Joy to the Duke Read online

  How dare she meddle in his family’s affairs? He stood and gestured for Isis to come to his side. The greyhound obeyed and moved to stand next to him. “Now I am throwing you out.”

  Felicity pursed her lips. “That’s what did it?”

  “My family is none of your concern. That you would seek to stick your nose into such matters speaks ill of your breeding.”

  She snorted, then got to her feet. Calder stepped forward and clasped her arm to provide aid.

  Her gaze snapped to his, and a spell fell over him. The picnic from the past was real, the heat of the day, the dazzling joy of her presence.

  “That sounds like something your father would have said.” Her words jarred him back to the present. Yes, he would have—and often had—commented on her lack of breeding. It was why he hadn’t deemed her an appropriate wife.

  Was she trying to say he was his father?

  It was perhaps the most offensive thing she could say to him. “My father would have given Bianca that money as well as his approval for her marriage simply because Buckleigh became the earl. If he hadn’t inherited, my father would have done the same as I did. My refusal to give approval is because of who I know Buckleigh to be—a brutal fighter with an inability to control himself. So do not compare me to a man who only cared about a person’s position and not their character.”

  His voice had risen as he’d spoken. He’d actually felt…impassioned. His heart had picked up speed, and a tremor of satisfaction tripped through him.

  “I see,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize those things about Ash. I believe he has a condition that is sometimes difficult for him to manage. I know for certain he isn’t brutal and that he adores your sister. He would do anything for her.”

  Calder didn’t wish to hear any of that. He knew his sister was happy, and he didn’t care. “It’s past time for you to go.”

  “Yes, I daresay it is,” she said on a sigh. “We’re settled on the St. Stephen’s Day party, then. You’ll let Bianca have it here. Thank you, Calder.”

  He wanted to dispute her, but the words wouldn’t form. She continued, “I will return to discuss these other matters after you’ve had time to think upon them, particularly your sister. If you don’t reconcile with her and make things right, you’ll regret it. Don’t allow a mistake to fester. I wish to God I’d gone to see you ten years ago—after I received that forged letter. Then maybe things would have been different.”

  Calder couldn’t breathe. It was as if a pile of rocks had fallen on top of him and was pressing him into the ground. And the ground would swallow him whole, just as it had done to Felicity in his nightmare.

  “Please go.” The words came out low and hard. When her gaze dipped to the picnic, he realized all of it belonged to her.

  He turned on his heel and stalked from the room, Isis trotting beside him.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Felicity called after him.

  Calder wanted to feel dread, but instead, there was anticipation. And that scared him more than anything ever could.

  Chapter 5

  As Felicity’s coach bore her back to Hartwell, she couldn’t stop thinking of Calder. He’d actually laughed. Until he’d tried to cover it with a cough. But she’d caught it, and she was fairly certain he knew she’d caught it. His guard had been firmly in place after that.

  The man she’d loved was in there somewhere. She knew it with a deep certainty that filled her with hope—and despair. He kept himself so buried, so cut off from everyone, that she feared he didn’t know how to do anything else.

  His defense of his actions regarding Bianca had perhaps been the most telling. He’d created a narrative in which he was the opposite of his father and nothing else mattered. At least that was what Felicity suspected. The man had a grip on his son, even in death, and Felicity hoped she could break it. For Calder’s sake. Even if they had no future together, and she honestly wasn’t sure they did, he deserved to be happy.

  Right now, he was decidedly not.

  She wasn’t going to give up, however. Not when she was seeing cracks in his façade. She could also see how much he cared for his sister, even if he’d behaved like a terrible miser.

  Thinking of Bianca, Felicity wanted to tell her what Calder had said, but wasn’t sure she should. She’d bristled at being thought of as meddling—she preferred to think of it as helping.

  She would, however, write to Bianca immediately and tell her the St. Stephen’s Day party would be at Hartwood. If Felicity accomplished nothing else, she’d at least done that.

