“When did you cut your hair?”
Evie’s smile was downright mischievous. It made Elizabeth laugh.
“Do you like it, Mother? Please say you do.”
“I’m still getting used to it, but yes, I like it very much.” Actually, it was a horror, but no matter what, her daughter was beautiful. She would certainly never criticize the girl the way her own mother had criticized her. Besides, perhaps all the girls in London were cutting their hair short. Elizabeth hadn’t been to London for so long that she had no idea of the latest styles.
“I met a friend, Mother, a very dear friend. And, well, her hair was fashioned just so and—”
“Oh, Evie, tell me you didn’t change your hair simply to look like another girl.” Elizabeth glanced at the nearby bowl, which normally held her beloved sherbet lemons. It was empty again, for the third time since Evie had come home.
Evie giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Elizabeth cocked her head to the side.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that . . . I already looked quite a bit like this other girl regardless of our hair fashions.”
Chapter Five
London
Christmas Eve morning
GENA HAD STEADFASTLY denied meeting her twin at school. So vigorously, in fact, that Nathan had known immediately that she’d been lying. And he had every intention of revealing the truth.
“It’s time for our annual Christmas Eve morning tradition,” he announced soon after the breakfast plates had been cleared away.
The book Gena had been reading toppled to the wooden floor. “Christmas Eve morning tradition?” she echoed in a voice that shook unmistakably.
She was wearing a prim white day dress, and a wide white bow peeked out of her curls. Her white stockings were suspiciously unwrinkled, and her dress remained even more suspiciously unstained at the late hour of ten o’clock. That was it. He would get to the bottom of things.
Nathan stood and folded his hands behind his back. “Yes, our walk in the park. Don’t you remember?”
Gena bent down to retrieve her book. “Oh, yes, of course. Our walk in the park. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”
Nathan grinned. “Perfect. I’ll get my coat and meet you in the foyer.”
Ten minutes later, wearing his dark wool overcoat and black top hat, Nathan escorted his daughter in her blue wool overcoat and gray wool bonnet out of the front door of their town house, down the steps, across the street, and to the entrance of the park. The cold air was sharp, and the sky was heavy with an impending snowstorm. They walked at a brisk clip while Nathan watched his daughter from the corners of his eyes.
“Tell me about your friend you met at school,” he asked after they’d gone a considerable distance in silence.
“School?” Her mouth formed an O, as if she was surprised by the question.
Just then a woman walking a small dog on a leash passed them. Gena squealed and ran over to the animal. “Oh, may I please pet him?” she asked the woman.
The lady nodded, and Gena stooped to pat the little creature on the head. Nathan couldn’t stop his smile. Soon after, his daughter returned to him, and they finished their walk, during which Gena did an admirable job of changing the subject each time he attempted to ask her about school.
By the time they arrived back home, the snow had begun to fly in fat, wispy flakes whisked away by the wind. Mrs. Curtis had drinking chocolate waiting for Gena and a hot toddy waiting for Nathan. They sat in the library and sipped quietly. Gena had retrieved the book she’d been reading earlier and was busily studying it.
Nathan waited until his daughter set her cup on the table next to her.
“You know, I’m awfully glad to see you again, Evangeline.”
The girl froze. The book tumbled, forgotten, into her lap. She slowly turned to face him, her eyes filling with tears. “How did you guess, Papa?”
“I’ve had my suspicions since you came home from school. But they were confirmed today.”
Evangeline lifted her chin. Her words were soft. “May I hug you now?”
“Of course, my darling.” Fighting back his own tears, he set down his glass, stood, and held open his arms. His daughter stood and quietly walked into his embrace. She sniffled against his shirtfront. “I’ve wanted a father my entire life.”
He stroked her shining red hair. “You’ve always had one, my darling, I assure you.”
Minutes later, they sat together on the sofa. “Tell me, truthfully, how did you know?” Evangeline asked.
