A Renwick House Christmas Boxed Set

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Alright.” Katherine bit her lip. “Alright.” She repeated, her head nodding up and down as if she was trying to make sense of the information.

  “But…” Benedict grabbed her arms and pulled her against him. “I’m not that man anymore. I cannot be that man.”

  Katherine said nothing.

  “I-I…” Benedict ran his hands through his hair. “ Damn it, I promise you, I had every intention of getting rid of Maria last night when—”

  “When?” Katherine’s eyes narrowed.

  “When I was in his bed,” Maria’s voice announced from the entryway. “Isn’t that right, Benedict?”

  Katherine jerked back in horror.

  “You are a witch.” Benedict glared at Maria. “Leave my house this instant.”

  “But what about your promise?” Maria tilted her head.

  Benedict groaned.

  “Promise?” Katherine asked.

  “Yes, you see, his grace here is so brilliant in the way he hires mistresses. We live and work here, and then when he cuts us loose, as he’s doing this moment, he settles us a grand sum of money for our troubles. I take it…” Maria looked Katherine up and down. “…that you will be housekeeper number eight?”

  “That’s it!” Katherine yelled and surged forward. Benedict didn’t stop her, mainly because he knew he deserved whatever physical blow she would deal him.

  But it wasn’t him she was charging after.

  Nor was it him that she hit, repeatedly.

  He really shouldn’t be amused. It wasn’t the time to laugh, but seeing Katherine claw at Maria was a proud moment for him.

  Maria screamed until finally Katherine relented and pushed her. “If you ever speak of me in that way again, I’ll kill you.”

  Benedict wanted to add how truthful she was being. After all she had nearly killed him, how many times by accident now?

  Katherine continued to push Maria until she was out of the room. “And if I ever see you here again, I’ll not hesitate to shoot you. His grace will stay true to his promise. He will give you the money you deserved, spreading your legs like a whore. But know, this man,” she pointed back to Benedict with fire in her eyes, “is mine. Do I make myself clear?”

  Maria nodded several times before gathering her skirts and running out the front door.

  Katherine’s whole body shook.

  Benedict couldn’t comfort her, couldn’t touch her, not after everything. Never had he felt so dirty, so debased. To see his innocent fiancée yell at his former mistress after revealing so much about his affairs. He could not bear it. Could not fathom it.

  He truly was the Devil Duke.

  “Benedict,” Katherine said without turning. “You will still marry me.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “One question.” Her hands opened and closed at her sides as if she was trying to regain feeling in her fingers.

  “Yes.”

  “Last night, did you—”

  “No!” he yelled, and then, “Absolutely not! You must know how I feel about you, Katherine. I would not do that to you. I have not touched another woman since that first night at the ball.”

  “Good,” she said tersely.

  “Good?” He shuffled closer to her.

  “Yes.” She whipped around and charged toward him.

  Here it comes.

  “You are mine. Mine, you devil! If I ever catch you with another woman, if you as much as grin at a woman in the next ten years of our marriage, I’ll castrate you. Do I make myself clear?”

  His body responded to her in such a violent way he he nearly fell to the ground. Groin tightening, he couldn’t help the growl that passed through his lips at her possessive words. “Crystal.” Heaven help him, he loved her. He wanted to tell her, to fall to his knees. It wasn’t the time. Would it ever be the time?

  “Fine.” She pushed away from him and walked to the door.

  “Katherine,” he called.

  She stopped.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The words seemed too shallow, not deep enough to convey how wretched he felt, how he wanted to cut himself open and bleed all over the floor.

  Benedict wasn’t sure how long he stood there, immobile. Matters became worse when people continued to shuffle in throughout the day in hopes to help redecorate a few rooms as a surprise-wedding gift from Katherine.

  He was a cad.

  He wasn’t sure if he should get foxed.

  Shoot himself in the foot.

  Or just apologize again and again until she knew he meant it.

  He started with flowers. As many as he could order, and sent them to her house. No response.

  So he became creative.

  He bought her a horse. Stupid idea really, what the devil was she going to do with an extra horse?

  And then a thought occurred to him. When they were young, she had always liked to read. Books were her favorite pasttime, the little bluestocking.

  With a smile, he placed his next order.

  Books, lots and lots of books.

  When his final gift elicited no response, he decided to make his way over there in person.

  “Lady Katherine is indisposed and not receiving callers, your grace.” The butler’s expression was heated. Benedict half-expected his coattails to catch on fire.

  “Do you know if she at least received the books?” Benedict asked.

  At that, the butler’s face broke into an amused smile. “Ah yes, I believe the lady mentioned something about using the books for kindling in place of wood. Brilliant idea, if I say so myself. Good day.” The butler shut the door.

  In his face. A duke’s face nonetheless.

  Benedict cursed and looked up at the large house, scaling the wall was out of the question.

  Desperate, he ran around to the back.

  Spying. He was now resorting to spying on the woman he was to marry.

  A door opened, Katherine emerged onto the balcony, a sad smile on her lips. “Is he gone?”

  “Yes, my lady.” The maid curtsied. “Will that be all?”

