Page 1 of A Lady's Christmas
ChapterOne
Treadmore Manor feels heavy and sad. Perhaps a reflection of Gwen’s state of mind. She stares long at the fire while the new Duke of Stratham prattles on about changes he wants to make. His uncle is barely in the ground for two hours and already he’s making plans to create chaos in the house.
To Theo Dandridge, it’s just an asset, but to Gwen, it is the only home she’s ever known. At least the only one she can remember.
“Are you listening to me, Gwendolyn?” Theo’s voice clips the air, taking away the warmth of the fire.
Gazing toward the desk, Gwen sighs. “I hear you, Your Grace.”
It must be her imagination, but she’d have sworn he cringed at his new title. No. It must be a trick of the light. He has no feelings and therefore can’t possibly care about the fact that his only living relative is no more.
He taps some papers into a stack and places them in the bin to be dealt with later. Crossing the room, he sits next to Gwen on the settee. For a full minute, he toys with a tiny thread that has come loose on the blue damask cushion. “I have to go abroad for the next month. I’ll be in France and then Italy. Should you need to reach me, I’ve given Mrs. Tubbs my address.”
“I can’t imagine that would be necessary, Your Grace.” Gwen glances at him, wishing he wasn’t so damned good-looking. His blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes are hard to look away from, but she forces her gaze back to the fire.
Letting out a long breath, he touches her arm. “Gwendolyn, you have called me Theo all of our lives, I see no reason for the formal address now.”
Sadly, this is possibly the nicest thing he’s ever said to her. “Just remembering my place. You are the duke now.” She stares at his hand on her arm. Warmth spreads from his touch.
He jerks away as if burned. “You didn’t call my uncle by his title.”
“He was the only father I ever knew. I called him papa because when I came here, I didn’t know any better. The late duke was kind and allowed the endearment even after I was old enough to be told the truth. You are certainly not my father or my brother.” Wishing she could hit him so hard that he would feel a fraction of her pain at losing Alden Dandridge wouldn’t make Theo wise, though it might make her feel better. Still, she refrained.
Theo’s expression softens and he leans toward her. Raising his hand, he brushes a wayward strand of hair away from her cheek.
Years of childhood bickering and boyish antics from him make her jerk away from his touch.
Rather than pull back, he leans in closer. “No. I am not your relation by blood.”
Breath stuck in her throat, she’s mesmerized by his stare and his handsome face when he’s not scowling. “No.”
As if just realizing his dislike of her, he shakes his head and sits up straight. Clearing his throat, he stands. With his hands behind his back, he paces the study. “I have things to attend to abroad and no one to send in my stead. I’m sure you’ll manage to keep busy here as you always have. When I return, we’ll need to hire you a chaperone for propriety. My uncle may have been fatherly, but I certainly am not.”
The idea of living under Theo’s rule puts a knot in her stomach. Returning her gaze to the fire, she nods. It’s taking a great deal of energy to keep from crying in front of him. Rather than engaging in a lengthy discussion about what she does as the acting steward of this estate and the lady of the house is pointless. He’d never believe her anyway. “Have a safe trip, Your Grace.”
He harrumphs. “You know, Gwendolyn, he was my uncle. I have suffered a loss as well.”
Shaking, she stands and faces him. “You happen by Treadmore Manor on occasion at Christmas and Easter as if you’re doing someone a favor by showing up. Then you act as if being here is a great inconvenience. You write once a month to see that your allowance is deposited. When you are here, you plague me with errands and other chores you believe should be my responsibility to handle while having no idea of what I actually do from day to day. You’re rude and demanding. Since your uncle’s death, I’ve detected no sign that you mourn him in the slightest. All you have done is attend a funeral that I arranged and tell me of your plans to change the only home I have ever known.”
Gathering her wits, she lowers her voice. “You have every right to change what you want in this estate, but do not expectmeto change to suit you.” Drawing a long breath and dashing away a tear, she adds, “I’m sorry for your loss, Your Grace.”
Theo opens his mouth and closes it again. He looks from one end of the room to the other, then back at her. Without voicing whatever thoughts caused his eyes to flash with anger, he turns and storms out of the library.
* * *
Two Weeks Later
Gwen Carter makes every effort to not fidget in the chair as she waits for Jane Everton to read through her application to become an Everton Lady. She glances at the books lining two walls, including the one behind Lady Jane. At the base of the shelves, flanking the desk, are two benches with moss-green cushions. It looks like a perfect place to read.
A large window faces the street at Gwen’s back, but she listens to the people, horses, and carts making their way through the day while her future hangs in the balance.
Lady Jane’s expression is calm as she turns the page, then her dark brows rise, and she smooths her hand over her hair, which is pulled back in a severe bun. “You have been running the estates of the Duke of Stratham for the past six years?”
“Yes, my lady.” Gwen's voice cracks and she clears her throat.
Jane gazes at Gwen. “Do not think me indelicate, Miss Carter, but how old are you?”
Pulling her shoulders back, Gwen lifts her chin. “I’m three and twenty.”
