An Ember for a Duke, page 1
An Ember for a Duke
Dukes for Christmas Fairytale Novella series
Eliana Piers
An Ember for a Duke is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by Eliana Piers
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact author.
Cover image © Eliana Piers
Cover design Copyright © 2023 Eliana Piers
All rights reserved.
ISBN E-Book 978-1-7380883-4-8
ISBN Print Book 978-1-7380883-5-5
To Bettina,
One of the beautiful princesses in my life,
You never stop showing love.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Next in Series: A Slumber for a Duke
Good Duke Gone Cold: Chapter 1
Stay Connected
Thank You
About the Author
Also By Eliana Piers
Chapter 1
1816, England
MISS ADELINE ZACHARY WAS alone in the world. Though if a person were to ask her, she would say she hardly noticed on the day to day.
And this would not be a lie. Although Adeline was an orphan and had no siblings, she had found a rather pleasant job as a lady’s maid, to a duchess no less. And a kind duchess at that.
But if one were to ask her nearing the Christmas season about said feelings, that loneliness might present itself just a wee bit more. And on this particular journey, on this particular day, in this particular carriage, the loneliness was just a touch weightier than usual.
It was impossible not to be confronted with family as she sat with the nanny holding baby Katie who was about six months old. Just old enough to be eating solid foods and just silly enough to be throwing such foods more than eating them.
There were times Adeline had wanted a family and a baby of her own. But such dreams were neglected over the years. It was not often that a servant would have her own family when she herself was so integral to the duchess’s success. Or duchesses. The plural form was more accurate to Adeline’s history. She had started out as lady’s maid to Lady Mary, who later became the Duchess of Wellingford. Then during her honeymoon, Adeline had worked for Margaret, who quickly became the Duchess of Somersby. And when Margaret took her honeymoon, it was decided that Adeline would stay to help Bella, who, marvel of all marvels, soon became the Duchess of Ennitt. At this rate, every lady to whom she was a lady’s maid would end up a duchess. Adeline smirked at the thought.
She loved her work. And returning to work for Margaret was perfect. Mary had found another lady’s maid through the dowager duchess, Ainsley, so Adeline stayed on with Margaret. Their personalities matched and she felt as though they could talk openly, sometimes, about some things. Her fiery tongue got the best of her at times, but she was usually able to reign it in with some foot hopping and shuffling. The foot hopping and shuffling were necessary. She was still a servant and had to remember her place in life.
But it was a delight to work with Margaret who embodied joy and generosity. Her spark for life was contagious. And now that she had a little baby girl, the squeals of laughter and giggles abounded. Adeline frequently saw Jonathan, the Duke of Somersby, pretending to be a monster or an animal of some sort to amuse the baby. Often, to brighten her day, Adeline would offer to hold the baby or play with her just to hear her giggle.
Half a smile rounded out one side of Adeline’s lips as she recalled the memories.
When Adeline was honest with herself, she knew she had an excellent position. It was just those rare moments of delusion in which she thought perhaps she might enjoy a family of her own.
Sitting in a carriage for this long was sure to induce many a thought in any a person. Adeline thumbed the reticule she had made for herself. It was an eye-catching but necessary accessory. She had spent hours embroidering the exterior with a floral pattern of her initials, and she had spent even more time designing the interior pockets to fit what she might need at a given moment. The women were not only initially drawn to the floral embroidery, but they were delighted to see the custom design of the inside pockets to organize their knick knacks. It was a compliment to her that she had been commissioned by several ladies already to make one for each of them. And several was being modest. She had lost count of how many women were now carrying her reticules as accessories; she didn’t even know where all the commissioning requests came from. Servants through servants of more servants. Sometimes it was a direct or personal friend of Margaret’s. And sometimes the request was made directly to her. Rare. But it happened.
Pressing her head against the chilly window, Adeline gazed out through the frosted window as they headed to Glass Hall. It couldn’t be long until they arrived. Best think of where they were headed and start to prepare in her mind for the Christmas season. They were on their way to a Christmas party hosted by an old friend of the duke’s. It was just a few days before Christmas, and fortunately the weather was holding up for them. Adeline knew next to nothing of what to expect, save that there would be plenty of opportunities for her to dress Margaret, Her Grace, for various events. She hoped for Christmas goodies and perhaps an outdoor activity in the snow if she was lucky.
