The Duke of Christmas Past Read Online Free PDF

to
do."
    Past Duke shrugged. "Make the right decision to fix
what you did wrong."
    Donovan gritted his teeth. "How will I know when the
past is fixed?"
    "When your heart no longer hurts." With that, he
disappeared.
    I'm really starting to dislike him — myself — me —
oh for heaven's sake. He let out a string of curses and stomped
to the patio and into the ballroom.

Chapter Six
     
    Donovan stepped through the doors of the terrace. The
ballroom seemed to resemble the lawn more than a fancy assembly
room. All shades of greenery covered every column, candlebra, and
wall. Pinecones and sprigs of fir served as centerpieces on the
refreshment tables. The fresh scent of evergreen wafted through the
air, filling the room with the minty aroma. Tiny pieces of
needle-shaped leaves littered the beautifully polished marble
floor.
    He surveyed the crowd. How things had changed in the
past eight years. Did Lord and Lady Kringle still hold their
Christmas Eve ball in 1820? Was he still included on their guest
list? His secretary Brooks had been informed to decline most of the
invitations he received. Attending social events hadn't interested
him since—
    His blood boiled. Rage coursed through his body. He
glared at the dancers. Where was she? No doubt dancing with that
scoundrel Roland Melwyn, Fourth Earl of Norcross. Brilliant colors
of violet and white and blue flashed in front of him followed by an
array of green and red and yellow as the pattern reformed. No pink
silk whirling about. None in the second set either. Perhaps in the
third — no, there Tess was. And she was indeed dancing with
Norcross. How could she have married that lackwit?
    He started for the couple only to stop after a few
steps. Was he insane? Given that he had not only shared a brandy
with himself in his study but was actually reliving Christmas Eve
1812, it was highly possible he had lost his senses. But was he
actually about to go so far as to cause a scandal in front of the ton over a dance? What was he going to do once he reached
them? Challenge the earl to a duel? And why? Because he was
jealous?
    Like a hot poker stabbing through his heart, the
memory of learning Tess had accepted Norcross's marriage proposal
flooded him. He'd been wrong. This wasn't a nightmare. He'd died
and gone to his fiery home.
    He changed directions and headed to the refreshment
table, in need of a stiff drink. To his disappointment, he had to settle for a punch made of champagne and
crushed peaches. Tiny pieces of the fruit stuck to his tongue,
leaving a tart taste on his palate. What he wouldn't give for a
goblet of strong brandy. Perhaps two goblets.
    He averted his eyes from the dancers, unable to
witness the budding romance between Tess and the earl, and there at
the end of the table stood Delia's friend Lady Ivy Plumthorne. She
was striking in her purple gown, but she eyed the ballroom door as
if contemplating her escape. A sentiment Donovan understood all too
well.
    He walked toward her, pausing when
he reached her side. "Lady Ivy, I trust you will keep my
sister in line this evening."
    She smiled and curtsied. "I shall try my best, your
grace. But Delia rarely makes that an easy task."
    "Indeed." He took another sip of the punch and had to
resist the urge to smack his lips together to dislodge the errant
bits of peach from his teeth. Against his will,
his gaze slid over the dancers, again seeking the pink of Tess's
gown. "How are your parents?"
    "Very well, thank you for asking. Is something
amiss, your grace?"
    Without taking his eyes off Tess, he replied,
"Donovan, call me Donovan. I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"
    Lady Ivy laughed. "Because you are scowling at the
dancers with a frown so deep it almost goes past your chin."
    He stood up straighter and cleared his throat.
"Forgive me. My manners seem to be lacking tonight."
    "Fortunately, Miss Warren has enough for both of
us."
    His body warmed at the mention of Tess and he smiled
at Lady Ivy. "And what social