All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke

by Vivienne Lorret

  “It’s not.” He advanced on her. “I assure you.”

  She moved farther back and pulled the sheet up to her neck. “Yes, but . . .”

  His face fell. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” But she’d said it too quickly.

  He sat back against the pillows and watched her warily, as if she’d been a bird that might fly away if he made too sudden a move. “Elizabeth, I understand you’re frightened. It frightens me, too, a little. After all these years. After all we’ve been through.”

  “It just can’t be that easy. We can’t just fall back into each other’s arms and pretend nothing happened.”

  “I don’t want to pretend nothing happened.”

  “Then what do you want, Nathan?”

  He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t know. I—­”

  She took a shaky breath. “This was . . . incredible, but it doesn’t mean we’re suited to each other any more than we were a dozen years ago.” And it would break my heart to have to leave you again. But she couldn’t bring herself to say those words. She just couldn’t.

  “Damn it, Elizabeth. We were little more than children when we married. My parents were pressuring me to take a wife and—­”

  “And my mother was pressuring me to marry a duke.”

  “I loved you, though,” he whispered. “Very much. At least as much as I was able to at the time. I was selfish and stubborn, and I drank like a jackass and I didn’t know what a marriage entailed.”

  Elizabeth turned to him and pressed her palm to his warm, stubbled cheek. “I loved you, too. So much. And my mother was horrible. I did everything she said. I don’t listen to her anymore. I finally realized that I didn’t agree with a word she said. I’d been thoughtlessly listening to her all those years out of habit or duty or something. But then one day I heard her say something to Evie. Evie was only three years old at the time, but she told Evie she was a gluttonous sinner for eating too many chocolates. I’d given her the chocolates, of course. I realized I couldn’t allow my daughter to grow up around that. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Mother and I had a huge row and she packed her bags and left, telling me the devil had obviously captured my soul. It nearly broke me to watch her go. I was lonely and alone, but I had to do it, for Evie.”

  Nathan clasped Elizabeth’s hands. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But don’t you see? We’ve both changed. I no longer believe I’m always right, for example. And I do believe in an apology now and then.” His smile was boyish. It stole her heart. “Not to mention, I stopped drinking to excess at least ten years ago.”

  Elizabeth sucked in her breath. She wanted to believe it. She did. But how could she tell him how frightened she was of herself? Of not being a good enough wife? She’d already proved to be a miserable failure at it. How could she trust that she could be better now? “We may have changed, but is it truly enough? How can it be that simple?”

  “It doesn’t have to be that complicated either.” He scratched a hand through his short dark hair, making it stand up in delectable ways. “Don’t you think we should try? For the girls’ sake?”

  Elizabeth’s stomach clenched. There it was. The truth. He only wanted to try for the sake of the girls. That had been her fear all along. “I want them to be together, too, Nathan. Believe me. But we talked about this. They’ll see each other at school, and we’ll make arrangements to keep them at different times.”

  He faced her, his eyes meeting hers. “Is that what you want? Tell me, Elizabeth. Is that what you truly want?”

  She dropped her gaze and stared down at her hands, pale and cold against the dark blue sheets. “Has it ever mattered what I truly want?”

  His voice was harsh. “Maybe not before, but it matters now. Answer the question.”

  She pressed her lips together. Hard. She wanted him but only if he truly wanted her. She didn’t want him back out of a compelled sense of duty. That would be no life at all. She forced herself to meet his eyes again. “Yes. I think it’s for the best if we remain apart.”

  Chapter Twenty

  THE RIDE BACK to Kent was long, cold, and bumpy. Elizabeth and Evie barely said a handful of words to each other. Evie tugged at the gold locket around her neck that her grandmama had given her for Christmas. It contained two tiny portraits of her and her twin. “I miss Gena,” she said with a long, dramatic sigh.

  Elizabeth pulled one of the furs up to her neck. Her heart ached and her head pounded, but she tried to make her words sound as jovial as she could. “You’ll see her at school.”

  Evie sighed again. “I miss Father.”

  Elizabeth clenched her jaw and looked out the window at the cold, snowy landscape. “He’s agreed to have you for the next holiday, and I’ll have you both in the summer.” But the joviality in her voice slipped a bit.

  “Mother, I—­” Evie snapped her mouth shut.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “You’re so poised and proper and you never make mistakes, but I have to say that in this case, I believe you’re making a grievous one.”

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together and shook her head sadly. “Oh, Evie. Who said I never make mistakes? I’m only doing what I think is best and . . . I know it’s difficult to comprehend, especially at your age, but someday, I hope you can understand.”

  Evie opened her mouth to retort again but quickly closed it.

  The rest of the journey continued in silence with only the occasional odd sigh from Evie, while Elizabeth tried not to remember last night, tried not to remember Nathan’s hands on her, his mouth on her. Last night, she’d thought all she wanted was one night with him, but she’d been a fool. She wouldn’t be able to banish his lovemaking from her mind. Not ever.

  When the coach pulled up to the manor house, Evie jumped out as soon as the door was opened. She rushed across the graveled drive and entered the manor. Elizabeth followed at a much less hurried pace.

