“Excellent posture,” Mother said, impressed. “She’s neither twirling her hair, nor running on at the mouth like some of these vapid chatterboxes.”
No, Lady Gertrude did not seem the sort to talk a man’s ear off.
“We’ll see,” said the duchess. “Whomever you choose—”
“—must be a credit to the title,” he finished. “I know my duty.”
Alexander had many privileges, but a love match was not one of them. He had a dukedom to consider. A family, whose reputations would be impacted by his choice. Heirs of his own one day, who should be afforded every advantage Alexander could provide.
If having a sister had taught him anything, it was that women could be as strong and as stubborn as any man… and just as scandalous. Alexander had to take great care.
He needed a nice, safe, sweet,predictablebride. A wife he need never worry about, because she would always do the right thing.
“Who is Lady Gertrudewith?” asked his mother. “Good heavens! Please tell me the poor dear’s ‘chaperone’ isn’t Miss Cynthia Louise Finch.”
“For the next fortnight,” he answered bleakly.
Or weakly.
He was looking at Miss Finch’s bare arms again and trying not to wonder what her skin would feel like beneath his fingertips.
All he had to do was avoid her.
It shouldn’t be a difficult task. Miss Finch had a long history of sneaking off from his party after Christmas Day to take part in the village’s many festive activities. She appeared to believe no one ever noticed her sly absences.
Mayhap no one did.
No one except Alexander.
He wasgladshe was such a rude guest. Her disinterest in his company was a boon to them both.
While she was ice-racing or setting off fireworks from the castle turrets, he would be right here selecting the perfect future duchess.
Chapter 3
Cynthia Louise placed a gentle hand on her younger cousin’s heaving back. “Breathe.”
“I can’t,” came Gertie’s muffled voice between shuddering breaths. She lifted her wan face from the shallow burlap bag she’d been breathing into. “Cynthia Louise, Ican’tgo caroling.”
“You know all of the words,” Cynthia reminded her. “You know the songs so well, you could play them at the pianoforte blindfolded. Besides, it’s not a solo. We’ll be in a large group—”
“That’s it,” said Gertie desperately. “I’ll stay here playing the pianoforte whilst everyone else goes door-to-door,singing. Out loud. In front of people.”
“We can stand in the back,” Cynthia promised. “You can mouth the words. No one will know.”
Gertie clutched the burlap bag to her chest. “If no one will notice, why must we go?”
“Nottingvale can’t choose you if he neverseesyou.” Cynthia knelt beside the four-poster bed. “You’ve been in this guest chamber all day. You missed breakfast—”
“I rang for service,” Gertie mumbled. “He has good chocolate.”
“—and you missed luncheon—”
“I had that delivered as well. They were very nice sandwiches. I sent a note of appreciation back to the kitchen.”
“It’s Christmas Eve, darling. We’re at a Christmastide party. In a village called Christmas.” Cynthia took the battered bag from Gertie’s hands and placed it on the bedside table. “Come and be festive, just for a few hours.”
“You promise I’ll like it?” came Gertie’s timid voice.
