Yuletide Happily Ever After II: An Original Regency Romance Collection

by Anna Bradley

  “Emma appears to have weathered the confrontation well enough,” she replied, drinking in the sight of him while he was unaware she did so.

  He nodded. “She was a lioness. I was very proud of how she handled herself. It is all over now. Nothing to fear from the future.”

  They were both silent a moment. He dropped his hand from the mantle and turned to her. “Rose.”

  Not Lady Rose.

  “Thomas,” she replied, excitement building in her. He was looking at her in a new way. She was no longer his sister’s friend. He looked at her as if she was a beautiful, desirable woman, a woman he wanted to spend his life with.

  Thomas plucked a piece of mistletoe from an arrangement on a small side table. He walked to the settee and sat down beside her. Dangling the mistletoe over her head with one hand, he looked up at the greenery. “Do you realize you’re sitting under a sprig of mistletoe?”

  “So I am.” She raised her chin, a challenge in her words.

  “Your chaperone has gone missing.” He leaned in, his greenish-brown eyes meeting hers.

  “I suppose we should take advantage of that fact,” she replied with what she hoped was a sultry smile.

  His gaze moved to her lips. “My thoughts exactly.”

  Boldly, she put one hand behind his neck, pulled his head down, and kissed him. All the passion and love she felt for him was in her kiss. He loved her and she was the happiest woman in England.

  “Rose,” he said against her lips. “My darling Rose.”

  The soft warmth of his mouth over hers, the tenderness in his words washed over her. She would never get enough of his touch, his scent. She felt bereft when he released her lips and raised his head.

  “There. Now you’ve had your second kiss.” He added, “My sister said you had a secret. Was it that you’d never been kissed?”

  Rose shook her head. Although they’d never spoken of it after Thomas rejected her when she was twelve years old, Emma had evidently guessed her friend was still in love with her brother.

  “I never stopped loving you. I was never infatuated with all those men,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “I just didn’t want you to know I still loved you. After all these years you’re the only man I’ve ever wanted, ever loved.”

  “That is wonderful news,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to be in love all by myself.”

  She met his gaze. “Do you really love me?” she asked, her heart in her throat. She would never tire of hearing him say it.

  “It came on very slowly,” he said with a crooked smile. “You were my sister’s friend. I always thought you were pretty and very talented.”

  Rose smiled awkwardly at his compliments.

  “And when Emma had her accident, you were strong for her and for me. I think Emma would still be in that dark place without your help.”

  When she shook her head, he continued, “You saved us both. I can’t change what happened—the accident, the lies. I’m sorry I hurt Emma. Sorry I lied to you. Sorry I stayed away.”

  “All is forgiven,” she said and meant it. “That is my Christmas gift to you.”

  “May I give you a gift in return?” His voice had grown very deep. She rejoiced at the love she saw in his eyes.

  “Would Aunt Abigail approve?” she asked with a grin.

  He appeared to consider the question before he replied, “She has led me to believe she would.”

  “Now I am very intrigued.”

  His hazel eyes had darkened to gold. He cupped her cheek in the palm of one hand and said ever so softly, “I give you my heart, Lady Rose Blevins. It is yours forever and always.”

  * * * * *

  That night after supper, Abigail excused herself for the evening. “Tomorrow will be such a busy day. I shall need my rest.”

  She gave her niece a peck on the cheek and squeezed one of Emma’s hands.

  “Goodnight, Aunt Abigail,” Thomas said to her awkwardly.

  Abigail gave him a nod, exceedingly pleased the young man had addressed her as she now expected him to. Her designation as aunt was one she was very proud of. It came with many obligations to her mind. One such duty was to be carried out that very night.

  With no one the wiser, she did not go upstairs to her bedchamber. Her lady’s maid had secured the information of where the dower house was located on the estate. All Abigail had to do was go out the east family entrance of the manor and past the walled rose garden. A gravel path led to the small dower house.

