“I have to pay a quick call to the Harpers. Can you manage things here for the next twenty or thirty minutes?”
She looked amused. “I ‘manage’ them for the entire fortnight. That’s why you must choose the perfect duchess. Your presence at parties is practically superfluous, because it is your hostess to whom all eyes will be constantly fixed. I am happy to take her under my wing, but she must have the appropriate potential.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said gently. “I’m aware of the qualifications for the perfect bride.”
“Of course you are.” She gave a sharp nod. “I won’t keep you from your errand. Supper will be at half past eight. I’ve arranged the seating so that you are between two of the likeliest contenders, and right across from another.”
“Thank you, Mother,” he said. “You do think of everything.”
She looked pleased at this, and continued down the corridor without another word.
Alexander dashed to the coach before anyone else could waylay him.
The Harper farm was on the outskirts of the village. Alexander’s home was nestled at the heart, a stone’s throw from Marlowe Castle. Because there was only one road leading out of the village, one might think it likely for one to glimpse Miss Finch out of the window as one’s carriage rolled by.
One would be wrong.
There was no sign of her anywhere.
Alexander delivered the trunk without incident, then paused at the side of the road before climbing back into his carriage.
“I’ll walk,” he told his startled driver. “It’s a beautiful day.”
It was a ridiculously cold day. If it weren’t for warm leather gloves and thick winter layers, he would have frozen into a ducal icicle the moment he’d stepped outside.
But mayhap a bit of fresh air would be good for him.
Alexander spent every Christmas here in Cressmouth, but never left his cottage. There was no time to. He was the host of a fortnight-long Yuletide party filled with activities that ran until three o’clock in the morning. Perhaps none of which required his presence after all.
Practically superfluous, his mother had said.
The two-mile hike back to the cottage uphill through the snow could take an hour. An hour in which he mightenjoyhis surroundings.
A snow-covered vista stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. Marlowe Castle stood on the highest point, its towers and ramparts glistening where sunlight sparkled against snow and ice. Fields of evergreens rolled in every direction behind the castle, their spiky green needles shimmering beneath ice droplets that looked like crystals.
Once his carriage pulled away without him, Alexander stepped onto the pavement leading up toward the castle. The walking path was kept clear on both sides of the road, for the convenience of tourists.
Alexander had kept a country home here for years, and never properly considered himself a tourist.
The blacksmith shop across the street bustled with business. Sleighs, carriages, and carts lined the road.
He was friends with the le Duc brothers who ran the shop. Sébastien, Lucien, and family attended Alexander’s Christmas Day open house every year.
He had never been inside the blacksmith shop.
Was this his opportunity to change that?
Or was Alexander courting scandal by risking being glimpsed so far away from the party he was meant to be hosting?
He was already walking home, he reasoned. Pausing to greet a neighbor wouldn’t be seen as a crime. Especially not in a village as friendly as Cressmouth.
Alexander picked his way across the road to the shop.
The le Duc brothers’ Uncle Jasper greeted him with a smile. “Happy Christmas, Your Grace. Where’s your carriage? We can’t mend it if you don’t bring it.”
“My carriage is fine,” Alexander assured him. “Happy Christmas to you, too.”
“Well, if you’re looking for the lads, they’re inside playing billiards with their sister and Miss Finch. Difficult to say which team’s winning the tournament.”
