Steamy Winter Wishes

by Callaway, Grace

  “I’m sure Harry will iron things out when he arrives.”

  Ambrose was not worried. First, he knew his brother, and when a Kent fell in love, they did so forever. Second, from his own personal experience, women could get a bit emotional when they were with child. Being a wise man and one with a healthy sense of self-preservation, he did not voice that opinion to his lady wife.

  Another thought occurred to him then.

  Lifting a brow, he said, “Did you have any grievances to contribute to your ladies’ conversation?”

  He was teasing, mostly, and thus was surprised to see a tinge of rose appear on Marianne’s slanted cheekbones.

  “What is it, my love?” He tilted his head, setting her away from him so that he could study her. “Are you unhappy about something?”

  Whatever it was, he would fix it forthwith. His fortunes had changed the moment he met Marianne twenty-one years ago. Many had thought that the match between a wealthy, sophisticated baroness and a poor Thames River policeman was a mésalliance, but he and Marianne had proven the naysayers wrong. Despite their many years together, he still thanked his lucky stars that she’d taken him and his siblings on. That he’d managed to claim such a loyal, loving, and clever beauty as his own.

  She fiddled with the lapels of his woolen coat, her gaze on her kid-gloved fingers. “I’m not unhappy, Ambrose. Far from it.”

  “Then what is it?” It wasn’t like Marianne to dither. She was direct by nature, and the fact that she wasn’t telling him her thoughts outright was cause for concern.

  She lifted her peerless emerald eyes to his. “It is just that sometimes…I wish we had more time together. Like this.”

  He understood then. Relief filled him…along with wry amusement.

  “You know you’re an old married couple when you share the same thoughts,” he said.

  “Who are you calling old?” Marianne asked archly.

  “Never you, my beautiful selkie.” He brushed his gloved knuckles over her cheek. “The truth is I’ve been having similar thoughts: that I would like to spend more time with you and the family and less chasing after criminals and the like. We don’t need the money, and I am certain that my partners would be happy to take over Kent and Associates. Lugo and McLeod know the business as well as I do. If they need my help on a case, I would be available for consultation. “As he spoke the words aloud, he realized just how ready he was to say them. “It seems like a good time for me to retire.”

  “Truly?”

  The longing in his wife’s eyes hit him in the gut, reinforcing the rightness of his choice.

  She drew a breath. “Because, darling, I would never want you to stop doing what you love.”

  “I love you. More than anything,” he stated. “And more and more with each passing year.”

  “Oh, Ambrose.” She smiled tremulously. “You are everything to me.”

  He dipped his head to kiss her. He meant it to be a tender gesture, but the lushness of his wife’s lips, the needy way her fingers clutched his shoulders, brought a familiar fire to his loins. He deepened the kiss, losing himself in her delectable warmth…

  Whoops and laughter brought him back to earth. He drew back from Marianne, grinning to find her blushing like a newlywed bride. His sisters were giggling, their husbands fighting back smiles. His daughters were standing together, his eldest with her hands on his youngest’s shoulders.

  “Don’t be scandalized, Sophie dear,” Rosie said cheekily. “That is just Mama and Papa’s way of showing that they love one another.”

  “I am not scandalized,” Sophie told her. “They do it all the time.”

  Which led to more general merriment.

  “I have had enough of the snow,” Marianne announced with great dignity. “I am going back inside.”

  She sashayed toward the house, turning to give him a come-hither look. One that said, You are welcome to join me.

  Ambrose’s heart and a lower part of his anatomy swelled with anticipation.

  Goddamn, but retirement was going to be sweet.

  4

  The day before Hogmanay

  Early the next morning, Bea was corralled by her sister-in-law Violet. Vi was married to Wick’s older brother Richard Murray, Viscount Carlisle, and Bea had grown very fond of the vivacious brunette, whom she’d come to think of as a sister. They’d bonded over their love for the Murray brothers…and their frustration over their prickly and difficult to please mama-in-law. Whenever the dowager did something irritating, Bea could count on Vi’s lively sense of humor to lighten the mood.

