Page 17 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

“Beautiful?”

The single word twined through her all the way down to her toes and left a new ache in its wake. She swallowed. Hard. “Unable to walk.”

“I might be a duke,” he mused and reached up to brush his thumb along her jaw, “but I’m not such a damned fool as to pass up the chance to have a beautiful woman in my arms.” His lips curled slightly, as if the devil knew her skin tingled beneath his touch. “Doesn’t matter if she can walk or not.”

More than he realized. “Please…” When his gaze lowered to her lips and stared longingly at her mouth, it took all her strength to add, “…don’t.”

Slowly, he stepped back, and his arms fell to his sides. She couldn’t read his guarded expression, but the light that she’d glimpsed in his eyes only moments before had vanished. She’d wounded his manly pride.Good.She’d have to be cruel to be kind. She had to keep her distance, and the best way to do that was to make him want to keep his.

“I’ll call for a footman, then,” he acquiesced quietly.

As he retreated for the door, Clara lifted her hand to touch her cheek where he’d so gently caressed.

Then he snapped his fingers and turned back with a self-deprecating roll of his eyes.

Her hand dropped immediately to her lap.

“I forgot.” He smiled apologetically. “Your brother asked me to give some instructions to the coachmen and tigers about your carriage. Let me find Eads and send along his orders, and then I’ll be right back with the footman. All right?”

“All right.”

He hurried from the room, sliding shut the two pocket doors as he left.

Clara closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her bosom to calm her pounding heart. Oh, the foolish thing! It still wanted what it could never have.

She loved him. He’d been her best friend and the only man she’d ever wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Even now the truth of that sent such anguish and desolation spinning through her that she could barely breathe. Her heart wouldalwayslove him and yearn for the future they should have had together.

But her head accepted reality. Michael was far better off without her. The last act of love she’d ever show him was one of setting him free.

A soft noise sounded as the doors slide open wide.

Her eyes flew open just in time to see four curious faces peering expectantly into the room directly at her. When they’d realized she’d seen them, the four children bounded into the room, with the youngest dragging a rag doll along in her skipping wake.

“Hullo!” The oldest child—a girl who couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve based upon her bouncing curls—slid to a stop in front of her. “Are you Lady Clara?” Before Clara could answer, the girl elbowed her two brothers on either side of her and said in a voice that was meant to be private but was loud enough for Clara to hear clearly, “Bow to her, you dunderheads!”

The two boys dropped into exaggerated bows from the waist. The oldest girl lowered into a curtsey so deep it would have done the queen honors. When the little girl with the doll saw her, she mimicked the gesture but teetered so awkwardly that Clara worried she might just tip over. Then she put her doll in front of her and dipped it into a curtsey.

Clara’s eyes grew wide.

“How do you do, my lady?” The oldest girl took a step forward. “May I make formal introductions?”

Clara was a bit flabbergasted at their entrance. “Please.”

The girl beamed and placed a hand to her chest, the way she’d certainly seen adult women do. “I am Miss Margaret Stanton, eldest daughter of Lord and Lady Charles Stanton, formerly of Durham and lately of Miss Endicott’s School for Distinguished Ladies.”

The girl dropped into another curtsey, just as impossibly deep as the first.

Oh my.Clara blinked. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Stanton.”

When Margaret straightened, her beaming expression turned to one of pure happiness. She smiled at Clara for a long while, then startled herself back to the moment as she remembered the rest of the children.

“This is my brother, Aaron, who’s ten.”

Big eyes stared at her through wire spectacles that he pushed into place on his nose. “My lady.”

Thank goodness he didn’t try to bow again. Clara feared the entire lot of them might tumble to the floor attempting to outdo each other.

“This is Bennie.” Margaret gestured shallowly at her other brother, her exuberance at the formality of the introductions over now that she’d made her own. Some society women worked for years to cultivate such disdain. Clearly, Margaret had a head start on theton.