One Night with a Duke: 12 Dukes of Christmas #10

by Erica Ridley

  There was naught to figure out. Jonathan already knew the answer.

  He wanted Angelica.

  She had heard every thought he’d ever had on why he was a rolling stone whom no one place could tempt to stay. He’d been wrong. The question was how to convince her he wanted to put things right.

  “How can I slow down, when I must place a catalogue into every future customer’s hand?”

  “What if you didn’t?” Calvin suggested.

  “Then how would we—” But an idea was already forming. He sat up straight. “Haberdashers.”

  “Haberdashers?” Calvin repeated politely.

  “Instead of printing and delivering catalogues to individual customers, we could provide them to each town’s local shops instead. Our customers would visit the shops to place their orders, which would increase the shopkeepers’ business, too. We could even offer them a commission.”

  “Don’t you dare name the number,” Calvin warned. “I will discuss an appropriate commission with Nottingvale.”

  Jonathan was happy to hand over the finer details. He had suddenly freed entire future months of his life. There were far fewer haberdashers than individual customers. Making the rounds would take time, but far less than he had feared.

  “I suppose Fit for a Duke must have a headquarters.” If it was here in Cressmouth…

  “London,” Calvin said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Jonathan supposed it was. “Besides being the center of the British postal system, I live there, Nottingvale spends the majority of his time there, all the most influential dandies and designers are there...”

  None of that signified.

  Jonathan set down his mug of chocolate. He didn’t need a pretext to stay. He had a reason: Angelica. She was more than enough.

  That was, if she’d give him a second chance.

  Chapter 14

  Angelica cast an emotional eye about her parlor. It was hers now. Truly hers.

  Today was Christmas in every sense of the word. She had all the things she’d worked so hard for. A shop, in her name. A home she owned outright. Recognition for her skill. A marvelous new business opportunity.

  She flung her arms out wide and spun in a circle. She was free from her contract with Mr. Marlowe.

  Without the specter of seven years’ worth of high rents hanging over her, she could now share her savings with her family; send home funds as often as she liked. Not just money—Angelica could go herself. She could embrace them, kiss their cheeks, talk with them, laugh with them, even when it wasn’t Christmas.

  Could there be a better gift than family?

  Soon, they would all meet back here after the church service to celebrate. The Yule log was in the fireplace, and festive boughs decorated with ribbons were placed strategically throughout her home. In a few hours, the cozy interior would overflow with conversation and love.

  She’d prepared as much food as possible in advance, so that the evening could be spent with each other, rather than in the kitchen. The others had gone to claim the best pew in the chapel for Uncle Maurice’s sermon. They were an hour early, but one could not be too careful about such things.

  Angelica was glad she hadn’t mentioned Jonathan would be joining them for their Christmas meal. She didn’t want to have to explain his absence.

  Not that she would be saved from questions. No doubt half her family would chide her for not having invited him.

  Once he was gone for good—if he wasn’t already—she could also look forward to questions from the rest of the village. Had she heard from Jonathan? What news did she have? When would he be back? No. None. Never.

  It was almost enough to make her want to stay home this time.

  But that wasn’t a choice, and Angelica wasn’t the sort who cowered. She would field uncomfortable questions with grace, and go about her life with her head held high.

  No matter how she felt inside.

  The wicker duke stood in a corner of her bedchamber. After spending a long night with its blank face watching over her in silence, she could state unequivocally that its presence was nothing at all like being with Jonathan. Angelica didn’t have the heart to toss it into a fire, but she might make a donation to the local haberdasher in the morning.

  She hurried down the stairs and into her jeweler’s shop to ensure the sign was turned to CLOSED.

  A figure stood outside, gloved hands tucked against his sides and his hat pulled low to block out the wind.

  Her lungs caught, even though it wasn’t Jonathan.

  It was her brother Luther.

  She unlocked the shop door and cracked it open just far enough to peek outside. “Why in heaven’s name are you standing outside in the cold?”

  “Waiting for you,” he said, teeth chattering. “Thought we could walk to church together.”

  Her heart warmed. “That’s a lovely idea. One moment, whilst I grab my coat.”

  As her hand reflexively moved to close the door, Angelica paused. What was she doing? Leaving her brother out in freezing weather because of her personal policy to refuse him entrance into her shop? He wasn’t here to mock her achievements, or to look around and list all the ways he would have done things better.

  And even if he was... it was Christmas. Love was stronger than pride.

  She pulled open the door. “Don’t just stand there.”

  His eyes widened. “I can come in?”

  She stepped aside, as though her heart weren’t knocking against her ribs. The last time they’d both been in the same jeweler’s shop, they’d found themselves in yet another shouting match.

  Luther had said their father was right to leave the shop to him, and him alone. He was older. He knew best. He didn’t need a quarrelsome baby sister underfoot.

  Months later, Angelica had informed him that he needn’t worry about her being in the way. She’d been offered her own shop, elsewhere. After seven years, the rewards would be even greater.

  Luther had laughed, said she wouldn’t last seven days.

  And now he was stepping across her threshold.

  He glanced about in wonder. “Your shop is...”

