At the crest of a hill, Crispin sat on top of Spice, holding the small cluster of red, blue, and yellow flowers he’d raided from the pots in his uncle’s heated conservatory. The large manor house of Drakestone was situated in the middle of the valley below. The grounds surrounding it had been rendered barren by the exceptionally cold autumn and first few days of winter.
He kneed the horse and started down a winding, tree-lined road that led up to the main house, a massive three-story center building with matching wings on either side. The front grounds were outlined with alternating sections of yew and topiary trees, the only greenery that graced the land as far as he could see. Behind the mansion, there was a large carriage house, and two impressive paddocks beyond that.
From a long conversation with his uncle Crispin had learned some of what had happened during the months he spent away from England. The Duke of Drakestone had married Miss Louisa Prim last spring and in doing so became the guardian of her younger sisters, Miss Gwen Prim being the eldest of the four, who had exited her first Season without making a match.
Crispin no longer had to wonder why she was so suspicious of him when she saw him helping Sybil. He’d figured that out when Gwen had told him about the rake who had kissed her during the Season but hadn’t offered for her hand. Crispin couldn’t say anything. He’d been guilty of doing the same thing more than a few times and worse.
Human nature was a difficult thing to fight. Most men wanted to kiss and caress beautiful young ladies. And it was his experience most ladies wanted to be kissed and caressed. He’d certainly never had to force one to kiss him. But he and his friends had gone too far that spring. He should have never been a part of that wager. It was a despicable thing to do, but at the time he was twenty-three, with nothing but time on his hands and the opportunity to make mischief. He’d been persuaded to join. No one knew he’d stopped participating long before the Season was over. It didn’t matter. His name would forever be linked with the others to the scandal.
Crispin wasn’t that young and foolish anymore. Gwen Prim had just proven that beyond doubt to him. When he was lying on top of her he’d had a huge battle with nature and won. His natural, primal urge told him to kiss the tempting and beautiful gel beneath him, but he hadn’t.
A smile eased across his lips. He much preferred the name Miss Christmas to Miss Prim. “Prim” didn’t seem to fit a young lady who would attack a man with a flower basket and then roll around on the ground fighting with him. Every time he’d thought about her today, he’d smiled. She had certainly caught his attention in a way no other young lady ever had.
The first thing most any young lady would have done when he rolled on top of her on the ground would have been to spout she was sister-in-law to a duke. But not Miss Christmas. She fought her own battle. She certainly hadn’t minded giving him an earful of outrage for keeping his title from her, either.
He smiled again. Yes, there were many things that separated the lovely miss from most young ladies. There wasn’t a one of them he didn’t like or didn’t approve of.
Perhaps he should have declined the duke’s invitation to dinner and spent his first full evening with his uncle, but the beautiful spitfire had beckoned him. She had intrigued him, and he wanted to see her again. He wanted to know if she continued to stimulate him when her soft body wasn’t pinned beneath him.
Not that he was sure he wanted her to.
Crispin hadn’t come to visit his uncle hoping to become enamored with a young lady who had a family as large and sociable as his. In the past couple of years he’d settled down and resigned himself to an existence befitting a duke. But at only twenty-six marriage, his place in parliament, and a future heir whose name would be recorded at the prestigious Heirs’ Club was something Crispin wanted to keep safely in the far distant future.
A groomsman took the reins from Crispin as he dismounted at the entrance of the large house. He took the eight steps up to the front door two at a time and lifted the heavy brass knocker for a resounding couple of raps.
He heard a dog bark, a young girl squeal, running, and finally shuffling of feet just before the door opened. A fire roared in the fireplace of the spacious vestibule. It was a nice welcome for guests, along with the friendly dog who greeted him. The butler took his hat and cape and showed him into the drawing room, where for a moment the only thing Crispin saw was a line of neatly coiffed blue-eyed and blond-haired females.
It took only a moment for his gaze to fall on Miss Gwen Prim. She looked stunning dressed in a pale yellow gown that looked as if it had been made from the light froth that sometimes formed on moving water. A tempting swell of her breasts showed from beneath the heart-shaped neckline. Her shiny golden tresses had been attractively arranged on top of her head, revealing a slender neck that he was aching to kiss. And though the style was lovely on her, he’d much rather see her beautiful hair flowing across her shoulders as it had been earlier in the morning.
She was the only young lady in the room not smiling. Her expression remained cautious.
So she still didn’t trust him.
Yet.
He could understand that. It was hard to live down a reputation as sullied as his.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Your Grace,” said the youngest girl, who looked to be the age of seven or eight. She managed a hasty curtsy before walking to stand toe-to-toe with him. Leaning her head back, she looked up at him with a cute-as-a-button big smile and said, “I’m Bonnie. Sybil said you were real nice to her and she doesn’t know why Gwen wanted to hit you with the basket.”