  By the time Elizabeth walked into the foyer, Evie was twirling in a circle, obviously looking for something. “Sampson,” Evie called. “Sampson.”

  But the dog was nowhere to be found. That was odd. Sampson was always at the door to greet Evie.

  Elizabeth turned to Broderick. “Where’s Sampson?”

  “I believe he’s in the library, my lady,” the butler replied evenly.

  “The library?” Evie frowned, but she handed Broderick her coat and hat and made her way to the library. Elizabeth followed her.

  The door opened, and Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat. Gena was sitting behind the desk, and her father was leaning against the wall near the windows, looking out over the grounds. Sampson was lying on the rug near the fireplace.

  Evie’s jaw dropped. “What are you doing here?” She rushed over to hug her sister.

  “Do you know how fast Papa’s coach can travel?” Gena asked with a grin.

  Nathan met Elizabeth’s gaze. “It’s true. My coach is quite fleet.”

  “We didn’t see you on the road.” Elizabeth tried to gather her wild thoughts back into some semblance of order.

  “I know a shorter route.” Nathan grinned, strode over to her, and took her hands in his. “Elizabeth, listen to me. You told me once that I didn’t come after you. I refuse to make that mistake again. We can’t pretend the last dozen years didn’t happen, but we can make the next dozen years the happiest of our lives.”

  “Nathan, I—­”

  “No. Wait. Listen to me. You said it can’t be that simple, but why can’t it? As Gena pointed out to me this morning, how do we know we wouldn’t be happy together now? I don’t know, and you don’t either, but I do know that I want to try. And I want you to try, too.”

  She searched his face. “What if I’m an awful wife?”

  “Then I’ll be your awful husband and we�
��ll learn how to be better . . . together.” He fell to one knee. “We’re already married, so I can hardly ask you to marry me, but I am asking you if you could love me again, Elizabeth. Can you?”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. She knelt, too, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I already do, Nathan. I already do.”

  He grinned from ear to ear, picked her up, and spun her around in his arms.

  “Could you love me again, Nathan?” she asked.

  “I never stopped.”

  Nathan set her down, and they turned to their children. Elizabeth wiped away her tears with a handkerchief Nathan quickly produced from his pocket.

  “Thank goodness,” Evie said, wiping an arm across her forehead.

  “It worked!” Gena cried.

  “What worked?” Elizabeth asked. She stopped sniffing and furrowed her brow.

  “Our plan, of course, to ensure that the two of you reunited. Grandmama came to Miss Hathaway’s, and we planned everything.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. “You planned every—­” She glanced at Nathan. “Did you know about this?”

  Nathan grinned at her. “Not a thing. But please don’t stop them. I’d like to hear the rest.”

  “The three of us organized the entire affair,” Gena continued. “Of course, it was mere luck that Lord Atwater was such a sport. He was quite convincing as an invalid, was he not?”

  Elizabeth put her hands on her hips and stared back and forth at her daughters. “Tony! He didn’t really slip on the puddle?”

  “No,” Gena replied. “It was his idea, even. Brilliant, if you ask me.”

  Elizabeth looked at Evie. “Evie, is this true?”

  “Oh, yes, Mother. Uncle Tony was quite lovely. He said he’d been waiting for Father to return and do right by you for quite some time, and he didn’t want to spoil it all with his untimely presence.”

  Nathan chuckled. “He did, did he? I’ll have to thank Atwater the next time I see him.”

  Evie nodded happily.

  “And what did your grandmama have to say for herself?” Nathan continued.

  “She said that if she had to wait for the two of you to get about the business of producing an heir, she’d be waiting until her deathbed.”

  “She did, did she?” Elizabeth echoed.

  “Yes, and I must say that we shall be delighted to welcome a younger brother,” Evie replied.

  “Yes. We shall dote upon him,” Gena added. “At your earliest convenience, of course.”

  Nathan exchanged a smoldering look with Elizabeth and brought the back of her hand up to his lips for a kiss. “I’d be happy to see what we can do about that.”

  About the Author

  VALERIE BOWMAN grew up in Illinois with six sisters (she’s number seven) and a huge supply of historical romance novels. After a cold and snowy stint earning a degree in English with a minor in history at Smith College, she moved to Florida the first chance she got. Valerie now lives in Jacksonville with her family, including her rascally dog, Roo. When she’s not writing, she keeps busy reading, traveling, or vacillating between watching crazy reality TV and PBS. Valerie loves to hear from readers. Find her on Facebook, Twitter, and at www.ValerieBowmanBooks.com.

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  Sophie and the Duke

  By Tiffany Clare

  Dedication

  I don’t think anyone loves

  Christmas more than you did, B.

  I love you for being who you were and for

  helping to shape the woman I grew up to be.

  You are forever in my heart.

  Chapter One

  Kent, England

  The Duke of Helmsworth’s Christmastide masked ball

  ADRIAN TRENTON, THE Duke of Helmsworth, was looking for a bride. Sophie Kinsley supposed he would have to eventually marry, but finding the right person to be his duchess at a masked Christmastide ball seemed . . . peculiar.

