Page 20 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

“Maybe other decorations, too?” Aaron pressed her. “You and your brother did more than just paper garlands, didn’t you?”

“Well, we…” she choked off, unable to finish because the happy memories were too painful to relive now.

We decorated the house from top to bottom every year, filling it with evergreen boughs until the wonderful pine scent mixed with the aroma of gingerbread and cranberries…

Clara said softly, “It was a big house.”

We made paper angels for Christmas, candies for New Year, and paper crowns for Twelfth night, for the king and queen who found the beans in their cakes…

“It was just the two of us. And my Aunt Gertrude.”

We put together boxes and baskets of goodies for all the servants and tenants, opened the house on Christmas Day for all the villagers, gave the servants the day after Christmas off and relied upon ourselves to cook and keep up the fires…

“The servants helped.”

Advent calendars, midnight mass on Christmas Eve, presents on Christmas morning… Grand New Year’s dinners and parties in all their finest clothes… Most wonderful of all was Twelfth Night with its bonfire, music, singing, dancing…

She and Anthony had organized every bit of it and pressed all the servants and Aunt Gertrude into service to help with it. The holidays at Raleigh Hall had been the best days of her childhood.

But now…

“I can’t,” she whispered and blinked hard. “I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but I justcan’t.”

Disappointment darkened all four faces, and Susannah hugged the doll to her chest.

Clara glanced at Michael. The same disappointment clouded his face. She knew what he was thinking—that she didn’t want to embarrass herself. But it was so much more than that! She didn’t want to be reminded of those wonderful past holidays when she was able to throw herself completely into the season and all its parties, outings, dinners… She would never be able to do any of that ever again.

She held Michael’s gaze, unable to bear looking at the children. “I want to go to my room now.”

He started forward to once again take her into his arms and carry her upstairs himself.

She put up a hand to stop him and insisted, “The footman. Please.”

“All right.” While the four children exchanged puzzled glances, he retreated to the door and called out into the hall, “Thomas, a moment if you would?”

The footman came forward—she suspected he’d been waiting outside the door the entire time—and Michael spoke quietly to the man, who nodded at his orders. Thomas carefully picked her up and carried her from the room.

*****

Michael stared after Clara, inwardly chastising himself with whatever curses he could think of.

Anthony had entrusted him with his sister—no, with saving his sister from herself—and so far, he was doing a terrible job. He couldn’t even convince her to sit in the conservatory and enjoy the view or visit the library and choose a book. How would he ever convince her to start living her life again?

“Uncle Michael?” Margaret asked softly.

He thought he’d struck on a brilliant idea with the children. Under the lie of talking to the coachman and tigers, he’d raced upstairs to the schoolroom to herd the children downstairs into the drawing room. He wanted them to meet her on their own without him—that much seemed to go well. But his plans to draw her out by asking for help with the holidays had come to nothing.

Worse than nothing, in fact. He’d never seen her more distraught than when she claimed that she couldn’t help them. Her pain had ripped through him.

Blowing out a harsh breath, Michael rubbed at his nape and turned to face the children. “Yes?”

Margaret seemed the most distressed of the four. “Are ladies not supposed to be asked to make holiday decorations?”

“What did we do wrong?” Benjamin asked, cutting right to the crux of what they were usually punished for.

“You did nothing wrong.” That didn’t seem to comfort Susannah who looked as if she were on the verge of tears. So he scooped herup, and she wrapped one arm securely around his neck and the other around her doll…whatever she’d named it today. “It’s just that Lady Clara can’t use her leg.”

Susannah nodded. “She said.”