Gwen gasped and then whispered, “Bonnie, be quiet.”
“Bonnie!” the duchess exclaimed. “You know your manners and I’ll thank you to find them or take your leave from the room this instant. Now would you mind stepping aside so the rest of us can properly welcome the duke to our home?”
The little girl folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips as she stomped away.
Crispin looked over at Miss Gwen Prim. Her cheeks had turned as rosy as when she was out in the blustery wind. He was beginning to believe all the Prim girls were quite cheeky.
He strode further into the room, where proper introductions were made between him and the beautiful Duchess of Drakestone, the stimulating Miss Gwen Prim, and the younger Misses Lillian and Bonnie. He was also introduced to Saint who continued to sniff around his feet and legs.
“I don’t see Miss Sybil,” he said, keeping his focus on the one blonde who’d had his full attention since she’d seen fit to leave her mark under his eye. “How is she?”
“I’m afraid she’s fretful at the moment,” Miss Prim answered, eyeing him as closely as he perused her.
“That’s understandable. I had hoped her leg wasn’t injured too badly.”
“Oh, her ill temperament isn’t because of her knee, though I’m sure it’s uncomfortable, but because she can’t join us to welcome you to Drakestone. She wanted to thank you personally for helping her today, but it’s not possible for her to come down.”
“I was glad I happened upon her while I was out riding. I hope her leg’s not broken.”
“No,” Miss Prim said, looking at the flowers in his hand. “She twisted her knee and has a very badly sprained ankle. She won’t be walking for at least a week or two.”
“She may not be walking by the Christmas ball we’re having,” Bonnie added as she walked up to him again.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but thought it might be the case,” he said. “I brought her some flowers.”
“I’ll take them to her right now,” Bonnie said, and took hold of them with such a tight grip he was forced to let go before she broke the stems.
“No, I should be the one to do it,” Lillian said, moving up beside her sister and pushing her aside with her hip. “I’m older than you.”
“I got them first,” Bonnie argued.
“You both do it,” the duchess said in a firm tone, stepping in between the two girls. “Bonnie, give Lillian half the flowers.”
The little girl pursed her lips dramatically, but finally she started counting the flowers to make sure she gave her sister exactly half of them. When the mission was accomplished the two girls ran from the room.
“Please sit down, Your Grace,” the duchess said, and pointed to the uncomfortable-looking settee. “Lord and Lady Mountworth, Mr. and Mrs. William Underhill, and Mr. Russell Tweedy will be joining us but haven’t arrived yet.”
“I’m acquainted with Lord and Lady Mountworth and Mr. and Mrs. Underhill, but I don’t believe I know Mr. Tweedy.”
“I heard he doesn’t care for the hustle and bustle of London so he seldom goes,” Her Grace answered. “That’s probably why you haven’t met him. He’s Viscount Mountworth’s nephew and I believe he resides most of the year at His Lordship’s estate here in the valley.”
“And he’s a very fine gentleman,” Miss Prim added quickly.
“I don’t doubt that,” the duke answered.
A loud, high-pitched, “No!” and more squealing sounded from the front of the house. Crispin knew the girls hadn’t yet made it up the stairs with the flowers and so did the dog. Saint barked and ran to investigate. As Crispin had thought after talking to his uncle, this household was a lot like his own.
“You two go ahead and be seated,” Her Grace said. “I’m going to see what that scream was about.”
“I apologize for my younger sisters’ outburst, Your Grace,” Miss Prim said as the duchess left the room.
And then suddenly Miss Prim caught him completely off guard by smiling at him. His stomach did a slow roll, and his lower body tightened. There was something about her that triggered alarms on all his senses to open up and be attentive to every little thing about her. She made no move to sit down, so Crispin didn’t, either.
“That’s the second time today I’ve had to apologize to you,” she continued. “That is already over my limit for saying I’m sorry, so I hope I don’t have to do it again.”
He smiled, too. “I have four sisters, Miss Christmas, and I just spent more than six months traveling with them. You don’t have to apologize to me. It’s all part of family life.”
“I would think being an unmarried duke, you wouldn’t have much of a family life.”
“You would be wrong.”
Her shoulders straightened a little higher. “All right. I stand corrected.”
He stepped in closer to her. “Did you ask Bray anything about me after I left this morning?”
She moistened her lips. “No.”
“That surprises me. So there was no curiosity about me?”
“Well, I—”
He took another step closer, too close, but he was pleased she didn’t back away from him. “What?”
“If you must know, there was curiosity, of course, but I managed to tamp it down and not ask.”
“What would you like to know about me?” he asked.
