by Burke, Darcy
By the time she reached the door to the drawing room at the rear of the house, she was breathless, both from her dash through the snow and her encounter with David.
Ivy met her at the door, her forehead creased. “Fanny! I’ve been so worried.” She pulled her sister inside and wrapped her in a fierce hug.” When she drew back, she looked down at Fanny’s snow-covered cloak. “You’re soaking wet.”
“And now you are too,” Fanny said with a touch of irony.
“So it would seem.” Ivy raised her gaze to Fanny’s. “Where have you been?”
“Trying to save a rabbit.”
“Of course you were,” Ivy muttered. “West and Dart and Ned are out looking for you, silly. I’ll send some footmen out after them. In the meantime, go upstairs and take a warm bath.”
“Yes, Ivy.” Fanny leaned forward and kissed her sister’s cheek before departing the drawing room. On the way, she waved at Lucy and Aquilla who were on the floor with the babies.
Later, when she was warm and dry, Fanny joined everyone for dinner. She apologized to West and the others for having to go out in the snow looking for her. They were all just glad she was all right.
Afterward, they placed small candles in the tree and when they were lit, Fanny gasped with wonder.
Ivy, holding her nearly-asleep daughter against her chest, moved close to Fanny’s side, smiling. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Who knows where you’ll be this time next year,” Ivy said with a touch of sadness. “You may be married. I’ll miss you, especially when we’ve just found each other.” Ivy had left home more than a decade ago and had only renewed contact with Fanny and the rest of their family last fall.
“I’ll miss you too. I may not be married. Maybe I’m meant to be a spinster.”
Ivy laughed. “No, not you.”
“You nearly were.”
“Yes, and as you can see, you can never be too sure about the path you’re meant to take.”
Fanny thought about the path she’d taken that day and wished it had ended differently.
West came over then and slipped his arm around Ivy. “Oh look, Dart is hanging some mistletoe.”
A feeling of warmth coupled with a pang of loss wrapped around Fanny’s heart. She knew right then that she’d never look at mistletoe the same.
Or Christmas.
* * *
The house was quiet when West climbed into bed next to his wife. Gathering Ivy close, he kissed her forehead, her cheek, her delicious lips. She sighed as she snuggled into his chest.
“Tonight was beautiful,” she said.
“Right up until we had to extinguish every one of those candles.” That had taken great care so as not to catch the entire bloody house on fire.
Ivy laughed. “Don’t you think it was worth it? I don’t care—we’re doing it every year. Just imagine Leah’s face next Christmas.”
“And her little brother’s.” He brought his hand around to his wife’s belly and stroked the soft plane through the linen of her nightgown.
“Oh, you think this one will be a boy?” Ivy asked.
“I was right about Leah, wasn’t I?”
“Yes.” Ivy traced her fingertip around his chest, arousing him with the simplest touch. “Did Fanny seem different to you tonight? She was quiet.”
“She was.” Fanny liked to talk and talk, but tonight she’d seemed a bit distracted. “I expect she was tired after traipsing after that rabbit she never caught.”
“Yes, that must be it. I’m so glad she’s here with us.” Ivy rolled West to his back and rose over him, her eyes darkening with desire. “Have I thanked you for welcoming her into our family?”
“Many times, but I shall always accept your appreciation.”
“What about my undying devotion?” Ivy reached down and stroked his rapidly-hardening shaft.
“I’ll take that too.” He let out a soft groan as her hand worked its magic. “You’re going to drive me mad, woman.”
She grinned down at him. “But you’ll enjoy it, won’t you?”
“Every blessed moment.” He clasped the back of her neck and brought her mouth to his for a soul-searing kiss. “Happy Christmas, wife.”
“Happy Christmas, husband.”
The Duke of Ruin Christmas Scene
This is a “deleted” scene from The Duke of Ruin. Simon and Diana were recently married at Gretna Green and are on their way back to his estate in the south of England. They are traveling over Christmas and stop in Oxford for a few days to celebrate the holiday. Enjoy! If you haven’t read The Duke of Ruin, grab your copy now!
December 24, 1817
“It’s Christmas Eve!” Simon Hastings, Duke of Romsey leapt from the bed with excitement. And then promptly dove back under the covers where it was far warmer next to his new wife.
“Too cold?” Diana asked, smiling as he burrowed against her.
“Hell yes, what was I thinking?”
“That it’s Christmas Eve morning?” she offered helpfully.
He kissed her soundly and pulled her against him. “Our first one together. We have much to do. Did I mention I told Mr. Margrave that I’d help him bring in the greenery to decorate?”
“No, you did not.” She wriggled her body, shifting his arms so that they were face to face. “I thought we were going to take a walk to look at the spires and then watch the mummers?”
“All that too.”
She arched a single dark brow at him. “Do you ever rest?”
“Occasionally when I’m in bed. But only occasionally. And not when I have a beautiful woman in my arms.” He ducked his head and licked her neck then suckled her flesh.
“Simon! Last time you did that, you left a mark. Since that was just yesterday, it’s still there.”
