One Night with a Duke (12 Dukes of Christmas #10) - Erica Ridley Page 0,9

chance to be with her family.

She straightened her spine. There would be more Christmases in the future. Angelica would have enough money to take the entire clan on holiday thrice in a year anywhere they wished.

“All right,” she said. “Golden holly with jeweled berries. The most beautiful—and expensive—Yuletide adornments ever created.”

Noelle squealed and clapped her hands together. “I’ll pick them up for the grand ball on Tuesday. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This will be marvelous.”

She dashed from the shop before Angelica could say another word.

The interior filled with silence.

Mr. MacLean arched a golden brow. “If you didn’t have time to sell me a bucketful of hair combs...”

“I know,” Angelica said. “I know.”

How was she meant to explain it to him?

She took a deep breath. “This may sound conceited, but I work hard because I know how talented I am. Seven years ago, I vowed to create a name for myself at any cost. This is part of that cost, and my chance. Once my designs are respected all over the land, I’ll have earned the right to relax, to be proud of myself, to do as I please. But until that day... I have work to do.”

She expected him to launch into a thousand questions. Why the vow? What cost? Why seven years?

Instead, he surprised her by giving her an unsettlingly serious stare, followed by a short, decisive nod.

“I have no use for Christmas,” he said slowly, “but I understand vows and ambition. I’ll leave you to it.”

He strode out of the exit just as abruptly as Noelle, pausing only to give Angelica a little bow before disappearing through the door and into the falling snow.

She stared after him for far too long before she remembered the half-finished necklace. Angelica tried to return to her task. There would be no eating or sleeping until the Cruz pieces were finished and delivered, and she was free to start on the adornments for the castle tree.

But the shop felt empty without Mr. MacLean in it. As though when he’d left, he’d taken all the air with him. It was just Angelica now, alone, with no sounds to accompany her but the pounding of her heart.

She wished he’d stayed.

She was glad he left.

How could she miss a total stranger? She couldn’t. It was impossible. She would shove him from her mind. No more thoughts of Mr. MacLean until after Christmas.

By then, he would be long gone.

Chapter 3

Jonathan opened all three of his trunks and bent over their contents.

It was strange to possess so many items. When he entered his room and saw three large trunks sitting there, it felt like he’d walked into the wrong guest chamber.

Over time, he would become used to it. He had to. If all went according to plan, he’d spend the next year or more traversing Britain with trunks full of Calvin’s creations, convincing haberdashers and other shopkeepers to become distributors for the fashionable new Fit for a Duke ready-made collection of men’s apparel.

If Jonathan performed his role well, Fit for a Duke’s affordable order-by-catalogue fashions would be ubiquitous in no time. Jonathan’s name would be right there on the cover. He would no longer need to prove himself. His success would speak for itself.

He glanced at his pocket watch. Its alarm had awoken him at half past eight, as it did every morning. There was no sense wasting daylight. He glanced outside just long enough to see the sun rising through the falling snow, and quickly allowed the curtain to close. There would be no further exploring until business matters were resolved.

Calvin would be here at any moment, likely with several new trunks of affordably priced high fashion, every bit as impressive as the last. Today, they were to polish their presentation for the Duke of Nottingvale, whose public endorsement—and private patronage—would ensure Fit for a Duke’s resounding success.

Impatient to be on his way, Jonathan grabbed the topmost “elegant but casual” ensemble rather than ring for a maid or footman. Today he chose pantaloons with ankle stirrups, a deep red waistcoat and dark blue frock coat, which could be paired with several thick winter capes. All the items in these trunks had whimsical, pretentious titles, because they were Fit for a Duke prototypes.

Until the illustrated catalogue was in every household in England, Jonathan was meant to be a walking advertisement:

High quality, affordable price, no valet required! Look like Brummell without breaking the bank. Wedding? Special occasion? Hoping to stand up with a sweetheart at the