Page 27 of The Duke's Christmas Scandal
“Ian, then. I feel terrible about what I said this morning. Your name seemed so familiar. It bothered me all night. This morning, I went through Sol’s letters. It was quite a shock to realize that you were the same man he blamed for stealing his birthright.” Grace sniffed. “Upon reflection, I don’t believe his claim to the title was ever as solid as he led me to believe.”
Ian could have told her as much. More importantly, the Select Committee for Privileges had agreed. Solomon’s branch of the Susskind family tree was so far removed from the main line that it quickly became clear he was relying on sheer ambition and disinterest from the other prospective heirs to win the title.
A fact that did nothing to soothe Grace’s wounded heart. She heaved a sigh. “In retrospect, the reason he didn’t marry me right away when I fell pregnant was that he believed he would inherit the dukedom and wed an heiress instead. He thought I would be content to be his mistress,” she said indignantly. “And when he didn’t get his way, he left.”
Yes, that all dovetailed with what Ian had seen of Solomon Abernathy. Covetous, shallow, and entitled.
“I am so sorry, Grace. You deserve so much better than that.” He brushed a fingertip along the baby’s plump cheeks. Noel gave a fluttery sigh. “So do you.”
“I admit I was jealous for a moment,” Grace said with a sidelong glance at Tavi. “It felt like my sister had everything I wanted. But she was as aghast as I was. I know Tavi would never have intentionally betrayed me…and that opened my eyes to the true culprit.” She placed a gloved hand on his forearm. “I don’t wish to ruin anything for you. Please don’t let me stand in the way of your happiness.”
“This is all my fault,” Ian said. “I should have told you my true identity from the first moment we met.”
“You mean when I was brandishing a fire iron at your head?”
“You didnot,Tavi!” Grace gasped.
Ian chuckled. “After you calmed down. The truth is, I never sought a dukedom. My aunt insisted it was rightfully mine if I bothered to claim it. But why would I want to deal with politics and nobles who are bound to hate me for my inferior upbringing?”
“The money attached to the estate wasn’t an inducement?” Tavi teased.
“There isn’t as much money as you might think, and most of it will be allocated to rebuilding Fellsgrove.” He shrugged. “I was comfortable in my bachelor existence. Until I met you. I realized I didn’t want to become a duke all alone.”
Ian caught Tavi around the waist and lifted her into the air. She squealed, her skirt belling out, until he dragged her close to his chest and set her on the ground.
“Shall we go and celebrate Christmas properly, darling?”
CHAPTER12
OCTAVIA
If she’d known Ian was a duke before she’d met him, she would never have had the courage to kiss him.
Or make love to him.
Or attack him with a poker, for that matter.
It was for the best that he’d kept that secret from her. At least at first. Once the initial shock passed, she forgave him wholly and completely.
Her heart was so full as they drove up the road to her mother’s cottage—now hers and Grace’s—that she couldn’t help but look into the sky and feel a surge of gratitude for vicious snowstorms and forgotten gifts.
“This is quaint,” Ian said. “Charming.”
“It’s where we grew up.” She reached over to squeeze Grace’s hand. “Our parents raised ten children in this cottage. There will be more than enough space for the four of us.”
It was truly a Christmas miracle how easily everything had been resolved.
Ian needed a place to stay near Fellsgrove while he oversaw the restoration and expansion of the ancient ducal seat. He’d already given Tavi a signet so large it slipped off her thumb. She was wearing it on a ribbon tied around her neck until he could get her a proper betrothal ring.
The idea of being a duchess felt very distant. She leaned her cheek on Ian’s shoulder. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. They would figure it out. Together.
Inside, Tavi lit a fire in the central grate while Grace settled into the chamber on the main floor. Ian tended to Nutmeg and Cinnamon. By the time she had a blaze roaring and was beginning to wonder what was taking so long, he returned, stamping his feet and carrying a huge armload of yew branches.
“It’s not a tree, but this should serve for now, right?” He winked. Tavi laughed in delight. Together, they hung the boughs, tied bows on them, and lit candles in glass jars. They stepped back to admire their handiwork.
“One day, I’m going to give you a proper Christmas tree at Fellsgrove Castle. Just like Queen Anne at Queen’s Lodge, Windsor. Once restored, it would be the perfect setting for a rustic tradition,” he said.
“I’ll hold you to that promise.” Tavi smiled. “We’ll hold a ball for all your fancy new friends. Assuming anyone will deign to acknowledge a duke married to a commoner.”