  “Follow me,” Vi whispered now. “We’re having a secret meeting in the solarium.”

  Before Bea could ask the purpose of the clandestine gathering, the other was already on the move. She followed Vi’s slender, yellow-clad form to the solarium. Inside the glass-enclosed space, the lush greenery was a dramatic contrast to the winter landscape framed by the floor-to-ceiling windows. They passed a fountain filled with orange and silver fish and entered a citrus grove where a group of Kent sisters and wives had already gathered.

  They were a lovely bunch in their colorful dresses, chattering happily with one another.

  Bea found a space next to Tessa.

  “Any news from Mr. Kent?” Bea asked.

  Tessa’s smile was brave. “No…but the snow is probably affecting the mail. Harry promised he would be here by the new year.”

  Bea squeezed her hand. “Then I am certain he will keep his promise.”

  “I am calling the meeting to order,” Violet called above the din.

  The ladies fell silent, except for Rosie Corbett. The beautiful blonde, who much resembled her mama, raised her hand.

  “Can we make this quick?” she asked. “I promised Andrew I would spend the morning with him.”

  Vi raised her brows. “I’m surprised you would want to after he gave you a proper face washing.”

  “He made up for it.” Blushing, Rosie said apologetically, “Between the children and his charity work, we haven’t had much time alone and—”

  “Run along, dear,” Marianne said to her daughter. “I’ll catch you up on the plan later.”

  With a grateful nod, Rosie dashed off.

  “Crumpets, we’re down a set of hands already,” Vi muttered.

  “Perhaps you had better get to the reason for meeting then?” Polly, the Duchess of Acton, suggested.

  “Right. We’re here to help Emma. As many of us have noticed, our sister is working too hard, and we must stop her,” Vi declared.

  Bea had to ask. “Um, how do we do that?”

  “By completing the tasks on her list before she gets to them,” Vi said.

  “How do we know what is on this list?” Bea asked.

  Vi beamed. “Thanks to our ingenious and sticky-fingered Tessa, we have Emma’s list.”

  Tessa produced a sheet of paper with a little flourish. The ladies gathered around her to examine the list. As a woman who’d managed her own estate for years, Bea thought herself a mistress of organization, but the Duchess of Strathaven’s long and detailed notes impressed even her.

  “How could she possibly accomplish all of that?” Bea murmured as she scanned the lengthy list.

  “Trust me, Em can manage anything,” Vi said. “She managed us Kents for all those years. It is time we help her back.”

  “How are we going to prevent Emma from getting involved?” Marianne asked. “You know she will not sit idly by while there is work to be done.”

  “That is why I sent a decoy.” Vi’s smile was smug. “Thea is keeping her occupied.”

  That explained the second eldest Kent sister’s absence.

  “There are enough tasks to go around.” Polly’s striking aquamarine eyes were focused on the list. “Should we all volunteer for one?”

  “I volunteer not to clean any hearths,” Marianne put in.

  “You cannot un-volunteer yourself,” Vi protested. At Marianne’s look, she relented. “Fine. I’ll t
ake the hearth. We can cross that item off the list…as well as the one involving the children’s games today. I have enlisted Fredward for the latter.”

  “Fredward” was the nickname for Edward Kent and Frederick Ridgely, Marianne and Thea’s respective sons, who’d been the best of friends since they were boys. Now the young men were visiting during a break from university.

  “You put my son in charge of the children?” Marianne shuddered. “Anything could happen.”

  From what Bea knew of Edward, he was a genius and had a penchant for following his intellectual pursuits…sometimes without considering all the consequences. In that regard, he was a lot like his uncle Harry.

  “Don’t worry,” Vi said airily. “Edward and Freddy designed a treasure hunt. I was there when they announced it to the children at breakfast, and you should have seen the excitement. Livy took off like a shot in search of the prize.”

  “Well done, Vi,” Polly said in her sincere manner. “I will take any task on the list. The important thing is that we get everything done so that our dear sister can enjoy Hogmanay.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Bea giggled, ducking away from her husband as he attempted to kiss her…again.

  “Wickham, we’re supposed to be working,” she said severely. “Do not make me regret enlisting you to help.”

