“What if you only went up for the meeting and left? No house party.”

Henry Davies, now Lord Devlin as he so liked to remind himself, did not do house parties. Not now, not in the future.

“There might be a few marriage-minded young ladies there as well. It might be easier to meet them at a house party than at a ball.”

Stephen had a point, still, Henry knew his limit. He would never be agreeable enough to last an entire house party. “Then I would need to contend with their mothers… or worse yet, their chaperones.”

“I will be there to assist with them. Mothers love me.”

“Does that explain why you have an incurable fondness for widows?”

“One day, friend, you will understand.”

His chest ached suddenly. It was happening more and more. The most minor thing could set it off. A mere memory of that night a few months ago, and his body rebelled. It made no sense, and he disliked it very much.

One kiss and he became sentimental.

“Tell me you will think about it. I can arrange everything since I know you are busy with other matters. It would mean a great deal to me, this favor. I can arrange for you to travel there for the day and return the next. No need to spend Christmas in one of Britain’s finest homes with a duke and his dearest friends.”

“I think you meant for that to entice me.”

Stephen navigated through the stacks of books and gently bumped Henry against his shoulder with his fist. “It would entice a great many people, but the fact that it doesn’t you, delights me.” His friend cleared his throat and dropped his smile. “In all seriousness, the duke would be a good friend to have now that you have a title.”

More gray. He had no plans to veer beyond what was allowed, not when he had a legacy to rebuild. “I will go. For you, not for any other reason. But I will only go for the meeting and wish to leave the next morning. Give whatever excuse necessary to see it done. I wish for a Christmas here in Town.”

“By yourself? Where is the fun in that? Come on, come enjoy some Christmas cheer.”

“One night, Stephen.”

His friend grinned, bowing before placing his top hat on his head and spinning for the door. “Very well. One night. I will have everything arranged and will send word when you can expect to leave tomorrow. Thank you, friend.”

The door closed behind Stephen, and Henry remained fixed to his spot on the carpet, certain he had made this very promise before.

And it only left him with a hole in the back of his head and a heart that was now prone to tripping now and again at the memory of a haunting kiss.

CHAPTER 4

Henry had never encountered so much snow in his life.

It had been snowing for half his journey. The roads were practically impassable. And his damn feet were cold because he had worn the wrong boots, and the inside of the carriage was a death trap as it slid this way and that over the roads. He would need a sleigh to return to London tomorrow.

If he could return home tomorrow at all.

Why he ever agreed to help Stephen was beyond him.

Henry glanced out of the carriage, gazing upon Haddington Court and the grand home sitting proudly on a hill. Dread instantly tumbled in his stomach.

The carriage pulled up to the front of the towering four-story Elizabethan structure of Bath stone, with vast banks of windows stretching east to west.

Henry didn’t wait for the door to be opened for him. He gathered his things and stepped out himself, turning up his collar toward the nasty weather.

“Come down,” he called to the driver. “I’ll see that you can stay the night and warm up.”

“No need, sir. It’s already arranged.”

Right. He should have remembered as much. Being his first house party, he feared this wouldn’t be his only blunder.

The footman opened the front door of the grand house, and another hurried down the freshly shoveled stairs to fetch the luggage.

“Good day, my lord.”

Henry nodded, remembering only a moment after that footman was addressing him. “Help him down will you, and see that he is warmed up and fed, please.”

“Yes, my lord.”

They would have been stuck on the road if they had left London any later. The snow came down like a giant blanket smothering the English countryside, and a wicked, frigid wind whipped it all up again.

“Please, let me help you inside, my lord,” another footman said, offering his assistance.

But Henry’s attention was drawn to the coach driver being helped down. “We will see that he is taken care of, my lord.”

He stood on the steps as his luggage was quickly carried inside, and the carriage was driven to the stable around back. Reluctantly, he continued up the stairs and stepped inside, thankful for the roaring fire in the ornate marble fireplace in the foyer. The grand house smelled of cinnamon and apples, and the evergreen decorations were being prepared to be hung with Christmas only three days away.

Once his overcoat was removed, he was shown to his room in the east wing of the grand house.

“We have been informed the roads are no longer safe, my lord. You will be our only guest for the evening. Please make yourself comfortable and let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay enjoyable.”

Delighted not to have to meet everyone, Henry paced his room with his arms clasped behind his back. He had only planned to stay the evening, and now he would, but he would do so alone. But he was eager to tour Haddington’s six libraries.

Really, he hadn’t met the Duke of Maitland prior to today, but he could only hope to restore Cliffstone to a fraction of Haddington Court. But he knew, with a lack of funds and the challenges that lay ahead with restoring the dilapidated building, it would take a great many years for that to become a possibility.

A few hours later, Henry ambled down the grand staircase with a book in hand, ready to make good use of at least one library, when the footman opened the front door. The servants scurried about, the snow swirling madly outside as a figure slowly emerged. An older woman was helped inside, stooped over in a thick wool cape and clutching a cane.

“If my knees were better, I would kiss this immaculate tiled foyer. Oh, what a journey. I can’t feel my nose. Tell me young man,” she snapped at a footman, “is it still there? It’s not as fine as it once was. The prince certainly admired it years ago now at a ball one spring evening. Not enough to make me a princess.”

The older woman shuffled into the home, oblivious to Henry standing there. And just as well. He was still thawing out and didn’t wish to socialize.

“No, no, leave it and come in,” another voice called out from outside.

The familiar lilt halted his escape. He quickly said hello to the older woman and stood by the door, struck as a woman dressed in an emerald velvet cape emerged. She shook off the snow and locked eyes with him, then she slowly lowered her hood.

It couldn’t be.

He was dreaming.

Perhaps he was dying on the side of the road some several miles back, freezing to death in a snowstorm.