The Iron Duke’s Flaming Christmas (Preview)

Chapter One

Trenton Village, November, 1817

“Oh, my,” breathed Selene, biting her lip, as she gazed around the village square of Trenton, which was decked out with evergreens, flickering candles and many stalls. “It is so beautiful…”

She kept gaping, taking it all in. It was the very first Christmas celebration of the season in the village, even though it wasn’t yet December. The small village of Trenton liked to start the season early, and with a bang. There were roasting chestnut stalls, plenty of spicy mulled wine, pork pies, and cake. The villagers were starting to gather around the central bonfire as well, throwing logs onto it, which hissed and crackled merrily, throwing orange sparks into the air that danced like fireflies in the darkness.

It promised to be a very merry evening, indeed. It was just a pity that she was attending it alone this year as her parents were away for the season.

“Selene Bomind!” The voice was feminine and cheery, laced heavily with the local dialect. “As I live and breathe, it has been an age since I have seen you, child! You are all grown up now!”

Selene turned around, startled, gazing into the plump, kind face of Mrs. Martha Kittles, who was the housekeeper at a huge local estate called Trenton House, the estate of the Duke of Trenton. Selene didn’t know Mrs. Kittles very well—the woman was friendly with her parents, but due to her position at the manor house, they didn’t see her very often. Mrs. Kittles was a busy woman with a lot of responsibilities. 

“Mrs. Kittles,” said Selene, smiling. “How lovely to see you! You have a night off from the big house, then?”

“I do,” declared the woman, raising a glass of mead that she was holding into the air. “And I intend to make the most of it.” She paused, taking a long sip. “Aye, that’s better! I always like a warm glass of mead on a cold night. How are your parents, child?”

“They are both well,” replied Selene, her smile widening. “They are away, visiting my Aunt Una, in Devon, and will likely spend Christmas there, for my dear aunt is unwell, and needs help to tend her animals.”

Mrs. Kittles frowned. “Oh, that is not good to hear. Why did you not go with them to spend the season in Devon? Why have you been left alone, child?”

Selene laughed. “I am twenty now, Mrs. Kittles. I am a child no longer and am quite capable of staying alone at the cottage.” She shrugged. “I do not mind being alone, and my aunt only has one spare room.” She hesitated. “And I am still actively looking for a position, although there is not much being advertised so close to Christmas…”

Mrs. Kittles frowned. “Your last position with the Lang family did not work out, then?”

Selene grimaced. “They decided that they did not need a nursemaid any longer,” she stated, shrugging her shoulders again. “I think they could no longer afford me, and Mrs. Lang has decided to look after young Nellie herself.”

“I have heard talk they are doing it rough,” said Mrs. Kittles. She was silent for a moment, looking at Selene carefully, in a scrutinizing way. “You have turned into a beautiful, clever young woman, Selene. Your father’s efforts to educate you well have clearly paid off. Are you still bookish?”

Selene laughed again. “Yes! If I were able to, I would sit and read all day long. Pa says he can no longer afford my book habit.”

“Have you ever considered becoming a governess?” Mrs. Kittles kept staring at her thoughtfully. “If you are looking for a new position, I can tell you that we are currently interviewing for a governess at the big house, if you are interested.”

Selene’s smile froze on her face. She knew that the woman meant well, but the talk surrounding Trenton House was always active, and it wasn’t good. The Duke of Trenton was secretly named the Iron Duke by the villagers, on account of the fact he was such a harsh, cold man. And apparently, there had been an endless parade of governesses there, as the duke’s daughter, Lady Lenore, was a spoilt miss who drove them away with her dreadful tantrums. They rarely lasted more than a month.

“I am in charge of interviewing for the position,” continued Mrs. Kittles, in a thoughtful voice. “And I can tell you that I would recommend you highly for the position, Selene. You would only need to get final approval from His Grace.” She paused. “It is a highly paid position. You would be getting twice the normal monthly salary that is due to a governess.”

Selene, who had opened her mouth to refuse the offer, in the kindliest way, shut it again, her mind spinning rapidly.

Twice the normal monthly salary. I would be able to supplement Pa’s meager income. I could almost support the entire household. Lord knows, we need the money desperately.

