Page 116 of The Duke's Counterfeit Wife

Then Duncan shook his head. “Americans.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ian offered, looking as if he was trying not to laugh. “Stringing popcorn sounds rather fun, I would say. Just imagine the mess! And God help you if you had any pets—they would make decorating with food much harder!”

Duncan was nodding eagerly. “That’s right! Although I suppose an octopus likely didnae get in the way that much?

Bull looked at Marcia, then they both turned to Rupert. All three children arranged their expressions into suitable sorrowful visages, made the sign of the cross, and together intoned, “Requiescat in pace, Snorky.”

As Griffin tilted his head back to stare at the sky in a desperate attempt not to laugh, Duncan hummed apologetically, then cleared his throat. “Still, ye must have some happy Christmas memories, aye?”

“Och, aye,” Bull blurted. “Each Christmas eve, we—um…we give to charity. An orphanage!”

“Really? That’s remarkable,” Ian offered, “considering in your letters you said you also do charitable work throughout the year.”

“Oh, we love charitable work,” gushed Marcia. “Papa has instilled in us the love of helping others.”

In an effort to cover up Felicity’s disbelieving snort, Griffin decided to participate. “Aye. Lots of charity work. We build things.”

“Gruff built that orphanage, for instance,” Bull offered, his expression so innocent it was clearly a joke. “He’s brilliant at building. And verra charitable.”

“I…” Griffin’s eyes were starting to water from trying to keep a straight face. “I am just filled with charity. For orphans.”

Felicity leaned forward. “We love orphans,” she declared solemnly.

Griffin hurried to take a big swig of wine, which resulted in him coughing, but at least it distracted from the ridiculous claims.

Duncan, however, seemed to be truly enjoying the lies. “How delightful! What other Christmas traditions do ye have?”

To Griffin’s surprise, it was his son who responded, and it wasn’t a lecture, but rather a genuine answer.

“On Christmas morning, we wake up early and go downstairs,” he began quietly. “It doesn’t matter how early, Mother and Father are waiting for us in the parlor. The Christmas tree is always sparkling, because there’s a roaring fire in the grate, and Father helps me get my stocking down. It’s always filled with the best treats and sweets and delicious toffee, and there’s an orange in the bottom.”

The lad swallowed, his attention on the linen tablecloth in front of him, as the rest of them held their breaths and listened.

“Mother always lets me eat my treats, because she says it’s a special day, and I should feel special. Then we exchange presents. Bull knitted me a hat last year, and I used my pocket money to buy Marcia a penknife, because I knew she wanted one. Then we have a grand feast, and give presents to the servants, and are jolly all day.” He looked up and met Felicity’s gaze, tears in his eyes. “It’s the best day of the year,” he whispered.

Felicity was beaming softly, and Ian wiped at his eyes.

But Griffin gaped, because it was complete and utter nonsense. Falsehoods. Bullshite.

Rupert had never celebrated a holiday with Felicity. And Mary…hadn’t done those things he’d said. She’d controlled the household budget with an iron fist, and stockings—the only presents the children had received—were full of practical gifts like new socks and gloves. There’d been no frivolous sweets, no merry feast, and certainly no servants.

And since Mary’s death, and Griffin’s flight to America with the children, their holidays had become even more somber. Certainly, there’d been the tree and popcorn fiasco, as he’d tried to make Christmas a time of cheer…but there’d never been enough money, or time, or energy.

Felicity reached for Rupert’s hand, and as everyone watched, squeezed it. “I cannot wait to celebrate Christmas with you this year, darling. Again, I mean.”

Duncan called out, “Same here!” but Griffin couldn’t look away from his son.

Couldn’t look away from the hope and joy in his lad’s eyes, as he gazed at Felicity.

Christ, Rupert looks as in love with her as ye are!

Love?

Aye, there was no use denying it any longer.

Griffin had fallen in love with the infuriating, intriguing, infatuating little scientist. She’d broken into his home, then into his bed, and now into his heart.

He needed her. They all needed her.

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