  The snow had all but melted and there was a bright moon that night. Attired in her thick cloak retrieved from the entry hall, she found she was warm enough for her errand.

  The dower house had two floors and according to her maid, some ten rooms. As she approached the house, she could see lamps burning in rooms upstairs and down. It was only nine of the o’clock. Lady Childs would surely still be awake.

  Her knock at the door was answered by a footman. Further intelligence from her maid had advised her that Lady Childs had a footman and two housemaids to attend to her during her stay. One of the kitchen maids was also on hand to cook.

  “Lady Markham, what a pleasant surprise,” Lady Childs said with a brittle smile when the other woman was shown into the parlor of the small house. “Do sit down. Do you require refreshment?”

  “No thank, you,” she replied and took a seat across from the woman who reclined on a sopha. Truth be told, Abigail was surprised Lady Childs had consented to see her.

  When the footman had departed Lady Childs asked, “Why are you here? It surely isn’t to wish me Happy Christmas.”

  “No, it isn’t.” The room felt too warm after her recent walk outside. Perhaps she should have asked for a cup of tea or lemonade. “I came here to offer you a very advantageous arrangement.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed on Abigail although she asked casually, “And what arrangement might that be?”

  “I will give you five thousand pounds if you will agree in writing to never contact Thomas or Emma again unless I instruct you to.” There. It was done.

  “And why would I agree to such a thing?” The woman sounded curious rather than affronted.

  “You will agree because your son plans to return your stipend back to the miserly sum it was when your husband died. Thomas no longer cares what you say to others. You have no hold over your children anymore.”

  “If Emma and Thomas do not care what I do or say, why would you offer me funds to leave them alone?” She raised a brow. “Is it because you believe Emma to be your late husband’s child?”

  The pain of her husband’s indiscretion years ago had faded. Lady Childs could taunt her as much as she liked. It made no matter.

  “It matters to me not whether Emma is my husband’s child,” she replied. It was the truth. She liked Emma for who she was not who she might be.

  “You really don’t want to know?” the lady asked slyly.

  She shrugged. “No.”

  “Good,” the lady replied with a laugh. “I had so many lovers that summer I cannot be sure who sired Emma. I can tell you it was not your husband. Although he tried, his equipment as it were was never up to snuff.”

  She wasn’t surprised. Her husband drank far too much to be useful in bed. She supposed Lady Childs had lied all those years ago because she had merely wanted to needle Abigail who was rich in her own right and very influential. Lady Childs had never garnered much respect in society and her scandalous behavior hadn’t helped.

  “Thomas and my niece Rose are to marry soon. I would wish you out of their lives. Do not attend their wedding, do not visit them ever.”

  The lady replied, “Ten thousand pounds.”

  Abigail had expected the counteroffer. She was a wealthy woman and might be pressed to pay even a higher sum. Ten thousand pounds would be a bargain to get rid of the woman.

  “Ten thousand pounds,” she said with a nod. “You will only contact your son once after he is married to advise him you have emigrated to
America.”

  “America?” Lady Childs looked thoughtful.

  She dare not show her excitement. It appeared the lady would agree to the terms Abigail had set forth. “I will furnish you with letters of introduction to many fine families in Philadelphia. You will receive five thousand pounds when you leave Wickling Manor. The rest of the money will be provided upon your arrival in America.”

  “What if I take the money and return to England? To Wickling Manor?” Lady Childs asked with a shrug.

  She hoped her brief smile showed how unpleasant she could be if crossed. “I have many friends in the Foreign Office. Some of those contacts are posted in America. If you agree to my terms you will not be allowed to return to England.”

  Lady Childs pursed her lips. She stared at Abigail for several moments as the fire crackled nearby and a light wind could be heard blowing outside.

  “I agree to the arrangement,” the woman finally replied. Her hazel eyes, so like her children’s, still narrowed on Abigail’s face. “I will leave Wickling Manor in January when the weather is better.”