  She tried for a stern expression, but it was difficult when her too-handsome husband looked at her with puppy dog eyes, a thick wave of gilded brown hair falling boyishly upon his brow.

  He pointed up at the doorway under which they were standing. “It isn’t my fault that our assignment involves standing beneath the mistletoe.”

  “Our job is to add these pieces of rowan tree to the sprigs of mistletoe to bring good luck in the new year.” Bea gestured to the basket of leafy branches on the ground. “If we stop to kiss at every doorway, we’ll be at it until next Hogmanay.”

  “If one is going to do a job, one might as well do it thoroughly,” Wick said with a grin so charming she thought it ought to be illegal. “Even if it takes all year.”

  Raised voices interrupted their banter. The din seemed to be coming from the antechamber.

  “I wonder what is going on,” she said.

  “Let’s find out.”

  Wick took her hand, and they headed in the direction of the ruckus. They passed the sprawling marble antechamber, entering the drawing room. A crowd of guests had gathered, and Bea stopped short when she saw the cause of the uproar: her brother stood by the fire, and in his arms was little Lady Olivia McLeod. They were both soaking wet.

  The Duke and Duchess of Strathaven rushed into the room, the guests parting to make way for the concerned parents.

  “Dear heavens,” Emma exclaimed. “What has happened?”

  Hadleigh looked uncomfortable, and Bea felt a sharp pang. Her little brother had worn that expression whenever he got into scrapes as a boy. Only now, he was a man with a blackened reputation…and he was holding the Strathavens’ beloved daughter in his arms.

  “I solved the clues to the treasure hunt. I found the prize but fell into the pond trying to get it,” Lady Olivia said, her voice clear despite the chattering of her teeth.

  A collective gasp went up as horror clamped around Bea’s heart.

  “There was ice everywhere, and I couldn’t get out, but the Duke of Hadleigh saved me.” Despite her ordeal, Lady Olivia beamed at Hadleigh, adulation sparkling in her green eyes. “He jumped into the water and fished me out. He is a hero.”

  “I do not know how to thank you, sir,” Emma said in a trembling voice.

  “There is no need,” Hadleigh muttered. “I did what anyone would have.”

  “We must get Livy dry and warm,” Emma fretted.

  Strathaven took the little girl from Bea’s brother, pausing to say hoarsely, “I will not forget this favor you have done my family, Hadleigh. I am forever in your debt.”

  Then the duke and duchess headed off with their daughter. Lady Olivia’s voice floated behind them, “I know I shouldn’t have climbed the tree, Mama, but I had to get the crown. I won the treasure hunt, which means I am queen for the day…”

  The guests dispersed as well, some stopping to offer words of praise to Hadleigh, who stood there awkwardly dripping onto the carpet. Accompanied by Wick, Bea approached her brother. He looked at her warily, his dark sapphire eyes rimmed with red, his skin pale and taut over his bones, his shoulders hunched. The usual tension settled between them, paralyzing her tongue even as her mind spun with things she ought to say.

  You should change out of your wet things. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t. You need to stop drinking. To sleep and eat more…

  “That was a brave deed, Your Grace.” Wick’s voice bridged the void.

  “It was nothing.” Hadleigh shrugged. “I was glad I was there to assist.”

  “It was lucky for Livy that you were,” Wick said seriously. “She is a sweet little thing, if a trifle headstrong. Hopefully she will have learned her lesson.”

  A sudden spark of humor lit Hadleigh’s eyes. “Somehow I doubt it.”

  Wick grinned. “You are probably right. Her parents have their hands full. And God help the man she one day marries.”

  Bea narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Do you have something against strong and independent women?”

  “I love them. One in particular,” he said.

  Hadleigh let out a rusty laugh. “Smoothly done, Murray.”

  “Your sister keeps me on my toes,” Wick replied.

  “I do hate to interrupt this male camaraderie, but do you think perhaps my brother ought to get changed?” Bea inquired. “He will catch his death of cold otherwise.”

  Wick slung an arm around her waist. “Always the worrier, aren’t you, sweeting?”

