Winter Wishes: A Regency Christmas Anthology

by Cheryl Bolen

  “He’ll see us.” Benjamin placed his hands on the door and shoved.

  The man stumbled back. “Non. No guests. He’s working.”

  Benjamin ignored him and stepped inside. “Where is he?”

  The servant’s lips tightened in disapproval.

  “We shall find him on our own then,” Benjamin said as he glanced about.

  Louisa followed, surprised by the elegant interior. The painter must be a success if he could afford such a home. The trill of her mother’s laughter sounded from the upper level, and Louisa turned toward the stairs, anger filling her once more.

  Benjamin was relieved to hear laughter rather than tears or worse—screams. He gestured for Louisa to lead the way to the next floor, wanting to keep himself between her and the servant in case the man attempted a more physical method of halting them.

  “Non. You cannot go up there,” the servant protested as he started after them.

  “Stay where you are.” Benjamin sent a glare along with the order, pleased when the man halted on the first step.

  “He won’t be pleased.”

  “Your warning is duly noted.” Benjamin stayed close to Louisa, keeping an eye on the servant while watching the landing above.

  He feared Louisa wouldn’t appreciate what they were about to discover. Though he knew she’d rescued her mother on more than one occasion, finding her posing nude carried a higher level of concern. If Delacroix specialized in seducing his subjects, they might be interrupting an intimate scene that should remain behind closed doors.

  Louisa marched up the stairs, her anger seeming to overcome any previous trepidation. She reached for the closed door at the top of the stairs, but Benjamin halted her.

  “Proceed with caution,” he advised with a pointed look, both for her safety as well as her sanity.

  The intensity in her gaze eased as if she’d grasped his meaning. She nodded, then with a deep breath, she slowly opened the door and looked in.

  Benjamin stayed back, not wishing to violate the marchioness’s privacy if she wasn’t properly attired. But he remained at the ready in case the painter threatened Louisa.

  “Mother.” By the reprimand in Louisa’s tone, he suspected all was not as it should be.

  “Louisa! Darling. Whatever are you doing here?” The rustle of material reached Benjamin, making him hope the marchioness had covered herself if needed.

  “I’ve come to take you home.”

  “Who is this?” The man’s voice held a distinct French accent, much more refined than his servant’s.

  Louisa moved into the room, and Benjamin followed closely for her protection.

  The Marchioness of Whirlenhall sat on a gold and white striped settee, her body draped in a deep blue satin cloth with candles surrounding her. Her bare shoulders and feet suggested she wore nothing beneath. A fire burned brightly nearby and helped to warm and light the room.

  The artist stood near the window before a large canvas set on an easel, a paintbrush in hand. His shocked expression might’ve been amusing in other circumstances. Paints stood on a table nearby along with a cup full of brushes and more candles.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Delacroix demanded.

  “We’re here to collect the marchioness and her painting, along with one other,” Benjamin advised him. He intended to take the Delham portrait and put an end to the extortion.

  “You will do no such thing.” He threw down the paintbrush and stepped forward only to halt and glare at Benjamin. “Who are you?”

  Benjamin didn’t bother to answer. Words were of little use in a situation like this. He preferred action. With a nod at Louisa to assist her mother, he eyed the stacks of paintings propped along the walls to determine where to search.

  As he crossed the room, Delacroix rushed toward the open door. “Weston, where are you? Come at once.”

  “Mother, please get dressed. We’re leaving.”

  “Why? What’s happened? Don’t you want to meet Monsieur Delacroix?” Her mother rose from the settee, holding the cloth around her.

  “No. We’ve been told he’s more than an artist. In fact, I’d wager he earns far more from his other profession.”

  “What would that be?” the marchioness asked.

  “Extortionist.”

  “What?” Delacroix spun to face Louisa. “Who told you such lies?”

