Jane took a breath. “You don’t realize that is what I am doing — ensuring that Mary rests and doesn’t worry. If I don’t help, then she might be in here herself and would give birth right here on this kitchen floor.”
“Let’s both hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Jane nodded.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “What do you need me to do?”
“Do you know how to cook the rum punch?”
“No.”
“How about slice the goose?”
“No.”
“How about light the candles of the Christmas tree?”
“That I can do.”
She passed him the matches and he was soon blessedly out of the kitchen. She couldn’t concentrate with him here, and he took up far too much space in the small room.
As she risked spilling the entirety of the pea soup on her skirt, she knew she should have changed before cooking the rest of the supper, but she had forgotten as she was trying to take advantage of the short bit of time available to her.
“Jane?”
Now she did spill a ladle-full, and she looked down forlornly at the stain on her bosom before seeing who the speaker might be.
“Nick,” she said with a small smile, although she was now concerned that Billy’s family was already here. “How was the rest of the service?”
“Fine,” he said, nodding at her from where he slouched against the door with his hands in his pockets. “You disappeared.”
“Mary wasn’t well,” Jane explained, and he nodded.
“So I am told. She seems in better spirits now, however.”
“Yes,” Jane said with a short laugh, “she is her usual self at the moment.”
“Can I help with anything?”
Jane hesitated. “Is your mother here?”
“She is, but she is currently preoccupied with her grandchildren. Little Andrew already found his gift of a rocking horse while Amelia is searching everywhere for the doll she is sure is waiting for her.”
Jane smiled at the thought of it.
“I do hope Abigail will be here soon, but in the meantime, I suppose there are a few tasks I could use some help with.”
“Just say the word.”
Jane soon had Nick hard at work, slicing the goose and preparing it for the table’s centerpiece, as well as setting the rum punch to boil. He teased her for her slowness as she tried to cut the parsnips, and she laughed when they ran into one another for the second time in the middle of the small kitchen.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a chuckle. “But thank you for your help, Nick. I do really appreciate it. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Nick smiled broadly, but before he could say anything, they both looked to the doorway when another presence drew their attention.
“Duncan!” Jane said in surprise, shivering at the hardness of his countenance as he stared at them within. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Apparently not,” he said, to which Jane frowned. “Abigail is back,” he said. “Perhaps we should leave things to her now.”
“She cannot do all of this alone!” Jane said, surprised that he would suggest such a thing.
“Then perhaps the rest of the family could help as well.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Nick said easily, earning him one of Duncan’s hard stares.
Jane stepped past Nick, placing a hand on Duncan’s arm, not pleased with his surliness. She was unsure where it had even come from, but she certainly didn’t welcome it.
“What’s gotten into you?” she murmured, searching his eyes, but he shrugged and looked away.
“Nothing at all,” he said. “I’ll be outside if you need me. I don’t think I’m good for much in here.”
With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Jane to stare after him in dismay. Where was the Duncan who had treated her so tenderly and whispered endearments in her ear just last night? He was back to being the bitter man who had arrived in London on a mission of misplaced motivations, and she didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
Chapter 13
Duncan stared moodily down the quiet street, watching skiffs of snow swirl in the wind. He knew he had just made an ass of himself, and now he was unsure of how to make it right. He had always thought that he enjoyed his quiet existence with little responsibility for others. When he had first met the Miller family he had wanted nothing more than to put great distance between himself and them. But then he had the opportunity to see what it meant to be close to a family that cared so deeply for one another, from the littlest Amelia to Billy’s mother. He wondered if he would ever grow such a family himself.
And then when he had seen Jane in the kitchen with Nick Miller, the two of them working together so harmoniously as Nick performed all of the skills that Duncan had lacked, his jealousy had escaped its cage and he hadn’t been able to hold back his ire.
While he was aware that Jane was physically attracted to him — how could he not be, after their night together — Nick was the type of man she would be better off with. Even if he was English.
“Are you going to stand out here all night and brood in the cold?”
He turned around swiftly, not pleased with his lack of instincts, to find Mary standing behind him.
“What are you doing out here?” he demanded. “You are supposed to be inside resting.”
“Well, I suppose I can become overwhelmed as much as you can be,” she said with a wry laugh. “Besides that, I thought some fresh air would help.”
“You’re still not feeling well?” he asked, to which she shook her head.
“Not entirely,” she said, setting her jaw. “I’m sure it will pass.”
Duncan knew that Jane wasn’t so sure, but it certainly wasn’t his place to say anything if Jane had chosen not to.
“We could tell Billy’s family to go home,” Duncan suggested, but Mary shook her head, her eyes wide. “We couldn’t. This holiday means so much to them. I know we don’t quite understand, coming from the Highlands as we do, but Christmas… it’s special, if you let it in, Duncan.”
Duncan snorted. “You’re becoming English, Mary.”
“No,” she said with a soft smile. “I have just become a wife is all.”
He turned, not wanting to show the emotion that he might not be able to properly hide. He was actually beginning to understand what she meant by that. He was sure he would do or say anything to make Jane happy — even if it meant staying here in London and celebrating this holiday with her and the largest, loudest family he had ever met.
Mary must have guessed what he was thinking anyway.
“Do you love her?” she asked, not needing to specify just who she was talking about. Duncan remained silent. Jane deserved to know before her sister.
Mary, however, didn’t seem to need to hear the words.
“I thought you might. The two of you would suit one another, you know. She and I have gotten on well our entire lives, and you and I are more alike than I’m sure either of us wants to admit.”
At that, Duncan turned. “Yes, but does being with people like you and me mean that Jane will always be overshadowed?”