by Erica Ridley
He wished he could keep a ray of her sunlight with him for the rest of his days.
Although he had been careful not to make a sound, her head turned sharply as if she had sensed him watching her from afar. A wide smile spread across her face. His lips curved in an answering smile. He couldn’t help it. Her pull was as powerful as the sun.
He started walking toward her.
She bid good-day to her friend and hurried forward to greet him. They met in the middle of the greenhouse, surrounded by the scent of spring and a cornucopia of wild beauty.
If only he could stay here, or steal her away when he left. But he belonged to London and she to Cressmouth. More insurmountable, she was an orphan and he was a duke. Homes could be changed, but heritage could not. Society’s position on the matter was clear.
Not that Benjamin was in the market for a wife, he reminded himself. Soon enough, he’d be too busy with Parliament to have time for distractions of any kind. This was his last one.
“Did you solve your friend’s problems?” he asked gruffly.
She grinned up at him, brown eyes sparkling behind gold-rimmed spectacles. “I am arranging an event to celebrate her latest success.”
“Complete with an enormous bellows to spray the entire crowd?” He gave a little shudder.
“Not this time,” she said with a laugh. “Customers must make do with glass vials.”
“I am certain the event will be a success,” he said in seriousness. “With your eye for detail, I’ve no doubt you are a phenomenal hostess no matter what the event.”
“It’s a calling,” she said with a grin. “There’s nothing I cannot organize.”
He stared at her in silence for a moment. She would make a phenomenal hostess. The sort that might make an equally phenomenal duchess. If such were an option.
“Would you ever leave Cressmouth?” he asked suddenly.
“Leave?” Her eyes widened with obvious alarm. “Why would I wish to?”
“What if it wasn’t a permanent change?” he pressed. “Would you not even go on holiday somewhere, once in a while?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t like to be far away. Cressmouth has everything I need.”
“It cannot compete with London,” he said a bit more defensively than he intended.
London was where his mother and father had lived. The now-empty Silkridge residence contained the few happy family memories he’d ever had. It was the only place that had ever felt like home.
“London?” she stammered with the same level of terror as if he had said snake pit. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable. Everything I’ve ever heard makes it sound like the opposite of Cressmouth. It’s so big, so far away, so overwhelming…”
He could not fault her there. The city was indeed the opposite in many ways. Some of its characteristics negative, some of them marvelous. But his question had been answered, and the answer was no. His home would make her miserable. He would much rather keep her happy.
“How about you?” she asked. “Will you return to holiday in Cressmouth someday?”
Return to a place that contained her, only to have to leave her behind over and over again? A village that symbolized everything he could not have, now more than ever? He would not survive such a nightmare.
“I’m afraid not,” he said quietly.
Noelle bit her lip as if swallowing words she wanted to say. She cast her gaze downward.
“What is it?” he demanded.
With a sigh, she lifted her eyes to his. “I know why you’re leaving this time. You’re a duke. You have a duty to Parliament.”
He gave a curt nod.
Her next words were a whisper. “Why did you leave last time?”
“Because I wanted to stay.” The hoarse admission wrested from his throat.
Her eyes widened. “You wanted to stay… with me?”
Before he spilled any more unintended confessions, he pulled her close and slanted his mouth over hers.
She yielded to him immediately, grasping his shoulders as though she feared he would pull away.
He never wished to stop. This was what he needed. The woman he missed every minute they were apart.
He had left her before due to the same sensation she instilled in his heart even now: fear. Fear that if he let himself be vulnerable again, he still couldn’t keep her. It was not a risk he wished to take. Not a heartbreak he wished to live through. Yet each kiss only made him want to claim more than her mouth. He wanted to taste her skin, to know her body, to meld as one.
If a single kiss could make him feel as if their souls had cleaved together, how much harder would it be to bear a lifetime without her if he risked sharing more than that?
“The eagle can fly over a hundred miles to be with its mate,” mused a female voice right behind them.
Benjamin ripped his mouth from Noelle’s and tried to calm his galloping heart. The avian expert had arrived.
“Virginia,” Noelle said, her cheeks flushed and her voice breathless. “You’re early.”
“I’m half an hour late.” Without demanding further explanation, Miss Underwood turned abruptly and began striding away. “This way to the partridge.”
He offered her his arm, so they could hurry after her retreating friend.
Noelle gave him a shy smile that melted his heart.
“Come along,” Miss Underwood called. “I’ve installed the partridge in the closest outbuilding in order to give you the honor of carrying him into the aviary.”
He slanted a startled glance toward Noelle.
“That means you,” she said quickly. “I seek no honor.”
Benjamin gazed down at her. He had never met anyone more honorable.
Regardless of how she might have felt in the beginning, she was not helping him now because she wished to be rid of him, but rather despite the fact that she did not. His spirits sank.
He had never been less enthusiastic about getting his way.
Chapter 10
For the first time, Cressmouth’s endless winter felt less charming and more simply…cold.