“For one thing, unfortunately, your sister is a much better liar than you are. For another, I’ve yet to see Gena read with the attentiveness you have over the last two days. Thirdly, I’ve never seen Gena stop to play with a dog. And finally, and perhaps most telling, we don’t have a Christmas Eve morning tradition of a walk in the park.”
Evangeline smiled shyly. “I thought perhaps Gena had failed to mention it. We tried to teach each other everything we would need to know to pretend to be each other. I suppose we couldn’t think of everything.”
“On the contrary, you fooled me quite easily for a while. Though I did think you were a bit more formal than Gena.”
“That’s true. You know, when I met her at school, I thought her the veriest urchin.”
Nathan laughed. “I can believe that. She’s known to be a bit . . . unconventional.”
“She’s wonderful, Father, and so is Mother.”
Nathan stood. How should he reply to that? He crossed back to his former seat to retrieve his toddy. He turned back to face his daughter. “Who else knows about this?” He took a sip.
“Only Mrs. Curtis.”
Nathan nearly spat his drink. “Mrs. Curtis knows and didn’t tell me?” He closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed. “I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me.”
“Don’t be angry with her, Father. She guessed right away. After she saw how tidy all of my clothes were. I made her swear she wouldn’t tell you.”
“Of course she listens to a twelve-year-old over her employer.” Nathan rubbed one aching temple. “Does anyone else know?”
Evangeline bit her lip. “Grandmama,” she admitted, glancing away.
Nathan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing. “Your grandmama knows?”
Evangeline shrugged. “It’s as you said, she visited us at school. Grandmama always knew.”
Chapter Six
Kent
Christmas Eve morning
“EVIE, DARLING, WON’T you help Cook make the Christmas biscuits?” Elizabeth asked. She and Evie sat in the front drawing room. Elizabeth had just finished going over the dinner menu with Mrs. Henderson, the housekeeper.
Evie’s eyes bugged from her skull, as if she was going to retch. “Christmas biscuits?”
“Yes, the shortbread ones you enjoy so much.”
“Oh, Mother. I’m sure Cook can manage without me.”
“You know she always appreciates your help.” Theirs was an informal household for a duke’s, but Elizabeth preferred it that way. She crossed over to the settee, where her daughter was practicing her embroidery. The embroidery looked as if a two-year-old had done it, so unlike Evie’s usual precise stitches. Elizabeth hid her smile. She’d guessed yesterday that Gena was here with her and not Evie. If the massive consumption of sherbet lemons and the short hair hadn’t convinced Elizabeth, Sampson’s reaction would have. It was surprising, but, apparently, true. The two girls must have met at school and switched places. Ingenious, really.
Elizabeth couldn’t be angry. In fact, she’d snuck into Gena’s bedchamber last night and watched her beautiful daughter sleep. Tears had stung her eyes, and her heart had swelled as if it might burst, but now Elizabeth was having a bit of fun attempting to get her obviously stubborn daughter to admit her identity. “Are y
ou feeling all right, dear?”
“Oh, yes, Mother,” Gena replied. “It’s just that . . . do you think Cook will be too disappointed if I don’t help her with the biscuits this year?”
Elizabeth patted her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll make do, dear. Now about your embroidery . . .”
Gena tossed the embroidery to the side. “Mother, why do we never spend Christmastide with Father?”
Elizabeth strode to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of wine. It seemed wine was in order this particular holiday with the number of questions her daughter had been asking, and the frightening prospect that switching the girls back might very well involve contacting (and heaven forbid, seeing) Nathan.
“I told you, your father and I . . . We have an arrangement, and it’s a bit . . . difficult to explain. We’ve agreed to spend holidays separately. It’s better this way.”
“But Grandmama comes to visit.” Gena leaned forward and braced her palms on the sofa cushions. From his spot on the rug, Sampson barked at her.
Elizabeth took a swig of wine. She might need another glass if this questioning was to continue. “Yes, your grandmama enjoys seeing you and—”
“Does that mean Father doesn’t enjoy seeing me?”
