by Erica Ridley
The audience erupted into applause.
Benjamin blinked. It was over?
He got to his feet with the others, unable to believe he had spent the entire play casting surreptitious glances at Noelle.
Her friends suddenly surrounded them.
“That was wonderful,” exclaimed one. “I love when the bear chases Antigonus off the stage.”
“The best year yet,” Noelle agreed with a smile. She glanced up at Benjamin. “Did you enjoy the evening?”
“Even more than I anticipated,” he admitted.
“Let’s go caroling,” bubbled another of Noelle’s friends. “It’s a Christmas tradition!”
Benjamin had no idea if “Christmas” in this case referred to the incorrect name of the town or the holiday that had passed over a month ago, but he couldn’t summon the urge to correct them. It was their village. They could do as they liked. He wouldn’t be a humbug.
But he couldn’t join them.
Noelle smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Do say you’ll come. Carols are ever so much jollier after a bowl or two of mulled wine.”
Looking at her, he was tempted. She lived and loved so openly and freely. Who wouldn’t wish to share in her joy?
“I can’t,” he said honestly. This was his opportunity to visit the jeweler holding his mother’s locket and find out what condition it was in. “Do have fun with your friends. Where shall I meet you tomorrow?”
“How about half ten, in the greenhouse? I am meeting Miss Mitchell to give my opinion on her newest scent.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t mean to ambush me with perfume again, do you?”
“One must take risks,” she admonished him with a twinkle in her eye.
“I shall take that under advisement,” he said gravely.
Before her friends could renew their efforts to include him in their fun, he edged away from the crowd and picked his way down the snow-packed lanes toward the jeweler’s shop.
His heart beat faster and faster in trepidation the closer he came to the jeweler. It was a moment of truth. Either Grandfather had finally been true to his word, or the old man had taken the locket to his grave.
Hands shaking, he rapped upon the jeweler’s door.
No answer came. His frenzied knocks received no answer.
The play. Of course. He clenched his chapped fists in frustration. The entire town had filled the amphitheater. Perhaps even now, the jeweler was off wassailing and would not return for hours.
He stared doubtfully at the rustic cottage. It was clear that the jeweler worked on one side and lived on the other. Less clear was whether finding a duke encamped upon her front porch would be enough to convince her to answer his questions.
He might have to wait until morning. His shoulders sagged. What was one more sleepless night?
Just as he turned to go, a pink-cheeked woman with a brisk step turned onto the front walk.
His heart thumped. “Miss Parker, my apologies for calling so late and unannounced.”
“I am never too busy for a social call,” she said cheerfully. “And the sun has not fully set. May I invite you in for a cup of tea, Your Grace?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid this is not a social call.”
She tossed a merry look over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. “Is Your Grace in the market for a tiara?”
“Tiaras tend to clash with my hats,” he said solemnly. “Else I would be your best customer.”
“I shall design one to fit your top hat,” she replied with a glint in her eyes so wicked he feared her words were true.
“I’ve come about my mother’s locket,” he said quickly. “The heirloom mentioned in my grandfather’s will. I have been told you are the keeper of all named jewelry.”
“Indeed.” She beckoned him inside and into an impressive workman’s chamber, with all manner of tools hanging from the walls and behind the counters.
“Do you mind showing me the locket?” he asked, hoping years of rage and hope and grief didn’t appear on his face.
She hesitated. “I cannot let you take it.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “I am a man of my word and I will fulfill my grandfather’s wishes, no matter what I think of them. I want to confirm that his word is just as trustworthy. I have not seen the locket in five years. I need to ensure it is indeed the one I am after.”
“Very well.” From about her neck, she lifted a long chain bearing an intricate key. “If Your Grace would give me a moment?”
He nodded jerkily. He was so close now. Another moment was nothing. Soon he would know the truth.
She stepped into an adjoining room and out of sight. “Will you be in town long?”
“I’m not here on holiday,” he said, his voice as light as he could muster. “I will stay only as long as it takes to retrieve that locket.”
Muffled sounds came from the other room. His heart pounded. She must be opening the safe.
“Are you looking forward to the christening party for the aviary?”
“I won’t be attending.” He tried not to grit his teeth. Being forced to make small talk was excruciating. He just needed to see his mother’s face. “Cressmouth will have to celebrate without me.”
She emerged from the adjoining room with an expression of surprise. “You’re leaving immediately after tomorrow’s ceremony?”
“I shall pick up the locket, jump into my carriage, and never look back.” The words were brutally honest.
Retrieving the locket and escaping Cressmouth, Christmas, and his grandfather’s clutches for good had always been the plan. That single-minded goal had consumed him since the day his grandfather had first stolen the locket.
Yet the idea of never seeing Noelle again suddenly made his chest feel hollow.
Without further questions, the jeweler held out her palm. “Is this the one?”
Heat stung the back of Benjamin’s eyes. It was the locket. Exactly as he remembered it. A perfect oval, trimmed in gold lace and embossed on the front with the silhouette of an angel.
He reached for it with trembling fingers.
“May I?” The words came out too scratchy to be understood, but the jeweler nodded anyway.