  Small? Tidy? Insignificant?

  “...impressive,” he finished. His gaze went to the window display. “You designed all of these?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. Those were the most inexpensive trinkets. Her most expensive, intricate work was locked away until after Christmas when her shop reopened. If Luther judged her based solely on her cheapest product—

  “Your technique has matured, but I recognize your style.” He stepped from one piece to another, slowly, deliberately, as if savoring precious artifacts in a museum exhibition. “I especially liked the leaves on your holly adornments. Your repoussé is second to none.”

  Had he just... complimented her? Had her brother ever complimented her artistry before?

  “You’ve always been second to none.” He turned to face her. “And I’ve always been jealous of my little sister’s talent. I’ve finally grown up enough to admit it.”

  “I’ve always been jealous,” she admitted. “You got everything I ever wanted, and you didn’t even have to try.”

  “Didn’t have to try?” He let out a choking laugh. “I barely saw my own bedchamber, from spending every hour of every day in the shop, hunched over the work bench, trying again and again to halfway execute techniques that came to you naturally.”

  “Then why did Father bequeath the shop to you instead of me?” Her nails dug into her palms. “Why didn’t he leave it to both of us equally?”

  “Because we’re not equal, Angel.” Luther gave a soft chuckle. “Father saw that I put in the time, that I would dedicate my life to the shop if need be. And he saw you were meant for greater things.”

  Her throat tightened. “But you... You were so dreadful about me moving to Cressmouth...”

  “I envied you.” His eyes held hers. “But the real reason I didn’t want you to go was because you’re
my sister. I was afraid if you left, I’d never get you back. That you’d be lost to me forever.”

  Her eyes pricked with heat.

  “I’m not lost, big brother.” She stepped closer. “I’m right here.”

  He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “Do you forgive an old fool?”

  “Do you forgive a younger and prettier one?” she mumbled into his lapel.

  Luther laughed and let her go. “I did improve, you know. You should see the shop now. This spring, I may have to employ even more nieces and nephews.”

  “That’s wonderful.” A lightness filled her. “And I will be able to see it. As of today, I’m free to go where I please.”

  He stepped back in surprise. “You’d leave Cressmouth?”

  “Only for a holiday,” she admitted. “The first one I’ll take will be to come and see you.”

  He cocked a brow. “Will you be arriving on the arm of a certain Scotsman?”

  Her joy dimmed.

  “No.” She pulled her muffler off the rack and wrapped it about her head and neck methodically. “I wouldn’t depend on that.”

  Her brother frowned. “Did something happen?”

  She shoved her arms into the sleeves of her pelisse. “He wanted me to give up everything I care about or worked hard for, to go traveling from town to town with him. To have no home or shop or family or stability.”

  “And he became enraged when you pointed out that was the last thing you’d ever want to do?” Luther guessed.

  “Not at all.” She fastened her buttons. “He said it was no problem for me to stay here. He’d visit me every Christmas, just like you do.”

  Luther narrowed his eyes. “Should I punch him?”

  “You should not punch him.” She looped her arm through her brother’s. “You won’t see him again, anyway. He never returns to the same place twice.”

  “But you said he would have. For you.” Luther pushed open the door. “What did he say when you proposed a more reasonable compromise?”

  The icy wind smacked Angelica in the face.

  “Er,” she said.

  Had she proposed a reasonable compromise? Or had her anger and hurt feelings caused her to turn him away, without even attempting to fight for the love blossoming between them?

  “I see,” Luther said. “Well, I’m certain you know best.”

  “I really don’t,” she mumbled. “I’m a disaster.”

  “I know,” he assured her. “I was just being supportive.”

  She elbowed him in the side.

  “You might be the better craftsman,” he said, “but after nine years of marriage, I know a thing or two about love.”

  “Who said anything about love?” she muttered.

  “Your face did.” He slanted her a look. “When you love someone, you find a way to be together.”

  Her throat prickled. “He’s already gone.”

  Because she’d told him to leave.

  Because he’d tossed off two ridiculous options, and she hadn’t suggested any.

  “Is he?” Luther let go of her arm.

  Angelica glanced in the direction he indicated.

  There, in the castle’s open doorway, was Jonathan.

  Her thoughts muddled.

  “He’s not here for me,” she babbled. “I’d invited him to church and to dinner, and he probably felt honor-bound to come...”

  “Uh-huh.” Luther took an exaggerated step aside. “Nothing to do with you at all.”

  She couldn’t see Jonathan’s face.

  His body was silhouetted by the warm light spilling from the castle. It was exactly like that first moment she’d glanced up from her work to discover a friendly Scot in her shop. Back then, she had thought nothing of yet another tourist passing through. But they were no longer strangers. Now when he left, he would take a piece of her soul with him.

  Heart pounding, she closed the distance between them.

  The lover’s locket she’d given him was affixed to his left lapel. It hung open. The brooch was no longer empty. Her own eye gazed out at her. Sketched with pen; painted with watercolor. A bold pronouncement pinned to his chest that his heart was spoken for.

  It belonged to her.