Noelle tried to keep her shaking fingers from gripping too hard as she looped her arm through Silkridge’s and allowed him to escort her—and the partridge—to the aviary.
The bird was cozily ensconced in a covered wicker basket hanging from the duke’s other arm. Noelle felt significantly less stable. Of the two, her fluttering heart seemed more likely to fly from her chest than the bird from the basket.
It was a quarter to twelve. Within the next half hour, Silkridge would deposit the bird in the aviary, break the bottle of champagne, and be gone.
“Are you ready?” she whispered.
She wished she hadn’t spoken. She already knew the answer.
“Yes,” he said with a quick glance to ensure the safety of the bird inside the basket.
Noelle was not ready. She doubted she would ever be. All she could think about was the incredible kiss they had just shared. It had transported her out of the greenhouse, out of the castle, into a world of fantasy where nothing could keep them apart.
She supposed she could have delayed him artificially. He did not know her bosom friend was an expert on birds. He had not asked for her help. If anything, he had seemed perturbed that his grandfather’s will had thrown them together in such a fashion. At first.
Now she was uncertain what to think.
She had no doubt that he desired her. His ardent kisses had proven that. Nor could she doubt that he liked her. He had agreed to a sleigh ride, attended a holiday play, wore her scarf about his neck. But such moments were far from enough.
His kisses made her want more. To keep Cressmouth, to keep him, to have it all.
She wanted him to want to stay. To choose her. Having him be part of her life, part of her home, a part of her heart…
For a moment, when he had captured her in his arms, she had thought it possible. That their connection was unbreakable. That perhaps she could keep him.
&n
bsp; But of course she could not.
Her lips twisted at the irony. A debutante would rejoice if the gentleman she fancied was a duke. For a title-less orphan like Noelle, it meant she and Silkridge were more than star-crossed. Their futures were predetermined. This forbidden spark between them might lead to a bedchamber, but never to the altar.
His was a world of power and riches and political alliances. He could not marry her if he wished to. Besides, was that even a life she would want? Noelle would never be accepted amongst those of his class. Here in Cressmouth, she was more than accepted. She was part of a family.
A distant roar of voices met their ears before the source came into sight.
He slanted her a startled look. “Is there a disturbance?”
“There’s a party.” Noelle did not feel like celebrating. She forced herself to smile anyway. “I had bills posted across town, remember?”
His expression was dubious. “How many people would choose to attend the grand opening of a one-bird aviary?”
“All of them.” She pointed as the queue came into view.
A long line of laughing, wind-flushed faces snaked over every inch of the snow-covered garden and down the street.
“This crowd could fill Vauxhall,” he said with a chuckle.
The thought caused a pain in Noelle’s chest. She had never seen Vauxhall. Never wanted to before. But she suddenly could not put the thought of being there with Silkridge out of her mind. Or the thought of him being there with someone else.
He paused just before they came into full view of the crowd and turned to face her.
“Our time is almost over,” he said softly.
It always was. They were never granted more than stolen moments. She swallowed hard. “Do you remember what happened five years ago?”
“Our first kiss?” His warm gaze was intent on hers. “I’ve never forgotten.”
Neither would she. This was torture.
“Why do you hate Christmas?” she whispered.
It was not the real question she meant, but much easier to ask than why do you keep leaving me?
His expression closed. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”
Her voice trembled. “Was it because we—”
He grabbed her hand and placed it to his chest.
“It has nothing to do with you,” he said roughly. “My father and I had a reason to despise Christmas time since the year I was born. Losing him just gave me another reason. My grandfather’s castle, this picturesque holiday village… You are the best thing in it.”
She drew in a shuddering breath and dared to hope.
“Could you stay?” she whispered. “If there was a reason?”
As she gazed up at him, church bells began to ring the hour. Her stomach twisted. Noon. The magic was over.
He took her hand from his chest and placed it back on his elbow. “I cannot stay, no matter how many reasons I find. I belong in London, in the House of Lords. My duty is to Parliament.”
She nodded dumbly. She could not hope to compete against a love of country.
She had just hoped there might be room for her, too.
Chapter 11
Benjamin stood before the entrance to the aviary and faced a crowd of hundreds.
He had given any number of addresses to Parliament that ought to carry much more weight and import. But for the first time, he felt as though he stood at the crossroads of his own life.
At last, he was seconds away from washing his hands of his grandfather’s final manipulation. Minutes away from once more having in his possession an heirloom he had feared lost to him forever. An hour away from being back in his carriage with which he could finally put all things Cressmouth and Christmas behind him for good.
So why hadn’t he begun the proceedings?
He tried not to send another glance toward Noelle, but the temptation was impossible to resist. If he had yearned for her before, his addiction had only increased. It was as if his eyes wished to drink her up, to commit every eyelash, every wrinkle of her nose, every curve of her lips to memory.
But he was too close to having done with his grandfather’s final manipulation. He could let nothing stand in its way. Especially not his own emotions.