“Twice the salary?” she asked slowly. “Really?”

Mrs. Kittles nodded. “Aye. I won’t lie—the little lady is a bit of a handful, which is why the duke is offering such a good salary.” She rolled her eyes. “But you are a clever, spirited girl, Selene, and I think you might just have the courage and skill to handle her. And the salary would be a real help for your poor parents.”

Selene hesitated. She didn’t know if she had the housekeeper’s faith in her skills. She had never held a governess position before, and even though she was well-educated for her class, she wasn’t used to dealing with high-born nobles at all. She had never even set foot inside a grand house. Her parents had once been in service at another local grand house, Garton Manor, which was how they knew Mrs. Kittles, but that had been before she was born. They had never taken her there.

Could I do it? Could I become a governess to a spirited, badly behaved young lady, and be able to deal with her harsh, cold father as well? Could I learn to become a governess in a grand house?

She pursed her lips. Mrs. Kittles was gazing at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. What was she going to tell her?

Selene, you are being foolish. Your family needs the income, and you would be earning twice the normal governess’s salary. You can learn to become a governess. You can only try. There might never be another opportunity like this.

“I am so pleased you have such faith in me, Mrs. Kittles,” she responded eventually, her heart skipping a beat. “I would very much like to interview for the position.”

Mrs. Kittles’ face was suddenly wreathed in smiles. “That’s the girl!” Her voice suddenly turned business like. “Come to the house at ten sharp tomorrow morning. I am interviewing for the entire morning. You need to come around to the back of the house and use the servant’s entrance.”

“Thank you,” breathed Selene, as terror struck her heart. What on earth had she just done?

“I will let you enjoy the party,” said Mrs. Kittles, raising her glass of mead in the air. “I will see you at ten tomorrow, my girl.”

Selene nodded, as the housekeeper gave a jaunty wave, taking off briskly toward the bonfire. Her head was spinning, and a cold sweat had broken out on the back of her neck. 

“Selene! There you are!”

She jumped, turning around. One of her very best friends in the world, Miss Emma Wellington, the local vicar’s daughter, bounded toward her, grabbing her arm. They embraced.

“You look like you have seen a ghost, Selene,” said Emma, gazing at her closely. “You were in such a good mood and looking forward to the party. What is going on? Have you suddenly become afraid of being alone in the cottage with your parents away?”

Selene managed to laugh. “No, I am not afraid.” She hesitated. “Emma, I just spoke with Mrs. Kittles, who is housekeeper at Trenton House. She wants me to apply for the position of governess there… and I accepted.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “Really? They are looking for another new governess?” She shook her head. “I suppose it is not surprising. The last one has been there for a month. They rarely last any longer than that.”

“I am scared, Emma,” she admitted, her heart lurching. “The Iron Duke is such a cold, dreadful man. He is known for his harshness toward everyone.”

“There is a reason for that,” interjected Emma, her eyes wide. “Have you heard the story of what happened to his late wife?”

Selene frowned. “No.”

Emma sighed dramatically. “She died giving birth to their only child on Christmas Day,” she breathed, shaking her head. “He tried everything to save her and loved her desperately. Apparently, he wasn’t half as bad before she died. It really ruined him. He turned into such a curmudgeon after that.”

Selene’s eyes widened. “How truly dreadful. I never knew.”

Emma sighed again. “Yes. He never recovered from his tragedy.” She stared at Selene. “This could be the break you have been looking for, Selene. Your family needs the income. Although it would be a hard position. They say the young lady is a terror. She drives away all her governesses. You would have your work cut out for you.”

Selene took a deep breath. “Well, I am only interviewing for the position—I have not got it yet. And beggars cannot be choosers, as you say.” her heart flipping, gazing at the stars.

“Pa has never recovered from his injury and can’t work as much as he used to. You know that. We really do need the income. It is worth a try.”

“Yes, of course it is,” agreed Emma, linking arms with her, smiling at her kindly. “But that is tomorrow. Tonight is for celebration.” She giggled. “Perhaps we could take a look at all the handsome young men in the village… and wonder what it would be like to kiss them… and perhaps even lie with them”

Selene’s eyes widened in shock, but Emma’s giggle was infectious, so she couldn’t help joining in.

