“How can I slow down, when I must place a catalogue into every future customer’s hand?”
“What if you didn’t?” Calvin suggested.
“Then how would we—” But an idea was already forming. He sat up straight. “Haberdashers.”
“Haberdashers?” Calvin repeated politely.
“Instead of printing and delivering catalogues to individual customers, we could provide them to each town’s local shops instead. Our customers would visit the shops to place their orders, which would increase the shopkeepers’ business, too. We could even offer them a commission.”
“Don’t you dare name the number,” Calvin warned. “I will discuss an appropriate commission with Nottingvale.”
Jonathan was happy to hand over the finer details. He had suddenly freed entire future months of his life. There were far fewer haberdashers than individual customers. Making the rounds would take time, but far less than he had feared.
“I suppose Fit for a Duke must have a headquarters.” If it was here in Cressmouth…
“London,” Calvin said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Jonathan supposed it was. “Besides being the center of the British postal system, I live there, Nottingvale spends the majority of his time there, all the most influential dandies and designers are there...”
None of that signified.
Jonathan set down his mug of chocolate. He didn’t need a pretext to stay. He had a reason: Angelica. She was more than enough.
That was, if she’d give him a second chance.
Chapter 14
Angelica cast an emotional eye about her parlor. It was hers now. Truly hers.
Today was Christmas in every sense of the word. She had all the things she’d worked so hard for. A shop, in her name. A home she owned outright. Recognition for her skill. A marvelous new business opportunity.
She flung her arms out wide and spun in a circle. She was free from her contract with Mr. Marlowe.
Without the specter of seven years’ worth of high rents hanging over her, she could now share her savings with her family; send home funds as often as she liked. Not just money—Angelica could go herself. She could embrace them, kiss their cheeks, talk with them, laugh with them, even when it wasn’t Christmas.
Could there be a better gift than family?
Soon, they would all meet back here after the church service to celebrate. The Yule log was in the fireplace, and festive boughs decorated with ribbons were placed strategically throughout her home. In a few hours, the cozy interior would overflow with conversation and love.
She’d prepared as much food as possible in advance, so that the evening could be spent with each other, rather than in the kitchen. The others had gone to claim the best pew in the chapel for Uncle Maurice’s sermon. They were an hour early, but one could not be too careful about such things.
Angelica was glad she hadn’t mentioned Jonathan would be joining them for their Christmas meal. She didn’t want to have to explain his absence.
Not that she would be saved from questions. No doubt half her family would chide her for not having invited him.
Once he was gone for good—if he wasn’t already—she could also look forward to questions from the rest of the village. Had she heard from Jonathan? What news did she have? When would he be back? No. None. Never.
It was almost enough to make her want to stay home this time.
But that wasn’t a choice, and Angelica wasn’t the sort who cowered. She would field uncomfortable questions with grace, and go about her life with her head held high.
No matter how she felt inside.
The wicker duke stood in a corner of her bedchamber. After spending a long night with its blank face watching over her in silence, she could state unequivocally that its presence was nothing at all like being with Jonathan. Angelica didn’t have the heart to toss it into a fire, but she might make a donation to the local haberdasher in the morning.
She hurried down the stairs and into her jeweler’s shop to ensure the sign was turned to CLOSED.
A figure stood outside, gloved hands tucked against his sides and his hat pulled low to block out the wind.
Her lungs caught, even though it wasn’t Jonathan.
It was her brother Luther.
She unlocked the shop door and cracked it open just far enough to peek outside. “Why in heaven’s name are you standing outside in the cold?”
“Waiting for you,” he said, teeth chattering. “Thought we could walk to church together.”
Her heart warmed. “That’s a lovely idea. One moment, whilst I grab my coat.”
As her hand reflexively moved to close the door, Angelica paused. What was she doing? Leaving her brother out in freezing weather because of her personal policy to refuse him entrance into her shop? He wasn’t here to mock her achievements, or to look around and list all the ways he would have done things better.
And even if he was... it was Christmas. Love was stronger than pride.
She pulled open the door. “Don’t just stand there.”
His eyes widened. “I can come in?”
She stepped aside, as though her heart weren’t knocking against her ribs. The last time they’d both been in the same jeweler’s shop, they’d found themselves in yet another shouting match.
Luther had said their father was right to leave the shop to him, and him alone. He was older. He knew best. He didn’t need a quarrelsome baby sister underfoot.
Months later, Angelica had informed him that he needn’t worry about her being in the way. She’d been offered her own shop, elsewhere. After seven years, the rewards would be even greater.
Luther had laughed, said she wouldn’t last seven days.
And now he was stepping across her threshold.
He glanced about in wonder. “Your shop is...”
Small? Tidy? Insignificant?
“...impressive,” he finished. His gaze went to the window display. “You designed all of these?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Those were the most inexpensive trinkets. Her most expensive, intricate work was locked away until after Christmas when her shop reopened. If Luther judged her based solely on her cheapest product—
“Your
