Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 59
An unexpected lump formed in his throat. His own parents were the heart of Everly Manor. He couldn’t imagine the family home without picturing one or both of them in their favorite rooms. The young woman’s sorrow hung heavily on the air.
“I am sorry, Miss Price. Truly, I am.” The words themselves rang hollow, but the sentiment filled his heart.
“In London, there would have been parties to serve as a distraction,” she said. “Instead, we are stuck in this empty house, and no matter how hard Bess tries to make it feel like home, it is lonely without Papa.”
Fat tears splattered the sheet music in her lap.
Once again, he was faced with a lady’s tears, and he was no more prepared than he’d been in the past. He shot a wild look in Bess’s direction, but no help would be forthcoming. She’d slumped lower on the chair; a faint smile graced her lips as if she was wrapped in the arms of a pleasant dream.
Miss Price plucked an embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve. “Forgive me. These waves of melancholy come over me without warning.”
He wet his dry lips and calculated the possible reactions he might receive if he voiced an idea.
Faith. It couldn’t get worse than tears. He stood and swiveled on his heel. “Return to Everly Manor with me—you and Bess. My parents are hosting a house party to celebrate Christmas, and it is sure to be as diverting as any party in London.”
“Oh!” She blinked and wiped her eyes again. “Wouldn’t it be impolite to arrive without an invitation?”
“I am extending an invitation, Miss Price.”
“But—"
“Is my word not good enough? I can put it in writing if you prefer,” he teased. “Retrieve a quill and paper.”
A reluctant smile tweaked her lips. “Your word is enough, my lord, but I cannot abandon Davensworth Cottage.”
“Are you worried about the young ones? Bess told me about their mother. It must be a difficult Christmas for them, too.” He smacked the top of the pianoforte as he made a decision. “We will bring them. The servants have their own celebration before leaving to visit family on Boxing Day. Robbie and Anne will have fun, and your cook will appreciate an extended holiday.”
When it appeared she might argue, he rushed to add, “If you will not agree for your own sake, do it for them.”
She cried out. “What a manipulative trick.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “When you have as many siblings as I, you learn to use whatever weapons are available to win an argument. Bess will run herself ragged to give you the perfect Christmas. Do it for her.”
“Oh, you are a rat!” She fluttered her arms like a cat trying to swipe him. He danced out of reach, both of them laughing.
“Do you call that fighting? Stand up. Every lady should know how to deliver a proper facer.”
She dropped the handkerchief on the piano keys and allowed him to drag her from the bench like he would one of his sisters.
“Raise your fists.”
She mirrored his movements. He corrected her stance. When he encouraged her to swing, her fist arched through the air.
“Put some strength behind it, Miss Price.”
She followed his instructions, throwing her fists in his direction repeatedly.
“Oof!” He pretended she landed each punch and made silly faces.
The sadness that had overtaken her earlier retreated. Her grief was still there, buried beneath her smiles, but he was pleased he could distract her from it, even temporarily. It seemed like something Bess would do.
“What happened to the music?” Her voice was husky from sleep, and she gazed at them in drowsy amusement.
“Miss Price disagreed with my song choice and challenged me to fisticuffs.”
Bess’s cousin doubled over with laughter. He didn’t think his comment deserved such a robust response, but Miss Price likely needed the release.
Bess’s jade green eyes emitted a soft warmth that penetrated his chest and infused his heart. Her gratitude was tangible, her pleasure a hard-won prize.
I could fall in love with this woman.
The thought stunned him. He needed to sit. He staggered to the settee and plopped on the cushion.
What madness is this? We are strangers.
Yet, when he looked at her, he couldn’t stop his subconscious from making another declaration. She could be the one.
“Faith,” he muttered and drove his fingers through his hair. Exhaustion was playing tricks with his mind. “Ladies, if you will excuse me, I am ready to retire for the evening.”