Elizabeth expelled her breath, pasted a smile on her face, and turned back to face her daughter, the wineglass balanced in her hand. “No, darling. Of course not. The decision your father and I made had nothing to do with you and Ev—”
Gena’s face flushed and her eyes widened. “Who?”
Elizabeth swallowed and shook her head. “Your uncle Tony is coming, dear. He’s sure to bring presents and make us laugh as usual.”
Gena’s face fell. She retrieved her embroidery wheel from the sofa cushion and plucked at it absently. “Yes, Mother.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. She didn’t want it to be awkward between them. She searched about for something to change the subject, lighten the mood. “I know what we should do. Let’s go down to the stables and ride Morning Glory and Daffodil.”
Gena’s hand froze in mid-stitch. “The, er, horses?”
Elizabeth watched her daughter carefully. “Of course the horses, silly.”
Gena shook her head so vigorously that her curls bounced. “Oh, no. It’s so cold out, and snowing. I don’t feel much like riding.”
Elizabeth put both hands to her hips. “Now I know you’re ill. I’ve never heard you say you don’t feel like riding a day in your life. And when has the cold or snow ever stopped you from seeing the horses?” There, that should get her to confess.
Instead, Gena lifted her chin and bravely said, “Very well. Let’s go.”
AN HOUR LATER, after changing into her riding habit and making her way out the back of the house to the stables, Elizabeth was securely mounted sidesaddle on Morning Glory. Gena hadn’t arrived yet. Apparently, the girl was more stubborn than she’d guessed. And quite unlike her sister. Elizabeth had never beaten Evie to the stables. Elizabeth looked out across the stretch of ground that separated the stables from the house, only to see her daughter trudging along through the snow in her sister’s smart green riding habit. Gena appeared to be reluctantly making her way, kicking at the ground with her boots. Sampson, who had accompanied Elizabeth outside, barked and ran in an agitated circle.
“Apparently, Genevieve isn’t the dog lover Evie is, eh, boy?” Elizabeth asked the dog, shaking her head and laughing.
When Gena finally arrived, one of the grooms escorted Daffodil over to her. Gena eyed the pretty little horse warily.
“Aren’t you going to greet her?” Elizabeth asked, watching her daughter stare at her sister’s beloved horse as if the animal had been a fearsome dragon.
“Of course.” Gena swallowed and tentatively reached out to pat the horse on her black nose. “Good, er, girl,” she said in a shaky voice.
Elizabeth watched with growing amusement as Gena straightened her shoulders and allowed the groom to assist her in mounting the medium-sized chestnut bay. The horse lurched to the side, and Gena squealed.
“Evangeline Hollister, my goodness,” Elizabeth said, clutching at her riding crop and pressing her hat atop her head. Thankfully, she was facing away, so Gena couldn’t see her grin.
After three more awkward attempts, Gena landed on the back of her mount and was able to sit upright.
“Ready?” Elizabeth asked, trying to keep the humor and growing bit of alarm from her voice.
When Gena was finally settled, she said, “I . . . I’m fine, Mother. Let’s go.” She tentatively kicked at the horse’s flanks with her boot heels and shrieked as they took off out of the stable into the snow, Sampson barking at them.
Following her daughter, Elizabeth called out with a laugh, “I swear, if I didn’t know any better, Evie, I’d say it’s as if you were afraid of horses.”
Chapter Seven
Later on Christmas Eve
THE SNOW WAS falling in huge, fluffy flakes, accumulating faster than Nathan had ever seen it. He thumped on the door that separated himself from the coachman. “Faster, man, faster,” he yelled, hoping the poor servant could hear him over the howling wind. “We must get there before the storm makes travel impossible.” He turned back to stare at his twelve-year-old daughter. The wrong twelve-year-old daughter. For Gena was, at present, in Kent with . . . Elizabeth.
