The Duke Before Christmas - Bianca Blythe Page 0,50
of you.”
“Gallant?” Anger moved through Colin, and he clenched his fists. “I’m not being gallant. I’ve run after you, I’ve fallen—multiple times, I’ve humiliated myself...”
Portia’s smile broadened.
“Well at least it brings you some joy,” he grumbled. He did like to see Portia smile, even if the pain in his bottom might not agree.
The fishermen helped Mr. Andrews from the boat, and he assisted Portia.
“Colin, this is Mr. Andrews,” Portia said.
Colin scowled. “Good afternoon, Mr. Andrews.”
“Good afternoon, Your Grace. It’s a great honor to meet you.”
“Ha! Then why did you ruin my life?”
Mr. Andrews wrinkled his brow. “Ruin your life?”
“Ruin your life?” Portia echoed.
Blast. They were already sounding like an old married couple. Colin supposed marriage worked its way quickly. Colin scowled toward the heavens.
Portia turned to Mr. Andrews. “I believe he thinks...”
“Ah,” Mr. Andrews nodded.
And now they were finishing each other’s sentences. Unbelievable. Quite unbelievable.
“I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake, Your Grace,” Mr. Andrews said.
“I never make mistakes,” Colin growled. He turned to Portia. “When I proposed to you, I meant it. I bloody well meant it. And when you proposed to me—”
Mr. Andrews raised his eyebrows. Well. Let his eyebrows get some exercise.
“When you proposed to me, and I said yes, I meant it then too. I never make mistakes.”
For some horrible reason, his comments made both of them smile. They must think him a veritable court jester. Well, he felt like one now. Even court jesters didn’t spend so much time injuring themselves over slippery surfaces.
Mr. Andrews cleared his throat. “Miss Tate is trying to tell you—”
“Well, I’m trying to tell her some things.” Colin halted abruptly. “Miss Tate?”
Portia nodded.
“Not Mrs. Andrews?” Colin pressed.
Portia shook her head.
Colin growled at Mr. Andrews. “Then why were you in this fishing boat together?” Heat surged through his veins, and he tightened his fists. “Were you planning not to make her an honest woman?”
“She didn’t want to marry me,” Mr. Andrews asked. “I believe she wants to marry you.”
Colin turned to Portia. “Is that true?”
“I believe she wasn’t certain you wanted to marry her,” Mr. Andrews added.
“Well, that’s a dashed foolish thing for her to think,” Colin said.
“I told her that too,” Mr. Andrews said.
“Why were you sailing back to England? I was waiting for you in the drawing room.”
“I wanted to give you your freedom,” Portia said.
“But what about your money?”
“I’d rather be a companion to someone than marry someone I didn’t love.” She turned to Mr. Andrews. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “You needn’t worry. After all, we barely know each other.”
“So you love me?” Colin asked Portia.
Portia nodded slowly.
“Well that’s bloody brilliant,” Colin exclaimed, “because I love you.”
The fishermen applauded.
Portia giggled.
“You’re a dashed idiot though,” Colin said. “But you’re my dashed idiot, and I don’t want to live a life without you.” With that, Colin hoisted Portia over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” Portia squealed.
“We’ve got a wedding to go to,” Colin said, “and I don’t fancy waiting any longer for it.”
“Oh!”
He turned to Mr. Andrews. “You better come too. This isn’t weather for traveling.” He nodded to the fishermen. “And you’re welcome to attend too.”
Soon, Portia and Colin, Mr. Andrews and the fishermen, were striding back to Vernon and Charlotte’s manor house. Snow pummeled their faces, and the wind gnawed at the openings of their sleeves and collars. Their ears turned to ice, their feet became numb, they struggled to maneuver up the slippery hill, and Colin knew everything would be wonderful. Forever and ever and ever.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Garlands of greenery adorned the ceiling, draping down in elegant, perfectly arranged curves. Red ribbons were tied around each candelabra and candlestick, imbuing the room with a festive sense Colin hadn’t thought could be improved upon, given the ample gilding one of his ancestors had evidently insisted upon. But now the room didn’t only sparkle, didn’t only shimmer—it exuded everything Christmas.
And though Colin had once thought he didn’t like Christmas, that had been before.
Before he’d met Portia.
Before he went to Guernsey.
Before he married his lovely wife.