Yes, he had done that. And it had been delightful. He kissed down her collarbone. “I do think I may be late to meet Mr. Margrave.”
“Pity,” she said, not sounding the least bit sorry.
He wasn’t late, however, because he wasn’t helping Mr. Margrave. After leaving Diana in their room, Simon stole from the inn and made his way down the lane. He’d found a goldsmith the day after they’d arrived and had commissioned him to fashion a wedding ring for Diana. The hammered iron band he’d bought her at Gretna Green was pretty, but temporary. His duchess should have gold and jewels. In fact, her ring would be a sapphire.
Simon entered the small establishment with a spring in his step.
The proprietor, a young man of small stature with large, round spectacles, looked up and immediately blanched. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
“Good morning,” Simon said a bit warily. “I trust you have my wife’s ring ready?”
Still pale, the proprietor, Mr. Abernathy, now winced. Then he burst into tears. Simon couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man.
Abernathy wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. I’m afraid I’ve lost it.”
“Lost it?” Simon repeated.
“I stayed the night with my sister and her family last night—my brother-in-law has been ill. I was still working on the ring, so I took it with me to finish.” Abernathy wrung his hands together, sniffing. “Somewhere on the way to the shop this morning, it fell through a hole in my pocket. I retraced my steps a dozen times, but I wasn’t able to find it.”
Disappointment spun through Simon’s gut. “It isn’t your fault.”
“Oh, but it is, sir. Now you don’t have a gift for your duchess.” He started to cry again then abruptly turned and disappeared into the back of the shop behind a curtain. When he emerged, he held out a small pouch. “Here is your deposit.”
Simon accepted the money with a slight nod, his mind working as to what he could give Diana instead. He’d been so looking forward to slipping that ring on her finger tonight.
“I added a little extra,” Abernathy said. “For your trouble. And for my mistake.”
Simon ey
ed the man and could see that his coat was rather worn. He believed there could be a hole—or two—in the garment. “You needn’t give me extra. It was an accident. I am sorry you are out the commission.”
The man nodded but said nothing. He looked as if he might be holding his breath. Or trying not to cry.
Bloody hell.
Simon thrust the pouch back at him. “Take it.”
Abernathy’s dark eyes widened behind the glass of his spectacles. “I can’t—”
“Of course you can. Happy Christmas.” He offered the man a smile and left the shop.
As he made his way back to the inn, he wondered what he was going to give Diana now.
* * *
Diana accompanied the innkeeper’s wife, Mrs. Margrave, and her two daughters as they distributed breads and cakes they’d baked to some of the people in their neighborhood. To a person, they were in need, whether due to age or illness or something else. Diana was glad to help and only wished she’d had something to give.
Their next to last visit was a family of five—the Browns. The father had been ill, but finally seemed to be on the mend. The wife was delighted to have two loaves of fresh bread, and the two smaller children were thrilled to have Shrewsbury cakes. The father thanked Mrs. Margrave profusely for her generosity. The oldest child, a boy who was maybe ten, didn’t take a cake until his younger sisters had each had two. He kept his head down and made fleeting eye contact with Diana who smiled at him warmly.
As she and the Margraves made their exit, Diana thought about the people they’d visited and wondered if she and Simon could help them somehow. She had nothing—she couldn’t even buy Simon a gift. Would he want to help? There were so many things she didn’t know about her new husband. And yet she felt certain he possessed a kind and generous nature.
They arrived at their final destination, which was a particularly small abode so Diana volunteered to remain outside. Mrs. Margrave assured her they would only be a moment.
“Your Grace?”
Diana started at the small voice that came from behind her. She turned to see the boy from the last house. “Where did you come from?”
He ducked his head shyly. “I came to ask you something, if I may.”
“Of course.” She squatted down to his level. “How can I help?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of jewelry—Diana caught a flash of gold. “I have this ring. It...belonged to my grandmother. I wondered if you might want to buy it from me. My father hasn’t worked in over a month, and this would help us have food.” His cheeks flushed brilliant red, and he couldn’t meet her eyes.
Diana’s heart clenched. She might not have any money, but Simon did, and he would certainly help. “You are a kind and brave lad. Let me see it.”
He opened his hand to reveal a gold ring with a brilliant sapphire.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said. It seemed a very expensive piece for a family of their means, but how could she know their circumstances? “It belonged to your grandmother?”
He looked at her and nodded profusely. “It did, ma’am.”
“Are you certain your parents wish to part with it?”
He looked away again. “Yes, ma’am.”
Diana worried he was perhaps not telling the truth. What if his parents had no idea he’d taken it?
She took his hand and curled his fingers around the ring. “You keep this for now, all right? I will come around in a while to buy it from you. What is your name?” She would talk to Simon about what to do. At the very least, they needed to give the family whatever they might need. It broke her heart to see this boy resort to selling family heirlooms.
He nodded again. “Owen, ma’am. Thank you. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”
She wanted to tell him not to, for it was cold, but suspected he didn’t want his family to know what he was about. She felt rather certain his parents didn’t know he’d taken the ring. To feel so desperate... Diana had suffered many dark times in her past, but they didn’t compare to this.