As the carriage jerked to a stop, Adeline realized they had just arrived. She could feel her body churn with nervous excitement. Christmas in a new setting was just what she needed. She didn’t want to dwell on any more somber thoughts about her future. Best to think of the present. And right now, it was time to get Margaret settled into her room and learn her new surroundings.
The carriage door flew open and Adeline was greeted with a blast of chilly air, along with several snowflakes that melted against her cheeks. Deeply, she breathed in the cool air and took a step down.
Well, she thought she did. Instead she missed the step completely and landed in an enormously oversized pile of snow. Why the coachman halted so near the snow was up for debate; regardless, from her prone position in the icy cold mass, the shock of the snow temporarily froze her eyelids shut. All she could hear was muffled laughter, from a woman, and then a voice that was a balm to her soul saying, “It’s alright. I’ve got you. Just let me get that snow for you.”
And attached to that balm for her soul were large warm hands that were a literal and immediate balm first to her waist, as they picked her up and set her on solid ground, and then to her face, as he began to brush some snow away.
Was love at first sound possible? If it wasn’t yet, Adeline found herself to be its first believer.
A voice rushed to speak, “Your Grace, allow me please. They need you inside. There’s an emergency.” The last three words were spoken in a hushed tone, likely not intended to be heard by Adeline.
His Grace? What kind of duke brushed snow off of an apparently clumsy lady’s maid? Surely he noticed that the duke and duchess were in the first carriage, and she had descended from the servants’ carriage.
“I was closest to her. I didn’t want to let her freeze there,” she heard The Balm explain to The Voice, as the packed snow still stuck to her face. Why she didn’t remove the snow caked on her face then and there was probably due to arm-paralyzing embarrassment. Better to hide herself from him anyway, especially knowing now he was the Duke of Stonecastle, their host.
“Of course, allow me to take care of her now.” The Voice reassured, but there was a hint of…what was that, disdain, in his tone?
Adeline waited to hear his footsteps crunching on the snow before wiping the snow from her own face. His Grace was gone, and only a blonde-haired beauty stood nearby inadequately stifling a laugh.
The blonde finally composed herself and said to her, “Bring the bags inside. Chauncey will show you the rooms.”
Jonathan and Margaret, the Duke and Duchess of Somersby, chose that moment to open the carriage door and greet the blonde, but not before Adeline noticed Margaret fixing a pin in her hair with a blush in her cheeks.
“Lady Antonia, how lovely to see you,” Margaret said to the snickering blonde.
The two gave a short embrace, shorter than normal for Margaret at least. But soon they began chattering about the weather.
As Margaret turned to survey the carriages, her eyes rested on Adeline. “Oh dear, Adeline. Are you alright? You look a fright.”
Margaret strode over to her and brushed some residual clumps of
“I’m fine, Your Grace.”
“Your lips are turning blue. Let’s get you inside.”
“I’m quite alright. Thank you.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed slightly and her smile tightened. “Let’s get you warm. Come along. We shall find Chauncey. He is a wonderful butler. I always feel welcome here.”
“I believe you are welcome everywhere you go, my dear.” Jonathan came up beside his wife, and Adeline watched him place a hand on Margaret’s back.
“Let’s all go inside. The footmen can see to the bags. As they usually do,” Jonathan eyed Lady Antonia as he took baby Katie from the nanny.
The family, plus Adeline, walked into Glass Hall.
Chapter 2
LUKE RUBBED HIS HANDS together. They were hot. What was their source of heat? They should have been chilly from the cool air and the snow he had been brushing off of the woman he had just met. Could he really call it meeting if he didn’t know her name? Especially if he wouldn’t recognize her under the snow-covered face he had been midway through brushing off? No, he could probably not call it meeting.
He clenched his hands into a fist and felt that his palms matched his fingers in temperature. His palms and fingertips. Two places of his body that had come into contact with the mystery woman.
