Page 3 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
Hazel’s Christmas-loving heart meant she had only one vision for her wedding, and that would be a winter wonderland on Christmas Eve. I couldn’t blame her—growing up where we did meant that loving the festive season was largely engrained into each and every resident, and she’d really taken it to heart.
Castleton was known for one thing and one thing only:Christmas. Every year was bigger, brighter, and better than the last. The tree in the village square was taller, the lights glittered more, and the overall vibe during December was very Mariah Carey.
On steroids.
With a cup of coffee in one hand and a Red Bull in the other.
My love for Christmas had somewhat dampened after living in the dreary greyness that was southern England. Wet and windy Christmas mornings in Dorset weren’t quite the same as the usual snowy dreams I’d grown up with in Castleton.
Seriously.
The town looked like a Christmas card.
I didn’t blame my sister for wanting to get married on Christmas Eve. I was also doubly glad that it meant I could see my grandparents and parents on something other than a screen since they’d visited me three years ago.
Not that my trip home was going to be relaxing.
Oh, no. Not for me.
I was pulling double wedding duty.
I wasn’t even charging my sister my full wedding planner fee, either. And yes, she could consider that her wedding gift. I’d pulled some big strings to get her the venue she’d wanted, and that hadn’t been easy given that it was condemned for destruction.
I was glad Julian came from money—and loved Hazel dearly—because the council had charged somepoundsfor that, and the insurance had been through the roof.
Yes. My next three weeks would not be the glory of the excited build up to Christmas, but a mix of maid of honourandwedding planner duties.
Honestly, a lot more of those crossed over than you’d think.
That wasn’t to say I wasn’t happy to be here.
I was. Sort of. As a teenager, I’d wanted to escape the small village and see the world. It also seemed like the only way to escape the bullying that chased me through secondary school, and university was my ticket out of Castleton and into a brighter, better world.
Well, that was what eighteen-year-old me had thought ten years ago. I’d only been back once since, and that was little more than a flying visit for my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary party.
University had given me a lot, even if my dream had changed over the years. Granted, the art degree I’d obtained was largely useless these days, but I did love a good doodle.
What it came down to was that I just didn’tloveCastleton the way my family did, and it’d never been somewhere that I’d necessarily seen myself living in for the rest of my life.
I was just happy to see my family again, and I smiled as I pulled along the sweeping driveway that led to my grandparents’ house.
My house, technically.
They’d wanted to move three years ago, and I’d been in a position to buy the house from them. They’d always intended it to be an inheritance for me and Hazel anyway, but she didn’t want the house, and it seemed like a good investment for me at the time given how much cheaper houses were up north. Buying a house in the south was more and more of a pipeline dream as time went on and house prices rose faster than my savings account.
In the end, my grandparents gifted me my half, and I’d mortgaged the other half, freeing up Hazel’s inheritance money.
Now, my grandparents paid everything but the mortgage—and the cleaner I had go in twice a week to make life easier for them in exchange for looking after the house—and I was creating quite the little nest egg in equity.
I knew I was lucky.
Well. Not really. Paying a mortgageandrent in a house share wasn’t ideal for a thirty-year-old self-employed woman, but I managed.Just.
I was not looking forwards to my mother trying to talk me into moving back home for that very reason.
“Sylvie!” My grandmother had the kind of voice that transcended time and space when she was excited, and the warmth that flooded me as I got out of the car was unparalleled.
“Nana!” I rushed to her, leaving my car door open, and wrapped her in the biggest, warmest hug I could muster. Another pair of arms from someone decidedly taller than us enveloped us in another layer of a hug, and I giggled at the rich scent of oak trees and freshly cut grass that was my grandpa’s calling card.