  Benjamin found the painting he was looking for. Lady Delham’s face was clearly recognizable. He preferred to avoid studying the rest of the portrait. “The husband of the person in this painting asked me to tell you that no payment will be forthcoming for your efforts. He also suggested the time has come for you to return to your homeland.”

  Delacroix gasped. “How dare you touch what doesn’t belong to you.” He strode back to the door once again. “Weston!”

  Benjamin threw a cloth over the portrait, hoping the artist would attempt to stop him. He’d like nothing better than to place his fist in the man’s face. He set aside the painting and moved toward the easel.

  “Step away from there.” Delacroix rushed forward, hands outstretched.

  Benjamin shifted to face him, hands at his sides. “Did you explain to the lady that you would be pleased to sell her the painting at a ridiculous price to avoid sharing it with the public?”

  “Art should be enjoyed by the masses, especially if the subject doesn’t truly appreciate my skill.”

  “Jean Paul, is that true?” Louisa’s mother asked, her mouth agape with shock.

  “Non, madam. You must believe me.” The painter held out his hands in supplication. “You and I share something very special.”

  “Did you use that same turn of phrase when you painted the lady in the other portrait?” Not waiting for an answer, Benjamin turned toward the marchioness. “This very day, she received a note demanding a thousand pounds to keep him from selling the portrait to the highest bidder.”

  “This is all a terrible misunderstanding,” Delacroix insisted though with less outrage than before.

  The marchioness glared at the man. “To think I believed that you truly cared for me.” She allowed Louisa to escort her behind the dressing screen. Whispers and rustles followed, suggesting Louisa was sharing additional details as she assisted her to dress.

  Benjamin removed the canvas from the easel, found another piece of fabric with which to cover the half-finished painting, and set it near the door beside the other one, all while the artist sputtered denials from the far side of the room.

  Anger simmered deep inside him at Delacroix’s audacity. Benjamin drew close, preferring the women didn’t hear what he said. “Return to France as quickly as possible before the rest of those you attempted to deceive start taking action rather than give in to your ridiculous demands. Do I make myself clear?”

  The glare Delacroix sent him might’ve wilted a weaker man. Benjamin merely smiled. He turned his back on the artist, hoping he’d be stupid enough to try to stop him.

  With an enraged cry, the painter launched himself onto Benjamin’s back. Benjamin reached for him as he bent forward, easily flinging the smaller man to the floor and holding him there. “Do not dare to touch me again.” He circled his fingers around the painter’s throat and squeezed. “Do not approach either of these ladies again. Do you understand?”

  Delacroix’s face turned red as he gasped for air. Though tempted to continue squeezing to be certain the man had received the message, he was all too aware of Louisa’s presence. He loosened his hold enough to allow the painter to breathe and nod.

  With a scoff of disgust, he released him and turned to Louisa. “Are you ready?”

  Her wide eyes stared at him with shock. She took one more look at the painter and nodded jerkily. “Of course.”

  Lady Whirlenhall emerged from behind the screen properly attired, much to Benjamin’s relief. Her gaze swept from him to the painter and back again. Approval lit her expression as she swept past the artist and out the door, head held high. “Goodbye, J
ean Paul.”

  Chapter 8

  Louisa sighed wistfully as she watched Benjamin enter the Smithby ball two days later. When he’d escorted them home that night, she and her mother had thanked him, but there hadn’t been a chance for Louisa to share the extent of her gratitude. Somehow, both she and her mother had managed to survive the incident with no one the wiser.

  But she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him since. His thoughtfulness toward her and her mother, his confidence in the situation, and even his anger at the artist had caused her to look at him in a new, unsettling light. There was far more to the man than she’d realized.

  Yet Louisa worried that her mother’s actions might have discouraged him from having any interest in her.

  “A dance, Lady Louisa?” Viscount Stanich asked from her side.

  She hesitated, all too aware of the feeling of dread that came over her whenever she spent time with the man. What was wrong with her? He was perfectly nice. And safe. But she no longer wanted that. The realization troubled her deeply. “Thank you, my lord.”

