It Happened Under the Mistletoe: A Holiday Novella by Valerie Bowman Page B

breath from his lips and it rippled the dark hair along his forehead. “Did you know that I only just acquired my title last year?”
    She nodded readily. “Yes, Mama mentioned it, but I just assumed that your father—”
    “My father was the second son of a duke who had an older brother and a strong healthy nephew.”
    Cerian looked hopelessly confused. “I don’t understand.”
    “The fact is that Kate was married to my cousin, the former duke.”
    Still clutching the orchid, Cerian’s palms flew to her cheeks. “Kate’s husband was your cousin?”
    Oliver nodded. “Yes. George. He was murdered, I’m afraid. It was quite a scandal, actually. I’m surprised your mother didn’t tell you.”
    Her fingers were still pressed against her cheeks and the shocked look remained in her pretty eyes. “I feel like a complete idiot. Of course I should have known it. But I don’t pay much attention to titles and all of that. I knew Kate’s husband was a duke but I didn’t put together the family connection until now.”
    “Did you know George was murdered by his valet and our dear Kate was blamed for a time?”
    Cerian’s hands fell away from her face. She stared glumly at the mulched floor of the conservatory. “Yes. An awful business. I so wanted to come visit Kate when she was imprisoned in the Tower but Mama forbade it. I know how horrible Kate’s husband was to her. She was…” Cerian audibly gulped. “A duchess.”
    Oliver laughed softly. “You say that word as if it’s an anathema.”
    “Oh, it is, to me. I cannot imagine the responsibility such a title must bring. Or the scrutiny.”
    “Believe me, I didn’t know it either. And I’m under added scrutiny actually.”
    She twirled the orchid between her fingers. “More scrutiny than being a duke?”
    Oliver braced his hands against his knees. “Yes, because I’m a duke who is living down a scandal associated with my family name. Everything I do is watched. I cannot go anywhere, do anything, have a moment’s peace. There are bets at the gentlemen’s clubs in London about who I’m expected to marry.”
    “It must be awful,” Cerian added, shaking her head again. “More awful than I could even imagine.”
    “It is. And I must make a decision quickly,” he said. “The sooner the better. The less scrutiny I’ll be under and the less conjecture. But it’s been nice, this week. You’ve helped me take the pressure off with our game. Thank you for that.”
    Still seated, Cerian made a mock bow at the waist. “My pleasure, your grace. And … and I’m quite sorry that your cousin died.”
    “Thank you. Though the truth is, while I certainly didn’t wish death on him, George and I weren’t exactly close, and you’re right, he was absolutely abominable to Kate.”
    Cerian weaved her fingers together in her lap and looked at them. “So, you’re not a duke? That is to say … you were not raised to be a duke?”
    “Not any more than you were.” He cracked a smile. “I had a comfortable life and a modest town house in London and now I’m not only heir to one of the oldest and most prestigious titles in England, I’m expected to marry posthaste and produce the next heir.”
    “Did you … did you not intend to marry? Before you inherited the dukedom, that is?
    He let out his breath. “I suppose I did. I’ve always been fond of children.” He glanced at her and Cerian blushed. “But I intended to marry a nice young lady who wanted me for me, not a power hungry young woman with visions of a duchy in her eyes.”
    Cerian wrinkled her nose. “Like Lady Selina?”
    “Exactly like Lady Selina.” He nodded.
    Cerian sighed. “I know just what you mean. I’ve always wanted to marry too but all anyone sees is my dowry. And all Mama cares about is a title.”
    “You don’t sound as if you relish Society one bit.”
    “Oh, I don’t. It makes me so nervous. The minute I get around anyone with a title I feel completely awkward and awful