“Emma, you are audacious,” she declared, slapping her friend’s wrist, in a mocking way. “You are the vicar’s daughter. You are not supposed to be thinking about handsome young men and how nice it would be to do… things with them.”

Emma giggled harder, shooting her a sly glance. “I might be the vicar’s daughter, but I am not totally blind,” she laughed. “It is only natural, Selene. It is what young men and women do together when passion alights, you know”

Selene laughed. “Oh, you need to behave!” Her cheeks were pink, thinking about handsome young men and kissing them. She had never kissed anyone. She grew warm thinking about it, but no young man, handsome or otherwise, had ever really piqued her interest. Still, what would it be like?

“Look at him,” whispered Emma, pointing to a young farmer’s laborer, who was as tall as a tree trunk, with muscles like iron. “I would like to feel those rock-hard muscles when he put his arms around me and squeezed me. I might just swoon with ecstasy.” She shivered.

They giggled a little more, before becoming serious again.

“And do you want me to help you collect the gifts for the orphans from the villagers?” asked Emma. “Should we start doing it now, while the night is still young, and the villagers not in their cups?”

Selene laughed. “Yes, I think it would be a good idea! You have such a kind heart, Emma.”

“I am not as kind as you, my dear,” said Emma, staring at her. “You are the one who had the idea to collect Christmas gifts for the orphanage. You are kindness incarnate. A true saint.”

Selene rolled her eyes, feeling herself flush. “Hardly. I have terrible habits. I can be irritable, too opinionated, and never know when to hold my tongue.”

“Or, to put it another way, you are quick, clever, and do not suffer fools gladly,” countered Emma, smiling at her. “Just because you speak your mind does not take away from your intrinsic kindness, my dear. Do not confuse the two.”

Selene gazed at her friend, her heart filling with love. As the vicar’s daughter, Emma was above her in status. But that had never been a barrier between them. They had gotten along from the moment they met when they were girls, and the friendship had only strengthened over the years. Selene didn’t know what she would do without her.

“Have I told you lately how much I value you?” asked Selene, trying to keep her voice light. “Because I really do, you know.”

Emma laughed. “You always do! Now, let us go and start collecting these gifts, and then we can have a glass of mead together, and eat some roasted chestnuts, and dance around the bonfire!”

Selene laughed as Emma dragged her away. Her friend was right—tomorrow would take care of itself. She was only applying for a position. And if she ended up working and living in the Iron Duke’s household, well, then she would tackle that when the time came. Right now, she had other things to think about.

 

Chapter Two

“By Jove’s beard,” cried Ian Brentworth, the fourth Duke of Trenton, as he tried to guide his horse along the icy ground. “When did the ground become so slippery?”

His voice rang out in the darkness, echoing around the countryside. There was no reply, of course. He was all alone out there, riding through the fields during the night, cursing himself anew for staying too long at Garton House, even though he had wanted to set out much for home earlier than this. The only reason he had stayed so long was his hosts had insisted upon toasting his recent birthday. He had just turned thirty-three years old. Another year older. 

I feel older than that. I feel as old as Methuselah himself. I feel as if I was born old.

He gritted his teeth, breathing through his nostrils, like a bull, trying to contain his frustration at the poor conditions. It was late November and there had been a lot of snow recently; there were hidden icy patches, and it was perilous enough riding in broad daylight now.

Ian grimaced as he glanced at the sky. There was hardly any moonlight as clouds were covering it. It was a dark night, and it was only getting darker and colder. The sooner he was home, settled in his study at Trenton House, the better. He would need a stiff brandy after this ride.

He kept going, guiding the horse as carefully as he could, gazing toward the village, seeing sparks filling the air. He frowned, then recalled that it was the first village celebration of the season—they were having a bonfire, and stalls and Lord knew what else. He had no idea. He had never attended one of their Christmas celebrations, even if he was lord of the manor. It held no interest for him. It never had, and it was even worse, since what had happened to Mary.

Suddenly, the horse reared up, whinnying loudly. Ian cursed loudly again, trying to control the beast with difficulty. There was a figure right in front of him, crying out in fright. He managed to steer the horse to the right and avoid the person, but it had been a close call.

