Annie looped her arm through Désirée’s and lifted her chin in defiance. “It’s not nice to make people feel like they don’t belong. Especially whenthey’rethe ones who are outsiders and we’re the ones who live here.”
Désirée did not have the heart to tell her that tourists weren’t the only ones who repeatedly brought her family’s differences to their attention as if they were flaws.
She suspected it was the real reason Lucien did not wish to improve his English. Her brother preferrednotto understand the judgmental comments well-meaning good people made right to his face.Must they talk like that? Look like that? Eat like that? Live like that?One tired of smiling vacantly and pretending not to comprehend the question.
She and her brothers were anomalies here. They could see they did not fit in. That was one of the many attractions to going back to France.
Nonetheless, Désirée loved Cressmouth. She knew it was the antithesis to southern France and felt like a bad le Duc for letting a wintry English village burrow its way into her heart, but the truth was she would miss this wonderful, maddening hamlet the moment she didn’t have it anymore.
“We’re here!” Annie raced out of the park to the foot of the castle steps, where a group of star-gazers was already forming.
Désirée made a mental note to run up to the lending library after they finished in order to send a new batch of books back home to Lucien. Perhaps even one on constellations.
Gloria Pringle grinned at them. “Just in time! Annie, would you like to be my apprentice tour guide today?”
“Annie is the apprentice tour guide every time,” Frederick whispered to Désirée, “but the tourists don’t know and think she’s a darling.”
Anniewasa darling. So was her brother. Désirée gave his hand a quick squeeze and hid a smile when he let her.
She was glad the hunt for a real governess was taking inordinately long. If all she had left in Cressmouth were six short months, she’d happily spend them with the twins… and their father.
She glanced at Jack. She loved the way the dark hair at the base of his neck curled against his starched cravat. His wide shoulders encased in perfectly tailored grey superfine. His tight-fitting buckskins, so touchably soft. His mouth, just as irresistible when smiling wickedly as when kissing her senseless. It was hard to pay attention to mere stars when he was in her sights.
Gloria pointed up at the sky. “See that constellation? What do you suppose it is? Use your imaginations.”
Frederick rolled his eyes. “This is Annie’s favorite part.”
“A duke!” shouted one of the younger boys. “You’ve been wishing upon a duke ever since you were a baby!”
“That’s Nigel,” Frederick whispered. “He wants to be apprentice tour guide, but he’s only seven. He memorized the pretend constellations.”
“I don’t need to wish upon stars anymore,” Annie announced. “The Skeffingtons have our own duke, and she’s standing right next to us.”
Désirée jerked in alarm and took a step back. “Er…”
As she was neither a duke nor the property of the Skeffingtons, she did not know the right response.
She settled for a belated, “I… am not a duke.”
“Of course you are.” Gloria chuckled with good cheer. “Your family is one quarter of the local legend!”
Désirée blinked. “We’re… part of the local legend?”
“An enormous part,” Gloria confirmed, and turned to the crowd. “How many dukes do we have here in Christmas?”
“Twelve!” the crowd chorused.
“That’s right. The legendary Twelve Dukes of Christmas include the Duke of Silkridge…” Gloria began.
“The Duke of Azureford,” someone added.
“The Duke of Nottingvale,” someone else yelled.
“Désiréele Duc,” Annie called out.
“Sébastien le Duc,” Frederick shouted.
Jack’s merry eyes met hers. “Lucien le Duc.”
