The truth is I love you, too. How brave you were to tell me that first! I know it’s silly for two people to fall in love so quickly, but we did, didn’t we?
But I absolutely agree with your mother. You should be married. You will make a devoted husband. And I think, with some more work on your temper, you could be an ideal father. Look how well you’ve trained Bevel and how much he loves you!
But more “lessons” from me will not advance your pursuit of a wife. And my heart will break, so best I go now! For both our sakes!
But maybe, every Christmastide, you’ll spare a few thoughts for the silly girl you once kissed under the mistletoe in your carriage house?
I’m off to meet Ren’s coach! I’m sorry about all the trouble and expense. Maybe the shops will take the things back?
He blinked through tears and looked at the items piled on the kitchen table. A velvet bag holding a gold watch. Yards of red ribbon. A stack of books. The bag of sweets Franny had chosen for Ren. And the practical, thick, wool stockings she had also picked out for her brother.
You’re not to worry. I have managed everything so far, and I will continue to do so! Brilliantly, I might add!
Just promise me one thing—never think of yourself or call yourself an arsehole again.
I would never fall in love with an arsehole.
Sincerely, with all my affection and admiration,
Franny
There was a rap on the kitchen door, and his heart leapt.
She had come back.
He flung the door open, and half-a-dozen lads stood there carrying greenery, wine, a goose, boxes of food.
“Delivery!” chirped the first lad and came in. Kittredge stood silently as the rest trooped in and placed their bundles all around the kitchen.
“Happy Christmas Eve!” They removed their caps.
Oh.
He went into his pocket and took out his purse and gave each one a pound coin. The first lad looked at his hand and let out a whoop. “I can get my girl the bead necklace she wants!”
Then they all had to wish him a happy Christmas Eve again when it was the worst fucking day of his life and shake his hand, not knowing he was a duke, the owner of the house.
Finally, he closed the door on their cheery shouts in the mews. At least someone was happy this Christmas.
And some girl somewhere was going to get the bead necklace of her dreams while Franny got nothing.
“He never came home, Your Grace,”Dagenham’s haggard manservant mumbled.
“Where was he going last night?”
“A Christmas ball here in town. Then the club, probably. He’s sworn off gaming at the moment, and you know what that means.”
Yes, compensatory drinking.
Kittredge turned and walked quickly away, tugging on Bevel’s leash. A hack was not to be found today for love or money.
He marched into the club with Bevel—rules be damned—and discovered Dagenham in the reading room, sprawled over two chairs, asleep. He was wearing fancy dress with a garish red waistcoat.
“Wake up, Dagenham. I need you.”
The viscount opened bleary eyes. “Yes. No need to shout.”
“I didn’t shout.”