  “I’m sorry I let you down,” he said, before she could say the same. “I’ve been so used to my life being a certain way that I failed to envision what a new way would look like. What it should look like.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll stop.”

  She frowned. “Stop what?”

  “Everything. I’ll stop running, I’ll stop traveling, I’ll stop...” He gestured helplessly. “I’ll stop being afraid. Or at least, I won’t let fear stop me. I love you, Angelica. No place would ever be home without you in it.”

  She took a breath. Compromise. Love was worth it. “You adore travel just as much as I adore crafting jewelry. I didn’t want you to stop being you. I wanted us to be us. For more than twelve days a year.”

  He touched her cheek. “I may not have a house to offer you, but I do have my heart, my soul, and my life. Those are the things I want to share with you forever. Wherever ‘forever’ happens to be.”

  She leaned her cheek into his warm palm and gazed up at him with all the love in her heart. “Don’t try to please me. Tell me what you need. We’ll find a way.”

  “I need you,” he said without hesitation, then paused. “And to travel. It’s part of me. I’d like it to be a part of us. Something we do together. Not always—you need your shop, too. But sometimes.”

  “What if we stayed here during the winter season, and took frequent trips to London to visit my family? Our family,” she quickly corrected herself. “They’ll be yours, now, too.”

  “I’d like that,” he said softly. “What if you came with me sometimes, on journeys to deliver catalogues or whatever future investments might hold?”

  “I would adore that.” An even better idea occurred to her. “What if we took the long way home on those trips, making sure to visit places that are new to us both? We can be adventurers together.”

  In response, he placed her hand over the lover’s locket. His pulse thrummed beneath, strong and eager.

  “My heart is yours. I love you, Angelica. I want to rub your hands when you’re tired. I want to be your aural accompaniment for the rest of our lives. I want to read to you, kiss you, marry you—”

  “Yes.” She wrapped her arms about his neck. “I love you, too. There’s no one else I’d want to read me geology texts and odes to haggis. I cannot wait to explore the future at your side.”

  He swung her into a joyful circle and kissed her as though he’d never let her go.

  Epilogue

  June 1816

  Spitalfields

  “Mrs. Munroe will arrive at any moment,” said Luther. “Where’s her daughter’s necklace?”

  “Over here.” Angelica slid the necklace into its case and handed it to her brother.

  None of which interrupted Jonathan’s flow as he read passages aloud from the latest Fit for a Duke catalogue in dramatic fashion.

  “Double-breasted morning jacket!” He struck a flamboyant pose. “Seamless thigh padding!”

  When they weren’t tidying the shop, Esther and Florence pranced around their Uncle Jonathan, attempting to copy his absurd poses.

  Angelica and Luther exchanged amused glances before returning their attention to their respective worktables.

  Instead of purchasing her own window on fashionable St. James, Angelica and Jonathan had decided instead to invest in expanding her brother’s shop. Lending a hand whenever she was in town had become part of the pleasure.

  The expanded shop was in constant motion. Fit for a Duke used Luther not only as a supplier, but also as a venue to display some of the most popular items in the catalogue. This increased the number of visitors to the shop, many of whom became jewelry clients as well.

  When Angelica turned from the worktable, Jonathan was there at once to lift her hands in his and massage any tension away.<
br />
  “You look beautiful,” he murmured.

  She gestured at her new pink frock. “You’re just saying that because I’m wearing a prototype for the new Fit for a Duchess line.”

  “I would say it even if you weren’t wearing anything.” He gave her a wicked grin. “Especially then.”

  Her cheeks flushed hot. It was true. He showed her how beautiful she was every single day.

  “Stop that,” Luther called out without turning around from his workbench. “Don’t you two have some random village you should be off visiting?”

  “Not yet,” Angelica replied happily. “You’re saddled with us for six more days.”

  After which, they’d take the long way back to Cressmouth, recruiting new consignment partners in the Cotswolds or on the coast, and staying an extra week or two to enjoy the area.

  She and Jonathan had found peace in a rhythm that worked for both of them. Most of their time was spent in Cressmouth, but their frequent visits to family or to Scotland always involved exploring new sights and shires along the way.

  “Can I read from the catalogue now?” asked Esther.

  “No!” Florence yanked it from her sister’s hands. “It’s my turn.”

  Jonathan pressed Angelica’s palm to his lips, likely to hide his amusement. The girls were growing fast. Luther would have plenty of aural accompaniment, even after Angelica and Jonathan went away.

  Angelica helped Jonathan make good use of his inheritance. They used half to create endowments for struggling businesses, so that others would not need to sign contracts like the one she’d had with Mr. Marlowe in order to have a future.

  With the other half of the trust money, they made large donations to charities and abolitionist causes. They could not singlehandedly reinvent Britain, but they could make positive changes in a significant number of lives.

  “Oh—and Mr. Rosenthal,” said Luther. “Do you have the portrait for his locket?”

  “I do.” Jonathan kissed Angelica’s cheek, then hurried to his work area, where he worked on portrait commissions for eye miniatures whenever they were in London. His work had become as popular as the lockets themselves. On the counter was a register with a waiting list of satisfied customers, eager to add the crowning touch to their purchase.