One Night with a Duke (12 Dukes of Christmas #10) - Erica Ridley Page 0,8

to—”

The door tinkled open and Noelle Ward, Duchess of Silkridge, dashed inside.

“Angelica! There you are.”

“Where else would I be?” Angelica muttered, acutely conscious that Mr. MacLean now knew her Christian name. “I’m always here.”

“And a good thing, too. We’re in dire need of your help.”

“‘We’ the Duke and Duchess of Silkridge? Or ‘we’ the castle counting-house?”

This question likely made no sense to Mr. MacLean. Before marrying a duke, Noelle had spent her days high in the castle’s tallest tower, overseeing the counting-house.

From the look on Mr. MacLean’s face, he could sense a fascinating story and was dying to ask a hundred impertinent questions.

“‘We’ the entire village of Christmas,” Noelle said dramatically, which likely pleased Mr. MacLean just as much. “For the grand Yuletide ball, we’re erecting a large yew tree in the ballroom, and we need you to help us decorate it.”

Angelica raised her brows. “Why?”

“You’re the most talented artist in Christmas. The adornments must be the most beautiful objects our guests have ever seen—”

“No, not why would you ask me to design the adornments,” Angelica explained patiently. “Why would you put a tree indoors?”

“It’s tradition.”

Angelica shook her head. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“A new tradition,” Noelle admitted. “It’s the first annual Marlowe Castle Yuletide Indoor Evergreen—yes, I know that’s a mouthful; we’re working on a better name—and it absolutely has royal precedence. Queen Charlotte first decorated a large yew tree with fruits and baubles fourteen years ago, at Queen’s Lodge in Windsor. All the beau monde is thinking of doing it.”

“So... the plan is to copy High Society?” Angelica said doubtfully.

“Exactly. What does our village stand for, if not for making perquisites associated with aristocrats available to the general public? The castle is open at all hours with every manner of entertainment... And now a tree!”

“And now a tree,” Angelica repeated. Exactly what she needed. There was already not enough time to finish all her work and still see her family, not to mention she was expecting a visit from a friend… How was she supposed to do it all? It was impossible. “What do you need?”

“Mr. Thompson has authorized me to commission ten gold adornments.” Noelle lowered her voice. “And if he hadn’t, I would have paid for it myself. Charge whatever you like, Angelica. I want this to be worth it for you. This will change people’s lives.”

Mr. Thompson was the solicitor managing the castle trust. Charge whatever you like was a convincing argument.

“How will decorating an indoor tree change people’s lives?” she asked instead.

“Not everyone in Cressmouth is in a position to reap the rewards of tourism. Until now! We have endless hills of evergreens. What could be a better souvenir than a tree from the village of Christmas? Mr. Thompson has signed a document granting all year-round residents the right to sell a generous quantity of evergreens from five percent of the castle woods, to be replanted every spring. Not everyone will take advantage, but those who wish to... can.”

It was a worthy cause. Angelica had no time to take on another project, but saying no would be admitting to weakness—and letting her neighbors down. The ball was held the Wednesday before Christmas, making it only five days hence. If she didn’t already have so much else to do…

“If we can pull this off,” Noelle continued, “which we will, with your help—everyone will know you were the one to design the golden holly sprigs with red-jeweled berries.’” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “All the wealthy tourists will want to take home adornments of their own, designed by the same artist. You, Angelica! They’ll brag to all their friends and your name will be on everyone’s lips.”

Angelica’s name on everyone’s lips.

This was what she wanted. What she had worked so hard for, and for so long. She wanted recognition. She wanted tourists to flock to her door not because she was the only jeweler for miles, but because she was the only jeweler they wished to do business with.

“Eve will put it on the front page of the Cressmouth Gazette,” Noelle was saying.

The rest of her words sounded as though they were muffled by water. Cressmouth’s population might be small, but the gazette reached thousands of homes outside the village. Everyone who visited subscribed, as did countless more who took their Yuletide holidays vicariously through the antics printed in the monthly broadsheet. It might be on a small scale, but Angelica’s name would be known nationwide.

All she’d have to do was give up her