Page 28 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

Based on the way his chest warmed at the familiar sound, some things hadn’t changed.

Margaret had grabbed hold of the first branch and was attempting to pull the tree toward the sledge, but it most likely weighed five times as much as she did. She’d not budged it an inch.

He didn’t want her to feel defeated, so he nodded at the tree and said, “If you put your hands on opposite limbs around the trunk, you’ll get a better grip and be able to move it more easily. Like this.”

He showed her how to grab the two branches.

When she placed her hands like his, he pulled the heavy tree and made it seem as if she were helping when in truth it mattered not at all where the little imp placed her hands. Together, they dragged the tree to the sledge, and she stood safely back as he tossed it onto the wagon bed.

“Look at all that greenery!” He gestured at the boughs, vines, holly, pinecones, and more that the children had gathered. “I think we’ve got enough to decorate every house in the whole north of England.”

In truth, all this would barely be enough to decorate one wall of the conservatory, but their round faces beamed proudly at having collected it themselves, especially Susannah’s as she threw in one last pinecone for good measure.

But it was Clara who stole his attention—and his breath. A carefree happiness radiated from her. For one moment as he looked at her he could believe that she might finally be returning to her old self, that she was beginning to heal her soul if never her body.

Hope lightened his chest. He could never make reparations for the accident, but he could do this much for her. He could help her remember what living meant.

“All right, then,” he announced with a clap of his hands to claim all of their attention. “I think we’re done here.”

Disheartenedaawwwsanswered him, but he’d expected that. The children would have moved into the forest and lived here like a bunch of fairytale creatures if he’d let them.

“It’s getting dark,” he reminded them with a nod toward the sun as it sank low toward the horizon. Its light was already slipping behind the distant hills and casting long shadows across the woods and fields. “But I have an idea. Why don’t you four run back to the house through the snow while Lady Clara and I return with the sledge?”

Just as he’d hoped, all four children were off like a shot, running down the narrow lane that wound it’s way through the woods, bouncing through snow drifts, and burning off one last burst of energy that he prayed would tire them out and result in a quiet evening. For once. They couldn’t become lost, not with the house’s chimneys and tall gables standing like a beacon in the valley below the woods and fields, and he could keep an eye on them the entire way, especially with the girls’ red coats and the boys’ blue ones standing out so brightly against the white snow.

Most of all, he would be alone with Clara.

“That was sneaky of you to send them off like that,” Clara said as he circled to the front of the sled and climbed onto the seat. “But thank you for the peace and quiet.”

He untied the ribbons and answered deadpan, “A man has to do whatever he can to survive.”

Her laughter rose softly on the cold air, along with a faint steam cloud from her breath. Sending her a sideways grin, he gave the ribbons a sharp flick to start the draft ponies forward.

The sweet scent of cut pine swirled around them as they glided down the lane toward the edge of the woods and the fields beyond. The silence of the snow-filled woods around them was broken only by the muted clomp of hooves and the soft growl of compacting snow beneath the sled’s wide runners.

Having Clara next to him felt like old times. Over the years, the two of them had spent hours driving through the park in London and across the countryside. They’d chatted, discussed, argued—mostly, they’d just sat quietly, happy to let the comfortable silence stretch between them. Like this.

She’d let down her guard during the past few days and had started to emerge from the isolation she’d cast herself into since the accident. True, he’d forced her into it by having Mrs. Hansen and Eads distract Mrs. Bailey so that Clara would have to be more independent, and he’d ceaselessly encouraged the children to include her with everything they did, short of asking her help with their math work. He felt a pang of guilt at the deception. But he would do anything for her. For God’s sake, he’d nearly clicked up his heels when she’d gone into the library to select a book for herself.

A book!He’d felt less victorious when he’d been graduated from Oxford.

He could have cheered that he’d managed to convince her to come into the woods with him. No, not with him, he realized ruefully. With the children. But he’d gladly take his victories wherever he could find them.

“Do you remember the last time we gathered greenery together?” he asked in an attempt to make casual conversation.

She brushed back her fur-edged hood with her kid glove to look at him. “We did?”

“It was that holiday I spent with your family at Raleigh Hall when Anthony and I were still at Eton.” He slanted her a sideways glance. “Don’t you remember? You must have been about Margaret’s age. My parents and brother were in Ireland and couldn’t return until well after the new year, so Anthony insisted I spend the term holiday at Raleigh rather than stay on at Eton or be alone at Northbourne.”

Her expression softened at the memory, and he couldn’t mistake the happy glow in her eyes as she slid her hands into her fur muff and settled back on the wooden bench seat. “Iremember that you spent the entire holiday pulling at my braids, hiding my dolls, and showing off by doing all kinds of tricks with horses and weapons. You even stole my Christmas pudding.”

He quirked a half grin. “Perhaps I was attempting to win your affection.”

“Or perhaps you were just being a fifteen year-old boy on leave from school for the holidays.”

Duly chastised, he muttered with feigned chagrin, “Well, when you put it like that…”

She laughed, and the soft sound drifted through the still woods around them like music.