Winter Wishes: A Regency Christmas Anthology

by Cheryl Bolen

  He folded the last copy in half and handed it to the steward. “Keep that somewhere safe.”

  The steward knew Father well enough that Otis did not have to say to keep evidence of the wager anywhere Father could not get his hands on it. The man backed from the chamber with a deep bow and fled quickly.

  Otis glanced out the window again, noting the carriage was drawing away toward the stables. Milne and his daughters must be in the drawing room with Mother by now.

  He turned to his father. “Wasn’t one of Milne’s girls going to marry Lord Bellows?”

  Father sneered. “I wager Milne would not allow his blood to mingle with that of a known imbecile, even if he is an earl.”

  “Is that right?” Otis nodded along, but disapproved of his father’s attitude. Lord Bellows was not as smart as many people might want him to be. But he was genuine and a decent sort. Otis had thought it a smart match for the Bellows line. Miss Milne seemed intelligent. “A pity. “I thought her very fond of the man. She could have discretely guided Bellows, for the benefit of all involved. When might we expect the Milnes to arrive?”

  “Not for a few days yet.”

  “That’s a shame,” he murmured…but wondered who was in the drawing room now with Mother?

  Otis let out a quiet sigh. He had a reprieve of a few days from Miss Milne. He hadn’t a moment to lose getting his affairs in order before he made the journey to London though. “I have to run a few errands. If you will excuse me, Father. I should be about my business.”

  “Yes, go, but make sure you are here when Milne arrives.” Lord Vyne made an impatient gesture to dismiss Otis. “I promised the man an enjoyable holiday.”

  Otis fled. The Milnes were going to be disappointed.

  Chapter 3

  Meg did her best to curtsy to the Countess of Vyne despite her exhaustion. “Thank you for having us.”

  The countess drew close and placed her hands on Meg’s frozen cheeks. “My dear, it is so good to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is ours,” Meg assured her, trying not to shiver.

  The countess impulsively embraced Meg then, enveloping her in sweet-smelling warmth. She drew back quickly and led Meg toward the great hearth where a large fire blazed. “Come to the fire and warm yourself. You look almost done for.”

  “No, I’m quite well,” Meg promised, though she was eager for the warmth. She glanced back over her shoulder but her brother waved her away. “It is a bit colder than I’m used to.”

  “I know it is,” the countess assured. The countess perched at her side. “I have looked forward to having you here since the day I read about your mother passing. I would have sent for you sooner if I thought you might have come.”

  “My father needed me,” Meg murmured.

  Father had taken the death of Meg’s mother very badly indeed. He had only left the house to bury her, and then locked himself away from the world bereft of her vital presence. It had taken all of Meg’s cunning to get him to eat, to sleep. He said he couldn’t imagine a life without Mother and now he did not have to. Meg had done everything in her power to ease his mourning and it hadn’t been enough. He’d slipped away a little more each day, until a sniff had become a cough, and then fever had set in despite her best efforts to have him cured.

  “You did everything you could,” the countess promised, and then smiled. “Now you are here, I am determined we will all have a lovely Christmas together. My daughters were particularly excited that you were coming, so too are the boys.”

  Not all the boys, surely.

  Meg held her hands out to the flames and listened in silence as the countess described merriment that was planned for the coming weeks. The countess was enthusiastic but everything she mentioned reminded Meg of past Christmases with her parents, and that made her heart heavier.

  She looked toward her brother just as a stranger rushed into the room. “What the devil are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean? We were invited!” Hector exclaimed. “It’s damn good to see you again, Clement.”

  Meg gaped, and then snapped her mouth shut. That was Lord Clement? She barely recognized him.

  As a boy he’d been skinny with a shock of dark hair that he’d always been brushing from his eyes. Those longish locks were gone now, replaced by a shorter cropped style that revealed a pair of intelligent eyes set in an attractive face.

  Meg glanced at Lady Vyne quickly, and discovered Lord Clement had grown up to resemble his mother. But he was far taller and broad shouldered than even her brother was. He was handsome now. More so than she’d ever imagined a man could be.

  Lord Clement was unlike anything Meg was prepared to meet.

  Meg averted her eyes as her cheeks suddenly heated.

