by Alanna Lucas
How the Duke Stole Christmas
Alanna Lucas
Copyright © 2019 by Alanna Lucas
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
ISBN 978-0-9985314-9-6
Sebastiani Press
PO Box 11373
Burbank, CA 91510
https://alannalucas.com/
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Chapter One Excerpt from When the Marquess Returns
About the Author
Also by Alanna Lucas
Chapter 1
October 1819
Leaning against the cool fluted column near the rear of the ballroom, Greystone viewed the spectacle before him. Fancy peacocks, draped figures with dark masks, and fairytale nymphs all seemed to be searching for mischievous adventure. And yet, even with all the whimsey, everywhere he turned it seemed as if the gossipmongers were staring only at him. Despite the dark cloak and grey mask he wore, he suspected they knew exactly who he was.
“Glowering is not going to make the evening progress any faster.” A faint whisper of jasmine tickled his nostrils. Mother.
She was the only reason he endured this madness. She had been pestering him for years to join her for the Season or one of these house parties, but each time, he had managed to create some excuse. However, on his last visit to Castle Greystone, in a moment of weakness he’d promised to attend one function this year. Since the year was almost at an end, this was the one he’d chosen, where he’d assumed no one would suspect his identity, and would leave him mostly alone. He’d been wrong. The moment he’d walked into the opulent ballroom, he’d been cornered first by Lady Capers, then Lady Neville. His mood was souring with each breath he took.
“I am not glowering. Perhaps I am surveying my surroundings, deciding on which masked lady I should ask to dance.” He leaned toward his mother, attempting to add humor to his words. “Will she be the peacock? Or the enticing Grecian goddess? Or perhaps I should consider...” He glanced about the room, his gaze settling on a colorful concoction. “I don’t even know how to describe that creature.” A dreadful shudder rippled down his spine at the array of feathers and multi-colored ribbons exploding from the young lady’s headdress.
Mother turned her gaze in the direction of where Greystone was looking. She opened her fan with a gentle flick of her elegant gloved hand and brought it up close to her lips. “Oh dear, that is an unfortunate display,” she whispered out on a sly giggle.
A loud, involuntary sigh escaped Greystone’s lips.
As if reading his thoughts, she turned her attention back to her son. Her eyes peered through her green and gold mask, pleading with concern as she spoke. “If you would just make some sort of attempt to be social it would—”
Focusing again on the display of masks parading through the space, he retorted, “I’ve been social, just not in public.”
“Really, Theodore, do you have to be so…so vulgar? I’m merely worried about you. I just thought—”
Cutting off her lecture, he let out a heavy sigh. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. “Mother, I am here this evening. Please, just be satisfied with that victory.”
No matter how hard he tried, betrayal haunted him, followed him. Six years ago, he’d had everything within his grasp; a beautiful fiancée, an impressive title, and a brother who was his best friend. And now, all he was left with was a grand title and an empty scarred heart, with an impregnable wall around it. Why was he even here?
Even behind her mask, he could see her jaw tighten. “Please make an effort this evening. For my sake.”
Guilt soured in his stomach. What was he going to do with her?
He met her gaze. Sadness and heartache weighed down her lovely green eyes. There had been too many losses in recent years. Damn his brother.
She placed a soft hand on his arm. “Please.” The pleading look in her eyes nearly broke his heart.
With great reluctance, he responded, “For you, Mother, I will make an excellent display.” Her eyes brightened. For one evening, I will make you happy. One evening was all he was capable of giving. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must find a suitable dance partner.”
But before he could make an escape, she raised a gloved hand to cheek. “I just want you to find happiness, Theodore.” And with that final comment, she walked away leaving him to ponder what exactly would make him happy. Every time he thought he’d found some semblance of happiness, the bitter taste of betrayal reared its ugly head and plunged him further into the depths of guilt and remorse. Why, after all these years, would anything be any different?
A ruckus careened from across the room as a group of boisterous young gents set on mischief cackled as they drew every eye in attendance to them. Greystone had tilted his head to see what had caused them to act in such a manner when he spied a quartet of masked ladies entering the ballroom with all the joy and exuberance of youth.
Envy heated his veins. What would it be like to be young and carefree again? To be able to turn back the clock and set things to rights.
Past the quartet of colorful masks, a lone lady trailed. She glanced about the ballroom as if she were looking for someone when her eyes settled on him. For one brief moment their eyes locked before she quickly lowered her lashes. He was certain that underneath the blue mask edged with gold, a deep blush tainted her creamy skin.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his mother glancing toward the lady, then offering an encouraging nod his way. Mother was relentless in her quest this evening, he’d give her that much.
