Coming soon!
The Duke and I
Saints and Sinners #1
Chapter One
Nicolas Westfall loathed the excesses of the festive season. His estate, his very home, was awash in lively chatter and the ever-present threat of standing beneath a maliciously placed clump of mistletoe.
Nicolas was far too old for such nonsense at four and forty years, and if he did kiss anyone, he certainly wouldn’t advertise the fact in a public display of affection.
That was why he suppressed an oath as Miss Natalia Hawthorne’s eyes flashed as she moved closer. Sensing danger, he glanced up, noted he was near another clump, and hastily took a pace back. His neighbor’s daughter was far too young to be chasing after him. She was only eighteen, a year older than his youngest daughter, for God’s sake.
Miss Hawthorne pouted. “La, your grace. You are a tease.”
He was not. What he was feeling was entirely murderous toward the woman who’d formed the guest list and included such a flirt in their number. He should never have opened his home to guests for this farce, a weeklong Christmas party to prepare his youngest child, Jessica, for her coming out during the upcoming summer. Nicolas had felt this a bad idea from the very beginning and discovered so at every turn. However, his oldest daughter had pushed, and even Jessica’s companion had agreed a party that included family would be beneficial.
Since the companion and this particular daughter rarely agreed to anything concerning Jessica, he’d put up a weak protest then crumbled.
What he had not expected was to be hunted as if he were a prize on the marriage mart, too.
He retreated to the library, his private refuge, for protection. A haven for gentlemen—greenery and female free—the library was already occupied by a neighbor with the same idea as he. He scowled at Gideon Whitfield, a longtime friend and confidant. “I wondered where you’d disappeared to.”
“Do they have you on the defensive again, too?” Whitfield queried from where he sat, making himself at home with his feet stretched out toward the crackling fire. Whitfield, a gentleman in his prime, was a confirmed bachelor of retiring habits, fortunate enough to still have a full head of dark wavy hair that the ladies so often admired.
“Indeed.” Nicolas took a peek outside toward the snowy drive. The dark of night was not far off, but he was expecting carolers to arrive at any moment. “Why did I agree to this?”
“Because you would do anything for your daughter’s happiness.” The man leaned forward. “You know, if you chose your own wife, you might be spared the worst of female machinations during the coming season. Like wolves, women only chase if you run. Let one catch you and your cares will be over.”
He grunted. That was another reason he was dreading the upcoming season. As much as he’d enjoy the idea of taking a wife again, to have sex and companionship and even more sex, he could not consider it until his daughter had found a suitable husband. Only one of them needed to be on the marriage mart, and at his age, he had trouble imagining starting over.
It had been just he and Jessica for a number of years, except for a string of governesses who had come and gone for various reasons. Earlier this year, he’d taken another daughter’s advice and employed a companion for Jessica instead of a governess.
Mrs. Gillian Thorpe had from the start been the exception to an otherwise unexceptional string of females he’d hired to keep Jessica in line. Mrs. Thorpe made no attempt to manage anyone but Jessica, and ensured he was always informed about disturbances to his daughter’s routine. He currently had the perfect arrangement and was in dread of the next large change in his life—losing Jessica to a husband who had better deserve her or else.
“That is why you are here,” he told Whitfield, pushing aside his unease. “Since my sons are otherwise engaged, you alone must distract females in want of a husband with your prettier face and deep pockets.”
Nicolas was indeed no prize to look at, with his broken nose and hair showing more gray than the black he’d been born with. There were times Nicolas felt positively ancient beside Whitfield, who was a full decade and more his junior. But for all the years between them, they had a great deal in common.
Besides, of all his unmarried friends, Whitfield was entirely to be trusted around his innocent youngest daughter.
Whitfield waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, but you’re the duke every woman wants to catch, or so your daughter claims, even with your annual sour Christmas disposition on full display.”
“Please don’t remind me of the season.”
“I am cruelly used as your shield,” Whitfield complained, but amusement colored his tone, leaving Nicolas in no doubt that he was happy with his role in this particular house party. Whitfield leaned his head back. “Promise you’ve placed me next to someone other than the companion for dinner?” Whitfield begged.
Whitfield’s hopeful expression brought a laugh bubbling out of Nicolas’ chest. The younger man’s pretense of being a put-upon bachelor amused him. The fool relished his current popularity among the fairer sex. “I had a word with the housekeeper, and she assures me the place settings will not change again. You are placed next to Jessica this evening.”
“Good,” Whitfield said, smiling broadly. “No offense intended to your charming companion, but all she ever does is talk about her charge. I may as well sit beside Jessica at least one night and hear of her adventures firsthand. Tell me though, do all of your servants have no other information to share other than what Jessica did last?”
“Mrs. Thorpe is devoted to my daughter,” he said with satisfaction. “They are always together, so it is not surprising she speaks of Jessica a great deal. I couldn’t have asked for a better woman to guide her at this age.”