“Oh,” cried the person, dropping what they held in their hands, which fell onto the ground, scattering into murky snow. It looked like many small parcels to Ian. “Oh, no!”

Ian grimaced, narrowing his eyes, in order to see the figure. Suddenly, the clouds cleared in the sky, and bright moonlight fell across the person, illuminating them.

His eyes widened in surprise. It was a young woman, probably only in her early twenties, with long, wavy chestnut brown hair, which had clearly been dislodged during her fall, and was now streaming down her back. She was a small woman, with a slim figure, wearing a plain, coarse gray gown with a cream shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. 

She turned her face to look up at him. A heart-shaped face, with a slightly pointed chin, and large, expressive bluish-green eyes. Her skin was pale and flawless.

His stomach instantly lurched. There was no denying she was beautiful.

“Look what you have done!” she cried, her eyes dropping to her parcels scattered in the slushy snow. Ian realized that there were a great many of them. “They are all ruined!”

He bristled, frowning, as he stared at her. “Are you quite all right, madam?”

Suddenly, her eyes widened dramatically, and her arms started flailing. Ian realized she was going to fall—she must have veered onto an ice patch, or she was slipping in the slushy snow. He leapt off his horse, striding toward her, grabbing her by the arm firmly. He only just managed to save her before she crashed to the ground.

His hand was on the small of her back. He realized that the width of his hand almost encircled her entire waist. His heart started pounding hard, as a sudden, unexpected frisson of desire forked through his body, so powerful that he gasped.

Her green eyes widened, and her pupils dilated. He saw it clearly in the moonlight, which was still shining on her beautiful face. Their eyes met and locked. His eyes fixated on her plump lips and alluring eyes.

Hastily, he moved away from her, his heart pounding even harder. He hadn’t had a reaction like that toward a woman in a very long time. He wasn’t used to feeling unbridled lust for a woman anymore.

“Are you all right, madam?” he repeated, in a sharper voice, his confusion making him sound even more brusque than usual. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, staring at him. “No, I am not hurt.” She frowned as she gazed at the parcels scattered in the slushy snow. They were saturated. “But I am afraid that the Christmas gifts I collected for the orphans are quite ruined. Oh, what am I going to do?”

He bristled again. “Christmas gifts?” He laughed, bitterness rising in his chest. “I would say that you are well rid of them. Christmas is an utter waste of time.”

She gaped at him. “What… what did you just say?”

He laughed again. “I said that Christmas is an utter waste of time, and the season should not be celebrated at all. People pay too much heed to it, madam.” He stared at her. “Your orphans are better off without the gifts. They must face up to the harsh realities of life, as we all do, without pointless sentiment.”

Her jaw dropped further. She looked so shocked that he had to suppress a smile. Clearly, no one had ever criticized the Christmas season to her. She was one of those true believers, who subscribed to the erroneous belief that the season made life better, or whatever nonsense it was. A fantasy.

My life was ruined on Christmas Day. The greatest love of my life was taken away from me, and it was all my fault. I hope and pray the whole season becomes obsolete one day.

Her face suddenly darkened. “You are so rude, sir,” she stated, raising her chin, her green eyes flashing dangerously. “You are not a gentleman! How can you speak in such a disparaging way about the celebration of our Lord’s birth, especially when it gives such joy and wonder to people, especially children?”

His jaw tightened as he gazed at her. He wasn’t used to people giving him a tongue-lashing like this. But then, the woman clearly had no idea who he was at all. Why should she? He was merely a stranger on a horse who had come upon her at night.

She took a deep breath. “For shame, sir. You could at least help me retrieve the gifts, since it was you who surprised me, coming out of the darkness like an apparition, and made me drop them.”

She kept rambling on, scolding him, but Ian wasn’t listening any longer. Instead, he was noticing the furrow between her brows and the way her neck tilted, just so, exposing the smooth alabaster paleness of her skin.

He shook himself, trying to focus. She was still scolding him. He suppressed a small smile. Usually, he would make mincemeat of anyone who dared to speak to him in such a manner, tearing shreds off them. But this beautiful young woman, who was raging at him so earnestly, with the furrow between her brows, was fascinating him.