Miss Price squinted at the pendulum clock on the side table beside him. Lamplight reflected off the glass dome designed to protect the gears and inner workings of the clock. Four brass orbs twirled back and forth with mesmerizing grace.
“It is barely nine o’clock.”
“How odd.” Julius blinked, breaking the clock’s spell over him. “It feels later. I hope you can forgive me for being a dull guest.”
Bess adjusted her position in the chair so she was no longer slumping. “No one would ever accuse you of being dull.”
“I should say not.” Miss Price was beaming. “Rather the opposite, I think. I’m loath to see the evening end.”
“Lord Julius deserves a good night’s rest,” Bess said. “Sleep well, my lord.”
Since she appeared more alert and less in need of his assistance finding her way to bed, he sketched a bow. “Sleep well, ladies.”
Miss Price was talking about the invitation to Everly Manor as he exited. He didn’t linger outside the door to hear what Bess thought of the change in plans. Part of him hoped she would kick up a fuss and refuse; the other half would be terribly disappointed if she did.
Chapter Eight
Julius slowed the four person sleigh at the crest of a hill. His cheeks were pink from the thrilling ride, and his eyes held a feverish gleam. He was in his element. “Have you ever driven one of these?” he asked.
Bess shook her head.
His younger sister Octavia groaned in the back seat. “Here we go, another lesson.”
Calliope, who was two years younger, shushed her.
“No heckling from the back”—Julius tossed a wry smile over his shoulder—“or you will receive a lesson in mucking stalls when we reach Ammie’s house.”
Octavia scoffed. “You are full of empty threats, as usual.”
Bess chuckled. She admired the girl’s gall and hoped it served her well once she was unleashed on Society in a few years.
Bess hadn’t expected to see much of Julius once they arrived at Everly Manor. The morning after their kiss and her embarrassing fall, he was in a somber mood when he announced the roads were safe for travel. He certainly hadn’t been the same jovial man who worked without complaint alongside her at Davensworth Cottage or chased away her cousin’s blues with his antics.
Any hope of furthering their association were quashed when he chose to ride on the box with the driver.
He is angry with me, she’d confided to Gemma on the journey to Everly Manor. Perhaps I should return once you are settled at the party.
Lord Julius is not one to harbor a grudge, Bess. You will see once you know him better.
Bess had thought her cousin’s view of men was naive, a consequence of unique upbringing. In her own experience, men were fragile creatures who sulked when their pride was bruised or blustered when outright insulted. Even her husband, who’d been good and decent, stopped talking to her for days whenever he’d felt slighted.
Julius shattered all of her preconceptions. Whatever was bothering him vanished after his audience with his parents soon after his return home yesterday. This morning, with his good humor restored, Julius and Bess had resumed their friendly banter.
“Tell me you’ve at least driven a buggy,” he said.
Bess shook her head again. She’d never had cause to learn. If she’d needed transportation, she always had a coach at her disposal, or one of her brothers claimed the reins.
Julius’s sigh was dramatic and noisy. “What are young ladies being taught these days?”
“How would I know? I’ve been out of the school room for years.”
“It couldn’t have been a very long time.”
“Oh, but it has. I’m twenty-six.”
“Egads, twenty-six?” He clucked his tongue. “Before you know it, you’ll have a head of grey hair and need an ear trumpet. We best get on with it before it is too late.”
“Get on with what?”
“Your first lesson.” He draped his arm on the back of the seat they shared. “Every lady should know how to drive a sleigh.”
“Are you serious?”
He extended the reins.
A giddy laugh bubbled at the back of her throat; she accepted the sturdy leather straps.
“Hold the ribbons firmly,” he said. “Don’t allow any slack.”
“Throwing a punch. Driving a sleigh. You have unusual thoughts on what skills a lady should acquire.”
“He just wants someone who can bring him home whenever he’s foxed,” Octavia piped up.