  Sophie ducked her head so the stiff feathers atop her mask didn’t hit the carriage doorway. A footman held out his white gloved hand to assist her down the steps. She took the proffered hand, since the voluminous skirts her cousin insisted she wear were easily tangled around her ankles. Not once in her eight and twenty years had she dressed so elegantly. And she loved every moment of it.

  “Oh, my,” her cousin Isabelle muttered in Sophie’s ear. “I never quite imagined there would be this many attendees.”

  “After the open invitation that went out, I am not surprised. Half of London is likely here.” An invitation for a Christmas ball had gone out only last week, announcing that the duke was looking for a bride.

  Sophie had known the duke since they were both children. Their families lived on neighboring estates, and their parents had become fast friends, with their children born only four months apart. Adrian and Sophie had played together until he’d moved away to be educated in a proper school. She hadn’t seen him for nearly fifteen years and couldn’t even imagine what he looked like now. Would he have a gray streak through his hair like his father had? Would he be tall? Average?

  It was hard to imagine any duke being average, especially the Duke of Helmsworth.

  She shoved her wandering thoughts to the back of her mind. The duke needed a bride. And Sophie was too long in the tooth to court the idea. Not that she was here for the sake of marriage. Isabelle would be married in the spring, and they were merely enjoying one last grand celebration together.

  While the thought of her cousin marrying and leaving her behind was enough to make her cry on a normal day, the night ahead kept the mood bright. She hadn’t been to a ball in too many years to count, and never as an invited guest.

  “It will be much easier for us to get lost in this melee than I imagined,” Sophie said, for she had good reason to want to get lost in the crowd.

  They walked into a marble-­encased foyer that was grand enough to double as a spare ballroom. There were six ivory-­colored marble pillars that stood as high as the house and ended at the arched ceiling. A crystal chandelier that held more than a hundred candles gave the room a soft glow that sparkled like a night sky. Artwork that was taller than her five and a half feet and wider than the panniers under her cousin’s dress displayed previous generations of dukes and duchesses. Sophie remembered staring up at them when she was a child, wondering at their beauty.

  Once her cousin helped her out of her mantle, she returned the favor and then handed them to a waiting footman.

  “I think every eligible young lady in England is here to vie for the duke’s hand in marriage. Perhaps you should, as well, cousin,” Isabelle said. Quieter, she added, “After all, you do share a common history.”

  Sophie let out a wholly unladylike sound that was a cross between a snort and a cough. “I will do no such thing. Besides, my stepsister is amongst the ranks of women in line to steal the duke’s attentions, as she wishes to win the duchess title from every other eligible young lady present. We both know no one will marry someone of my age. And the duke? Goodness, cousin, it’s been years since we last laid eyes upon each other. It’s unlikely I would even recognize him.”

  Though she didn’t truly believe that, for she knew, deep in her heart, that she would never forget what her best friend looked like.

  “I found a match at my age,” Isabelle said.

  “You are two years younger than I.”

  “That doesn’t make marriage impossible.” Her cousin looked around at the crush of guests as they navigated through costumed person after costumed person. Sophie had never seen so many ­people in one place and doubted that an average ball would be attended by so many.

  Isabelle tilted her head toward Sophie, eyeing the deep-­sapphire-­colored gown she wore. “You are easily the most beautiful attendee, and I daresay you could steal the duke’s attentions if
you put your mind to it. Look at all the eyes you are drawing in our direction.”

  Sophie blushed. She disliked being praised by others, but when it came from her cousin, who had always been her champion, it was different . . . it was genuine.

  “It’s the gown, which I cannot thank you enough for.”

  “Anything that is mine is yours.” Isabelle focused her soft brown eyes on Sophie. “And you never know whom you’ll meet tonight. If not the duke, who is to say you can’t meet some other dashing man who will fall head over heels in love with you.”

  Her cousin was ever hopeful. The truth was, Sophie had no means, no inheritance, nothing to offer any man aside from her status as a lady. And anyone who married her would have to put up with her stepmother and stepsister. She was sure that in itself was enough to keep any potential suitors away. Marriage had always been a distant dream for Sophie, so she’d never put much thought into it.

  “Need I remind you that neither of us is here to make a match but to enjoy the night to the fullest?”

  Sophie touched the edge of her mask to make sure it was secure before she pulled her cousin toward the ballroom. Sophie’s heartbeat quickened; while nervous over the possibility of being discovered by her stepmother, she was excited to be part of tonight’s festivities.

  And to think she almost hadn’t come!

  “This will be my last grand outing as Miss Isabelle Kinsley,” Isabelle said. “Sometimes I wonder why I agreed to marry Freddie.”

  “Because he is kind to you. I know you, Isabelle. No matter the circumstance you and your mother find yourself in, you wouldn’t have said yes had you not been fond of him.”

  Frederick was the Earl of Carswall, and he was a good man. When Isabelle’s father had died, the family had struggled to keep the lifestyle they’d been accustomed to on a fraction of the funds they’d previously enjoyed. Isabelle’s marriage would give her and her mother the financial security they needed. While the union was not a love match, there was no doubt in Sophie’s mind that it would grow into one.