  The dance lasted forever. She did her best to keep an eye on Benjamin, hoping he wouldn’t leave before she could speak with him.

  “Is something amiss?” the viscount asked when the dance permitted conversation.

  “Not at all. Why do you ask?”

  “You seem quite distracted this evening.” He appeared bemused by the fact.

  For some reason, that irritated her. As if nothing could be on her mind except who her next dance partner was. She forced a polite smile but didn’t respond to his remark.

  Several minutes passed before he spoke again. “I’ll be spending the holiday in the country with my family.”

  “That will be nice.” The idea of his absence pleased her more than it should.

  “My parents wanted to extend an invitation to you and the marchioness to join us.”

  “How...kind of them. Unfortunately, we have other plans.” She had no desire to spend Christmas with the viscount and his family. She closed her eyes briefly as she realized what that meant. There was no possible way she could entertain a future with this man.

  “Of course.” Displeasure twisted his lips. “Last minute and all that.”

  “I’m pleased you understand.” To her relief, the music drew to a halt, and he escorted her to where her mother stood then bid her goodbye.

  “Wasn’t that Stanich? He didn’t appear pleased,” her mother said as she moved closer.

  “He invited us to spend Christmas with his family at their country estate.”

  Her mother studied her. “You don’t sound particularly excited about the invitation.”

  “I told him we wouldn’t be able to attend as we have other plans.”

  “Good. I don’t think he’s right for you. We do have another invitation to consider.”

  “From whom?”

  “The Marquess and Marchioness of Delham have invited us to their home on the outskirts of London for a house party in a few days’ time.”

  Louisa stared at her mother in surprise. “Do they know?”

  “That the marchioness and I have something in common? Much to my surprise, no, they do not. We must thank Granger again for not only his assistance but his discretion. Perhaps he is to thank for the invitation as well.”

  Louisa followed her mother’s gaze to Benjamin, who moved in their direction. Before she could calm her reeling emotions, her mother approached him, leaving Louisa to follow.

  “Lord Granger.” Her mother offered her hand. “Good to see you.”

  “Lady Whirlenhall.” Benjamin took her hand and bowed before his dark eyes shifted to Louisa. “Lady Louisa.”

  A strange sensation filled her as if a thousand butterflies had been released inside her to flutter about. She was in serious trouble.

  Her mother glanced about as if to make certain no one could overhear then stepped closer. “We wish to thank you once again for your assistance.”

  “My pleasure. I hope all is well?”

  “Quite. May I ask if you properly disposed of the item?”

  Benjamin had offered to destroy the unfinished painting, much to Louisa’s relief. Her mother had been angered enough over the situation never to want to see it again.

  “Of course.”

  Her mother smiled. “Excellent. I appreciate your discretion more than I can say. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I see someone with whom I simply must speak.”

  Louisa cleared her throat as her mother stepped away. “Thank you. I know I’ve already said it, but I truly appreciate all you’ve done to help us.”

  “It was my honor.” His dark eyes glittered warmly. Suddenly, she couldn’t think of anything except their kiss in his carriage and how much she’d like another. “Would you care to dance?”

  “Yes, I would. Thank you.” Delight swept through her, so different from how she’d felt when Stanich had asked her. Was there a chance that Benjamin had set his roguish behavior behind him now that he’d inherited?

  “I trust your mother is none the worse for the experience?” he asked as he escorted her toward the dance floor.

  “She was quite distraught at having been tricked into agreeing to sit for the portrait. I’m relieved we interrupted them before true harm was done.”

  “I’m pleased to hear that.” The dance steps took them in different directions briefly before uniting them once more. “I understand you and your mother have been invited to the Delham’s house party.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Are you attending as well?”

  “Yes. Many of the guests include those who are assisting with the charity for wounded soldiers.” He smiled. “We’re hoping that with Christmas soon upon us, they’ll be more generous with their time and money.”