  As the coach neared her cottage, Felicity saw another vehicle parked in front. Her coach stopped, and the coachman helped her out before taking the equipage to the stable down the street.

  Felicity didn’t recognize the coach, but there was a crest emblazoned on the door. She also didn’t recognize that, but the presence of a stag gave her an inkling.

  She went inside, where Agatha met her, taking Felicity’s cloak, hat, and gloves. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Garland. You’ve two visitors who asked to wait for you. They are in the parlor. Your mother is resting, and I didn’t wish to disturb her.”

  “Thank you.” Felicity had given the maid of all work explicit instructions that Mama needed rest in order to fully recuperate. She turned and went to the parlor and was unsurprised to find Bianca and Poppy seated on the settee. “Good afternoon,” she greeted them.

  Bianca gave her a sheepish smile. “I hope you don’t mind us waiting here for you. It’s just… I knew you were visiting Calder today, and I’m afraid I was too excited to wait for word about what happened.”

  “Bianca’s excitement can be difficult to contain,” Poppy added with a grin. “I should also admit I was eager to hear the results of your meeting. When Bianca told me you’d actually persuaded Calder to reconsider, I was flabbergasted.”

  Felicity sat in a chair near the fireplace to warm herself after the ride from Hartwood. “What will your reaction be when I tell you that you may host the party at Hartwood?”

  Poppy and Bianca exchanged looks, their mouths dropping open. Then they both laughed with glee.

  “Tell us how you managed it!” Bianca said, leaning forward.

  “A slight bit of extortion, I suppose. I threatened to continue harassing him if he didn’t change his mind.”

  “And that worked?”

  “I might have suggested putting up signs to pester him. In the end, I simply gave him no opportunity to refuse.”

  Bianca crowed, and Poppy giggled. “Splendid,” Poppy said, then sobered. “But I hate that it’s come to that.”

  “I will employ whatever measures are necessary,” Felicity said. “I’ve warned him I am not finished, that we still need to discuss Hartwell House and Bianca’s settlement.”

  Poppy’s eyes widened. “You talked to him about Bianca?” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine he took that very well.”

  “He did not, but he wasn’t rude either. He actually had a—somewhat—reasonable explanation for doing what he did.”

  Bianca gaped at her. “He was reasonable?”

  “He said he couldn’t approve your marriage because he didn’t think Ash would be a good husband.”

  “Because of his fighting and his affliction.” Bianca scoffed. “He said the same to me, and I told him it was nonsense. Ash is the best of men. Certainly a better husband than Calder would be.”

  Inwardly, Felicity winced. She’d once dreamed of Calder being her husband. But she couldn’t dispute what Bianca said. “I didn’t say I agreed with him. I told him Ash adored you.”

  “He does,” Poppy agreed, sliding a warm smile toward her sister. “And that should be enough.”

  “I think he could come around,” Felicity said cautiously. “I saw a hint of the young man I knew. He’s in there still.”

  Both sisters stared at her as if she’d gone mad. “Truly?” Poppy whispered, sounding hopeful.

  “How can you tell?” Bianca sounded dubious.

/>   “He laughed.”

  The looks Bianca and Poppy exchanged next were beyond incredulous. Poppy spoke first. “Are you sure?”

  Felicity nodded. “I mean to continue my assault.”

  “To what end?” Bianca asked. “Is your goal just to have Hartwell House repaired?”

  “And your settlement delivered,” Felicity said.

  Bianca eyed her with suspicion. “You have no other motive?”

  “I think Bianca is trying to ascertain whether there could be a future for you and our brother,” Poppy said drily. “We would dearly love to see him happy, and we wonder if you could bring that about.”

  Felicity clasped her hands together in her lap. “I think Calder will have to be the one to bring it about. But I should like to help him in any way I can.”

  “Blast it all, I am going to be blunt,” Bianca rushed to say. “Is there any chance you might want to marry Calder? You did once, right?”

