tonight. Her
help has been instrumental with the Portpatrick Harbor situation.”

  Ravenwood blinked. “I cannot imagine what my sister has to do with a Scottish harbor.”

  “Most likely, ‘everything,’” Kate teased. “You lads think you run Parliament.”

  When Bartholomew joined his wife Daphne on a chaise longue, she placed a hand on his leg and murmured, “How is it going?”

  He grinned. “Since you are the first to inquire, I should say it’s going swimmingly.”

  Edmund’s jaw dropped. “Did you get a new leg?”

  “One that doesn’t make the horrid clapping noise every time I take a step,” Bartholomew said proudly. “This one has a quieter joint mechanism.”

  “It wasn’t ‘horrid,’” Daphne scolded him.

  “You cannot deny the loud clapping,” Bartholomew reminded her. “Unequivocally horrid.”

  “Well, you look wonderful,” Kate said. “I’m thrilled that you can sneak about once again. Not that it’s ever stopped you.”

  “I don’t ‘sneak,’” he protested. “That plate of lemon cakes was begging to be consumed. How was I to know they were for your Aunt Havens?”

  “Now, now, children,” Grace interrupted with a stern glance. “Time to forgive and forget.”

  “Not his lemon cakes,” Kate muttered. “I’ve been forced to provide a double batch ever since.”

  “Excellent.” Bartholomew tapped his fingers together. “Everything is working according to plan.”

  Carriage wheels crunched on the frozen dirt outside.

  Ravenwood jumped to his feet. “It might be the tree!”

  “It’s not the tree.” Kate peered out the window. “It’s Jane and Xavier, all the way from Chelmsford.”

  “Even better!” Grace sprang up in delight. “Plus, I can finally give back the book I borrowed from her.”