Page 9 of The Iron Duke’s Flaming Christmas

Chapter 9

“Yes?” Ian glanced up from the ledger, glaring at the footman, trying to suppress a surge of irritation. He hated being interrupted when he was going over the estate’s books. “What is it?”

The footman shifted on his feet, visibly gulping. “I am sorry, Your Grace, but Mrs. Kittles said to tell you that there are carolers at the door, who wish to sing for you and Lady Lenore…”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “Tell Mrs. Kittles to send them away,” he growled. “They have no place in this house!”

The footman looked startled at his vehement tone but nodded. “Very good, Your Grace.”

The servant bowed quickly, exiting the room. Ian sighed irritably, trying to focus on the ledgers again, but it was swimming before his eyes. He got up, looking out the window, just in time to see a group of locals from Trenton, swathed in heavy coats, walking away from the door, looking rather dejected.

He suppressed a stab of guilt. Mary had always encouraged the local carolers, who went from house to house singing Christmas songs. His late wife had been enchanted by them—she had claimed that they embodied the spirit of the season.

His heart clenched. They just reminded him of her. Besides the fact he wanted no reminder of Christmas in this house. Not ever again.

His eyes flickered, feeling another stab of guilt. Lenore would have loved to hear the singing. But then, his heart hardened. His daughter was going to grow up unencumbered by silly traditions and superstitions. He was doing her a favor.

He thought of Lenore in the library taking lessons with Miss Bomind. His loins tightened involuntarily at the thought of the new governess. In the days since their disagreement, he had been avoiding the library.

He couldn’t afford to indulge his strange attraction toward the new governess. He would call for Lenore to ask about her lessons alone.

His jaw tensed. Miss Bomind would probably be gone soon, just like all the others, anyway, recalling their deal. She might have charmed Lenore for the moment, but his daughter would soon tire of her, and show her true colors, driving her from the house. And then this agony would be over forever. Ian couldn’t wait.

***

“But why are they leaving?” Lenore turned to Selene from the window, where she was watching the carolers depart, her eyes wide, looking bewildered, as well as sad. “Did Papa not know they were here?”

“I do not know,” replied Selene, trying to smile. “Perhaps he did not want you to be disturbed from your lessons, my lady.”

Lenore’s eyes filled with tears. “But they would not have disturbed me for so very long,” she said, sniffing, looking dejected. “It would have been so nice to hear them sing!”

Selene reached out a hand, patting the girl’s arm in a comforting way, but Lenore shook it away, resuming her vigil at the window, watching the carolers walking away from the house, heading toward the next one, which was a long walk in the snow. She put her hands on the glass, pressing her nose against it.

Selene sighed heavily. She should try to coax the little girl back to her writing task, but she knew that Lady Lenore would be resistant. She would let the girl feel her disappointment about not hearing the carolers for a few minutes, and then she would try to distract her, and get her back to work.

A flash of anger consumed her. It was cruel of the duke to send them away and deny his daughter the simple pleasure of hearing them sing. She knew his views about celebrating Christmas—she also knew the reasons why he possessed those views, and was sympathetic—but what harm could come from letting Lenore listen to some carols? He didn’t have to listen to the carolers himself!

She took a long, deep breath, trying to control her anger, as she watched the little girl pressing her face to the window. But it wasn’t dissipating; if anything, as she watched Lenore’s disappointment, it was growing.

I resolved to avoid him. But this is too much. Someone must tell him that he is being cruel, even if it is just thoughtlessness. And if I do not do it, then no one will.

***

Selene’s heart was thumping as she stood outside the door to the duke’s study, before hearing his command to enter the room. She took a deep breath for courage, before entering, folding her hands in front of her to conceal the shaking.

He was seated, scribbling furiously, his brow knotted in concentration. Her breath almost stopped. It was the first time she had laid eyes upon him since her first day here—since their argument in this room. The first time she had seen him, too, since the unsettling dream she had about him.

His presence seemed to fill the room, overtaking it. She had forgotten what a powerful presence he had. She took a deep breath, curtsying low, trying to control the instinctive reaction toward him, trying to recall her anger, which was what had spurred her to do this, after all.

“Your Grace,” she said, rising slowly.

He looked up. His face was impassive, as hard as granite. “Miss Bomind. What can I do for you?”

She took a deep breath. “I am sorry to disturb you, Your Grace.” She hesitated. “But I wished to tell you that Lady Lenore was very disappointed that she did not get a chance to hear the carolers sing today.”

He put down his quill, arching his eyebrows. “You disturbed me to tell me that? What of it? My daughter must learn to deal with disappointment in life—as we all do.”

Selene’s anger flared to life again, in blazing glory, at his instant dismissal of his daughter’s feelings.

