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Rowan was quiet for some time, but at last he said slowly, “I suppose you won’t. I confess I hadn’t considered that.”

“Well, no. There’s no reason you should have done.” Fretting about such things was the province of dukes. Marquesses too, and perhaps the occasional earl or viscount.

“I can’t say I’m comfortable perpetuating such an elaborate falsehood, Your Grace. These young ladies have come here in good faith. To lie to them feels quite wrong.”

“There is that, yes.” There was no denying his scheme was dishonest, and unfair to the young ladies who’d come to Hawthorne Castle in good faith. Well, no doubt some of them had come for selfish reasons, but none of them deserved to have such a trick played on them.

“Let me see if I understand you, Your Grace.” Rowan cleared his throat. “You wish for me to pretend to be the Duke of Hawthorne in your place, so you might pursue true love with a lady who doesn’t know your true identity?”

Gabriel tossed the pillow aside. “It sounds mad indeed when you put it that way, Rowan.”

“I’m just making certain I understand you, Your Grace. What of the other servants? We must consider them, too. Won’t they all be required to pretend, as well?”

Dear God, he hadn’t even thought of that. They’d all have to lie for him, too. He hadn’t considered the complications of pulling off such an elaborate scheme.

He’d only been thinking of himself.

“Forgive me, Rowan. I fear I’ve spoken too hastily. You’re right, of course. I suppose I’m a bit of a romantic, just as my father was. I always hoped for a true love match, as my parents had.”

“Your Grace—”

“If it were anything less than the rest of my life I’d never even consider such an underhanded scheme.”

“Your Grace, I—”

“I just … I wish to wed a lady who wants me, and not just my title. I want to be loved for myself, Rowan.”

Rowan was staring down at his hands folded in his lap, but at that, his head jerked up. “Very well, Your Grace. I’ll do it.”

Gabriel’s mouth fell open. “You will?”

“I will. I don’t entirely approve of it—you’ll forgive me for speaking plainly, Your Grace—but I do understand your quandary. Everyone deserves to know they’re loved for themselves,” Rowan finished quietly.

Gabriel’s throat tightened. “Y-you’re sure?”

“I am. I don’t wish for you to be condemned to a loveless marriage, Your Grace. But are you certain you want me to play at being the Duke of Hawthorne? A valet is not a duke.”

“Not every valet, no, but you, Rowan, are a consummate gentleman. I haven’t any doubt at all about your ability to see the thing through.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I only hope I prove worthy of your confidence in me.”

“I have no doubt you will.” Gabriel gave Rowan’s back a hearty slap and rose to his feet. “You’re a great deal more charming than I am.”

“I’ll inform the necessary servants, Your Grace.”

“Good man, Rowan.”

CHAPTER 5

Stella found her way out of the conservatory and back to the main staircase with little fuss, which was miraculous enough, considering how thoroughly she’d got lost on her way into it.

Perhaps Hawthorne Castle had a touch of Christmas magic about it. Perhaps it was a place where what was lost would be found once again.

It was a fanciful thought, and alas, a short-lived one.

Fanciful thoughts and Christmas magic were no match for Phillippa, who wasted little time snatching away every pleasing fancy the instant she opened her bedchamber door to Stella’s knock.

“Where have you been, Estella? Lazy, wicked girl! I’ve been ringing for you for ages!”