He lifted the small oval in his hands. It felt weightless. Empty. As if it no longer contained his mother’s soul. The gold chain dangled through his fingers, brushing between them like a strand of hair. Not that he remembered what his mother’s hair had been like. All he had was the image on the inside of this locket.
If it was still there.
He undid the clasp with reverence and eased open the locket. On the left side was nothing. That space had been reserved for a future family portrait that had never come to pass.
On the right side was his mother. His heart thumped in relief, and grief, and sorrow.
There she was. Smiling. Happy. Her head resting on the shoulder of Benjamin’s father, who gazed at his wife and the baby in her arms with an expression of such love it took Benjamin’s breath away. This was his family. All that was left of them.
“Is it as Your Grace remembered?” the jeweler asked softly.
He feared his throat too tight for words, so he gave a short nod instead.
“These last few years, Mr. Marlowe never let it out of his sight,” the jeweler murmured. “He said it was the last portrait of his daughter.”
Fury, hot and sharp, bubbled inside him. “It was the only likeness of her I ever had.”
Grandfather’s constant refusal to return the heirloom had been like being denied his family all over again.
Why could they not have shared her? Benjamin had offered to compromise. It would have cost so little to commission an artist to create a copy of the portrait. Grandfather had dismissed the plea out of hand. Once he’d gained possession of the locket, he’d ceased acknowledging Benjamin altogether. His fingers shook at the injustice and rejection. Why did he have to lose so that his grandfather could win? Why could they not have b
een family to each other?
His vision blurred as he gazed down at his smiling parents. They had loved him unconditionally, then been stolen first by God and then by a grandfather who loved to play God with others.
Love was dangerous. It was out of one’s control. The more one cared about another person the more likely they were to be ripped from one’s side. The only way to protect himself from hurt was to focus on the things he could control. Leave Cressmouth. Encase himself in ice. Dedicate himself to his country, not love.
There was no need to fear the title dying out. Thanks to his cousins, he already had two heirs presumptive. If he kept his mind focused on nothing but Parliament, there would be no need to fear anything at all.
Love only led to hurt. The only way to ensure he would never again lose someone he cared about was to do his best not to care.
“If you’re satisfied…” The jeweler held out her hand.
His heart clenched. He was not satisfied. He wanted things he could not have. He wanted the emptiness inside to go away.
But he forced himself to hand back the locket. “How soon after the ceremony may I have it?”
“Immediately after the bottle breaks,” she said. “Shall I prepare a cushioned jewelry box for travel?”
Benjamin shook his head. “I’ll wear it home.”
He was never losing contact with his family again.
Chapter 9
Benjamin awoke long before dawn. Confirming the locket’s existence had only caused the hours to stretch out that much longer. This was his last day in Cressmouth. His last day with Noelle.
His appointment with her wasn’t for two more hours. He’d broken his fast, dashed off a handful of letters and responses, and was now far too restless to stay cooped up in his old bedchamber. A place he would be leaving behind for good this time.
Perhaps one last walk about the castle would put the strange sensation in his chest to rest.
He stepped out into the corridor just in time to glimpse his cousin Nicholas arriving at the landing.
Nicholas leaned against the balustrade and waited for Benjamin to approach.
“So that’s where they stuffed you,” Nicholas said. He gestured down the opposite corridor. “Mine’s that way. Stunning view from the mountaintop. Have you seen the horizon at dawn?”
Benjamin lifted his brows. “You are just getting back to the castle?”
“I’m just returning to my guest chamber,” Nicholas clarified with a wicked smile.
“‘Saint Nick,’” Benjamin muttered. “A rake to the core.”
Nicholas’s smile only widened. “It may be cold outside, but inside…”
“No wonder you’re enamored with Cressmouth,” Benjamin said.
“It has many, many charms,” Nicholas assured him. “I see why so many come here for distraction.”
“I don’t think ‘Christmas spirit’ means seducing pretty maidens,” Benjamin said dryly.
“I have never seduced a maiden,” Nicholas said, his expression hurt. “I allow myself to be seduced by those who aren’t maidenly in the least. They know exactly what they’re getting. That’s why they want me.”
Benjamin raised a brow. “One night to slake their lust?”
“Mutual slaking,” Nicholas agreed. “A rakish gentleman simply provides requested entertainment. A pleasurable evening for both parties without any promises or strings. Everybody wins.”
“Perhaps that’s true if no strings and no promises are indeed what both parties are after,” Benjamin agreed. “I should expect it gets complicated when one party wants more than the other.”
Nicholas shook his head. “That is the easiest situation to resolve. Stay away from those who want more than your body or more than one night.”
“Easy,” Benjamin echoed. He had spent a lifetime doing just that. “But doesn’t it get… lonely?”
A dark shadow flickered across the blue of Nicholas’s eyes, and just as quickly it was gone. “It’s impossible to be lonely when there’s always someone new to meet.”
Benjamin stared at his cousin as if seeing a ghost. He had always considered Saint Nicholas his opposite in all things. It was disconcerting to have to revise that opinion.
