Read All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke for Free Online

raised skirt.
    She almost kicked him. “I’ll mind you not to look!”
    He glanced up at her, his hand instantly releasing her calf. “Forgive me.”
    Her face and every inch of her prickled in awareness. She could sense that his apology was genuine. “Rip the skirt if you must.”
    Still kneeling before her in the snow, he held her gaze. “If I rip your skirt, your stockings will be on display.”
    Her chest tightened. “Point well taken. Don’t rip the skirt.”
    “I won’t.” Lowering his gaze, he shoved aside a curtain of her skirts from his shoulder, yanked the nail out completely, and tossed it. “There.”
    She stepped away, relieved to be free again. “Thank you.”
    He nodded and slowly rose to his full height of over six feet. He readjusted his winter coat and lingered before finally asking, “Might I ask when you last saw your father?”
    She lapsed into silence, thinking of her father. She missed him. More than she cared to admit to herself. “Almost ten years ago. When I first left the house to sing.” She tried to strike the misery from her tone.
    “I always felt responsible for the rift between you and him. I led you astray those years ago by giving you the wrong advice. I should have never told you to leave.”
    Her heart squeezed, knowing what he meant. Martin had been the first person she had entrusted her secret to by telling him she was going to cast aside getting engaged to the man her father had in mind for her and become an independent woman: an opera singer. Instead of Martin being startled or trying to dissuade her, he had merely fingered his book of poetry, which he always carried with him like a shield, and quietly offered, “You have a gift, Jane. You should share it with the world.”
    And she did just that. “You didn’t lead me astray, Martin. Your encouragement opened my eyes to a world few women ever get a chance to see. I regret nothing.”
    “Even though it came at a very high price?”
    She shrugged. “Dreams usually do.”
    He nodded. “Yes. Yes, I suppose they do.” As if wanting to veer past the point, he gestured to the largest tiered spice cakes in the window, which were supported by marzipan columns and candied fruits. “My mother always served spice cake whenever you visited. Do you remember?”
    Jane pinched her lips together, noting the way his voice had softened in reminiscence. She knew how close he and the duchess had been. Jane, herself, had felt blessed to say she knew the dear woman for almost a year before she had succumbed to a fever. In many ways, Jane knew Martin had never recovered from his mother’s death. Already quiet in nature, he had grown more withdrawn. Except around her.
    Jane intently observed the way his dark brows had come together as he continued to survey the four-tier cake. Aside from those soulful dark eyes, she had to admit she hardly recognized him.
    That regal profile and the set of his shaven chin against his red silk cravat bespoke of a man who rarely took the time to stare at display windows. He had been seventeen when she had last seen him. He then took off on tour and didn’t bother to even say farewell for reasons she never understood. He had to be about five and twenty now. Hardly a boy. The gap between them had faded with the years.
    He paused, recapturing her gaze. “Is something wrong?”
    Her heart almost popped up into her throat, knowing she had been caught watching him. “No.” Tightening her shawl around her shoulders, she managed, “I should go. It was a pleasure seeing you again.”
    “I was hoping you and I could find time to talk.” He glanced toward the people passing them. “I have a carriage waiting at the curb. Was there anywhere in particular you needed to go?”
    She shook her head. “No, thank you. I don’t wish to be a burden.”
    “It wouldn’t be a burden.”
    “I intend to walk.”
    “Walk? To Foley Street?”
    “Yes.”
    “From here?”
    “Yes.”
    “But it’s more than two