“Do you not care at all that she pined at the library window, watching them leave, for over ten minutes?” Selene’s voice was tight with outrage. “What harm would it have done to let her listen to them sing? You did not have to listen to them yourself if it offends you so much. But your daughter deserves to have some simple pleasures of the season, Your Grace.”

Selene folded her hands in front of her again, trying to gaze at him steadily, without flinching. He was very intimidating, and she knew why most of the servants scuttled around him, fearful of provoking his wrath.

The air was so thick with tension that Selene was sure it could be cut with a knife. He kept scowling at her. She forced herself to maintain eye contact. If she dropped her gaze, she would be telling him that she could be cowed, and her anger was stronger than her fear of his disapproval. At least in this particular moment.

“It is really none of your business, Miss Bomind,” he growled. “You are employed to educate my daughter. You are not employed to tell me how to raise her or question my decisions regarding her. You overstep your station.”

“Perhaps I am overstepping it,” she rejoined, her throat dry. “And I apologize for that. But part of my responsibility is ensuring the emotional wellbeing of my pupil, as well as educating her.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, it would have been good for her education to listen to the singing. Singing well is a sign of accomplishment in a lady. Is it not?”

He looked bemused. “Yes, singing well is considered an accomplishment in a lady.” He leaned back in his chair, studying her carefully. “Have you done something different to your hair?”

Selene’s hand flew to her hair, so startled by the question, the sudden change in topic, that she couldn’t think how to respond for a moment.

Her face reddened. She had done something different—she had intertwined some small braids into her bun. She had no idea what had possessed her to do such a frivolous thing. She wasn’t usually given to such vanity.

You know why you did it, even if you did not do it consciously. You know you wanted to look pretty for him in case you encountered him in the hallway.

“It suits you,” he continued, his eyes narrowing. “You do not look as buttoned up as you normally do.” His eyes lingered on her hair in an almost lazy way. “Now I am picturing you with it down, flowing around your shoulders. That would suit you, as well.”

Selene’s face was burning with embarrassment. But she also felt a quick stab of pleasure at his obvious admiration. Their eyes locked and held.

She felt the pull toward him again, stronger than ever. It was as if he had cast a fishing line at her, hooking her, and reeling her in. Her heart lurched. She should never have come here. What had she been thinking?

You should not have done this. You let your anger overtake you again. You know it is dangerous to even be in the same room with him alone. And yet you sought this confrontation, when you could have let it go. Why?

“I am not here to talk about my hair,” she said, a bit desperately, trying to control the situation. “I am here to talk about Lady Lenore and what is best for her.”

She felt the tension between them snap. His face changed, the warmth in his eyes replaced by coldness, once again.

“As I said, the decisions I make regarding my daughter are none of your concern,” he replied curtly. “You should leave, Miss Bomind, before you say something you may regret. Thank you.”

Selene’s lips thinned. She had been dismissed, as sharply as any servant. He simply wasn’t capable of discussing his daughter’s welfare in a rational way.

But then again, she had already known how he would respond before she had even walked into the room, hadn’t she? She had known it was pointless. His position about Christmas, or anything associated with it, was implacable.

Selene felt it was such a shame. Despite her position and the fact she has more toys than Selene had ever seen in her life, Lady Lenore has never experienced the simple joy of Christmas.

But what can I do about it? He will not listen to me. I am just the governess.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” she replied, through gritted teeth. “I can see that you are not open to the discussion. My apologies. It really is none of my concern, as you say. Good day.”

She curtsied quickly, before walking out of the room, not looking back.

When she had closed the door, she stopped, leaning against the wall, trying to control her racing heart. When she was certain she was composed, she kept walking down the hallway, cursing herself anew for seeking him out.

It hadn’t done any good. In fact, it had probably made things worse. He was obstinate and didn’t like being challenged. It would probably make him even more implacable about never celebrating Christmas.

Abruptly, she stopped, gazing at an oil portrait on the wall. Mrs. Kittles had told her that it was a portrait of the late duchess. The lady who was the reason why the duke was the way he was. Her name was Mary.

A beautiful woman with auburn hair and fiery eyes gazed back at her. Selene’s heart flipped. The late duchess had been so elegant and refined, as well as beautiful. She could clearly see why the duke had fallen in love with her… and perhaps why he couldn’t stop loving her, even after all these years.

Slowly, she reached up, touching her hair. Her heart flipped. What was she thinking, doing such foolish things to win his admiration? Who exactly did she think she was? He was a duke. He had once been married to this beautiful, regal lady in the portrait in front of her.

Her heart quivered. She wasn’t a lady. She was his governess. They were not equals, and never would be. She may as well be crying for the moon.