“It looks incredible,” Colin said.
A delightful aroma filled the air, and Colin sniffed. “What is that?”
“Ah, that is the Christmas punch.” Portia looked both ways in a conspiratorial manner that made Colin chuckle and want to hug her and kiss her and do an array of other things with her.
They were both well acquainted with those other things. They’d recently spent a portion of the morning on those very things.
Portia grabbed a crystal tumbler. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Don’t tell Niles,” she said.
Colin smiled. “Never.”
He’d promoted Niles to the position of butler, and Niles was enjoying his new tasks, even if he still frequently ruminated over the advantages of the mathematical cravat knot. Niles and Jonesie had even married and were living in a nearby cottage.
Portia scooped some orange liquid into his tumbler. Orange slices bobbed in the cinnamon-scented liquid, and Portia pressed it against his hands.
Energy shot through him, as it always did in Portia’s presence, as if she were the very sun.
He poured her a drink and handed it to her, and she giggled.
“I was supposed to be spoiling you,” she said.
They clinked their glasses together, and he sipped the drink. Heat moved through him, and he drew her closer to him.
Carriage wheels ground on the pebbled road outside.
“I think the first guests are here,” Portia said.
High-pitched voices sounded.
“My brother’s family,” Colin said.
“Then let’s go to meet them.”
“First, I require a kiss,” Colin said.
“Is that so?”
“Most definitely.”
Then Colin swept Portia in his arms, and everything in the world was wonderful. Their lips touched, their tongues touched, and dash it, he could feel her magnificent bosom pressing against his chest.
She drew back. “I’m surprised you don’t tire of that.”
Colin grinned. “Not in the least.”
And he never would.
THANK YOU FOR READING The Duke Before Christmas. I hope you enjoyed Portia’s and Colin’s story.
The first book in the Duke Hunters Club series is All You Need is a Duke.
If you’re in the mood for another Christmas book, you can consider:
The Wrong Heiress for Christmas – Celia might be the daughter of an earl, but she's of the illegitimate variety. She has resigned herself to life as a maid for the wicked countess and her two half-sisters. When Celia’s half-sister begs her to pretend to be her at a house party, Celia is thrust into a fairy tale...
The Earl’s Christmas Consultant – An earl hires somebody to plan a Christmas ball at his Scottish estate, not realizing she is a childhood friend.
A Holiday Proposal – An earl convinces the younger sister of his best friend to pretend to be his wife over the holidays to secure an important business deal with a foreign prince.
How to Capture a Duke – After promising her dying grandmother that she is engaged, a spinster kidnaps a duke to present to her family at Christmas as her betrothed.
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MORE BOOKS BY BIANCA BLYTHE
THE DUKE HUNTERS CLUB
When they were in finishing school, they vowed to marry dukes. Now, after their first season, they realize that plan might be impossible. Or is it?
All You Need is a Duke
My Favorite Duke
A Duke Never Forgets
The Duke Before Christmas
The Duke Meets His Matchmaker (coming soon)
WEDDING TROUBLE
Shy bluestockings aren’t supposed to marry dukes. When one dashing Scottish duke is determined to defy convention, everything changes. Curl up with this entertaining and charming series!
Don’t Tie the Knot
Dukes Prefer Bluestockings
The Earl’s Christmas Consultant
How to Train a Viscount
The Bachelor Marquess
A Holiday Proposal
MATCHMAKING FOR WALLFLOWERS
Immerse yourself in these fun, light-hearted novels set in Regency England, filled with handsome rogues, feisty heroines, and adventure!
How to Capture a Duke
A Rogue to Avoid
Runaway Wallflower
Mad About the Baron
To Catch A Baroness
The Wrong Heiress for Christmas
DO YOU KNOW THAT BIANCA also writes cozy historical mysteries as Camilla Blythe? Click below to check them out.
Calamity under the Chandelier
Danger on the Downs
The Body in Bloomsbury
A Continental Murder
MEET THE AUTHOR
BORN IN TEXAS, BIANCA Blythe spent four years in England. She worked in a fifteenth-century castle, though sadly that didn’t actually involve spotting dukes and earls strutting about in Hessians.
She credits British weather for forcing her into a library, where she discovered her first Julia Quinn novel. Thank goodness for blustery downpours.
Bianca now lives in California with her husband.
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