The Duke and Miss Christmas (5 page)

It took only a moment for his gaze to fall on Miss Gwen Prim. She looked stunning dressed in a pale yellow gown that looked as if it had been made from the light froth that sometimes formed on moving water. A tempting swell of her breasts showed from beneath the heart-shaped neckline. Her shiny golden tresses had been attractively arranged on top of her head, revealing a slender neck that he was aching to kiss. And though the style was lovely on her, he'd much rather see her beautiful hair flowing across her shoulders as it had been earlier in the morning.

She was the only young lady in the room not smiling. Her expression remained cautious.

So she still didn't trust him.

Yet.

He could understand that. It was hard to live down a reputation as sullied as his.

“We've been waiting for you, Your Grace,” said the youngest girl, who looked to be the age of seven or eight. She managed a hasty curtsy before walking to stand toe-to-toe with him. Leaning her head back, she looked up at him with a cute-as-a-button big smile and said, “I'm Bonnie. Sybil said you were real nice to her and she doesn't know why Gwen wanted to hit you with the basket.”

Gwen gasped and then whispered, “Bonnie, be quiet.”

“Bonnie!” the duchess exclaimed. “You know your manners and I'll thank you to find them or take your leave from the room this instant. Now would you mind stepping aside so the rest of us can properly welcome the duke to our home?”

The little girl folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips as she stomped away.

Crispin looked over at Miss Gwen Prim. Her cheeks had turned as rosy as when she was out in the blustery wind. He was beginning to believe all the Prim girls were quite cheeky.

He strode further into the room, where proper introductions were made between him and the beautiful Duchess of Drakestone, the stimulating Miss Gwen Prim, and the younger Misses Lillian and Bonnie. He was also introduced to Saint who continued to sniff around his feet and legs.

“I don't see Miss Sybil,” he said, keeping his focus on the one blonde who'd had his full attention since she'd seen fit to leave her mark under his eye. “How is she?”

“I'm afraid she's fretful at the moment,” Miss Prim answered, eyeing him as closely as he perused her.

“That's understandable. I had hoped her leg wasn't injured too badly.”

“Oh, her ill temperament isn't because of her knee, though I'm sure it's uncomfortable, but because she can't join us to welcome you to Drakestone. She wanted to thank you personally for helping her today, but it's not possible for her to come down.”

“I was glad I happened upon her while I was out riding. I hope her leg's not broken.”

“No,” Miss Prim said, looking at the flowers in his hand. “She twisted her knee and has a very badly sprained ankle. She won't be walking for at least a week or two.”

“She may not be walking by the Christmas ball we're having,” Bonnie added as she walked up to him again.

“I'm sorry to hear that, but thought it might be the case,” he said. “I brought her some flowers.”

“I'll take them to her right now,” Bonnie said, and took hold of them with such a tight grip he was forced to let go before she broke the stems.

“No, I should be the one to do it,” Lillian said, moving up beside her sister and pushing her aside with her hip. “I'm older than you.”

“I got them first,” Bonnie argued.

“You both do it,” the duchess said in a firm tone, stepping in between the two girls. “Bonnie, give Lillian half the flowers.”

The little girl pursed her lips dramatically, but finally she started counting the flowers to make sure she gave her sister exactly half of them. When the mission was accomplished the two girls ran from the room.

“Please sit down, Your Grace,” the duchess said, and pointed to the uncomfortable-looking settee. “Lord and Lady Mountworth, Mr. and Mrs. William Underhill, and Mr. Russell Tweedy will be joining us but haven't arrived yet.”

“I'm acquainted with Lord and Lady Mountworth and Mr. and Mrs. Underhill, but I don't believe I know Mr. Tweedy.”

“I heard he doesn't care for the hustle and bustle of London so he seldom goes,” Her Grace answered. “That's probably why you haven't met him. He's Viscount Mountworth's nephew and I believe he resides most of the year at His Lordship's estate here in the valley.”

“And he's a very fine gentleman,” Miss Prim added quickly.

