Sarah M. Eden - All Hearts Come Home for Christmas

Falstone Castle, Northumberland

1785

Falstone Castle had been Adam Boyces haven for all his seven years of life, the place where he and his father had lived and been happy. But Father was gone now, snatched away without the tiniest warning. Everything that had been safe and warm was empty and cold without him.

The servants moved Adams things from the nursery, lugging them by the armful. He swallowed back a lump emotion. Everything about this was wrong.

His nursemaid, Nurse Robbie, stood beside him, watching the efforts.

I dont want to leave the nursery, he told her. I like being here.

The masters rooms are yours now by rights, she said.

But Im only seven, he said.

Aye, but youre a wee duke now. Your father taught you to be a duke; I know he did.

He most certainly had. One of Fathers many lessons was that dukes dont cry. Adam took a shaky breath. Dukes dont cry. Even when every crack in his heart ached. Dukes dont cry.

Is Mamais my mother staying?

Only until you leave for school, love. Nurse Robbie put an arm around his slight shoulders. Then shes for Town.

Of course she was. Mother hadnt lived at Falstone Castle for years. Even before shed moved away for good, Adam had few memories of her being present for more than a day or two at a time, always running off on an adventure. Shed written to Father, but never to say that she was coming home.

After a time, Father had stopped reading the letters and Adam had stopped hoping she would return. Shed come back for the funeral but was leaving again.

Im going to be all alone. Adam tried to hold back his tears like a good duke.

Youll not be alone. Ill be here til youre grown. Jebll stay. Were not family to you, but we care about you, sweet bairn.

Dukes arent supposed to be sweet.

She chucked him under his chin. Dukes also arent supposed to be seven years old. But I suspect youll manage.

I dont want to be the duke. He couldnt entirely hold back his emotions. I want Father to be the duke again.

Nurse Robbie pulled him into a full-armed embrace. Wed all like that. He was a good man, your father. Took good care of the castle and all who live here. A good man and a good duke.

And a good father, Adam added, breathing through the pain searing his chest.

The best of fathers, she answered.

And he never called me My poor boy like Mother does just because my face is scarred and ugly.

Scarred, aye, but not ugly.

He tossed her a dry look of disbelief. I know what I am.

With a smile she asked, And what are you, my wee Adam?

He pushed out a breath. Im a duke.

A footman placed a traveling trunk in the corridor.

That isnt mine, Adam said.

Its Her Graces, the man answered, sketching a bow.

Mother was already packing, already preparing to leave, just as she had done again and again all his life. She was never there when he wanted her to be. When she did come, she didnt stay. Now he didnt even have Father to care about him and help fill that Mother-shaped void.

His eyes filled with tears as he stared at that trunk, willing it to unpack, to be put away for good.

Dont go, Mother, he silently pleaded. Dont leave me here alone.

Another trunk was placed beside the first, and he had his answer. His next breath shuddered. He sniffled and hiccupped. I am a duke now, he reminded himself.

Father had taught him to be a duke.

Adam fortified his seven-year-old heart. If Mother didnt love him, he wouldnt allow himself to love her or long for her or need her. The pain in his heart was so enormous he knew he wouldnt be able to bear it if he couldnt relieve it somehow.

He simply wouldnt care. About her. About anyone. Not ever again.

I am a duke now. Dukes dont cry. And dukes dont need people.