“Welcome to the Castle Aviary Grand Opening Celebration,” he called out, feeling absolutely ridiculous using such terminology to describe a single brown game bird nestled in a wicker basket.
The crowd let out a thundering cheer, as if he had announced the war with France was finally over and that he had personally defeated Napoleon Bonaparte armed with nothing more than a partridge.
They could not possibly be serious. He slid an incredulous glance toward Noelle.
“We like parties,” she said with a grin. “And Mr. Marlowe. And Cressmouth. There’s really no way this could go wrong.”
Benjamin hoped not. Nonetheless, he lifted a corner of the blanket covering the basket to ensure he carried a partridge, not porridge, and that nothing else could go awry. The bird lay in the center, one wing covering its head as if to block out the roar from the crowd.
“My sincere apologies,” Benjamin whispered. “Soon you can hide in a tree where you belong.”
With a flourish, he opened the door to the aviary and whipped the blanket from the basket to allow the bird to fly inside.
The partridge did not move.
He gave the basket a little jiggle. Had the bird expired in the hundred yards from outbuilding to aviary? God help him.
The partridge opened one baleful eye and glared sullenly at Benjamin.
His shoulders relaxed. The creature hadn’t died. It just hated him.
“Behold the partridge!” Benjamin shouted and shoved the uncovered basket over the threshold and into the aviary.
Nothing happened. No chirps. Not so much as a flutter.
Benjamin ignored the bird. It was inside the aviary. That was all that mattered. The terms were complete. A thousand people could file indoors to gather around a basket if they so wished. He had fulfilled his part of the bargain.
“Champagne,” murmured Noelle and gestured toward a footman.
Almost fulfilled. One last step, and his mother’s locket would finally return home. Benjamin’s heart was racing so fast it had become difficult to think. He accepted the bottle of champagne from the footman and motioned everyone to back up a safe distance from the entrance.
He held the bottle of wine aloft. “I dedicate this building to—”
“Mr. Marlowe!” the crowd screamed in unison.
Their deafening roar drowned out Benjamin’s words as he met Noelle’s eyes. “To the indomitable Miss Pratchett.”
There was no hull of a ship to break the bottle against, so he aimed at the patch of ground just before the entrance.
The bottle cracked in two. Foamy champagne sprayed upon the wooden doorframe and Benjamin’s black boots.
His heart leaped. He’d done it!
Two footmen rushed forward with brooms to clear away the glass before the stampeding crowd pulverized the shards into dust.
Benjamin glanced inside the aviary at the bird in the basket.
It was empty.
“Where’s the partridge?” he whispered to Noelle.
“I didn’t see it move,” she whispered back, frowning into the interior. “It cannot have disappeared.”
Benjamin gritted his teeth. He had no wish to actually enter the aviary. He did not want to be caught by the tidal wave of the crowd.
Worse, however, would be for the solicitor to cry foul and claim he had not delivered as promised. Benjamin had not come all this way to fail now.
He stalked through the entrance, scouring atop branches and behind decorative shrubs in search of the elusive bird.
The crowd poured in behind him.
Rather than follow Benjamin along the carefully curated path through the aviary’s painstakingly pruned flora, they streamed to an empty corner on the opposite side of the aviary containing nothing but a plain, spin
dly sapling listing lonesomely in a bucket of dirt.
Benjamin frowned. Had his grandfather’s will said “pear tree?”
“It’s a brilliant partridge!” a voice called out.
“She looks perfectly at home,” called another. “Placing her on a pear tree is a right lovely touch.”
His body flooded with relief. The partridge had been spotted. The ordeal was over. He had christened the one-bird aviary with all the pomp and circumstance required of him, and was free at last to reunite with his family. The locket and its portrait could finally return home. He could be hours away by nightfall.
Benjamin darted desperate glances around the aviary in search of Noelle, but it was no use. The entire town was attempting to cram itself inside.
He would say goodbye after he retrieved the locket. Perhaps that was better anyway. Poetic. She would be the last thing he saw before he left. The only memory of this town he wished to keep.
He squeezed his way through the crowd to the exit. Once his Hessians touched the ground out-of-doors, he took off running without a backward glance. If the queueing townsfolk found it odd to spy a duke loping away from his own celebration, Benjamin did not care.
Only one thing mattered.
The winter chill stole the air from his lungs and the snow-covered streets slid beneath his boots. In mere moments, he arrived at the jeweler’s out of breath and triumphant.
She was waiting for him behind the counter of her jewelry room.
His heart was pounding. “The aviary is open.”
Miss Parker’s eyes crinkled. “I heard.”
Even from several blocks away, the crowd’s excitement was audible.
He stepped forward. “May I—”
“Here.” She retrieved a thin silk pouch from a hidden nook.
He held out his hands, surprised they were not trembling. He had prevailed. He had won.
Miss Parker upended the pouch and dropped its contents into Benjamin’s outstretched palm.