“I don't doubt that,” the duke answered.

A loud, high-pitched, “No!” and more squealing sounded from the front of the house. Crispin knew the girls hadn't yet made it up the stairs with the flowers and so did the dog. Saint barked and ran to investigate. As Crispin had thought after talking to his uncle, this household was a lot like his own.

“You two go ahead and be seated,” Her Grace said. “I'm going to see what that scream was about.”

“I apologize for my younger sisters' outburst, Your Grace,” Miss Prim said as the duchess left the room.

And then suddenly Miss Prim caught him completely off guard by smiling at him. His stomach did a slow roll, and his lower body tightened. There was something about her that triggered alarms on all his senses to open up and be attentive to every little thing about her. She made no move to sit down, so Crispin didn't, either.

“That's the second time today I've had to apologize to you,” she continued. “That is already over my limit for saying I'm sorry, so I hope I don't have to do it again.”

He smiled, too. “I have four sisters, Miss Christmas, and I just spent more than six months traveling with them. You don't have to apologize to me. It's all part of family life.”

“I would think being an unmarried duke, you wouldn't have much of a family life.”

“You would be wrong.”

Her shoulders straightened a little higher. “All right. I stand corrected.”

He stepped in closer to her. “Did you ask Bray anything about me after I left this morning?”

She moistened her lips. “No.”

“That surprises me. So there was no curiosity about me?”

“Well, I—”

He took another step closer, too close, but he was pleased she didn't back away from him. “What?”

“If you must know, there was curiosity, of course, but I managed to tamp it down and not ask.”

“What would you like to know about me?” he asked.

Her eyes searched his. “The gossip during the Season was that you went to America looking for a bride to bring home because none of the ton's mothers would let you near their daughters because of the wager with your friends.”

“Really?” That bit of gossip surprised him, since he'd had many fathers and mothers seek him out and extol their daughters' virtues since the wager was leaked. But Crispin never tried to understand gossip.

She nodded.

“I hadn't heard that, but I haven't been back in England very long.”

“Were you?” she asked. “There to find a bride?”

“No. The truth is that my mother has endured a lot from me but has asked very little of me since I came of age. She became ill while traveling in a city called Baltimore in America. She wrote and asked me to come to her, so I did.”

“That's admirable. Is she better?”

“She seems to be. I wanted to make sure her recovery was complete, so I stayed and traveled with her and the family for the rest of their journey. So the gossip is just that. Gossip.” He paused. “You are lovely tonight, Miss Christmas.”

She smiled again, but this time it was a shy smile. “You mean without bits of dead grass and gravel in my hair and dirt on my dress.”

“Oh no,” he said softly. “You looked so incredibly … Perhaps I best not describe just how enticing you were to me this morning. You're not as outspoken this evening as you were earlier today. Why?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“Not to me. You're going to have to tell me.”

She glanced at the doorway as if she was hoping her sister would come back into the room and rescue her from having to answer him.

“Surely you must know I'm still quite embarrassed that I hit you.”

“I've forgotten about it already.” “Well, it's rather hard for me to do that because every time I look at you I see the very obvious scratch beneath your eye.”

He laughed. “I'm afraid there was nothing I could do to make it go away.”

“Believe me, if I could make it go away, I would.”

“My uncle was quite inquisitive when I returned home this morning looking as if I were the loser in fisticuffs.”

“Weren't you?” she asked with a hint of humor curving her beautiful lips.

So she could tease him after all. He was beginning to wonder if she ever would.

“I'm still trying to decide which one of us won our battle this morning,” he answered truthfully.

“What did you tell your uncle happened to you?”

“I told him the truth.”

Her lovely mouth formed a silent O.

Seeing he had the upper hand, for the time being at least, and wanting to keep it for as long as he could, Crispin continued, “I told him I was in a thicket minding my own business when suddenly the most beautiful young lady I had ever seen walked up and hit me with her gardening basket.”

Miss Prim frowned with concern. “Did he believe you? He didn't, did he?”