  “Yes, but, next time he arrives, allow him into the sitting room. I shall see him now.”

  Benedict almost ran back to the front of the house to knock on the door, but something in Katherine’s expression gave him pause.

  And then he saw them. Watery tears running down her cheeks. She lifted her dainty hand to wipe them away then let out a guttural sigh before laying her head against the rail of the balcony and hiding her face in her hands.

  He was the reason.

  Suddenly, he felt quite at odds with himself. As if he had put his boots on the wrong feet. Having made a mess of things, he knew the only person he could trust to give him adequate advice was the one person he never expected to be seeking wisdom from.

  Agatha.

  She should be arriving today.

  After all, she was to make an appearance at the Kringle Ball in a few days, and she would want to rest up before she did so.

  A new plan began to form in his head, one that caused a slight smile to replace the frown.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A Sad End, A New Beginning

  Benedict appointed his very best footman to stand watch by his aunt’s house. The minute she arrived, he wanted to know.

  Hours later, he was knocking on the door with such force, he thought it would come off the hinges.

  “Yes?” Baldwyn answered, odd. Where the devil was the butler? The minute his eyes fell on Benedict, he exhaled and pulled him into a hug. “I saw you from the window, by the time Agatha’s old butler would have made it here, you would have been an old man.”

  Coughing was heard from behind Baldwyn. He rolled his eyes.

  Benedict stepped into the house; it felt odd, almost eerie. “What’s going on? Something’s wrong.” But everything seemed to be in place. From the perfectly calm servants to the sparkling floors.

  Everything but… Agatha.

/>   Dread shot down his spine, Benedict looked at Baldwyn with a questioning gaze. “I take it she’s resting.”

  Baldwyn lifted his arm and scratched the back of his head, and it was then that Benedict was able to focus on his cousin’s horrendous demeanor.

  “What the devil happened to you?”

  “Life,” Baldwyn muttered. “Agatha, Anastasia, marriage, and a half-empty bottle of brandy, thanks for asking.”

  Benedict squinted and leaned in toward his cousin. “Let’s start with the first one, though I can’t help you with life, considering I’ve mucked up my own and that of the woman I love quite thoroughly. Let’s discuss Agatha.”

  At the mention of her name, a nearby maid burst into tears and ran from the entryway.

  Was the woman that much of a dragon to her own staff?

  “She’s not well.” Baldwyn swallowed and looked away, his eyes glassy from being foxed or perhaps depressed.

  “I need to speak with her.”

  “Follow me.” Baldwyn led him to Agatha’s chambers. “I’ll just be outside while you two have a little chat.”

  Benedict opened the door and paused. “Baldwyn?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you love her?”

  Baldwyn paled. “Agatha? Of course, you fool, anyone would—”

  “Not Agatha. Anastasia. Do you love her?”

  Immediately Baldwyn looked to the floor. “Yes.”

  “Then you should tell her before you lose her forever.”

  Benedict slapped his cousin on the shoulder and walked into the large room. It reeked of medicine and tonics. Confused, he looked from left to right until his eyes finally settled on a lump in the bed.

  “Aunt?” He walked closer, irritated at the ridiculous knot of emotion in his throat.

  “Benedict? Is that you?” Her voice was raspy and weak.

  “Yes.” He sat on the bed and grasped her frail hand. “Are you feeling under the weather?”

  “Oh, it will blow over, it always does.” Agatha waved him off with her other hand. “So, what brings you here? I can only imagine the amount of pride you swallowed to seek me out. Surprised you made it up the stairs without cursing me to perdition.”

  Benedict chuckled, his hand slowly caressing hers. “It seems I’ve some more pride to swallow, if you’ll allow me.”

  “Always.” Her eyes twinkled, but her face was still far too pale for his liking.

  “Well, I don’t really know how to start.”

  “Remember, I do love your stories. Let us start at the beginning, shall we?” With a sigh, she tried to squeeze his hand though it was a vain effort for the thing had little strength in her.

  “Katherine, she won’t, that is to say she won’t…”

  “Marry you?” Agatha interrupted.

  “No, she’ll still marry me.”

  “Then she’s disagreeable?”

  “No, she’s amiable, perfect really.” The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, he wanted to add.

  “Did she offend you in some way then?” Agatha coughed and reached for the water. He helped her take a sip and shook his head.

  “No, I’m afraid it is I who has done the offending. Though I wasn’t aware that my past actions would overshadow my future happiness, it seems I’ve done just that. I’ve ruined it.”

  Agatha tilted her head. “But you say she’s still going to marry you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what is the problem?” Agatha’s eyebrows pinched together.

  “She won’t forgive me.”

  “But she’ll marry you?” Agatha repeated. She truly must be sick for she never wasted time repeating anything, if he wasn’t fortunate enough to hear her the first time, well the loss was his, and he would undoubtedly suffer for it.

  “Yes,” he said slowly.

  A smile broke out across her weathered face. “So you wish for something more than marriage. Is this what I’m understanding?”

