Page 58 of It's a British Christmas

She’d winced at the loss of the piece.

“It is not an honorable thing you are doing, Your Grace. We had an agreement.” Lord Fenster waved the paper they’d worked on only a few weeks before.

“I apologize, my lord. I am truly sorry for this, but I feel I must do what I believe is best for your daughter as well as myself.”

Fenster raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? My daughter was about to become betrothed to a duke and you think that not happening is in her best interests?” He narrowed his eyes. “There is another woman?”

Adam hesitated. “Yes, my lord.”

“Who is she?”

“She would be unknown to you. She lives in a small village in Worcestershire.”

Fenster drew himself up and glared at him. “You stand before me declaring that you are throwing over my daughter, a refined, well-bred young lady of the ton, for some wench you met in a village?” He waved his hand in dismissal, “If you got her with child, Your Grace, set her up somewhere and see her when you wish. A proper wife expects her husband to have his mistresses.”

If Fenster was not an older man, and if Adam did not acknowledge he was in the wrong in this situation, Fenster would be sitting on his arse right now, holding a bloody nose. Instead, he took a deep breath. “I will ignore that statement because you are upset. However, when and if the young lady accepts my hand, I expect her to be treated with dignity and respect. She is no wench.”

With those words, he gave the man a brief nod and left the house.

Now his next step, which was most likely going to be even harder than the meeting with Fenster. He jumped on his horse, Apollo and rode away, already freed of the tight band around his chest that had held him captive since he had acknowledged that Lady Ann was not for him. And the most inappropriate woman was.

We need to start gathering the evergreens for the church for Christmas. If you have time today, I would like you to go with me,” Papa said.

Eve turned to her mother. “Mama? What do we have today?”

Her mama turned to her. “I will need your help with the baking, but Mrs. Vance is coming over to help with the laundry.” Mrs. Vance was their occasional domestic help who had been part of their household for as long as Eve could remember. Her favorite visits from Mrs. Vance involved the best apple tarts she had ever tasted.

“I should have time, Papa.” She continued to eat her breakfast, hoping that doing all the normal things that made up her life would help remind her of her place in the world.

Two hours later she was on her hands and knees in the garden, tears rolling down her face as she pulled the last of the weeds before laying down manure for the winter. After carefully leaving seed heads on the plants for the wildlife, especially birds, to eat throughout the winter, she brushed her hands against her old coat and stood. The sound of carriage wheels caught her attention.

Oh, no. Please, don’t let him see me now.

She dropped her implements, and raced through the back door, down the corridor, and up the stairs to her bedroom. She whipped off her heavy gloves, coat, apron and hat, and hurried to the mirror. Quickly dosing her face with water, she ran a brush through her hair and pulled it back, tying it with a ribbon.

Glancing down at her dress, she realized nothing could be done about that since besides the one fancy gown she’d worn to the assembly, her only other frock was in the laundry. She’d barely taken one calming breath when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

“Yes?” Lord, was that her voice?

“His Grace would like to speak with you,” Mama said.

Why hadn’t he just gone back to London? Why had he stopped here? Was it just to torture her?

She stiffened her shoulders, ready to cut him down with her tongue. “I will be right there, Mama.”

“Don’t keep His Grace waiting.”

She sighed. Up until the other day he’d merely been Lord Manchester, a somewhat down-to-earth lord who seemed to fit in well with her family, and the villagers. Today he was His Grace, and she should not keep him waiting.

Feeling as though she was headed into battle, she pulled open the door and took a deep breath. She started down the stairs and looked into the eyes of the man with whom she had fallen hopelessly and irrevocably in love.

God help me.

Adam’s stomach muscles knotted as he watched Eve descend the stairs. Even though he could tell she’d been crying, since her eyes were still a bit swollen, she looked beautiful in his eyes. All he wanted to do was sweep her up and dump her into the carriage. Maybe head to Gretna Green.

Holding his hand out, he reached for her, a smile on his face. “Care to take a walk?”

She eyed his hand as though it was a snake about to lunge at her.