Compromised for Christmas (The Jennings Family #1)

12. Fitz

12

Fitz

P ut up a tree? That was an outrageous idea. Who did such a thing?

“Why ever not?” his wife asked, a pretty pink pout on her lips.

Fitz stopped on the opposite side of the table from his wife and sister. “Because it is not done. Next, we’ll be bringing in the woodland creatures as well.”

His sister crossed her arms over her chest and glared her identical amber eyes at him. Lovely. Two against one.

“It is done,” his wife said pointedly. “Queen Charlotte did it.” She arched an I-have-you-there brow.

And he supposed she did, because that was true. “But there is a crucial word in that sentence that you seem to be missing.”

“And what is that?” Felicity asked with a saucy shake of her head. Clearly, his sister was going to fight for his new wife’s inane idea.

“ Queen . The Queen can do whatever she bloody wants. She also houses an elephant in her stables. Shall we procure one of those next?”

“We’re getting an elephant? What a marvelous idea.” Felix strode into the dining room and dropped into the chair next to where Fitz was standing.

Fitz’s shoulders slumped. He had a feeling they were going to be putting up the tree. Lord, his wife seemed to radiate from within, apple-cheeks bunched from her excited smile as she and Felicity eagerly informed Felix of their eccentric plan.

It was almost comical that Fitz—the odd one in the family—was the one who didn’t want to do something as odd as put up a tree for Christmas. It was also alarming how many words he had just spoken, sans-stutter, to his wife. He had been articulate! He gave himself a little imaginary pat on the back.

If only the reason why wasn’t so depressing. It was because his brain was too busy digesting the fact that the man his wife had been waiting bare-breasted for in Fitz’s study was, in fact, the depraved Duke of Ironcrest. Big and beastly, dark and sinister, and chock full of all the confidence that Fitz himself lacked.

And if what he had overheard was correct, his wife was interested in the sorts of wickedness the Duke was known for. It was said Ironcrest always bound his lovers. Sometimes gagged them. And yet women clambered for a spot on their knees in front of him. Oh, to be used by the Duke, they whispered behind fans. That was what his wife wanted?

Fitz knew how to please a woman. And he knew eventually he would be able to bed his wife. But he had no experience with that variety of intimate activities. He supposed sex with the Duke was like a trifle to the ladies: multi-layered with fruit and custard and sponge cake soaked in sherry, loaded with whipped cream. But Fitz…Fitz was plain vanilla custard.

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Felix said, regarding the tree.

Of course he did.

His sister grinned. An evil, Felicity-has-an- idea grin. “I think Felix and Fitz should be the ones to chop down the trees.”

Trees? “When did it become plural?”

“Since there are two of you, there must be two trees. Whoever chops down the largest one wins!”

He glanced around at everyone in the room as though they’d lost their wits. Apparently, they had. Because no one else shared a mite of his incredulity.

Fitz crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot on the floor. “Yes, let us go swing axes for fun . That seems spectacularly safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe, Fitz,” Felix said with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll be swinging them at trees . Not at each other.”

“Don’t be a prat, Fitz,” Felicity added.

His wife’s gaze darted around the group, her eyes wide with a mixture of alarm and amusement.

Felicity leaned toward Georgiana, eyes never leaving Fitz’s, and said the words that always made Fitz capitulate. “Fitz is only trying to dissuade us because he knows he’ll lose .”

Ha. He’d lose. His arse, he’d lose. Plus, after overhearing about his wife’s desires and whom she had those desires about, it would probably be beneficial to heave an axe at something.

“Get me an axe,” he growled.