Evie had informed him that they’d intended to continue the ruse until the end of the holiday in order that each of them might be able to spend time with the opposite parent. And while he didn’t blame his daughters for being curious about the two of them, he also couldn’t in good conscience allow Elizabeth to go on thinking that she had Evie. Nathan hadn’t wasted time with a letter. That would only serve to protract the thing. No, he needed to switch them back as soon as possible. He’d ordered the coach put to and Evie’s bags packed, and they had set off for Kent immediately.
Nathan watched Evie sitting across from him. She was as poised and beautiful as her mother. She was as lovely and intelligent as her sister, though obviously less cunning, based on the alacrity with which she’d admitted her transgression, not to mention the guilt she seemed to carry over it. Gena would have had no such guilt or compunction. In fact, he was quite sure Gena hadn’t confessed, which was why he feared Elizabeth didn’t know she had the wrong girl. Evangeline had emphatically insisted that no one else knew about their ruse, but Nathan had his doubts.
He cleared his throat, not entirely sure what to say to his daughter. “I suppose you were forced to cut your hair?” he ventured.
Evangeline blinked at him with her huge blue eyes, which somehow reminded him even more of Elizabeth’s than Gena’s did. Evie was a quiet little thing, quiet and contemplative, the exact opposite of her twin.
“Yes, we thought it would be best,” she said wistfully, running a small, pale hand through the short locks. “Mother won’t be pleased.”
“Well, there’s a surprise,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What was that?” Evie asked.
“Nothing. I’ve just never known your mother to be pleased about much.”
Evangeline frowned. “Mother does seem sad. Not daily, but overall. There’s something very melancholy about her at times. But she laughs at Uncle Tony’s jests, and she adores sherbet lemons, and she is ever so pleased to get a new vial of plumeria perfume each Christmas. She never says no to a glass of wine, and she loves to sing, and she even dances when she thinks no one is looking.”
Nathan stared hard at his daughter. It was as if the words she’d just spoken had been in a foreign tongue. “Your mother dances when no one is looking?” he repeated dumbly. Surely they were not speaking of the same woman. Why, the Elizabeth he remembered was frightened of her own shadow and said preposterous things like “Wine is the devil’s work.”
“Oh, yes, quite often,” Evangelin
e replied, nodding vigorously.
His mother-in-law quickly came to mind. “What does your grandmother think of your mother singing and drinking wine?” He couldn’t help but ask. Nathan suspected that godly woman was the reason Elizabeth had been born without a fun-loving bone in her entire body.
Evangeline appeared to contemplate the matter quietly for a moment. Finally, she said, “I don’t think she knows. We only see Grandmother once a year. On her birthday.”
Nathan’s brows shot up. Another surprise. He’d have thought the controlling woman would have moved into the manor house by now and would be hosting church services in the parlors.
“What do you do to celebrate your grandmother’s birthday?”
Evie leaned back against the sapphire velvet seat and sighed. “She usually makes us attend a church service with her.”
“I see.” Now that sounded like the mother-in-law he recalled.
“Which Mother says we must suffer through for her sake.”
Suffer through? Nathan frowned. The Elizabeth he knew would never use suffer and church in the same sentence. Why, she’d reveled in such “suffering.”
“Oh, it’s not that Mother is sacrilegious,” Evangeline hastened to add.
“She’s not?”
“No. It’s just that, well, Grandmother is a bit fervent with regard to the rules, and Mother says she’s stifling.”
“Stifling?” This time Nathan sat back against the velvet seat and rubbed a hand over his forehead.
Was it possible that Elizabeth was no longer a straightlaced, tedious zealot who followed her mother’s every command? The thought was too overwhelming to contemplate.
Evangeline folded her hands in her lap. “I understand why you’re angry, Father, and why you must return me to Mother and take Gena home, but I cannot say I regret it, because I’ve found it ever so lovely to finally meet you. Mother often says you’re wonderful, but I—I just wanted to see for myself.”
All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke Page 3