Page 2 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

“Wakefield might not be home. Besides, Northbourne Park is so large that we’ll most likely never see the duke at all even if he is.” Unable to keep up his unworried pretense that all was well, he let his smile melt away. “Wakefield would never refuse us help, you know that. And right now, we need his help.”

What she knew was that she never wanted to see Michael Stanton again. “I’d rather take our chances with the bridge in Kelso.”

He glanced up at the sky which had turned a grayish white while they’d been stopped. The snow fell heavily in large flakes, so much so fast that the shoulders of his wool greatcoat had become dusted in just the short time he’d been talking to her.

He dropped his gaze back to her and repeated her words, “Absolutely not.”

For support, Clara looked across the compartment at Mrs. Bailey, who had been hired to serve as her nurse, maid, and companion a year ago. But the woman knew her place and offered no opinion.

Clara’s shoulders slumped. There was no place for them at the inn, no possibility of traveling around the bridge, and no way to shelter in the carriage with the dropping temperatures should they become stuck in the snow while making a run for Kelso. Pushing on would put all their lives at risk.

“We have no choice,” she whispered, apologizing to her heart for the damage she was about to inflict upon it.

“We do not.” Anthony swung into the compartment, closed the door against the bitter wind, and pounded his fist against the roof to signal the coachman, to whom he’d already given instructions.

With a crack of the driver’s whip, the team started into motion, turning them in a circle and heading back south toward Northbourne Park.

CHAPTER TWO

Michael Stanton, Duke of Wakefield, stared out the study window at the front drive of Northbourne Park. He’d heard the noise of an arriving carriage and the call of its coachman for the grooms who scurried from the stables, so he’d gone to the window to peer out. He wasn’t expecting guests, certainly not in this cold and not this close to the holidays.

He frowned as the coach’s tiger bounded to the ground and hurried to open the door. Who on earth…?

A tall man stepped to the ground and glanced up at the house, but his face was shadowed by the brim of his tall beaver hat. Waving away both his tiger and Northbourne’s footman who hurried down from the front portico, the man turned back toward the carriage and reached inside to pick up a large object. This time when he turned back toward the house—

Good God.The gold hair just peaking out from beneath the fur-lined hood of her velvet cape, the beauty of the fair skin and oval face, those lips that were always lusciously pink and temptingly kissable… Recognition sparked through him, and his heart stopped. “Clara.”

He bolted for the stairs.

Lady Clara Marshall was the last person in the world he’d ever have expected to grace his door…and the only woman who had ever pierced his heart.

Even now his chest panged with the memory of her, of the sassy sweetness of her wit and the soft warmth of her body pressing against his as they’d waltzed around the ballroom and committed more intimate acts in whatever dark garden bower they could find. He’d had every intention of marrying her, making her his duchess, and bringing her home to Northbourne. Dear God, they’d been so happy.

Then the accident destroyed everything.

“Uncle Michael?” Two sets of young eyes peered around the doorframe of the library as he hurried past toward the stairs landing.

Another head popped out above theirs and wrinkled a curious nose beneath a pair of spectacles. “What’s the matter?”

Followed by a fourth head on top, this one with bouncing curls. “I heard noises from the drive. Has someone arrived?”

Not someone.Theone.

“We have visitors.” Michael slowed just long enough to shoo them inside to continue with their lessons. “Go back to your tutor.” When all four children let out a plaintive AAAAHHHHWWWW of whining unhappiness at that command, he relented with trepidation. “Perhaps you can join us for refreshments later. Now back to your lessons.”

All four heads reluctantly popped back inside the room one by one, and the door was shut firmly by Mr. Chambers, the tutor Michael had hired to work with his nieces and nephews during their school holiday. He pulled in a breath of relief that they’d listened for once and hurried down the stairs toward the entrance hall on the ground floor. They were good children, and he loved them dearly. But they could also overwhelm people who didn’t know them well, and Clara’s unexpected arrival didn’t need any more surprises.

After all, it had already stunned the daylights out of him.

Clara’s arrival…Christ.To think of what could have brought her here after two years without an advance letter, without a warning of any kind— He glanced out the large windows as he rounded the last bend in the marble stairs and saw snow falling in thick, heavy flakes.

Certainly hell had frozen over.

He reached the entrance hall just as the front door swung upon and his butler Eads gave a welcoming bow. Anthony Marshall, Earl of Camden, strode up the wide steps and into the house, and Michael’s eyes met Clara’s, the young woman still held aloft in her brother’s arms.

“Clara.” He forgot himself beneath the shock of seeing her so unexpectedly and started forward, his mind spinning. “Are you all right? Do I need to send for the physician?”

Her pretty face flushed with embarrassment, and she turned away in Anthony’s arms.