Page 22 of The Duke's Christmas Scandal
“You found it! You brought it! I was devastated to think I’d lost her gift!”
Grace observed all of this somberly. She still appeared to be pregnant. Ian understood that to be normal for women who’d recently given birth. He hoped she hadn’t been forced to do so alone, in this uninspiring lodging house.
Tavi clutched the bundle, her eyes shining. She motioned for him to come inside. Ian’s boots thumped on the bare wood floor. There were only two rooms, a bedroom and a main living area. Beside the stove was a nearly-empty box of coal. Above it hung a sprig of pine, tied with a frayed ribbon. He smiled at Tavi’s attempt at festivity. The place needed a dose of cheer.
“This is my sister, Grace,” she said distractedly, indicating the woman who had answered the door, who was now bouncing a fussy newborn.
“A pleasure. I take it this is your new arrival?”
Grace shot her sister an unreadable glance. “I named him Noel. Since his father isn’t here to have a say in the matter.”
“A pity. Is your husband not returning for the holidays?”
“I’m not married.”
Ian winced. Tavi never mentioned that detail.
“Solomon suffered a setback recently and decided he needed to seek his fortune abroad. He paid the rent on this palace”— she cast a scathing glare around the hovel—“through the end of the month, and booked passage to the Indies.”
“Ah.”
Excellent response, there,Ian chided himself. Mysteriously, his easygoing charm had abruptly deserted him, leaving Ian with clammy palms and a prickling sensation crawling over his skin. He hadn’t felt this nervous since baring his posterior before the Select Committee for Privileges—and even then, he’d been more irritated than anxious.
“Won’t you introduce your visitor, Tavi?”
“I am Ian Harkness.”
The pleats in Grace Dawson’s brow deepened, but she said nothing. Tavi bustled around the table, setting out a skimpy chicken and roasted vegetables, with a fresh-baked rolls that smelled absolutely divine. Ian’s stomach rumbled. Loudly.
“And how do you know Tavi?” Grace asked suspiciously.
“I met Miss Dawson when she was forced to shelter at Fellsgrove Castle last night. During our visit, she impressed upon me how much time she had spent making this gift for you and your new arrival, so when I discovered she had left it behind, I decided to bring it to her. It took me a bit of time to track down where you lived—”
“You went to a great deal of bother.”
“Grace.” Tavi gasped. “Surely we can at least be polite, after he’s gone to so much trouble for us.” She cast him a rueful glance.
“Apologies, sir,” Grace said without contrition. “I am not fit company right now.”
“It’s perfectly alright, Miss Dawson. I interrupted your dinner.”
He was imposing. He should go.
Tavi turned away from the stove, dusting her hands on her apron. “Please. Join us.” She grabbed a chipped plate from the shelf and set it between the other two. “It is the least we can do to thank you.”
Grace didn’t want him there. He should decline the invitation.
Tavi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. At least he wasn’t the only nervous party. He hadn’t thought about how coming here revealed that his feelings were more than mere kindness.
“Where are you staying tonight?” Grace asked.
Ian turned questioningly to Tavi, who didn’t meet his eye while she removed a steaming pot from the stove and placed it on the sideboard.
“I haven’t thought about it yet. An inn, assuming I can find one.”
There was an awkward silence, until the baby’s fussing turned into a screech.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Grace said, going to the bedroom and shutting the listing door with a slam.