  She nodded and got to her feet. “My solicitor will send you documents to sign.” At the other woman’s surprised expression, she added, “Oh yes, you will have to sign a contract agreeing to all my conditions.”

  “Very well.” Lady Childs waved a languid hand in the air. “I hear there are many new industrial millionaires in America. Philadelphia, you say? I think I shall be very happy there.”

  * * * * *

  Thomas asked Emma and Lady Markham not to tell Rose’s family their good news. Rose would make an announcement after they had all returned from church on the morrow and were assembled in the drawing room at Wickling Manor.

  “I knew you were a sensible man,” Lady Markham, or as he now would call her, Aunt Abigail, had said over Christmas Eve supper by way of congratulations. “When is the wedding?”

  “If Ambrose gives his blessing, we want to be married in March or April,” Rose replied shyly.

  “Your brother will surely give his blessing,” Abigail replied with a wave of her hand. “He likes Sir Thomas as much as the rest of us do.”

  Rose looked pleased at Aunt Abigail’s words. As for himself, he could have kissed her aunt at that moment.

  Rose was seated next to Emma. She asked her friend, “Are you happy, Emma?”

  “More than I can say.” Emma winked at her brother. “I knew he loved you. I figured all it would take was a few days of you both being stuck here together for him to finally realize it. Now we will truly be sisters.”

  Rose opened her mouth, but no sound came out. He was equally stuck for words. He looked at Aunt Abigail who merely shrugged.

  “I figured out Emma’s plan as soon as I received her request to stay at Wickling Manor,” Abigail said before returning her attention to the gingerbread pudding in front of her.

  Christmas Day dawned clear and cold. Rose’s siblings left their young children at Marcourt as they attended services and travelled on to Wickling Manor.

  Everyone was assembled in the drawing room with rum punch in hand when Thomas stood to make a toast. “Thank you all for sharing Christmas Day with my family here at Wickling Manor. The last year has been very hard for Emma. We both appreciate all the love and support you have shown us.” He raised his glass. “To friendship.”

  They all drank a toast. Rose moved to stand beside him.

  “I have something I want to say as well,” she said loudly.

  “Another toast?” her brother Ambrose asked. “This rum punch is very good. I shouldn’t mind several more toasts.”

  Everyone laughed for a moment. Rose cleared her throat.

  “I have loved Sir Thomas since I was twelve years old.” Her voice caught. “My parents married for love, and I was lucky to see all three of my siblings marry for love.”

  She looked around the room, smiling at her brother, Ambrose, and her sisters, Iris and Lottie. She looked up at him, and he nodded. This was her moment. He wanted her to be the one to tell her family.

  Rose took a breath and said, “Sir Thomas has asked me to marry him. He loves me and wants me to be his wife.”

  He didn’t know what response he’d expected, but the exclamations of joy from Rose’s family truly humbled him.

  “Congratulations!” He heard again and again as Lottie and Iris kissed him on the cheek and Camellia hugged him.

  “My wife told me you two were meant for each other,” Lottie’s husband, Lord Peake, said when he shook his hand.

  Ambrose clapped him on the back. “Aunt Abigail was sure you were in love with my sister. I’m glad she was right. Take care of her, Thomas. Rose is very dear to us.”

  “She is very dear to me as well,” he replied as he looked across the room to where his future wife was being hugged by Iris, Lottie, and Camellia all at once. “I’ve waited a lifetime to be this happy.”

  When the good wishes were over, Emma suggested a game of charades. As everyone argued rather noisily about who would be on which team, he asked his sister, “All this noise and bother. Do you still like your gift?”

  “Of course,” Emma replied. “I’ve not only gained a sister but her whole family as well. Now go talk to your future wife while I try to calm this lot down.”

  Rose was seated on a settee, watching Lord Peake and Iris’s husband, Lord Chastain, argue about who would have Ambrose on their team.

  “Ambrose cheats at every game,” Peake said with a grin.