  “Bea has been that way since we were children,” Hadleigh said.

  Bea felt a kick of warmth in her chest at her brother’s easy use of her nickname and the affection that eased the lines on his haggard face.

  “Do you blame me?” she said, aiming her gaze ceilingward. “You were forever falling out of trees and the like. Mama was quite convinced that you were accident-prone.”

  “Our mama was a worrier too,” Hadleigh quipped.

  Wick laughed, and her brother did too. The hope in Bea grew. Perhaps a true rapprochement with her brother was possible after all…

  “Hadleigh, there you are!”

  At the brittle, silvery tones, Bea stiffened, her hope withering. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Her brother’s wife Arabella had once been her best friend. It was not until after the accident that had left Bea scarred that she’d discovered Arabella’s true nature.

  Wick tightened his arm around her waist, and Bea welcomed his strength as Arabella approached. Since she had reconnected with Hadleigh, she had kept his wife at arm’s length. Forgiving her brother was a possibility; forgiving Arabella’s betrayal was not.

  Arabella arrived at Hadleigh’s side in a swish of lavish silk and lace. With her inky hair and green eyes, she was a beautiful woman...at least on the surface.

  “Your Grace,” Wick said politely.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Murray.” Arabella’s coy tone made Bea grind her teeth, for more than one reason.

  Not only was Arabella flirting with Bea’s husband, she seemed completely uncaring of the fact that her own was sopping wet.

  “It is a good afternoon, thanks to the heroics of your husband,” Wick said smoothly. “Hadleigh saved the day.”

  “Oh?” Smiling thinly, Arabella looked at Hadleigh. “Is that why you are in such a bedraggled state, my dear?”

  Bea couldn’t hold her tongue. “Ben is wet because he saved a little girl from drowning. He could use some care and attention. Perhaps assistance getting out of his wet things and some brandy.”

  Bea caught her brother’s surprised look.

  “I know what my husband needs.” Arabella sniffed. “Come along, Hadleigh. I shall ring for
your valet to help you.”

  As the pair headed out of the room, Bea called out, “Ben.”

  Her brother turned and said warily, “Yes?”

  “You did well today. I am glad that you were there for Livy,” she said.

  Emotion glittered in his eyes, his throat bobbing above his sodden cravat. After a moment, he gave a gruff nod and followed his wife out.

  Bea exhaled, leaning into Wick.

  “Do you think he will be all right?” she murmured.

  “I don’t know, love.” He brushed his lips against her temple. “But the fact that you care probably makes all the difference to him.”

  5

  Alone in the kitchens late that evening, Emma made the hot water pastry for Alaric’s favorite mutton pie. Since Livy’s near drowning, she’d spent the day glued to her daughter. She’d been so worried that she hadn’t gone down for supper, her sisters assuring her that they would take on hostess duties in her stead. Emma had remained by Livy’s bedside, and while her daughter chattered on about Hadleigh’s heroics, she’d been overwhelmed by a tide of emotion.

  I could have lost my daughter. I didn’t keep a close enough eye on her. There is too much to do: how shall I ever keep track of it all?

  She felt like one of the jugglers her children adored at Astley’s Amphitheatre. Only she was losing grip over her balls. One by one, they were slipping from her grasp, and she didn’t know how to keep them all in the air.

  After Livy had fallen asleep, Emma had come down to the kitchens instead of returning to her bedchamber. She was too frazzled to sleep…and too overwrought to deal with her husband.

  Alaric had also spent several hours by their eldest’s bedside. Although they’d both been focused on Livy, Emma had taken comfort from his arm around her shoulders and his silent strength. Eventually, he had left to tend to their guests, and she had missed him dreadfully.

  With a stab of shame, she admitted to herself that she’d been avoiding Alaric since the incident in his study two days ago. He had given her a wide berth as well, which spoke to his level of irritation. In truth, she knew she was at fault: she had overstepped. She had known full well that he did not want his study “organized” yet she’d given into some strange compulsion to do it anyway. Moreover, the house party was demanding all of her dwindling energy, and she had been a trifle short with him as a result.