Free THE DUKE’S MATCH GIRL: A Christmas Fiery Tale Novella (Fiery Tales Series) by Lila DiPasqua Page A

He has kind kin.”
    “How on earth would you even know that?” Suzanne asked, feeling frustrated and furious at the bane of her existence: Leo d’Ermart.
    “Well, he looks as though he has kind kin,” Marie reasoned. “Also, he told us so.”
    She couldn’t believe Leo had done this.
    She had to get out. There was a duc she needed to see. One she might push off the nearest cliff just so she could have some normalcy in her life again!
    And perhaps some sleep.
    Suzanne stepped around Marie but didn’t get far. The youngest Alard sister immediately blocked her path.
    “You should go with the duc to his château because he has wonderful shoulders. It’s always much more pleasant to dine with a man with wonderful shoulders.”
    “I don’t think so.” Suzanne managed to get only another two feet when the shoemakers, Monsieur and Madame Falque, stepped in her way.
    “The duc is delightful company,” the wife said. The husband added, “He has excellent footwear!”
    Actually, the duc makes me pant shamelessly, and I couldn’t care less about what he sticks on his feet…
    “If you’ll please excuse me…” She inched her way out, all while Leo’s praises were bellowed at her from every direction. “He is very handsome!” “He is rich!” “He’s utterly charming.” “No one turns down a duc!”
    “He lives in a grand palace!”
    At last she breached the doorway.
    Rising up onto the balls of her feet, she tried peering over the crowd, looking for Leo’s camp.
    It was gone.
    In its place was a larger horde of townspeople than in her shop.
    She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then made her way across the street to the inn with as much dignity as one could muster while being jostled and verbally accosted with the attributes of the Duc of Mont-Marly.
    It took many aloud
“Excuse me”
and
“Pardon me”
over the calamity, and several idiotic responses like,
“No, I don’t think the duc’s exceptional clothing and intellect are deciding factors,”
before she finally reached the inn.
    After snatching open the door, Suzanne slammed it shut behind her, and locked it. She slumped against it, the roar of the crowd barely muffled by the barrier.
    The innkeeper, Joseph, rushed to her. The tall, elderly gentleman was her father’s age.
    “Good day, Mademoiselle Matchet.”
    She was already marching across the room toward the stairs. “Good day, Joseph.” She tried not to sound gruff toward the kindly man. “Which room is the Duc de Mont-Marly in, please?”
    “He’s on the second floor, mademoiselle. In the largest room we have—at the far end of the hall.” Joseph cleared his throat. “And might I add…you should join the duc for the upcoming fête because he is, well, a duc, after all.”
    Et tu, Brute?
Why was she suddenly feeling like Caesar in the book she’d read once from the d’Ermart library by the Englishman William Shakespeare? Leo had gotten to dear Joseph, too. “Thank you, Joseph. And I’m quite aware of his title.”
    “Well, perhaps you should consider that he is a wealthy man.”
    “I’m aware of that.”
    “With much power and influence.”
    “I’m aware of that, too.”
    “What about his enormous manhood?”
    That stopped her dead in her tracks. She turned. “
Pardon?
”
    Joseph turned dark crimson. “Oh, no…no, I…I didn’t mean… What… What I meant to say is that he has great presence. He… He’s a tall, masculine man. The very kind women like. A very manly man…Not… Not to suggest that you have any interest in the duc in that regard! Or… Or to imply there is anything untoward about his invitation…I’m… I’m needed in the kitchen. Please, excuse me…” He rushed off, rubbing the back of his neck.
    She shook her head.
    Fuming, Suzanne raced up to Leo’s room. She raised her fist and pounded on the door.
    The door was snatched open.
    Standing there was the one and only Leo d’Ermart.
    His dark hair wet. Wearing nothing but his black