“The Duchess of Greystone giving you trouble this evening?” He heard the teasing tone of his best friend, Lord Kinsley, over his shoulder.
“As you well know, she would like to see me married, settled—preferably with a baby on the way—all by the end of the year.” This had become the standard topic of conversation between the two friends of late. Both had meddling mothers who seemed to have nothing better to do than to pester their only sons.
“Tsk, Tsk. That doesn’t leave much time.” Kinsley said with a hint of teasing sarcasm. “Life does not seem to be fair for two kindhearted gentlemen such as ourselves.”
“Kindhearted indeed.” Greystone was never one to express his woes out loud. His wounds ran deep, and the wall he’d built around his heart was tall. He would not fall victim to anyone. Better to appear cold-hearted than to endure heartbreak…again.
“Are you going to the north for the festive season?”
He had no intention of returning to Castle Greystone any time soon. “Just as soon as my obligations here are met.” He continued to admire the group of young ladies. He nodded in the direction of the lady clad in light blue. No, not quite blue, but some heavenly variation of the color that glimmered in the candlelight. “Do you know who she is?”
Her elaborate mask covered the upper half of her face, but
thankfully did not conceal her delicate plump lips. Her movements were graceful yet sweet all at the same time. She appeared genuinely enthralled with the activity around her, which was a welcome change to the normal husband-hunting antics that usually were par for the course at such events.
Greystone continued to admire her. She was beautifully refreshing amongst the types one found parading around at these functions.
Kinsley’s gaze followed to where he was nodding. “I haven’t a clue, but I would like to discover—”
Without tearing his gaze from the young woman who had caught his attention, Greystone raised his hand to stop Kinsley. “I saw her first.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was something about her that he found intriguing.
“And I suppose a duke trumps a viscount?”
“In this case, yes.”
Without further word, Greystone took his leave, passing curious onlookers as he headed straight for the lovely lady in the tantalizing mask.
He should have gone to the master of ceremonies and acquired a proper introduction, but he was a duke, and besides, it was a ridiculous rule in his estimation. Not to mention this was a masquerade and Lady Trumble, their hostess, had a ridiculous notion about everyone knowing everyone regardless of masks, although few had obliged.
All he wanted was a dance, one enjoyable dance, to fulfill his promise to his mother. As pleasurable as it would be, he was not going to whisk the young woman off to some dark alcove or seduce her in the garden. He reminded himself that she was a proper lady of the ton, not a candidate for the position of his next mistress. And besides, the wall he’d built around his heart would not allow for such frivolities with a proper lady.
Later, in the still of night, he knew he would question his sanity. He should have chosen a partner who did not entice him from the first moment he’d set eyes on her. He always guarded his feelings with extreme caution. However, he had promised his mother that he would indulge in one dance. He might disobey his mother’s wishes from time to time, but once he made a promise, he never broke it.
The crush of people continued to part and let him pass, as hushed whispers about his possible identity coursed through the room.
He paid no heed but stayed the course. Only once he reached the masked lady did he relax. “May I have the honor of the next dance?”
Crystal clear blue eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “I would be honored.” Her long dark brown eyelashes fluttered and then lowered as if in embarrassment.
Casual conversation had never been a strong suit for Greystone. Get straight to the point had always been his motto. But suddenly he had a strong desire to know more about her. Perhaps it was just a trick of his imagination, or that he’d been a hermit for far too long, but it was as if there was some invisible connection pulling him toward her.
“Thank you for accepting my hand.” He offered it as he guided her to toward the dance floor and waited for the remaining couples to assemble.
As she worried her bottom lip, he wondered if it tasted as good as it looked. Oh hell. He needed to rein in his thoughts. What was it about her?
“I suppose I should have declined your offer to dance, especially since it is a waltz and we have not been properly introduced.” The sweet, teasing tone of her voice further tugged at his heartstrings.
“It is a ridiculous rule.”
Her blue eyes softened behind the mask as she smiled. “I agree. And it is a masked ball after all.”
Despite his desire for anonymity, he was curious about his dancing partner. “And whom do I have the pleasure of dancing with?”
“You’re not supposed to inquire; that takes the mystique out of the evening,” she replied lightly.
“I assure you, the evening will not lose its allure if I know your name.” He was enjoying the playful banter, and for a moment, he could almost forget the past. Almost.
She seemed to think about it for a moment. “Miss Leybourne,” she whispered out in a far too enticing tone. Did she have any idea how her spirited nature affected him? Damn, it had been far too long since he’d had a woman warming his bed.
The first soft chords of the waltz resonated through the ballroom. He took her hand in his, then settled his other on her back. Although the top of Miss Leybourne’s head barely reached his shoulder, they seemed to fit perfectly together.
