Unlaced At Christmas: The Christmas Duchess / Russian Winter Nights / A Shocking Proposition

‘At least then she would stop crying over the last one,’ Ben agreed. ‘What else?’

What else? He could offer a large house, a proper education, a possible knighthood and a solid career in anything that might interest the child. But he doubted any of those would tempt. ‘I have a manor in Sussex with a very nice piece of land attached to it. There are woods with trees fit for climbing.’ He looked over at the boy. ‘I climbed them myself, when I was your age. Also a pond, with as many frogs as you might want, and a stream for fishing.’

‘I have never been fishing,’ the boy admitted. ‘When Papa was home, there was never time.’ Was that wistfulness he heard in the child’s tone?

‘Your father was the captain of a ship, was he not?’

The boy nodded.

‘He was a very busy man. I am but a duke and—’ other than running the country, and keeping my tenants housed and hundreds of servants fed and clothed ‘—I have more than enough time to fish. In summer, when the weather is good, we will live in the country and I will teach you.’

The boy brightened.

‘Do I have your blessing?’ the duke prompted.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You must call me Your Grace,’ he reminded the boy. ‘At least until we can settle on something more fitting that your mother will agree to.’

‘Yes, My Grace,’ the boy said with a slanted smile meant to annoy. Then he delivered a solid whack with his conker and split the duke’s nut in two.

‘Hot cockles,’ the duke said, and slapped him lightly on the back of the head. ‘Now I must go and try to mend the damage you did to your mother’s heart by making her think I loved your sister better than her. Keep your mouth shut on this for a day or two and you shall be gutting your own trout by May.’

The boy made a gesture of a key turning on his locked lips, grabbed the conkers and ran for the kitchen.

* * *

Christmas Eve dinner was less formal and more tense than the one on the previous evening. Mrs Marsh remained locked in her room, leaving Mrs Jordan to see to the children and the meal. It seemed the housekeeper had also been instructed to prevent further misbehaviour by Montford, for she was present in the dining room more than she was absent, adding and removing plates and sides as diligently as a footman.

She should, at least, have been appreciative of the meal he had provided for them. He had ordered a fully cooked goose from the village baker to make up for the roast that had been served to him the night before. She had smiled and thanked him when it had been delivered to the kitchen, along with a hamper that contained oranges, chestnuts and an iced Christmas cake.

But then Generva had announced her megrim and the whole house had turned against him. Not the whole house, perhaps. Gwendolyn and Mrs Jordan might look on him with suspicion. But Ben still seemed to enjoy his company, as did the spaniel.

After the meal, they retired to the parlour for cards and games. Mrs Jordan stationed herself in the corner with a bag of knitting like a tricoteuse beneath the guillotine, enjoying his suffering.

Was it not punishment enough that Generva refused to speak with him? He had delivered apologies and explanations through her bedroom door, well aware of the scene he was creating by lingering in the upper hallway. Her only response was to whisper that he was making things worse and demand that he please go away.

He suspected she meant to hide from him until he quit the house. He had no intention of doing so. If he remained until Christmas morning, she would have to come down for church. She would not permit her children to avoid the service, nor would she send Gwendolyn alone to face the gossips. When she opened the door, he would be there for her. All things would be settled at once.