“Another Christmas Alone,” She Thought — Until a Duke’s Carriage Broke Down at Her Gate
Chapter 14
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"We began selling preserves to two shops in Ashcombe.""Your idea?""Yes.""And this?" He indicated another entry."A contribution to the village school."Rosamond glanced down. "Only a small one.""Regularly made?""The school needs books."Julian looked at her. "Most people would have spent the additional income on themselves."Rosamond smiled. "I did."He raised an eyebrow. "The schoolbooks?""The pleasure of knowing children will have something worth reading."Julian closed the ledger. For a moment, he simply looked at her.Rosamond shifted slightly. "Your Grace?""I was wondering how many people have underestimated you."She blinked, then gave a small laugh. "Quite a few, I imagine.""They have been remarkably foolish."The sincerity of his voice made her look away. "Flattery will not persuade me to excuse your damaged gate.""I had not intended it as flattery."She looked back; Julian's expression was serious."I meant every word."Something changed in the quiet room. The fire crackled; the clock ticked. Rosamond became suddenly conscious of how close he stood: she could see the faint silver at his temples, the small scar near his left eyebrow, the warmth in his dark eyes.For one moment, neither moved.Then Pickles barked, startling them both. The terrier stood beside the door, wagging his tail furiously.Rosamond exhaled. "Well, apparently we have neglected someone."Julian looked down. "An unforgivable offense."Pickles barked again. Julian bent to scratch behind his ears. Rosamond watched them, her heart behaving in a manner she found distinctly inconvenient.The following morning brought a pale winter sun. Peters reported that the roads were beginning to clear; a replacement wheel could be brought from Ashcombe by the next afternoon.Julian thanked him, then stood silently beside the stable door long after the coachman had gone. He ought to have been relieved: he had responsibilities waiting, letters unanswered, estate matters requiring attention, and his mother's gathering—though perhaps mercifully diminished by his absence. Yet the prospect of leaving Willowmere filled him with an unexpected heaviness.He returned to the cottage and found Rosamond in the kitchen rolling pastry."Good morning," she said brightly."Good morning. Peters tells me the roads are improving.""Yes, that is wonderful news."Julian looked at her. "Is it?"Rosamond paused, her hands resting on the rolling pin. "Surely you must be eager to return home."He considered the question. "Home," he repeated."Your estate.""Yes, of course." She looked down at the pastry. "Well, I imagine you have been greatly inconvenienced."Julian stepped closer. "Miss Fairchild, I can assure you that these past two days have been anything but an inconvenience."She looked up. His voice was quiet."I cannot remember the last Christmas I enjoyed as much."Rosamond felt her throat tighten. "Nor can I," she admitted.They stood looking at one another. Then Julian smiled faintly. "I believe I owe you a proper Christmas gift."