  “I did, yes.” Felicity wouldn’t—and couldn’t—commit to anything else. “I don’t know what the future holds for me or for him. I will remind you that I don’t live here. I live in York.”

  “Oh.” Bianca settled back on the settee, looking disappointed. “I didn’t realize.”

  “I only came to help my mother. However, I am rather excited about the changes coming with Hartwell House and Shield’s End. I may decide to stay, at least for a while.”

  “I hope you will,” Poppy said. “Especially if you’re successful in persuading Calder to repair Hartwell House. You will be personally invested in how it all works out.”

  Yes, she would be. In fact, she wanted to be invested financially too. “I have a bit of money from my husband, and I’d like to give what I can to support the restoration of Hartwell House. Who is managing that fund?”

  “Gabriel,” Poppy answered, referring to her husband. “I’ll tell him you’d like to help. Thank you so much. You should visit Hartwell House.”

  “I should. It’s been years—my father used to take vegetables to Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong.”

  “Mrs. Armstrong would be delighted to see you,” Poppy said before glancing over at her sister. “And she’s going to be thrilled to hear about St. Stephen’s Day. She was not looking forward to transporting all the children to Thornhill.”

  Bianca’s eyes shone with gratitude. “We can’t thank you enough for making this happen. I’ll send word to Thornhill straightaway so we can have all the supplies sent to Hartwood.” She cocked her head. “Calder still doesn’t want anything to do with the event?”

  “He hasn’t said.” But Felicity would ask—he should attend, not just because these were his people, but because he would enjoy it. If he could allow himself to.

  “I think we should spend Christmas there,” Bianca declared. “That way, we can oversee everything. It’s too far to come on the morning of the twenty-sixth, and what if the weather doesn’t cooperate?”

  “That’s been my greatest concern about going to Thornhill,” Poppy said. “If it rains too much or snows, no one would be able to attend.” She gave her sister a worried look. “Will Calder mind having us there? It would be so lovely to spend Christmas together as a family.”

  Bianca nodded in agreement. “But only if he accepts Ash and isn’t ill-tempered.”

  “I would love to share my news with him.” Poppy’s hand drifted across her belly, and Felicity understood immediately what she meant. “I don’t know if he’d tell me he was happy for us, but I’d like to think he would.”

  “You’re expecting a child?” Felicity asked. At Poppy’s nod, she continued, “My most heartfelt congratulations to you and your husband. You must be thrilled.”

  “More than I could ever say. After nearly three years of marriage, I’d given up.” Pink dotted her cheeks, and her eyes widened briefly. “My apologies. I don’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “You aren’t,” Felicity said with genuine warmth. “I was married to James for seven years, and we were never blessed with a child.” Felicity had become pregnant twice, but hadn’t managed to carry the babe long enough. Then, in the latter years of their marriage, James hadn’t been able to…perform. She’d accepted the fact that she would be childless. Unless she married again. “I’m so happy for you and your husband.”

  “Thank you,” Poppy said. “It’s still very early, but I am surprisingly unconcerned. I just know this child is meant to be, that he—or she—came at precisely the right moment.”

  Felicity wanted to believe that things happened for a reason. How else could she manage to live with what Calder’s father had done? She had to cling to the fact that she was meant to marry James, that the happy times they’d shared were necessary to her life. But what was the reason for Calder? What had happened to him in the last decade that could possibly have been necessary to his life?

  Maybe that was a good explanation for what had happened to Calder. He couldn’t find meaning in any of it, so he was just…lost.

  Well, Felicity had found him. And she wasn’t going to let him go.

  With Christmas in just five days, an aura of festive jubilance permeated Hartwell. Calder strode along the main street as the shadows grew and the temperature dropped in the late afternoon. It would be close to freezing in a couple of hours, if not below that.

  A shiver danced over Calder’s shoulders, and he burrowed deeper into his greatcoat. Up ahead, the Silver Goat, Hartwell’s coaching inn, beckoned with a warm hearth and lively company.

