Page 147 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
I dug through my email for my last correspondence with Kim, my contact at the council. It was the thread with the confirmation of the demolition date and the contract, and it clearly stated that the scheduled date was January twenty-first of next year.
So, what were they doing here?
Why were they knocking it down now?
Two knocks rattled my car window, and I turned to see a large man pulling off his hardhat.
“Are you Miss Harding?” he asked in the deep, raspy voice of someone who’d been smoking twenty cigarettes a day since he was thirteen.
“Yes, that’s me,” I replied as I got out of the car.
“Pete Samuelson. I’m the foreman. Jack said you had a problem with the demolition?”
“Yes, my sister is supposed to be getting married here on Christmas Eve. I have the contract with the council stating the demolition date for next month right here.” I showed him my phone, and he raised one chapped finger to the screen to scroll through. “Kim Matthews is my liaison at the council.”
“Mm.” Pete narrowed his eyes. “I got the sheet here, love, and it definitely has today’s date on it.” He flipped a sheet on his clipboard and turned it to me. “See? Right there.”
The lump in my throat grew to a suffocating size.
He wasn’t lying.
It was right there.
The day. The month. The year.
Today’s date. The start date.
I pressed my hand to my mouth as the tell-tale swirl of panic twisted my stomach again. “There’s been a mistake.”
“Certainly seems so, love.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth. “We’ll need to figure out what’s happened, but—”
“Sylvie? What’s going on?”
Thomas’ voice washed over me, but the peace it brought was nothing more than a momentary flash of relief.
“Thomas! There’s a mistake on the papers.” I grabbed his arm. “They—they… Oh, God. I can’t—” My legs wobbled, and I stumbled as weakness trickled through my veins.
“It’s okay. Hey, come here.” He pulled me into his side, wrapping his arm firmly around my waist.
Pete looked at me with sympathetic eyes. “You know her, mister?”
“Yes, I do,” Thomas replied before I could refute it. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Thomas Castleton, the Duke of Castleton. Can you tell me what’s going on here, sir?”
Pete blinked rapidly but shook his hand enthusiastically all the same. “Right. Your Grace. I’m the foreman, Pete. Pete Samuelson. Seems like there’s been a mix up on the dates. Miss Harding here says her sister is getting married on Christmas Eve, but my paperwork has the demolition date as today and tomorrow. Mr Castleton. Your dukeship. Sir.”
I gripped Thomas’ coat tightly, squeezing my eyes shut as I pressed my face into his chest.
Do something.Fix it. Using your title was a power move. Help me. Please.
“Have you already started demolition?” Thomas asked.
“’Fraid so, sir. I’ve paused the team for now given what the lady said.”
“Then I’m assuming you haven’t gotten to the bottom of the confusion?”
“Not yet. I was going to call the office and see what’s going on, but I just wanted to make sure the lady knew the situation.”
I peered over at him. “The situation?”