Crispin hesitated and the furrows in her forehead deepened. Finally, he said, “No. Not a word of it.”

“You are teasing me, aren't you? You didn't tell him anything. You probably don't even have an uncle.”

He laughed again. “The part about me having an uncle is true, and I'm sure he wondered plenty about what might have happened, but he'd never ask me.”

“Oh, you're an impossible man, Your Grace!” she exclaimed. “If I had a basket in my hand right now, I'd hit you again.”

“And if the duchess wasn't right outside the door I would try to kiss you again.”

“Kissing.” She huffed. “That seems to be what most gentlemen think about.”

“It's quite pleasurable.”

“Then I'm sure you'll find someone who is quite willing to enjoy it with you, but that will not be me.”

“It's been my experience that most young ladies enjoy it as well. If you don't then you haven't been properly kissed.”

“I never said I didn't enjoy kissing. Actually, I believe I admitted I liked it. I just realized I didn't like the man who was kissing me.”

Crispin laughed at her comment as the duchess walked back into the room. She was followed by a young dark-haired and slim-built gentleman who strode in with all the ease of a man who had been welcomed into the home many times. Crispin didn't have to be introduced to him to know he was Mr. Russell Tweedy. He didn't even look in Crispin's direction. He headed straight for Miss Prim. His smile was genuine as he took her gloved hand and kissed the back of her palm.

“Miss Prim, I'm delighted to see you once again and be in your company.” He handed her a large floral arrangement and a box that Crispin assumed was filled with pastries. “You are absolutely stunning tonight.” He put his hand over his heart for a moment before continuing on to say, “I fear I will have trouble speaking all evening because you have stolen the breath from me.”

Crispin felt a twitch between his shoulders. It was clear the dandy had his sights on Miss Prim. Whether or not Tweedy was truly besotted with her or if he knew he'd be well-set the rest of his life married to the sister-in-law of the Duke of Drakestone Crispin didn't know yet, but the dandy was pursuing her with all he had.

Just when Crispin thought Miss Prim was eating up Mr. Tweedy's flattery as if it were a sweetened, frothy cream to be devoured slowly, her attention left him and his overly long monologue about how beautiful she was and her gaze swept over to Crispin.

And at that moment, he knew she didn't return the man's blatant affections.

Crispin smiled.

Chapter 5

Holly berries and goose feathers!

Gwen was absolutely mortified every time she glanced up and saw the wide, red scrape under the Duke of Hurst's eye. And for about the hundredth time that day she wished there were a way to go back in time and change what she'd done to him.

Lord Mountworth was seated to her right and Mr. Tweedy to her left. Directly across from her sat the infuriatingly attractive Duke of Hurst. The dinner table was covered with a fine white linen cloth and the most beautiful crystal, china, and silver money could buy. Candlelight shone on the table from the low-hanging chandelier, the elaborate wall sconces, and the tall brass candlesticks on each end of the table, making everything in the room glimmer and sparkle. The Duke and Duchess of Drakestone sat at the head and foot of the table, respectively.

Gwen would be happy when this day was finally over. She'd always had an active mind and a vivid imagination, often making up different endings to books she'd read, writing stories and poetry for her own pleasure, or making up fairy tales for Bonnie and Sybil. But not even Gwen could have come up with the unanticipated turn of events that had happened today.

They were well into the main course of baked pheasant drizzled with a delicious fig sauce and the duke hadn't seen fit to take his concentration off her all evening. That was to say, every time she glanced at him he was staring at her. And it was doing delicious, confounding things to her insides.

Not that Mr. Tweedy would notice. He was too busy talking—always to her and completely ignoring Mrs. Underhill, who was seated on his other side. The jovial fellow had seldom stopped long enough to take a breath since he arrived. She couldn't help but notice that the slim Mr. Tweedy had picked at his food, taking a nibble every now and again, while the strapping Duke of Hurst had eaten every bite of all that was put before him. Plus, he'd managed a quiet, easy conversation between Lady Mountworth and Mrs. Underhill, giving both ladies equal smiles and equal time.