“What did I say about cheeky comments from the back?” Julius playfully lunged at his sisters. Octavia and Calliope squealed, bumping against the sides of the sleigh and laughing as they evaded his wiggling fingers.
Julius and his siblings teased one another relentlessly, but there was no malice between them. Bess envied their easy camaraderie. Her brothers had always gawked at her if she were an oddity, and they still addressed her like a child, even though she was their elder.
The mare moved forward. Bess startled. “Whoa!”
With a grin, Julius dropped back on the seat and rested his arm behind Bess again. “I thought this was new to you.”
“This might come as a surprise, my lord, but I have ears. I heard you giving commands.”
“Is that true?” He slid his hand beneath her quilted bonnet and cradled her earlobe, gently rolling it between his gloved fingers. A thrilling shiver raced through her. His eyes darkened and a lazy smile lifted one side of his mouth higher than the other. “Indeed, Lady Hadley. You do have ears.”
“At least one,” Octavia said. “Can we go now? It’s cold."
Calliope snickered.
“Remind me why we invited them along.” Julius winked at Bess and dropped his hand to his lap. “It is a straight path from here, but if you want Daisy to go right say gee. Left is hey. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said on a wisp of breath. She couldn’t stop smiling. “Daisy, walk.”
The leather creaked and vibrated as if it were alive. All that power at her fingertips sent a rush of exhilaration through her veins. She urged the mare into a trot.
On the horizon, a quaint Tudor-style house came into view. It was nestled between a grove of evergreen trees and a frozen lake. Smoke rose from two of the three chimney stacks, and a ringed fire blazed on the bank. Several of the Seabrook’s offspring had made their way onto the ice. Off to the side, two women were conversing with a peddler hawking his wares.
Calliope squealed. “Look! The gypsies are back.” Julius asked her not to scream in his ear anymore, and he’d allow her to select a new ribbon. She squealed again then slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
As Bess drove the sleigh into the yard, a spotted spaniel with floppy ears ran to greet them.
“Mr. Perkins!” Calliope scrambled from the sleigh as soon as it stopped and crouched on the ground to ruffle the dog’s ears.
Bess sought out her cousin and discovered her skating with one of Julius’s brothers. Max, perhaps?
She had worked hard trying to memorize all of Julius’s siblings’ names at breakfast. It was a daunting task, and three sisters hadn’t been present. The only name she remembered with certainty was Hugh’s. The youngest Seabrook boy was rambunctious during the meal and was scolded often. Bess thought the boy was just excited for a fun day with his brothers and sisters where he didn’t have to watch is manners as closely.
Julius’s sister was lying in wait for the birth of her first child. Therefore, she and her husband were not attending the house party. Reportedly, Major and Mrs. Rowland preferred the quiet of the cottage and the company of their dogs anyway, so it was no hardship for either of them. Julius had suggested his brothers and sisters take the party to Ammie and her husband instead. Hence, the impromptu Christmas Eve gathering.
Bess suspected she and Gemma had only been invited because Julius felt an obligation to entertain them since they were his guests. His motive didn’t concern her overmuch. She was thrilled to be included. Since Julius’s arrival on Davensworth Cottage’s doorstep, Bess woke each morning with an unbearable eagerness for his company, like her insides couldn’t settle until she saw his face.
A stablehand came to unharness the mare. Julius extended his hand to Bess. “I imagine you prefer to observe rather than venture onto the ice so soon after your fall.”
“You imagine wrong, my lord.” Placing her hand in his, she climbed from the sleigh. “I want to grab every moment of pleasure this day has to offer.”
Chapter Nine
Julius pressed a mug of warm chocolate into Bess’s hands and returned to the sideboard to retrieve one for himself. She laughed at one of Clive’s stories about the time he, Julius, and Max climbed onto the roof at Everly Manor and became stuck. When they yelled for help, Ammie and Laurel thought there were ghosts in the attic stuck in the afterlife. The smokey sound of Bess’s laughter melted his insides. He loved the rich, sultry tone.