“Do you always speak your mind in such a way without recourse as to who you are addressing?” he asked suddenly, staring at her intently. 

She took another deep breath. “Yes, I do, when it is warranted, sir. And I do believe it is warranted in this instance. I believe in calling a spade a spade.”

“Do you, now?” he asked, in an amused voice.

“I do,” she asserted, as if she were making a declaration of war, raising her chin and staring him directly in the eye, a challenging look in her own green eyes. “I speak plainly when it is required. I do not flatter merely for the sake of it.”

Ian shook his head incredulously. She was clearly a villager, judging by the state of her apparel and the way she spoke. No well-bred lady would be walking these hills in the dark carrying parcels, anyway. A lady would be confined to a carriage. 

And yet, she had the demeanor and confidence of a queen, in the way that she held her head and looked him straight in the eye.

No woman has spoken to me that way since Mary died. 

That sobering thought jolted him out of his trancelike state. Quickly, he mounted his horse, flicking the reins, and taking off without a backward glance. His heart was pounding hard, and no matter how hard he tried, the vision of the beautiful young woman with the flashing green eyes, giving him the tongue lashing of his life, would not fade. 

***

Selene stood there on the hill in the darkness, watching the rude stranger thundering away on his horse. She shook her head, unable to quite believe the encounter, nor how dismissive he had been toward her. He hadn’t even taken his leave in a proper fashion—he had merely jumped onto his horse and took off without a word.

A flash of anger pierced her heart, as she gazed down at the strewn parcels, all completely saturated, immersed in slushy snow. She and Emma had worked tirelessly for over an hour to collect them. The villagers who had given them had donated from the heart and didn’t have much to give at all. And the rude stranger had dismissed all of it.

She sighed, bending down, picking them up and placing them back in her basket. She would try to salvage what she could. Another wave of anger overtook her. He hadn’t even offered to help her.

Her heart thumped uncomfortably as she recalled the rider. The clouds had cleared in the sky, exposing the moon, and she had managed to see him quite clearly. A tall, broad shouldered, muscular man, with intense dark eyes, so deeply brown they were almost black. A strong, square jawline, aquiline nose, and thick, wavy dark brown hair beneath his hat. He had been wearing a long, black cape.

For some reason, she had noticed his large hands, and had the shocking thought of what they might feel like if he placed them upon her. It made her shiver in a delicious way.

He was so commanding and handsome. The handsomest man who I have ever seen in my life.

Irritated, she shook the thought away. He was also the rudest man she had ever encountered in her life, and manners and character meant so much more than appearance. She had never been one of those girls who turned to liquid at the sight of a handsome face and ignored the man’s character. She had always thought such girls to be foolish and entirely weak-willed.

He was obviously wealthy and high class. He spoke like a gentleman and the horse he rode was an expensive steed that must have cost a small fortune. But clearly, he had never learned any manners. His manners were worse than most low born farmer’s sons.

“Ahoy there! Do you need assistance, girlie”

Selene jumped. A cart, rattling along the road only a short distance away, had stopped, and the driver was calling out to her. Her heart leapt as she waved back, scrambling over rocks to get to him, clinging tightly to her basket holding the ruined gifts, desperately trying not to slip again.

At least someone is trying to assist me properly. At least there are some kind people in this world.

“Thank you,” she breathed, as the man helped her into the cart. She recognized him as Mr. Knowles, a local farmer. “You are very kind.”

“Not at all, miss,” said the farmer, grinning at her. “I was just returning home after the village Christmas party, when I saw you there. You’re Abe Bomind’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Selene nodded. He flicked the reins, and they kept chatting easily as they drove to the little cottage on the hill that she called home, where he bid her a cheery farewell before rattling away into the darkness.

Selene sighed heavily, walking through the front door. It had been quite a night. She was cold, tired and depleted, and she needed to get to bed and get enough rest for her interview at the big house tomorrow.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the vision of the tall, dark, handsome, yet very rude stranger from her mind. Her heart was racing a bit, and she was alarmed to find that her hands were shaking slightly. And she couldn’t stop thinking about his hands and how it would feel if he placed them on her body. She was growing warm even now at the thought of it.

She frowned. She usually never felt like this about a man. What was wrong with her?