Merry Christmas, My Love

Despite her best intentions, Merry twisted back and forth, amazed as she took in her surroundings. Plush carpets, silk wall coverings, priceless lamps, all reminding her of the wealth and status of the girls’ guardian. Her nose smacked into something solid as the butler came to an abrupt stop, but her body, with her two charges still attached firmly to her limbs, did not.

Lips twitching, but maintaining his austere demeanor, the butler opened a large wooden door with elaborate carvings, and sniffed before announcing, “Lady Charlotte Spencer, Lady Clare Spencer, and Miss Meredith Chambers.”

The girls clung harder, making it practically impossible for Merry to enter the room. She dragged one limb, then the other, until she reached the massive oak desk. Breathless from her effort, she looked up into the most arresting brown eyes, with specks of gold, she’d ever seen. Above the eyes, sharp black eyebrows rose almost to the hairline of wavy black hair. Below the eyes an aristocratic nose led to sensual lips drawn into a tight line.

“Your Grace.” She puffed and atte

mpted a clumsy curtsy.

The only sound in the room was the soft click of the door as the butler exited. Merry waited patiently to be invited to sit. Instead, the brown eyes kept staring at her, then leisurely slid their way down her person, and obviously from the additional tightening of his full sensual lips, finding her wanting.

Eventually, a long-fingered hand flicked in the direction of one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk. “You may sit.”

Merry sat abruptly, feeling like a dog panting in front of its master. The two girls ended up on their knees on the floor, still buried in her skirts.

“Is there something wrong with the young ladies?” The deep voice rolled over her, setting her heart to pounding.

Merry grasped the girls’ arms and attempted to pull them to their feet. They held tighter. “No, Your Grace. They’re merely a bit anxious.”

“Indeed.”

How was it possible to put so much disapproval into one word?

After a moment, he settled back in his chair, his fingers clutching a quill pen he tapped on the desk. “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

With all the liquid in her mouth dried up, she merely nodded.

“I understand from my solicitors you’ve had sole charge of the girls since their parents passed away a month ago?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Good. She was finally able to pry her mouth open.

“And you find it so difficult to control your charges that they do not sit as proper ladies?”

Heat rose to Merry’s face and anger washed through her. The arrogant arse! “They’re confused and a bit distressed.” She bent and whispered furiously to the girls. “Please get up, His Grace is not happy.”

“No.” Two voices piped up, muffled in her skirts.

She smiled slightly at the duke and shrugged. If possible his eyebrows rose further, disappearing underneath the wave that rested against his forehead.

“It appears to me, Miss Chambers, that Lady Charlotte and Lady Clare have arrived into my keeping just in time.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “I arranged for a governess to train them in proper behavior. She will instruct the girls in the skills necessary for a lady of their station.” He waved his hand. “Sewing, French, watercolors, and so forth.”

Merry stared at him, her jaw slack. Well over six feet, David, Duke of Penrose, was a sight to behold. Every inch the lord of the manor, his coat fit him as if it had been painted on. His white-on-white waistcoat hugged his impressive body above well-fitting tan breeches tucked into shiny black Hessian boots. A snow white, intricately tied cravat stood in stark contrast to his lightly tanned skin.

Lord Penrose rounded the desk and rested one hip on the edge, peering down at her, his foot swinging back and forth. “I shall allow a bit of transition time for the young ladies. You may stay on for a week or two. Then I will see you receive a generous stipend to tide you over until you can secure another position.”

Two blonde heads popped up from underneath Merry’s skirts. “No!”

Penrose studied the two anxious faces in front of him. So these were the girls that might have been his, had Eleanor chosen him instead of Bedford years ago. He stopped his thoughts from wandering in that direction. He’d gotten over the defection of the lovely Lady Eleanor, but found it ironic that it was he who would raise her daughters, see them presented to Society, and married. Life takes interesting twists and turns.

Miss Chambers presented a whole other issue. Although pretty in a common sort of way, with her huge blue eyes and less than tidy golden blond hair, her inability to handle the most minor directives to his wards did not bode well. In fact, it appeared he was about to face a mutiny before he’d even had the chance to speak to the young minxes.

“So you do possess faces. And voices.”

“Girls, curtsy to His Grace.”

Studying him with suspicion, they did a quick bob, then took the chairs on either side of Miss Chambers. The older girl studied her lap, and the younger one stuck her thumb in her mouth and twirled a lock of her hair.

Penrose’s gaze shifted to Miss Chambers, who had the grace to blush.