His sister Ammie sidled close to him. Without her hooded cape to hide her condition, her belly appeared even larger than it had that afternoon. He poured a cup for her; she accepted it with an arched brow.
“How thoughtful, Julius.”
“Are you surprised?”
“Yes,” she admitted then shook her head when he frowned. “Not about being a thoughtful brother. You’ve always come to my rescue. I meant the way you are with Lady Hadley. I’ve never seen you dance attendance on anyone. I am filled with optimism.”
“Optimism.” He chuckled under his breath and poured himself a mug. “I hope you haven’t cornered me in order to ask if I’ll place a bet for you at Ascot.”
“It was one time,” Ammie said with a huff. “If you had granted my wish, we would have had winnings to split. I promised I would share.”
“Only because you knew Mother would kill me when she found out. Then you wouldn’t have to hand over a single shilling.”
Ammie grimaced and clutched her stomach.
His heart jumped into his throat. “Are you in labor?”
Ammie shushed him. “You will upset Phillip. The baby is kicking again.”
Julius’s alarm ebbed. “An active one, eh? Mother would claim it’s the Danish blood.”
“Maybe she is right. I am beginning to worry my child will take after his Uncle Hugh,” she said. “I thought the boy would mellow with age.”
Julius glanced over his shoulder to observe the scene in the other room. Their twelve-year-old brother was hopping on one foot and waving his arms to gain Ammie’s husband’s attention. “He is still obsessed with the major, I see.”
“Phillip is very patient with him. I don’t know how he bears it. All those questions about the military… They are never ending.” Ammie’s favorite spaniel, Mr. Perkins trotted into the room and sat at her feet. She broke off a piece of a biscuit and fed it to him. “I noticed you changed the subject. Why are you different with Lady Hadley? And don’t bother denying it. Your face becomes all soft when you look at her.”
“It does?” Julius touched his cheek. “Faith, did anyone else notice?”
Ammie shrugged. “No one has said anything to me, but they weren’t prohibited from going on the ice. I had little to do besides pay attention.”
Julius should deny her claim, at least until he sorted his feelings for Bess. In his family, secrets were as real as unicorns. They didn’t exist. But it was Ammie. If anyone would understand, she would. Besides, he wanted to confide in someone.
“I think I love her,” he whispered, “but it’s too soon. Isn’t it too soon?”
“I had the same worries about Phillip.” Ammie placed her mug on the sideboard and held her lower back with both hands. “Who falls in love in a matter of days? It is madness.”
“It could just be a strong attraction,” he said.
“You’ve been attracted to ladies in the past. Does it feel the same?”
“No,” he murmured. “Nothing has ever felt this way. I want to be with her all the time. Am I losing my mind?”
“If so, I lost mine around the same time last year.” His sister met her husband’s eyes and smiled. “My heart knew the truth before my head. You don’t need your little sister telling you what to do, but you might want to listen to what your own heart has to say.”
He would be a fool to ignore her advice. Major Rowland adored her. There was no other reason he would tolerate Hugh firing questions at him that he’d answered a hundred times already.
“For my second act of kindness,” Julius said, “I will rescue your husband.”
“You are destined for sainthood, dear brother.” He didn’t miss the touch of irony.
Julius snatched a needlepoint pillow from a rocking chair as he returned to the drawing room. “Hugh, come here. Let’s play a game.”
He instructed his brother to stand in the middle of the room. “I will throw the pillow to Clive, and if you miss it, Major Rowland will give you orders.”
“What if I catch it?”
“If you catch the pillow,” Ammie’s husband said, “I will allow you one question.”
Hugh liked the idea and threw himself into the activity, and sometimes onto the floor. When William, three years Hugh’s senior, joined the game, Julius couldn’t hear anyone over the racket the boys made.
Ammie motioned to her sisters from the doorway.