  “How can you cheat at charades?” Chastain asked, rolling his eyes.

  Thomas sat down beside Rose. “They’re right, you know. Your brother even cheats at billiards.”

  Her response was to ask, “How is Emma?”

  He replied, “My sister is enjoying herself immensely. She not only has a full house for Christmas, her plan to bring us together worked.”

  “I will be forever grateful to Emma for asking you to have my family here for Christmas. It was the perfect gift for all of us.” She looked about the room, her eyes wet.

  He knew her brothers and sisters were so very dear to her. Her parents had died when she was a young child. Her siblings had raised her and loved her through all her infatuations, had indulged her love for writing. Seeing what a good brother Ambrose was to Rose had made him want to be the same for Emma.

  “To win your love and become part of such a wonderful family,” he said, his voice faltering, “I could never have dreamed I would be so fortunate.”

  He watched Livingston wander from person to person in the room collecting pats.

  “I think you like my dog as much as I do,” Rose said lightly in what he supposed was an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

  “He has grown on me. Sort of like his mistress has.”

  They both laughed. Rose’s citrusy scent tickled his nose. It reminded him of something.

  “Why don’t I smell your aunt’s lavender perfume anymore?” he asked in a low voice after he made sure the lady in question was not within hearing distance.

  “Her bottle of scent has been misplaced until she returns to Marcourt.” She winked at him. “That is my gift to everyone.”

  “I was actually hoping for something else,” he replied slowly, his voice intimate. “Something far more valuable.”

  “My heart perhaps?” Her sweet smile tugged at something in his chest. “Thomas, my love, I gave it to you years ago.”

  EPILOGUE

  May 1830, Wickling Manor

  “There is a letter here from my mother,” Sir Thomas said to his lady wife who was seated on their marriage bed, propped up against numerous pillows.

  They would share one bedchamber, to the bewilderment of the household staff. It was Rose’s idea and he thought it a good one. He wanted to be with her as much as possible, after all.

  “How odd,” she replied, hoping the letter might contain an acknowledgement of her son’s wedding. “You haven’t heard from her since the end of January when she left the estate for Paris.”<
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  They had been married in the chapel on her brother’s estate the first week of April. Ambrose had given her away. Emma was her attendant. The only guests were their families. Lady Childs was not present. Rose had posted a letter inviting the lady to the ceremony.

  “I told my mother I never wanted to see her again,” Thomas said when Rose told him she wanted to invite his mother to their wedding. “I meant it, Rose.”

  “Do you really think she will return to England for our wedding?” she asked. “It’s the proper thing to do, Thomas. I would not start our married life together by snubbing your mother no matter how unkind she has been to you and Emma.”

  In the end he agreed she could invite his mother. Rose received no response to her letter. On her wedding day she only thought about the woman for a moment. In her joy at marrying the man she loved so very much, she felt a tiny bit of sadness for a woman who it seems had never loved anyone in her life other than herself.

  She and Thomas had just returned from a month-long wedding trip touring the countryside of Essex and Kent. If Emma was up to it, they wanted her to accompany them on another trip to Bath in the summer. Thomas has stated he would only travel if his wife were to come with him. They had wasted enough time apart as it was.

  Emma was at Marcourt Hall with Ambrose’s family. When Rose and Thomas stopped there before continuing home to Wickling Manor, Ambrose’s two young sons pleaded for “Aunt Emma” to remain at the hall one more day.

  “Do you want to stay?” Rose asked her new sister when the boys were distracted by presents from their new uncle, Thomas.

  “You and my brother can manage without me for another day. I am enjoying myself immensely,” Emma replied. “I’m giving the boys drawing lessons.”

  Camellia had given birth to a baby girl in March. Rose fussed over the baby and played with her nephews for several minutes. Aunt Abigail greeted her warmly before settling on a settee next to Camellia and the baby. A baby who it just so happens had been given the Christian name of Abigail.