He hadn’t immediately observed her emerging from the carriage, but when he had heard Lady Antonia’s snickering, he turned to see a woman face down in the snow. The footmen, along with everyone, were all focused on the Duke of Somersby’s carriage, an oversight to be sure. Since Luke was the closest to the snow-infused woman, and he had been taught by his grandmother to treat all people, regardless of station, with dignity and respect, he reached down to help her up. She had been light as a feather, but upon placing his hands on her waist, he had an odd thought of how natural it felt. Perhaps it had been too long since he had been with a woman.
Shaking off the thoughts of heated hands and snow-encrusted women, Luke allowed his thoughts to turn to his grandmother instead. Grandma Alice. More than just her parting words, she had spoken and lived one particular phrase to a T: always be humble, and always be kind.
Surely, his mother also emulated the family code, but Grandma Alice was their origin. After she passed, Glass Hall grew a little dim. His mother and three sisters had been walking around with empty eyes and hollow hearts for far too long now.
So this was the year. The year to finally do Christmas how Grandma Alice used to do it and how the family loved it. Everyone was out of mourning, and Luke, Duke of Stonecastle, could see just how much his family needed the joy of Christmas. It was all planned. To host the grandest Christmas party in ages, one needed to be thoroughly prepared. Luke had hired extra servants for the season. And of course there would be a masquerade ball. Grandma Alice’s favorite event. It had worked for her to find the love of her life, and it had proved successful for Alissa, Luke’s mother, to find true love as well. A bit of an odd family tradition, but if anything, Luke had high hopes for it.
As it was, he had enough women, mostly overbearing mothers at each elbow, introducing their eligible daughters to him. It was almost to the point that his body and mind turned numb upon hearing the words: May I present my daughter?
The only thing was that wherever he turned, each mother-daughter pair knew he was a duke. That wouldn’t be so terrible except that fact was all they really knew about him: duke.
Duke? Marry him. Not a duke? Move on.
Perhaps that was the magic of the masquerade. One could don a domino and play any character they chose. Incognito to the eyes of the ton. There was an enviable amount of freedom in that. Not that Luke didn’t appreciate being a duke. He respected the position and did his utmost to make his father proud. It came naturally. What wasn’t so natural was finding a woman to love him for who he was, not his title.
Though it was rare, both his grandparents and his parents had married into a love match. Having that example made it impossible for Luke not to aspire to a similar relationship. They had each been so happy together. It was the one, or one of the few, truly selfish desires Luke had.
So when he thought of the upcoming masquerade ball and all the guests that would be in attendance, he tried desperately to push his rampaging heart back into its cage. When that worked, more or less, he focused on putting one thought in front of the other.
At the very least, the masquerade would be a pleasurable party and a way to have Grandma Alice’s memory live on. At the most, he might magically find his future wife. So the search was on.
Luke bounded into the kitchen where the emergency was supposed to be happening, according to Chauncey. “What’s the crisis? And how quickly can we solve it? Chauncey said you needed me.”
“Your Grace,” the cook stepped toward him with a curtsy. “No crisis here. Just busy making the Christmas pudding with the brandy you prefer. I know how much your guests like it, especially that Duke of Dunbarshire fellow– ahem–His Grace. Don’t know where he packs it away, under that kilt somewhere, but he sure eats his share.”
In the moment, Luke didn’t have the heart to tell her that Egan had declined the Christmas house party invitation this year.
“It’s one of your most acclaimed dishes. We all look forward to it.” Luke glanced around noticing each servant working at a given task, rolling dough, mixing spices, checking the ovens. “Well, seeing as everything is running smoothly, I’ll be off.”
No emergency? I wonder what that was about? It wasn’t like Chauncey to misinterpret a situation, especially a crisis. Perhaps Cook had taken care of it before his arrival. That was the reason to not only hire competent servants, but also to treat them well. The better he treated them, the better they were at their jobs.
Well, since Cook mentioned brandy, that sounded like a good idea. What with all the guests that had arrived at Glass Hall, doubtless there would be someone to share a drink with.
And sure enough, when Luke reached the parlor room, he found Peter, the Duke of Bedford, sharing drinks with William, the Duke of Malton.
“Peter, how many is that?”
Bedford laughed, “Are you my wife? Keeping me accountable?”
“Just assessing how far behind I am,” Luke smiled as he poured two fingers for himself.
“Don’t mind Peter, he’s extra surly whenever he’s at Glass Hall,” William smirked.
“Sod off.”