Her eyes searched his. “The gossip during the Season was that you went to America looking for a bride to bring home because none of the ton’s mothers would let you near their daughters because of the wager with your friends.”
“Really?” That bit of gossip surprised him, since he’d had many fathers and mothers seek him out and extol their daughters’ virtues since the wager was leaked. But Crispin never tried to understand gossip.
She nodded.
“I hadn’t heard that, but I haven’t been back in England very long.”
“Were you?” she asked. “There to find a bride?”
“No. The truth is that my mother has endured a lot from me but has asked very little of me since I came of age. She became ill while traveling in a city called Baltimore in America. She wrote and asked me to come to her, so I did.”
“That’s admirable. Is she better?”
“She seems to be. I wanted to make sure her recovery was complete, so I stayed and traveled with her and the family for the rest of their journey. So the gossip is just that. Gossip.” He paused. “You are lovely tonight, Miss Christmas.”
She smiled again, but this time it was a shy smile. “You mean without bits of dead grass and gravel in my hair and dirt on my dress.”
“Oh no,” he said softly. “You looked so incredibly … Perhaps I best not describe just how enticing you were to me this morning. You’re not as outspoken this evening as you were earlier today. Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me. You’re going to have to tell me.”
She glanced at the doorway as if she was hoping her sister would come back into the room and rescue her from having to answer him.
“Surely you must know I’m still quite embarrassed that I hit you.”
“I’ve forgotten about it already.” “Well, it’s rather hard for me to do that because every time I look at you I see the very obvious scratch beneath your eye.”
He laughed. “I’m afraid there was nothing I could do to make it go away.”
“Believe me, if I could make it go away, I would.”
“My uncle was quite inquisitive when I returned home this morning looking as if I were the loser in fisticuffs.”
“Weren’t you?” she asked with a hint of humor curving her beautiful lips.
So she could tease him after all. He was beginning to wonder if she ever would.
“I’m still trying to decide which one of us won our battle this morning,” he answered truthfully.
“What did you tell your uncle happened to you?”
“I told him the truth.”
Her lovely mouth formed a silent O.
Seeing he had the upper hand, for the time being at least, and wanting to keep it for as long as he could, Crispin continued, “I told him I was in a thicket minding my own business when suddenly the most beautiful young lady I had ever seen walked up and hit me with her gardening basket.”
Miss Prim frowned with concern. “Did he believe you? He didn’t, did he?”
Crispin hesitated and the furrows in her forehead deepened. Finally, he said, “No. Not a word of it.”
“You are teasing me, aren’t you? You didn’t tell him anything. You probably don’t even have an uncle.”
He laughed again. “The part about me having an uncle is true, and I’m sure he wondered plenty about what might have happened, but he’d never ask me.”
“Oh, you’re an impossible man, Your Grace!” she exclaimed. “If I had a basket in my hand right now, I’d hit you again.”
“And if the duchess wasn’t right outside the door I would try to kiss you again.”
“Kissing.” She huffed. “That seems to be what most gentlemen think about.”
“It’s quite pleasurable.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll find someone who is quite willing to enjoy it with you, but that will not be me.”
“It’s been my experience that most young ladies enjoy it as well. If you don’t then you haven’t been properly kissed.”
“I never said I didn’t enjoy kissing. Actually, I believe I admitted I liked it. I just realized I didn’t like the man who was kissing me.”
Crispin laughed at her comment as the duchess walked back into the room. She was followed by a young dark-haired and slim-built gentleman who strode in with all the ease of a man who had been welcomed into the home many times. Crispin didn’t have to be introduced to him to know he was Mr. Russell Tweedy. He didn’t even look in Crispin’s direction. He headed straight for Miss Prim. His smile was genuine as he took her gloved hand and kissed the back of her palm.
“Miss Prim, I’m delighted to see you once again and be in your company.” He handed her a large floral arrangement and a box that Crispin assumed was filled with pastries. “You are absolutely stunning tonight.” He put his hand over his heart for a moment before continuing on to say, “I fear I will have trouble speaking all evening because you have stolen the breath from me.”
Crispin felt a twitch between his shoulders. It was clear the dandy had his sights on Miss Prim. Whether or not Tweedy was truly besotted with her or if he knew he’d be well-set the rest of his life married to the sister-in-law of the Duke of Drakestone Crispin didn’t know yet, but the dandy was pursuing her with all he had.
Just when Crispin thought Miss Prim was eating up Mr. Tweedy’s flattery as if it were a sweetened, frothy cream to be devoured slowly, her attention left him and his overly long monologue about how beautiful she was and her gaze swept over to Crispin.
And at that moment, he knew she didn’t return the man’s blatant affections.
Crispin smiled.