Page 178 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
“Don’t. You can get back on her later, but we’re about to play Monopoly,” Nana said, directing Danny towards the other room. “There’s also a cracking bottle of wine your mother has pulled out of the cellar, and I need Sylvie to distract her grandfather while I get drunk.”
“Monopoly?” Sylvie looked over at her. “Nana, the last time we played Monopoly, you gave yourself a papercut and almost threw your little figurine at me.”
“Oh, it’s Christmas, this is no time to hold a grudge.” She clapped her hands together. “Come on, chop chop. You can be lovers later. For now, we need to make sure everyone else gets so drunk they can’t beat me at Cluedo later.”
Neither of us moved.
“Thomas Castleton, get off my granddaughter before I forbid you from marrying her.”
I jumped right up like she’d lit a firework up my arse. “What’s the wine you’re on about, Nana? Come on. I know all the good ones.”
“Arse-licker,” she muttered, eyeing me doubtfully. “But, if you insist…”
I looped her arm through mine and looked back at Sylvie with a wink. She sat up on the sofa, hair mussed, cheeks a little pink, and smiled.
And, God.
If every Christmas from now on would be like this, it might just become my favourite season after all.
EPILOGUE – SYLVIE
Three Years Later
“If you’re looking at April, the gardens are particularly beautiful,” I said, sliding a folder out. “Actually, that’s when I got married this year, and I can show you some of the photos from my wedding.”
“Really?” Amy, the bride-to-be opposite me bounced in her seat. “I would love that!”
I smiled and slid it over to her. “There you go. As you’re aware, we partner with several local businesses in a package deal. You’re free to choose your own vendors, of course, and I can coordinate them with no problem, but the photos you’re looking at were taken by our partner photographer, Lucy Vale Photography.”
“Oh, they’re beautiful,” Amy breathed. “Sam, look. They look like a fairytale!”
Her fiancé bobbed his head. “They’re really nice.”
“Nice? Is that the best you can say?”
“They’re wedding photos, babe. I’ve seen thousands of them. If you like it, we’ll get married here. As long as you’re happy.”
“I’m so sorry about him,” Amy said, glancing at me as she leafed through more of my wedding pictures. “He’s got the appreciation of a turnip.”
“It’s fine.” I laughed and shook my head, pulling out another small folder. “Our partner florist is my sister-in-law—she did both my flowers and my sister’s before that. She’s incredibly talented, and…” I continued talking up Beth’s strengths, as well as going into brief details about the other local businesses we’d struck up close working relationships with.
“I do like the sound of that whiskey tour,” Sam said, eyeing the flyer. “You said they offer a discount when booking via you?”
“Yes, and just to be clear, we don’t benefit financially at all,” I explained. “Just word of mouth from us all working together.”
He nodded slowly. “And, uh, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” He glanced down at my slightly swollen stomach.
“Sam!” Amy hit him. “You can’t just—”
“It’s fine.” I smiled warmly. “I understand the concerns, but rest assured, there will be no conflict with your wedding whatsoever. I run the business with my husband’s mother and sister, and they’re both more than capable of stepping in in case of an emergency.”
She paused, then tilted her head to the side. “Wait. You live there, don’t you?” She looked between me and the photos. “Sam, look. That’s the Duke of Castleton. That means…” She gasped. “Oh, yeah, it’ll be fine. Everyone knows how close the Castletons are.”
Sam looked between us, then shrugged. “I’m just here to sign the cheques, babe. If you want this…”
Amy hesitated, then squealed. “What dates do you have available during our ideal window?”
I opened the diary with my best smile. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