  “Well, I…” Benedict paused, thinking quite seriously on his aunt’s simple words. “I want more, but I also want to give her more. I want…” He looked away, a lump forming in his throat. Devil take it, he could not cry over a girl.

  “Everything.” Agatha patted his hand. “My dear boy, you want everything, all she has to offer, all she has to give, including the very next breath she breathes. Everything is your answer, now for the question. What are you willing to do to obtain it?”

  Benedict swallowed, the emotion of the moment was too much for him. To see Agatha — irritating, disagreeable, formidible Agatha — sick, to know he was making Katherine ill with heartache, not to mention the issue with his own heart. The very heart that seemed to have trouble beating without Katherine near.

  “Anything. I would do anything.”

  “So you’d abandon all those mistresses.”

  “Already done.”

  “You’d turn away from your devil-may-care attitude and vices?”

  Was that even a question? “Of course!”

  “And you’d give yourself fully to the one person in the world who has enough of your heart to break it. Would you do that, Benedict?”

  His heart hammered in his chest. He looked from Agatha to his hands, the very same hands that all day had felt naked as if missing the other half that fit within them. “I have,” he mumbled, his voice sounding foreign because of the hoarse emotion coming from his lips.

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  His head snapped up. “I don’t know.”

  With that, he jumped up from his seat and walked to the door, then on second thought, he walked back to Agatha and kissed her on the brow. “You always were my favorite aunt.”

  “I’m your only aunt, you rogue.” She tried to laugh but instead coughed.

  “And I’m so glad you are.” He kissed her again and fought the emotional turmoil taking place in his heart when a single tear ran down her face.

  “As am I, as am I.”

  He left her then, and walked down the stairs to the study where he knew he would find Baldwyn.

  But the room was empty. He heard footsteps and turned.

  Baldwyn had cleaned up and was ready to leave.

  “Where are you going?” Benedict asked, though he had an idea.

  “I have to tell her.” Baldwyn was perspiring as he had been running around the house at full speed.

  “Then tell her.” Benedict encouraged and laughed. “Apparently Agatha does have the final say, eh?”

  Baldwyn rolled his eyes. “Do not get me started. That woman’s intuition frightens me.”

  Both men fell silent. Then turned to look at the stairs.

  “Do you think?” Baldwyn didn’t finish his question.

  “She said it will pass.” Benedict cleared his throat. “After all, she’s a tough old thing. It isn’t as if she is doing to die.”

  Baldwyn nodded his head. “You’re right. Paranoia is a side effect of too much drinking I hear.”

  At that, Benedict laughed and walked out of the house, in search of one woman that could bring him to his knees.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  How Much Do I Love Thee?

  Katherine hated to admit that every time there was a noise, she ran to the windows and plastered her face against the glass hoping in vain that it would be Benedict’s curricle outside, meaning he had come to call again.

  After rejecting him again this morning when all the lovely books arrived, she hadn’t the heart to do it again.

  Granted, she was hurt, upset, and at the most ridiculous moments felt that she would burst into tears.

  Could she trust him with her heart? He had said as much. He had promised they would marry and be happy.

  But he hadn’t promised fidelity. Nor had he fully explained his situations with the many mistresses.

  Then again, it was natural that he would have done some horrendous things a gentle bred lady wouldn’t hear about. After all, he hadn’t just obtained his nickname from all his many s
candals and running around his house in the nude.

  The question that burned at the back of her mind was… what if? What if he was to change? What if he wanted to change? What if he was trying?

  Yet, it seemed so foolish. Surely every girl thought such things when wanting to reform a rake of the first order. Every girl wanted to be the girl who was so special she would change the devil into an angel. And she wasn’t so certain she was pretty enough or exciting enough to hold his attention.

  The knocker on the door announced another visitor. With great self-control she managed to sit and pretend to read one of the many novels Benedict had given her, when the door to the sitting room opened, and Benedict was announced.

  She slowly put the book down. Benedict’s face lit up, a smile broke out across his features, and in two strides she was in his arms, being pressed against the wall with such force she was sure her form would be permanently glued to the wallpaper. His kiss was hungry yet affectionate, as he parted her lips with his tongue and caressed her face with his hands.

  Her butler cleared his throat, causing Benedict to stop, and place her once again to rights. With a few choice words, he walked to the door, shooed her butler out and turned the lock.

  “I have to say something.”

  Katherine fumbled with her hair, averting her eyes. If she didn’t look directly at him, perhaps she could be stronger and not cry.

  “I’m not sorry.”

  Well, that was a lousy start.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued.

  “To be sorry seems too easy. You make a hash of things and say you’re sorry, but the value of that person’s apology is measured against their past indiscretions. So then you ask yourself, is that person sorry for their actions or merely sorry they had to deal with the consequences of getting caught?” Benedict laughed. “I think my entire life I’ve been blind. I’ve always felt fulfilled, never truly guilty over my actions. I boasted in my debauchery and rejoiced in the power it gave me. Until recently, I would have been merely sorry I was caught.”

  “And now?” Katherine asked timidly.

  “Now?” He laughed bitterly. “Now I’m so blasted ashamed of myself, I want to ask the first man I see to shoot me.”