Don’t be fooled. The warning echoed in his head.
“Is anything the matter?” Her caring blue gaze edged past some of the betrayal that his heart clung to. How was she penetrating the wall around his heart?
“It has been quite a few years since I danced.” That wasn’t entirely a lie, but he could not, would not tell her the truth. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, he added, “And even more since I danced with such a charming lady.”
Miss Leybourne offered a half-smile that implied she did not quite believe him. He returned it with one of his own. The dance slowed, and as he continued to hold her in his arms, he realized he was falling under her spell. For the first time in years, he’d enjoyed a dance.
How was that even possible after one turn on the dance floor? How was that possible after what he’d endured? Miss Leybourne was a dangerous creature indeed. Love was a far-fetched luxury for a select few, and love at first sight simply did not exist.
All too soon, it was time for him to return Miss Leybourne to her party.
“I bid you a good evening, Miss Leybourne. I hope to make your acquaintance again.” He took his leave wondering what the hell had gotten into him. Not only had he enjoyed a dance with a proper lady of the ton, he had opened a Pandora’s Box hoping to steal a moment with her later. The uneasiness in his gut told him it would not be a good idea.
No sooner had he left Miss Leybourne’s side than Lady Blanch crossed the room with eagerness and much enthusiasm. The woman was abominable in every sense of the word.
“Your Grace,” she called to him as if he were a close friend. “I thought it was you. I spied Her Grace speaking with you earlier and was convinced that it was you.” She waved her hand. “And it is!”
Barely keeping his annoyance in check, he muttered, “Good evening, Lady Blanch.”
Proper manners had been instilled in him since birth, but he was having a difficult time remembering why.
“Lady Capers and I were just discussing your very rare appearance this evening and hoped it means that you are re-entering society.” The woman blathered on and on, about exactly what Greystone was unsure.
It was past time that he should take his leave. He had fulfilled his obligation to his mother. He was just about to make his excuses when Lady Blanch wagged a chubby finger at him. “A man of your position needs an heir, and as luck would have it, my daughter—”
“Madam,” he ground out between his teeth, “I have no intentions of being caught in the parson’s noose.”
“B…but the dukedom?” Disbelief laced each syllable.
“Is my concern. Good evening.”
He stormed toward the entrance hall, not caring who he disturbed. The nerve of that woman. What gave her the right to discuss such a personal topic? In just a few minutes he would be free of this nonsense. Free to search for more pleasurable entertainments.
With each stride, sounds of the gathering died to a gentle murmur, and his thoughts edged to the forefront of his mind. A heavy sigh coursed through his body, halting his progress.
However much he detested women such as Lady Blanch, her words had struck a chord with him that he simply could not ignore. Truth be told, he’d been thinking about the dukedom a lot of late. It was his duty at as the seventh Duke of Greystone to marry, beget an heir, and provide stability for generations to come.
He changed direction, deciding it might be in his better interest to return to the ballroom. There, he spied Miss Leybourne, tucked behind one of the large marble statues that lined the long white gallery.
Some unseen force pulled him toward her, as a glimmer of hope crept its way into his weary soul. Moonlight
from one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows shimmered against the silvery blue of her mask, caressing her features.
“We meet again, Miss Leybourne.”
As she shifted her gaze from the moonlit landscape to his, the smile in her eyes contained a sensuous flame. “So we do.”
The need she stirred was almost dizzying as he closed the distance. Best to stamp those desires down. Casual conversation would better suit. “Are you enjoying the evening?”
Her brows drew together, pondering his question. “I…suppose, yes.”
“You don’t sound certain.” Miss Leybourne was young and vibrant. How could she not enjoy diversions such as these?
A slight giggle escaped her lips. “No, I suppose I’m not.” She worried her bottom lip again. “I guess I’ve grown rather tired of large balls and crowded entertainments.”
He offered his arm. “Perhaps a stroll along the marble gallery would help with what ails you?”
Without hesitation she took his arm. They walked in serene silence down the gallery further away from prying eyes for several minutes before Miss Leybourne questioned, “Are you going to reveal your identity?”
With this alluring creature at his side, Greystone was in no rush to end the mystique of the evening. Ignoring her question, he took her gloved hand in his, slid his other hand to the small of her back, and began waltzing. Moonlight swirled around, enveloping them in a timeless moment that existed only for them.
Something intense coursed between them, and without thought for consequence, he lowered his head and took her mouth in a gentle kiss that sang through his veins, bringing him back to life.
His first kiss since the betrayal. He hadn’t tasted a woman’s lips in six years. The act was far too intimate. But here he was, kissing this woman as if his life depended on it.
