Page 24 of The Dare Before Christmas

“Well, there you go, then,” he said, picking the lantern up again and gesturing to the open door. “My lady wanted a Gothic adventure with tunnels and hidden rooms, and who am I to deny her?”

Victoria bit back a smile, delighted to hear the triumph in his voice, to see the satisfied amusement glittering in his eyes. No matter if he thought her fascination with ghosts and blood-curdling tales silly, he was pleased with himself for having provided a way in.

“Thank you, Barnaby,” she said, moving closer. Victoria hesitated before him, dying to see what lay behind the door but unable to resist. She reached up and pushed his dusty hair back from his forehead, and then rubbed the streak of dirt from his cheek. “There, good as new,” she said softly.

Barnaby’s eyes darkened, his gaze falling to her mouth, and then he straightened, holding the lantern up. “Come along then,” he said, and all trace of amusement was gone from his voice now, the words no nonsense and crisp.

Victoria sighed and followed him in.

Chapter 7

Dear Hester,

I am writing this as my carriage is loaded. Why I am stirring myself to leave the warmth and comfort of my home for a jolting, uncomfortable journey is beyond me. Oh, that’s a fat lie, and we both know it. I am beside myself with joy. There, I said it. Happiness is something I view with the utmost suspicion after so many years of disappointment and sorrow, but to be spending Christmas with my grandson and his wife, and to know that they look forward to my presence, well, that is an unexpected gift at my time of life. I only hope they have that wretched dog under control now. I’ve had to leave Regina behind, and I know she’ll sulk for days on my return.

I hope you have a lovely Christmas too, Hester, and if I might give you a piece of advice, don’t let the past drag you down, don’t turn your back on a chance of happiness. It’s never too late. I know it seems unbelievable that I, the greatest cynic on earth, should say such a thing, but that is exactly why you ought to heed me. I had given up, and yet life gave me another chance, it gave me Wulfric and Cara, and, God willing, I will live to see the next generation before I shuffle off at last. Even though there is little time left for me, I am excited for the future, and you ought to be too. Grab hold of happiness with both hands, my dear, and never believe it is too late.

―Excerpt of a letter to Hester Henley, Lady Balderston, from Lady Lydia De Vere, The Right Hon’ble, The Dowager Viscountess Latimer.

18th December 1844, Lewes, East Sussex.

“Ah-ha, this is where you are hiding yourself,” said a deep male voice.

The familiar, smug tones of the Duke of Axton had Hester jumping with such force she almost flung her knitting into the fire.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, putting one hand to her heaving chest. “Oh, you devil, Axton. Are you trying to kill me? What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you had gone with the others.”

He smirked, looking appallingly pleased with himself. “That is what I wanted you to think, my dear,” he said serenely. “For I knew that if I went, you’d stay, and if I stayed, you’d go. So… a little subterfuge, and now here we are, alone at last, and I think you might call me Alfred, or Alfie, if you prefer. You used to like that.”

“Firstly, I am not your ‘dear,’” Hester retorted, gathering up her knitting and shoving it haphazardly back into the tapestry bag she carried it about in. “Secondly, I don’t have the least desire to be alone with you. I’m no green girl, dazzled by a fancy title, I’m afraid, Axton. Go bark up another tree, this one is full of crows.”

He grinned at her, not looking the least bit discomposed by her set down.

“Firstly,” he said, moving further into the room. “You have never in your life been dazzled by my title and, secondly, you have always been my dear.”

Though his eyes twinkled with mischief, she heard the way his voice softened, heard the sincerity there… but Axton always had been a charming blighter when the mood took him. The rest of the time, he was irascible, impossible, and downright imperious. Reminding herself firmly of these facts and, more pertinently, that he was not to be relied upon, she stood, smoothed down her skirts and, tapestry bag in hand, went to stalk past him.

The duke’s hand shot out, grasping her wrist. It was only for a moment, his clasp releasing at once, but the touch was electric, jolting her back decades, making her remember what it had felt like all those years ago to be held in his arms, to be the focus of his attention. It had been intoxicating that he, of all people—handsome, arrogant, and so far above her—had professed himself in love with her, and she’d believed him. More fool her. Furious with him for raking up the past, for disturbing feelings she had buried so many decades ago and believed long dead, she turned to glare at him.

“What do you want, Axton?” The ghost of a smile hovered at his mouth, though somehow his expression remained grave. His gaze held hers and though she tried to stop it, she could not help but get drawn back into the past, into the stormy grey of his eyes. They could be as cold as the northern sea, but now they were soft with regret and… Hester looked away.

“Well?” she demanded.

He let out a huff of laughter. “I want so many things, Hester, but then you always said I was spoiled.”

“You are.”

The duke laughed and nodded. “My son’s lovely wife, Bella, would agree, I don’t doubt, but I’m not such a monster as all that, either. I was, I think, for a long time, but I— Christ, Hester, I was miserable. I’ve been miserable for bloody years, decades, and I don’t want that anymore. Bainbridge taught me a lesson when he married for love. I never believed that mad boy would amount to anything, but God knows I’m proud of him. He’s a better man than I ever was, but… but he’s made me believe it might not be too late. Hester, I want to be happy. Since I walked away from you, I have had no peace, no contentment, nothing that came close to happiness. I want you. I want you back. I ought never to have let you go, I know that. I knew it then, but I was too bloody blind to see that duty was not reason enough to give you up. I was young and stupid, and I have paid the price for that. I don’t want to pay it anymore.”

“That’s enough!” Hester said, startled to hear her voice tremble. What was the madman doing, stirring all this up again? “I am sorry you were unhappy, Axton. I truly am, but I was not. I married well, and I was content.”

“I know,” he said, nodding. “And I am grateful for that at least, grateful it was only my own heart I broke.”

“Oh, pish,” Hester said, hugging her knitting bag to her chest and glaring at him. “Are you losing your marbles? You never broke your heart over me. You’re getting sentimental in your old age, that’s all.”

“Perhaps I am sentimental,” he admitted. “But the rest is still true.”

Hester gave an exasperated sigh. “The past is dead and gone, Axton. Our time is over. I’ll not have you raking things up after… good heavens, it’s fifty years since we were—”