Although the two lived unquestionably different lifestyles, the result was the same. Each morning, they woke up alone. There was no one there who had shared dreams and hurts, who had been by one’s side for months or years or decades. No one who could answer yes to remember the time when? No one whose touch was familiar, whose kiss felt like coming home.
Although Nicholas had chosen a different route, Benjamin now suspected they were both on the path to a very lonely future. If something didn’t change, his future Christmases would be as empty as all the rest. He frowned.
Wasn’t that what he wanted? He couldn’t get hurt if he didn’t open himself up to love.
Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m off to my chamber. Where are you heading?”
“Menagerie,” Benjamin answered. “I want to visit a goat.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming with you,” Nicholas said immediately. “I had no idea there was a goat.”
When they entered the menagerie, a footman was keeping an eye over the invalid.
Benjamin hurried closer. “How’s Tiny Tim?”
“Tiny Tim?” Nicholas asked.
Benjamin gestured. “Pygmy goat.”
Nicholas nodded. “Right.”
“Much improved, Your Grace,” the footman said with obvious relief. “We are ever so grateful.”
“Grateful to Silkridge?” Nicholas asked. “Did you bring the castle a pygmy goat as some sort of Christmas gift?”
“I did not,” Benjamin replied. “I have made a personal resolution to deliver fewer goats as holiday gifts this season.”
“His Grace’s knowledge about the beast’s constitution brought Tiny Tim back from the brink of death,” the footman said proudly. “It was nothing short of a miracle.”
“Silkridge performed a Christmas miracle,” Nicholas repeated, his expression baffled. “You?”
“I may have relayed a few suggestions based on my research into caprine physiology due to the livestock present on my own properties,” Benjamin said humbly.
“And His Grace summoned his personal physician all the way from London,” the footman continued with pride.
Nicholas blinked slowly. “You summoned your personal physician for a goat?”
“It’s not just any goat,” said the footman. “It’s Tiny Tim.”
Nicholas stared at Benjamin in disbelief.
“Not my physician,” he explained. “A veterinarian.”
Slowly, Nicholas shook his head. “You’re a different man.”
Benjamin wondered if that were true. If he was capable of change.
If either of them was.
Just like his cousin, he had put walls up around his heart to keep others from getting in. Unlike his cousin, part of Benjamin now wished it didn’t have to be that way.
The opening ceremony for the aviary was in just a couple hours. This would be Benjamin’s last opportunity to spend time with Noelle before collecting his mother’s locket and putting Cressmouth behind him. A strange emptiness filled his chest. Leaving Noelle would be harder than ever. He pushed the thought away.
Just because he could not be here for her physically did not erase a sudden need to provide for her in his absence. He doubted she would agree. Noelle did not need Benjamin’s help to survive. She was smart and strong and independent. But to him, she was so much more than that. She had turned her entire town into a family. If he could give her anything at all, it would be more time to enjoy that family while she had it.
He left his cousin in the menagerie and made his way down to the temporary office the solicitor had set up in the castle in order to oversee and manage Grandfather’s last will and testament.
“Your Grace!” The solicitor leapt up from his chair. “How may I be of service?”
Benjamin took a seat across from the desk. “I would like to hire an assistant clerk for the counting house.”
The solicitor’s eyes widened. “You wish to replace Miss Pratchett?”
“No. I wish to hire an assistant for her,” Benjamin said. “She has taken on far more responsibility than her predecessors realized, and should not be worked to death. Miss Pratchett deserves recreational time with which to do as she pleases.”
“An assistant.” The solicitor shuffled through the papers on his desk. “I was one of Mr. Marlowe’s most trusted men of business, yet he left no notes about creating such a post. I will investigate to see if the budget—”
“I wish to hire,” Benjamin repeated. “I will also pay whatever salaries are required for the research and recruitment of potential employees. The appropriate individual must ease Miss Pratchett’s load, not create additional concerns.”
The solicitor nodded in comprehension. “Consider it done. I presume Your Grace wishes to have final say, once we have whittled down the options.”
“Miss Pratchett shall have the only say,” Benjamin said firmly. “She may hire as much help as she requires, at her complete and total discretion.”
The solicitor noted quickly. “Understood, Your Grace. I shall see to it immediately.”
Benjamin glanced at his pocket watch and rose to his feet. He did not wish to be late for his meeting with Noelle.
In his eagerness to see her, Benjamin strode into the greenhouse a full quarter hour before schedule.
She was there among the flowers on the other side of the vast conservatory, speaking to Miss Penelope Mitchell, the perfumer friend.
Benjamin did not care a fig about colognes, or the rows of spices for the kitchen, or the profusion of local and exotic flowers for the gardens. None of their fragrances or colors could compare to Noelle.
She was captivating. The morning light caught the sparkle in her eyes, the golden shine in her hair. Her happy, upturned face was so animated and enthusiastic he felt himself smiling from across the greenhouse without even hearing her words.
Noelle always had that effect on him. She caused him to smile when he didn’t mean to, when he couldn’t explain his exuberance even to himself. Being with her gave him such a profound sense of contentment it almost made him wonder if he’d ever truly been happy before he met her. Noelle was his greenhouse; his color, his light, his warmth. Even when winter raged out-of-doors, she made his soul feel like summertime.