  “How clever,” she said with a chuckle. “I shall advise Mother to be prepared to give as well.”

  The dance concluded, and Benjamin escorted her to her mother. She wasn’t ready to part company with him and was pleased when he remained at her side.

  “I’m certain Delham also has a political motive and hopes to persuade some of the other members of the House of Lords to see his viewpoint on how to develop a long-term peace plan for Europe.”

  “No event is ever a simple gathering these days,” Louisa said with a shake of her head. “Do you intend to become involved in Parliament?”

  “I hope to.”

  His words pleased her as they suggested he had serious plans for the future. Anticipation for the days and weeks ahead filled her. This Christmas season promised to hold more joy than she’d had since childhood. The coming weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

  Benjamin rose the first day of the Delham’s house party, anxious to see Louisa. Having her in the same house, regardless of the size of the estate, was even more appealing than he’d expected. He’d arrived late the previous evening after most of the guests had retired for the night.

  Delham had been grateful if embarrassed that he’d retrieved the painting of the marchioness. He’d insisted on hosting the gathering to celebrate the formalization of the charity as a way to show his gratitude. Benjamin hadn’t told him that Louisa’s mother had also fallen for the artist’s charms, only that he’d learned of another person who needed assistance. However, he had asked that the Marchioness of Whirlenhall and her daughter be invited, and Delham had been pleased to do so.

  The guests included both young and old per Benjamin’s request. He wanted men his own age involved in the charity with the hope that they would take an interest in other similar issues as well.

  However, the only person holding his thoughts this morning was Louisa. While he’d been certain she was wrong for him, now he worried whether she could look past his reputation. Surely there was a way they could move away from their pasts and look toward a different future for both of them.

  He rang for his valet and quickly dressed in warm clothes, including a woolen waistcoat and tall leather boots. Many of the younger guest
s were to go ice skating this morning at a nearby pond that had frozen solid with the unusually cold nights of late. He hoped Louisa planned to join the fun.

  Breakfast was a lively affair with most of the guests who were going skating filling the dining room where a sideboard held dishes of eggs, ham, and pastries as well as coffee, tea, and chocolate. Smothering his disappointment at not finding Louisa there, he helped himself and settled into a chair next to Viscount Gibbon. He’d finished half his plate when Louisa arrived.

  Her plum-colored wool gown should’ve been plain with its simple lines and high neck, but on her, it looked beautiful. Her gaze swept the room until she found him. A small smile graced her lips as if they shared a secret. The tingling anticipation he felt took him aback.

  “Isn’t that right, Granger?”

  Benjamin forced his gaze away from Louisa. “Pardon?”

  Even as Gibbon spoke, Benjamin’s attention returned to Louisa as she selected a few items then took a seat with the other ladies, including Lady Harriet, Delham’s daughter. Though disappointed, he supposed it wouldn’t do for them to spend too much time together.

  Once everyone finished, they retrieved coats, cloaks, hats, scarves, gloves, and skates from their rooms before meeting in the entrance. He knew the moment she joined the growing group. Sometime in the past two weeks, his senses had become attuned to her in more ways than he cared to admit.

  “The brakes are here,” someone called out, and everyone exited the house to pile into the open, four-wheeled conveyances that held eight people for the brief journey to the pond.

  His pleasure when she sat beside him in the back of the brake made him feel like a young boy lighting his first Yule Log. He settled a heavy quilt over the top of them, wondering if he dared to hold her hand underneath the cover.

  “Benjamin.” She said his name quietly, her breath causing a puff of frosty air as a shiver crept down his spine. “Does the day find you well?”

  “Indeed. And you?”

  Her gaze dropped to his lips as he spoke, twisting him in knots. He wanted her more than he’d wanted anyone in a long while. But this was far more than simple desire. His emotions were becoming hopelessly entangled.