  Not that Calder wanted the latter, nor would anyone seek to have him there. Everyone he passed eyed him with awe and maybe an edge of fear. What else should he expect after removing himself completely from this community? Not to mention everything he’d done to project the notion that he didn’t want to be a part of it. He’d refused to host their annual holiday party. He didn’t support Hartwell House. He did nothing to endear himself to anyone.

  And he’d been fine with that—until Felicity.

  She had him second-guessing everything. He’d spent the last two days since her surprise picnic in a foul mood.

  Scowling, he strode past the inn, pausing to look in the wide front window. A group of people were gathered around a table laughing. Behind them, near the wall, a couple met beneath the mistletoe. They glanced around to see if anyone watched them, and when it seemed they didn’t, their lips met for a sweet, lingering kiss.

  An image of him kissing Felicity beneath the mistletoe sprang to his mind. A fierce wave of longing washed over him.

  He scowled again and moved on, turning down a side street. A handful of children played up ahead, their shouts and giggles providing a beautiful accompaniment to the charming winter scene.

  Calder abruptly turned down a narrow lane and emerged on the next street. He steered to the right and watched as a woman helped an older man into a cottage. The door closed, but Calder watched them through the window as she helped settle him into a chair near the fire. She wrapped a blanket around him, and a younger girl came in to hug him. She sat on a footstool and spoke to him animatedly while the man, her grandfather maybe, laughed.

  The woman returned with a tray of refreshments and set it on a table, then began to pour tea. The girl snatched a biscuit from the tray and went to the corner. Music from a pianoforte filled the air. Calder leaned against a tree and listened, the bitter cold of the late afternoon forgotten.

  After a few minutes, another man came into the room. He swept the woman into his arms and kissed her cheek before whispering something in her ear. She laughed, and they parted, bowing to each other before launching into a makeshift reel.

  The music continued, and the old man grinned as he watched them. Round and round they danced. Calder stood there, utterly enchanted. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. An ache formed in his chest and spread through him. He wanted that. Desperately.

  The pianoforte—rather the gifted musician plucking its keys—built to a crescendo, and the dance came to an end. Everyone inside broke into mad
applause, and Calder found himself doing the same.

  The old man’s gaze seemed to find him, piercing Calder with a bright intensity. He lifted his teacup in a silent toast before returning his attention to his family.

  Family.

  That was what Calder wanted. That was what he was missing.

  Darkness swept through him, and he pushed away from the tree, blindly stumbling along until he realized where he was. Felicity’s cottage—rather, her mother’s—stood across the lane.

  Before he could think better of his actions, he strode to the front door and knocked. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Felicity.

  Her green eyes widened in surprise. “Calder?” She looked past him. “Is everything all right?”

  No. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” She opened the door wider and ushered him inside. “Let me take your hat and your coat.”

  He doffed the garments, handing them to her so she could hang them on a rack by the door. He removed his gloves and shoved them into the pockets of his greatcoat and almost immediately regretted the actions. Why had he come here? He couldn’t stay.

  She seemed to read his mind, for she took his hand and drew him into the front parlor, a small, cozy room with a blazing fire and bedecked with greenery. He looked about for mistletoe and was disappointed to find there wasn’t any. And why should there be? It was her mother’s house, and her mother was a widow.

  As was Felicity.

  He’d never been more aware of that fact. Perhaps because her hand was still clasping his. The feel of her bare flesh against him made the longing he’d felt a little while ago fade into nothingness. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her, mistletoe or not.

  Instead, he let go of her hand and moved to the hearth to warm himself, if that was possible. Sometimes he feared he was frigid at his very core. The name Chill fit him to perfection—or was it that he’d made himself align with the name?

  “I’m delighted to see you,” she said. “Would you like tea? Or perhaps sherry? I’m afraid I don’t have any brandy.”