The carriage was traveling in the wrong direction.
“Dev?” She turned to face her nephew and his wife. Both Prescott and Sophia smiled secretly.
“Where is the driver taking us?”
“A Christmas surprise for you, Aunt.” The carriage slowed to a halt before turning onto a seldom used road at the edge of Prescott property. “Not long now.”
From what Loretta remembered, this road would take then to an old gamekeeper’s lodge. One that hadn’t been used for years, having been replaced with one closer to the main house.
“I don’t want any presents,” she chided them. “You know that.”
But the young couple continued to sit quietly, smiles dancing upon their lips. The carriage bounced and turned through the winding road until it came to a halt. Yes, this was indeed the old gamekeeper’s cottage. But what?
And then the door to the carriage flew open and Loretta could hardly believe her eyes.
Thomas?
With only moonlight shining down on them, to illuminate the man peering inside, she could not be certain.
“Come inside, Duchess. We’ve a fire burning and some hot cider.” He reached into the carriage and offered his hand.
Of course, she took it.
“You came back?” She glanced over at Devlin and Sophia. Oh, she ought to be dreadfully embarrassed. What had Thomas told them?
But tonight, for some reason, none of it mattered. All that mattered was that he’d returned, and she was not to imagine him alone on Christmas after all.
And when his hand wrapped around her gloved one, she felt.
Comfort.
Peace.
Belonging.
“Oh, how silly of all of you,” she chastised them as she alighted from the carriage. Once outside, she noticed another carriage parked along the side of the house, and a few horses. “Thomas could just as easily have come back to the house for dinner. I’m certain Cecily will be happy to have him here for the holiday. And little Finn.”
But instead of climbing out behind her, Dev reached forward and took hold of the door. “We’ll see you back later tonight. Tomorrow morning, if you wish.”
Did they think?
Had Thomas told them she…?
Before she could utter a word of protest, Dev had closed the door and the carriage sprang forward.
“Thomas Findlay!” She huffed. How could she be so happy to see him and yet so utterly aghast at his actions. And Dev! Suggesting she would wish to stay the night alone with Thomas again!
As though he knew!
“Now Duchess,” Thomas patted her hand reassuringly. “Such the hussy. If you’ll take a moment to follow me, you’ll soon discover I’m not so unsavory as to suggest to your nephew that I’d keep you all to myself overnight. Again.” He added the last bit with a twinkle lurking behind those gray-blue eyes of his.
He gestured toward the cottage, and she could indeed hear voices from within. They were not alone? What the devil was going on, then?
And then she allowed him to lead her along the cobbled path to the door. Watching her carefully, he reached forward and opened it.
A shadowed figure stepped forward, one with a familiar tilt to his head. He removed his hat and the moonlight struck his face.
“Harold?” The name barely escaped past her lips. It could not be. Surely, her mind was playing tricks upon her.