The Margraves came from the house, and Owen dashed off.
* * *
Simon paced the common room of the inn, which was now festooned with enough greenery to resemble a forest. He was no closer to coming up with a replacement gift for Diana.
She came inside just then with Mrs. Margrave and her daughters. Garbed in a puce walking dress, her cheeks pink from being outside in the cold, she was absolutely ravishing and he was incapable of doing anything but stare.
Gliding toward him, her forehead creased. “Oh, Simon, you must help me.”
Worry clenched his gut, and he took her hand. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing to me, but I’ve met a family we must help. I hope you won’t mind. I have no money of my own.” She winced, and he stroked the back of her hand.
“My funds are now yours,” he said, smiling. “Tell me about this family.” He led her to the settee near the front window, and they sat down.
“They live around the corner. Mr. Brown has been ill for some time, and they don’t have enough to eat. Mrs. Margrave took them bread and cakes, and I suspect those will be the finest things on their table for Christmas.”
Simon frowned. “That’s a shame. Shall we take them supper?”
“Yes, please. I’d also like to give them money to help them while Mr. Brown continues his recovery.”
Simon leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. “You have the kindest heart. Of course we will help them.”
She smiled and curled her arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Thank you, Simon.”
He stroked her back and would have continued the embrace had they not been in the common room of an inn. Instead, he pulled back with great reluctance.
They sought the Margraves’ help in assembling a supper for the family, which had included a visit to some of the market stalls. Simon had joked that it was their walk to see the spires of Oxford University, which were of course visible just about anywhere in town.
Carrying the food they’d gathered, they made their way toward the family’s home.
“Thank you for doing this,” Diana said. “I felt so bad for this family’s plight. They have three children. The oldest is a boy—Owen—who can’t be more than ten. He tried to sell me his grandmother’s sapphire ring, but I’m certain his parents didn’t even know he’d taken it. The poor dear.”
Simon’s ears pricked at the word sapphire, and his mind worked through what she said. “A sapphire ring?”
She nodded. “It looked quite valuable. I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t want to buy it from him. They should keep their family heirloom.”
They approached a series of houses, and a small boy loitered near the end of them.
“There he is,” Diana said.
They went to the boy, and Diana introduced them. “Owen, this is my husband, the Duke of Romsey.”
Owen bowed and did not raise his eyes.
Simon tried to give the boy a warm smile of encouragement, but it was difficult since the lad wouldn’t look up. So Simon sank down. “Owen, I understand you have a ring to sell me.”
Diana nudged him with her leg, but he didn’t turn his head to her.
“I do, Your Grace.” He put his hand in his pocket and withdrew the ring that had been meant for Diana—Simon recognized the sapphire and puzzled the pieces together.
“Is your uncle a jeweler?” Simon asked softly.
The boy’s gaze lifted then, and there was surprise as well as a bit of fear. “Yes.”
Simon nodded. “Well, I would be delighted to buy your ring. How much do you want?”
Owen chewed his lip then gave Simon a dubious look. “Two pounds?”
“That is far too little for such a valuable piece. Here, take this.” Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out a good deal more than the boy had asked for. Simon picked up the ring and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you certain you can part with this?”
“I am, Your Grace.”
“Very well.” Simon put the money into the boy’s hand and rose.
Owen’s eyes widened with wonder and his cheeks turned bright pink. “Thank you. God bless you, Your Grace.” He bowed to Diana. “And you, Your Grace.”
“We have this for you, too.” Diana handed him her packages, and Simon handed him what he’d been carrying. “It’s Christmas Eve supper. Or Christmas Day.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Owen blinked rapidly.
Diana smiled at him. “Take care, Owen.”
Simon clutched the ring in his hand, and put his arm around Diana as they watched the boy run to his door and disappear inside.
“That was very generous of you,” she said softly. “But you shouldn’t have taken the ring. It belongs to their family.”
He turned to face her. “No, it belongs to you. I commissioned it from his uncle who lost it this morning.”
Diana’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened. She lifted her hand to her lips. “Owen stole it? He seemed like such a sweet boy.”
“I’m sure he is,” Simon said. “The ring fell from the jeweler’s pocket. I suspect Owen found it and saw an opportunity to provide for his family. I must say, I can’t fault him for that.”
“Still, he should have returned it to his uncle.”
“Yes, but all’s well that end’s well. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”
She nodded. “Shakespeare.”
“Your Grace?”
Simon turned, along with Diana, toward the voice. It was the jeweler. “Mr. Abernathy, allow me to present my wife, the Duchess of Romsey. Diana, this is the man who made your ring.” He held it out to Abernathy, who gasped in surprise. “Would you believe I found the ring just here a moment ago?”
“It’s a Christmas miracle!” Abernathy crowed in delight.
“It is indeed,” Simon said.
The jeweler turned to Diana. “I hope you like it, Your Grace.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you very much. Are you on your way home?”