The time for girlish innocence had long since passed. She had learned her lesson well. If you open your heart, you will be left behind. She would not make such a foolish mistake again.
The duke accepted two mugs of mulled wine from a passing footman and offered one to her.
Noelle had come to the refreshment table in search of biscuits, not wine, but she supposed now was an excellent time to change her mind.
She accepted the warm mug and allowed its fragrant steam to bathe her face. “Is Christmas as you remember it?”
“Cressmouth,” he corrected immediately with no attempt to mask a light shudder. “I don’t know how anyone could live here.”
Irritation flashed through her. She loved her hometown. Loved the people, loved the scenery, loved being wanted. That he felt himself above all of that, including her, made her vow to be Christmassier than ever just to vex him.
“I wish it would snow year-round in all of England, not just here,” Noelle replied cheerfully. She gestured about the great hall. “Nothing could be merrier than a cold crisp day outside and a crackling fire inside, especially when surrounded by so many friends.”
He didn’t bother to hide his disagreement. “I don’t recognize anyone here but you.”
Unsurprising. Silkridge hadn’t spent any significant amount of time here since he was a child. During his most recent visit—five years ago—he had spent a fortnight almost exclusively in Noelle’s company. At first, they had thought their friendship was deepening. During a long moonlit stroll, they’d discovered the connection between them was so much more. That perfect, magical night had culminated with their mouths meeting in a kiss. Of course, he would remember such a moment.
It was unforgettable.
“I suppose this party is in Grandfather’s honor?” Silkridge gestured at the long buffet piled with refreshments.
“Not at all,” she said, infusing her voice with even higher spirits than normal. “You’re looking at the spirit of Christmas. The castle offers libations to weary travelers year-round.”
He stared at her. “Biscuits are not the spirit of Christmas.”
“How would you know, when you don’t have any?” she asked.
His blue eyes narrowed. “Biscuits or Christmas spirit?”
“You appear to be sadly in want of both.” She took a sip of the spiced wine. Its warmth was just what she needed. It tasted like home. “The castle’s kitchen boasts the finest cooks in the region. These biscuits have no equal, and the rest of the meals are every bit as sumptuous. You will not easily find more accommodating footmen or a more thoughtful and efficient maid staff.Thisis the spirit of Christmas.”
His skepticism was obvious. “Cressmouth barely holds a thousand souls. Where would Grandfather even find such a quantity to employ?”
“You said it yourself. Right here in town. Most of us worked either for your grandfather or for the castle in some capacity.”
He looked at her sharply. “Youwork?”
Noelle raised her cup to her mouth. She had not meant to give him any personal details about herself at all.
Especially not information that highlighted the unbridgeable distance between them. To those of his class, “work” was a filthy word fit only for commoners. But here in Cressmouth, work was something everyone did together, making each day even better than the last.
“Noelle,” came a breathless voice from just behind her. “Have you seen the duke?”
Silkridge stiffened in affront, no doubt because he was standing within arm’s reach of both Noelle and the speaker.
“Not you,” she murmured under her breath, then turned to her bosom friend Virginia. “Have you checked the amphitheater? They are setting up forThe Winter’s Tale, and you know how he loves those props.”
“You are brilliant,” Virginia gushed. “Of course that is where he must be.”
She dashed off before Noelle could introduce her to Silkridge. Not that Noelle had any particular wish to ingratiate the duke with her friends. Besides, he would be gone on the morrow. He wasn’t here to make friends.
Nonetheless, she performed the niceties. “That was Miss Virginia Underwood. It is a wonder robins and bluebirds don’t follow her about, singing on her shoulders. She is one of the kindest and sweetest people in all of Christmas.”
He frowned. “She mentioned a duke?”
“You are not the only one,” Noelle said. Her attention was caught by another familiar face.
“Noelle, you’ve outdone yourself.” Angelica Parker lifted a china tea plate towering with biscuits. “I could subsist on the cinnamon ones for the rest of my life.”
