Page 8 of An Ember for a Duke

“Again, Chauncey?”

“Apologies, Your Grace. Please. Come with me.”

Adeline heard some feet shuffling and then, “Did you drop your handkerchief, Your Grace?”

Adeline could hear the surprise in the duke’s answer, “Why yes, I did. Thank you.”

She reached for her reticule to grab her own handkerchief with which to wipe the perspiration from her brow, but it was gone. She must have dropped it in the kiss.

Chapter 5

LUKEAWOKEWITHAmission: find the owner of the reticule. How hard could it be with a house full of guests who were all in masks last night?

Apparently it could be very hard.

He would have asked his sisters, but he didn’t trust them not to spread too much gossip. So instead, he discreetly asked only a couple of ladies if they knew who it belonged to. But they all said the same thing, “It looks very similar to one I have, but it’s not mine.” A popular reticule but no owner.

At breakfast, he casually brought out the reticule and laid it on the table. Margaret and Jonathan, the Duke of Somersby, were seated on his left, and Lady Antonia was directly on his right.

To prevent drawing too much attention to his query, Luke asked casually, “Chauncey found this reticule last night. Does anyone know who it belongs to?” It wasn’t exactly a lie, Chauncey had found it, only from the distance he had mislabeled it a handkerchief. The lie was perfectly acceptable. He couldn’t very well say he kissed a woman senseless last night and would like to know who owns the reticule. And now his heart.

Unfortunately the only person to hear his question was directly to his right. Lady Antonia’s eyes swept over the reticule, up over Luke’s chest, and landed on his eyes. He shivered inwardly. It couldn’t possibly be her. Could it? Regarding her face and hair, he noticed she had the same blonde wisps of hair around her face as the mystery woman. His eyes trailed down to her hands. Were those the hands that had tangled themselves into his hair last night? A tight pull in his core set Luke on the edge of his seat.

“I believe that is mine,” Lady Antonia used the universal sign of request, palm up, to ask for the bag.

A jolt of frustration ran through Luke’s body. “Really?”

“Are you implying I have said something contrary to reality, Your Grace?” Lady Antonia’s lips curled into a sickening attempt at a sweet smile.

“Of course not.” Luke forced his lips to return the smile. Or so he thought, mostly, he forced them not to scowl.

Bollocks.She had to be lying. She looked like she was lying. She sounded like she was lying. He felt that she was lying. But how could he prove it? It would be terribly impolite to force her to prove it.

With regret, Luke handed over the bag.

At that moment, Margaret glanced up at the transfer with a strange look in her eyes. “I say, isn’t that–”

A loud voice interrupted her. “It is time for the snowman building competition,” Alissa, the dowager duchess announced with hands clasped and a sparkle in her eyes.

Luke’s sisters jumped up in the excitement and began clapping and chattering wildly about the snowman competition. No doubt they were plotting who they would match themselves with.

The reticule forgotten, Luke noticed the glint in his mother’s eyes and felt a warmth growing in his heart. It had been too long since he had seen her and his sisters happy. After losing their grandmother, the family had been in mourning. So this Christmas everyone was contributing extra joy to the season.

“You have thirty minutes to meet in the snow-covered garden. See you there.” Alissa clapped her hands. Chairs were pushed back. More voices clamored in delight. And a flurry of excitement took over the house.

***

ADELINE TRUDGED BEHIND MARGARET on Luke’s arm. She couldn’t stop the heat from creeping into her cheeks, despite the crispness in the air. Margaret had flown into the room thirty minutes earlier cataloging the winter wear she needed for some impromptu snowman building competition.

Since Margaret had insisted Adeline join her, she couldn’t release the tension building in her forearms and shoulders at the prospect of being in Luke’s company. Their host. The duke. The one she had lost herself in kissing last night.

All she could do was keep her head down.

“Remind me how I was so lucky as to be partnered with the–what was it–National Snowman Building Champion, four years running?”

Margaret laughed. “I said no such thing.”

“I recall those exact words coming out of your mouth.”

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