Page 25 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

“Can we, Lady Clara?” Margaret said loudly enough to be heard over the chatter. “Oh, please say you’ll convince Uncle Michael that it’s a grand idea!”

“I think it is very generous and charitable of you.” She bit her lip. “But we have to consider—”

“We can have yew boughs, too, even if we don’t decorate them,” Aaron interrupted. “We can hang them on the walls!”

Margaret added, “And garlands for the stairs and the doorways.”

Benjamin seconded that with, “We could hang wreaths on all the doors—”

Clara’s eyes grew bigger with every suggestion the children made.

“Holly—”

“Mistletoe—”

“Ivy—”

Aaron concluded with a determined nod, “We’ll bring it in from the woods ourselves.”

When her eyes nearly popped out of her head, Benjamin explained solemnly, “Uncle Michael can’t be trusted to find just the right ones.”

“I…I…” Clara gaped her mouth open and closed like a fish, unable to find the right response.

“We arenotputting an entire forest inside this house,” a deep voice announced from the doorway.

Michael.

She met his gaze across the room. He was breathtaking in the slant of winter sunlight that fell through the window. Shamelessly half-dressed in only his shirtsleeves, he most likely had come straight from working in his study, and his dark brown hair was mussed in that tell-tale sign that he’d raked his hand through his hair while concentrating on the account books and estate plans. Her fingers itched to brush it back into place.

As if he knew the effect he had on her—hadalwayshad on her—he sent her a lazy, crooked smile.

“See?” Benjamin leaned toward her secretively yet said in a voice loud enough that Michael surely heard every word. “Can’t be trusted with pine trees.”

A startled sound rose from the back of her throat as she struggled not to laugh at Michael’s expense. But when he rolled his eyes at his nephew, she couldn’t restrain her amusement, and her hand flew up to her lips to muffle her laughter.

She expected him to scowl at her audacity. Instead, his green eyes softened as they watched her, and the wonderful glow she remembered him possessing returned to those emerald depths.

“You can have one tree to decorate, garlands for the stairs, and two wreaths for the front door,” Michael decided. “But that’s all.”

Disappointed whines went up from all four children, and Clara nearly found herself making the same noise. She would have believed Michael was behaving like Oliver Cromwell and outlawing Christmas if not for the gleam that sparkled in his eyes.

He was bamming them all.

“Can’t we have more, Uncle Michael?” Margaret pleaded. “Please?”

Little Susannah’s bottom lip quivered. “Please?”

“Oh, all right,” Michael conceded, giving in so easily that Clara suspected the children had their uncle wrapped around their little fingers. “One tree for the conservatory, a few boughs, and ivy for garlands and wreaths. Afewmore.” Then he frowned, as if he realized the flood of greenery he’d just unleashed upon Northbourne Park. “Mrs. Hansen and Eads have far more important things to do than spend the next month sweeping up pine needles.”

The children let out loud cries of joy. They leapt off the bed and ran across the room to him, then bounced around him in a circle like a small pack of puppies before they all rushed in to hug him. Slender arms wrapped around his legs and waist from all sides.

He affectionately placed kisses on top the girls’ heads and ruffled the hair of the two boys.

Susannah looked over her shoulder at Clara, then tugged at Michael’s trouser leg to gain his attention.

He swept her up into his arms and brought her up face-to-face with him. “Yes, poppet?”

“Can Lady Clara come with us to help cut down the tree?”