Page 43 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“Well, sit down, sit down,” the dowager commanded, clearly wanting her dinner, as she moved towards her end of the table on Lord Charles’ arm.

“Might we have introductions first, Grandmama?” drawled a deep voice. “Just to satisfy my notions of polite behaviour.”

Meg followed the voice and was in no doubt that she regarded the Duke of Hawkney. There was something about him, something invisible yet tangible, a presence, an air of power that was indisputable. He was a handsome man, with the same dark auburn hair as his sister, but with none of her warmth. His expression was remote, his manner coolly polite, and Meg felt he looked down upon them all from a great height.

She gripped Nat’s arm tightly as he steered her towards his cousin.

“Hawk, may I present my betrothed, Miss Margaret Bancroft? Meg, his grace, the Duke of Hawkney.”

Meg curtsied, relieved when she stood once more to discover she had neither stumbled nor fallen on her face, both scenarios having played out in her mind several times over the past couple of hours. “Your grace,” she said politely.

Hawkney bowed and his nickname, Hawk, suddenly seemed terribly appropriate, for his dark blue eyes gleamed, his attention on her absolute.

“A pleasure, Miss Bancroft. We did not know this Christmas would bring us so many unexpected events. I hope you are enjoying your time at Hatherley Hall?”

“I am, indeed, your grace. Though I have not been here long, your family have welcomed me with such warmth I have been quite overwhelmed, and the town is charming. I can certainly see why your grandmother would wish to settle here.”

“Can you?” he asked curiously, though Meg sensed an edge to the question. Anxiety darted through her as he lifted one imperious eyebrow. “For myself, I fear it is a long way from the rest of her family, from her doctor, from many of the entertainments she enjoys, and her friends. It is charming in the summer months, I grant you, but to remain here over winter seems a rather foolish idea.”

“What my grandson means is that he wants me somewhere he can keep an eye on me and make sure I ain’t misbehaving,” the dowager said tartly, moving to stand beside Meg.

To Meg’s astonishment, the dowager slipped her arm through hers as if they were dear friends.

“And I would thank you not to bring our family squabbles to the dinner table and make our guest uncomfortable. I thought I taught you better than that, Hawkney, or are you following in your father’s footsteps after all?”

Meg’s eyes flew to the duke’s, horrified that she might have unwittingly fanned the flames of an ongoing argument. His jaw tightened, and there was a slight compression of his lips, but he otherwise showed no reaction. Instead, he inclined his head towards his grandmother.

“You are quite correct as ever,” he told her calmly. “Miss Bancroft, I beg you will forgive me. My concern for my grandmother’s health often outruns my consideration of other matters.”

“Quite understandable,” Meg murmured, wishing everyone would sit down so they could get this evening over with.

“Come along, child,” the dowager said, towing her back to the table. “You’ll sit with me. I want to get to know you better.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Meg said obediently, sending Nat a help me glance she prayed he interpreted correctly.

She needn’t have worried. His grandmother dictated where they should all sit, save for Hawkney, of course, who took the head of the table. The dowager took the opposite end, with Meg on her right and Nat on her left. Della sat next to Nat, and Aubrey, who had just hurried in late and full of apologies, sat next to Meg.

“Lord, did you see the look Hawk gave me?” Aubrey said, laughing. “I feel as if I’ve been run through.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t,” Nat replied darkly. “You know he can’t abide tardiness.”

“Forgive me, Miss Bancroft. I’ve not seen you today. How are you enjoying your stay? Have you seen the town yet?”

“I have,” Meg replied, grateful for his easy warmth. “I rode out with Mr Ashford this morning, and then we walked back to the town again with Della and your sister to inspect the new bookshop.”

“Lord, did Vinnie buy the entire shop?” he asked with a snort.

“What’s it like?” the dowager asked before Meg could reply, giving the cue to the butler to serve as she spoke. “I thought I might take the carriage tomorrow and have a look myself,”

“Oh, it’s wonderful! Such variety and an interesting selection of titles! I could have stayed all day,” Meg replied enthusiastically.

“But it’s upstairs, Gee-Gee,” Nat told her gently. “It’s rather steep and narrow.”

“Drat the fellow, what’s he put it upstairs for?” his grandmother grumbled “Well, I suppose it will do me good to make the effort. I could make him fetch me what I wanted, of course, but it’s not the same as browsing the shelves and coming across a thing by accident.”

“Quite so,” Meg agreed, delighted to have found a kindred spirit. “What do you like to read, ma’am?”

“Oh, I’ll read most things, but I like the racy novels, the ones Hawkney disapproves of,” she added with a sly glance down the table at her grandson.