Page 51 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

This time, he knew, she hesitated for a whole new reason.Him.

“Of course, Mrs. Bailey will come along with us to make sure you have everything you need,” he added. “She’ll be at your side the entire time.”

Her shoulders eased down at that assurance. “Well, if Mrs. Bailey doesn’t mind going out in—”

He snapped to his feet and called out, “Mrs. Bailey!”

Moments later, the woman scurried into the drawing room, carrying in her arms Clara’s fur-lined velvet wrap, fur muff, kid gloves, and boots. She’d been waiting with them, just as Michael had asked her to, in preparation for the nighttime ride to the village church.

Clara’s eyes narrowed, knowing she’d been had. “Convenient that she was simply standing in the hallway with all my things,” she muttered.

“Isn’t it, though?” Michael felt only a twinge of remorse at tricking her into attending midnight service, knowing that her enjoyment of the evening would more than compensate for it. He rubbed his hands together as his valet followed behind Mrs. Bailey with Michael’s coat at the ready. “It’s a beautiful night for a sleigh ride, don’t you think, Mrs. Bailey?”

“Oh yes, Your Grace.” The woman smiled as she helped Clara into her things, then pulled on her own thick, wool coat.

His valet helped him into his coat, and then Michael leaned out the French doors to peer down at the front drive.

All the villagers were gone, so were the children, all having piled into sleds and headed back toward town. Even now in the distance he could see their lamps bobbing across the fields of snow beneath the blanket of stars overhead and washed in the silver light of the moon.Beautiful.He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night.

Until Clara called for Thomas to carry her downstairs.

Michael said nothing, allowing the young footman to carry out her wishes and following behind in their wake. Now was not the time for an argument, but it gnawed at him that she still didn’t want him to carry her anywhere.

“Ready then?” Michael called out as he bounded down the front steps. The chestnut horse gave its harness a shake as if to agree, and he grinned, only for this smile to fade when he saw the two women waiting in the sleigh for him.

Hiding a grimace, he climbed into the sleigh, gave the ribbons a flick, and drove the horse toward the church, with Mrs. Bailey sitting snuggly between him and Clara.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Clara sat in the pew box and watched as the villagers slowly made their way out of the church and into the dark night to the bright ringing of bells announcing the arrival of Christmas. They passed by the Wakefield box and made certain to wish Michael and his family well for the holidays. Some nodded and smiled as they passed; others stopped to chat.

But all of them paused to look at Clara, to wonder who the young woman was who shared the duke’s private pew box.

Thankfully, Michael didn’t introduce her. Her presence was already sending tongues wagging with curiosity about who she was and why she was here; introducing her would simply have added fuel to the fire. Instead, he stood in the aisle just outside the box door and made pleasant conversation about village affairs, the estate, and the weather.

But he never forgot her presence, she knew, based on how often he glanced at her, his eyes shining.

Goodness, he was handsome. Standing there in his burgundy velvet jacket over a cream colored waistcoat and tan trousers, he looked incredibly regal. Every inch a duke. His unruly brown hair shined darkly in the candlelight, so did the highly polished black boots he wore instead of shoes, which reminded everyone that he wasn’t some London dandy but a dedicated country landlord who wasn’t afraid of doing hard work or getting his hands dirty. And the smooth planes of his cheeks… Heavens, how her fingertips itched to caress his jaw!

He caught her staring, and the corner of his mouth quirked up rakishly.

She darted her eyes away, only for them to land on Vicar Davidson, who surely knew the reason for the flush that heated her cheeks. Good Lord, she was in church! There would be penance to pay for having thoughts of Michael as a man while sitting in church. Lots and lots of penance…

As Michael had promised, the vicar had granted them entry to the church early before anyone else had been allowed inside for the service. Once again, though, she’d refused to allow Michael to carry her, insisting that Vicar Davidson do it. She was safe from Michael once she was sitting inside the pew box, even though Mrs. Bailey had gone up to the gallery to sit and the children hadn’t yet arrived. There were in a church, and he could do nothing more here to heat her blood than hold her hand as it rested on the pew between them during the few minutes when they had the church to themselves. Then the bells had rung out from the tower to announce the start of service. The doors opened wide, and people from far and wide entered the old Norman building that had been decorated with greenery and sparkled with candlelight.

Closing her eyes, she again breathed deep the earthy scents of evergreen and incense that had always reminded her of Christmas. She was so very glad that Michael had cajoled her into coming.

“Merry Christmas,” Michael’s deep voice greeted the trickle of remaining villagers as they made their way toward the back of the church and out into the night. “Hope to see you tomorrow at the open house…”

The children had behaved exceptionally well during the service, most likely still believing they had a chance of being given those elusive ponies tonight if they remained on their best behavior. Also, though, they were simply as caught up in the magic of the midnight service as everyone else in the warm and welcoming village church. Service at St Paul’s couldn’t have been any more wonderful than this.

Most of all, there had been the surprised look of wonder on the faces of Michael and the children when she’d pulled herself to her feet to stand during the hymns. She stayed balanced with the support of the pew wall in front of her. Although kneeling for prayers was out of the question with a leg that could no longer bend on its own, even this small participation in the liturgy made her heart soar. Yet the moment was bittersweet. The triumph she felt was overshadowed by the way Michael looked at her with that same expression of love he used to give her before the accident. As if she were the same woman as before.

But she wasn’t. Everything in her life had changed. Standing for a few verses of “O Come All Ye Faithful” wouldn’t change that.

The last villagers left the church, and Michael turned to her with a smile as he placed his hands on the pew box door and leaned over it toward her. “Merry Christmas.”

Warmth tickled up from her toes. “And happy new year.”