“Jess seems to have slowed down very little since I last saw her,” Whitfield mused. “Two months ago, she was still the cheeky hoyden who almost took my head off playing cricket and then laughed about the near miss I had.”
“You do play exceptionally badly. You’re supposed to catch the ball with your hands, not your head,” Nicolas joked, remembering that sunny day fondly. Even Mrs. Thorpe had been laughing so hard she’d complained of a stitch in her side. Nicolas had had to chase after the furious Whitfield to make sure his daughter wasn’t strangled or dumped in the nearby pond.
He took another peek outside and was pleased to see approaching carriages. “Here they come. We should gather my guests and go out to meet them.”
Unfortunately, the fast clip of footsteps warned Nicolas his sanctuary had been invaded by a woman, and greeting the carolers might have to wait a little longer.
“I must speak to you about Jessica, Father,” Nicolas’ oldest daughter, Mrs. Rebecca Warner, exclaimed abruptly.
He turned slowly, doomed to yet another inevitable lecture about the right way to raise a female child. Rebecca was forever telling Nicolas what to do, as if he’d not managed to turn out three other respectable female children before. She took her role as older sister to extremes.
She turned her attention on Whitfield and smiled at the man. “Do excuse us.”
“No, stay exactly where you are.” Nicolas wasn’t about to have his evening spoiled by having his friend shooed away by the family’s feminine major general. “Whatever you have to say can wait until tomorrow, Rebecca.”
Whitfield fled anyway.
Wretched coward.
“You cannot put me off forever,” Rebecca insisted, as she looked about the space with a critical eye. “This room could do with a good airing. Some flowers, perhaps, too.”
Nicolas shuddered. Flowers and women were unwanted in this room, and his oldest daughter knew his wishes but still persisted in trying to manage him. Perhaps there was merit in considering taking a wife.
He smiled, wishing he could forbid his daughter from bothering him about a matter he had well in hand, but however opinionated Rebecca might have become, she was still family. Family mattered to Nicolas very much. “The carolers are coming up from the village. We must greet them.”
“Wait just a moment,” she cried out.
Nicolas strode away, called his guests to order, and announced the impending arrival of the carol singers.
Jessica rushed toward him, already rugged up against the cold and clearly excited. “Oh, I love Christmas, Papa.”
“I know, Little Mouse.” He threw his arm around Jessica’s shoulders, hugged her to his side, and then looked for Mrs. Thorpe.
The raven-haired companion was still some distance away but already smothered in coat, gloves, woolen scarf and knitted cap until only a little of her face could be seen. “Shall we?”
He earned a tiny smile from Thorpe, who remained as they strode out into the cold along with his family and guests. The steps soon filled to overflowing.
As they waited on the steps for the carolers to sing, he felt an absence and glanced around. Mrs. Thorpe had stopped a few steps behind him. He gestured her forward to stand beside Jessica. “You won’t see a thing loitering there.”
“I would be happy just to listen, your grace,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Nonsense.” He placed his hand on her back and positioned her to his right, just before him. “There now. You can see everything with Jessica far better from here.”
She shivered, glancing over her shoulder to where his hand remained on her coat.
“My apologies.” Nicolas quickly put his hands behind his back, slightly embarrassed. He did not ordinarily manhandle his female staff.
Thorpe exchanged a quick smile with Jessica, and the pair huddled closer.
Nicolas let out a sigh of contentment. Mrs. Thorpe might just be the perfect companion. Quiet and kind, indulgent but not easily swayed by Jessica’s impetuous habits. She was always ready to laugh at his poor jokes, too, and never put herself forward. In all the time he’d known her, before and after her employment in his household, she’d never once given him any encouragement. He had become curious about her past recently, though.
Nicolas leaned forward. “How are you enjoying the evening, ladies?”
“This has been the perfect Christmas,” Jess promised, full of her usual enthusiasm for everything that had to do with making merry.
Mrs. Thorpe held her tongue. Nicolas softly nudged her with his elbow, in case she’d not realized the question was meant for her too. It was important to him that the woman in charge of his daughter was happy. “Mrs. Thorpe?”
“I… Oh, yes.” Her eyes darted away, and a frown pulled at her lips in a brief but telling moment as she looked toward his daughter. She smiled brightly. “I am having a wonderful time.”
Now, what was this? A lie? Never in all the time she had been working for him had Mrs. Thorpe been anything less than forthright with her opinions. But the last time Rebecca had come to stay, he’d been aware of a little tension between the two women. He’d hoped the reason for that had passed. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” she assured him as the carolers began to sing.
Jessica leaned against him, and by dint of proximity, Mrs. Thorpe did too, to some degree. He held his daughter, full of love for his child, but was acutely aware that Mrs. Thorpe stood close and wasn’t fully enjoying herself. He would talk to her about it after dinner and find out if his children had been meddling in their arrangement regarding Jessica’s care again.
Nicolas could not afford to lose Mrs. Thorpe. Not when he needed her loyalty most.