  But she couldn’t help but peek again. Lord Clement and Hector embraced, shook hands vigorously, and expressed such joy to see each other that Meg immediately felt envious.

  “And here I was merely hoping you would write me a letter before New Year,” Lord Clement exclaimed.

  “Well, we’re here in the flesh,” Hector said, throwing his arms wide. “Ready to make merry with you and yours.”

  Lord Clement glanced toward Meg and seemed to freeze in place for a moment. He quickly recovered and smiled at her. “And who is this beauty you have brought with you? I must have an introduction immediately.”

  “Surely you don’t need to be introduced to my sister after all these years?” Hector teased with a hearty laugh that made Meg cringe.

  She lifted her chin and looked Lord Clement in the eye, eager to get the greeting over and done with. “My lord.”

  Lord Clement’s lips parted in obvious surprise. “Lady Margaret?”

  “Meg,” she said, nodding to him. “No one has called me by my full name since our mother passed.”

  Lord Clement shook his head suddenly. “Forgive me, but I would never have recognized you.”

  “I thought the same of you,” she murmured, and then fidgeted under his startlingly direct gaze. The handsome devil had surprised her with his improved appearance but he was still a man to be wary of. He had kept her brother away from home for so much of the last few years.

  Lord Clement drew closer, his smile growing wider as he came. “It is a surprise to see you but a happy one. Welcome to The Vynes, my lady.”

  She was about to dip into a curtsy but he reached for her hand instead. She placed her gloved hand in his larger one and looked up into the darkest, bluest eyes she’d ever seen and trembled. They reminded her of the sea, of her home shores, and she gulped in shock as he bowed over her hand in a courtly fashion. “Thank you, my lord.”

  He released her hand slowly, a look of puzzlement creeping into his expression as he drew back. His eyes narrowed on her face. “I say, are you warm enough?”

  Meg was becoming entirely too warm with all the attention in the room fixed on her. She had kept her coat on despite being indoors but Lord Clement was having a heating affect on all parts of her body. “I believe so.”

  “Good. Good,” he said, quickly glancing at Hector.

  “About time too,” Hector promised, slapping Lord Clement on the shoulder and drawing him back from Meg. “She kept promising me she’d turn into an icicle at every stop on the way here.”

  “I hardly blame her.” Lord Clement frowned, glancing at Meg then away again. “It has been colder than usual for this time of year. I would not have subjected my sisters to such a journey.”

  Meg felt vindicated by Lord Clement’s remark and glared at her brother. “I warned you it was entirely too cold for such a trip. The poor grooms must be frozen solid.”

  Lord Clement winced. “Your brother barely notices the weather. I’ll make enquiries about your servants and make sure they are amply warmed.”

  “I would appreciate that.”

  Lord Clement stepped back farther and Hector began to regale him with the details of their journey, including the charming inns they’d stayed in along the way. Those inns
had not been charming but frighteningly drafty in her opinion. She dreaded spending another night in them for the return journey home.

  Meg inched closer to the countess’ side but she felt Lord Clement’s attention return to regard her. “Mother, why did you not tell me to expect my friends for Christmas?”

  “I wanted to surprise you,” she teased him. “Call it my Christmas wish for you to be with your friends again.”

  He shook his head and glanced at Meg. “I hate that I was the last to know.”

  “Not by much. Coming here was a surprise to me too,” Meg said quickly. “I only learned what Hector planned the day before we left home.”

  “How very like him to leave everything until the last moment.” Lord Clement shook his head. “Rest assured nothing has been left to chance in London. The new townhouse in Half-Moon Street will be ready to welcome you in the New Year.”

  Meg frowned at Lord Clement and then her brother. “What new townhouse?”

  “Good grief, now you’ve gone and spoiled the surprise entirely,” Hector complained to his friend.

  Meg gulped. Surely he couldn’t mean to leave her in Dorset to manage the estate alone. “Hector, what is going on?”

  Lord Clement winced. “I am sorry. I thought you would have told her.”

  “I’ll explain later,” Hector warned Meg.

  What had Hector done? “Why do you need a London townhouse?”

  “Because we will be living in there soon. I cannot have a woman at my bachelor apartment on Clarges Street, even if she is a relation. Makes sense to establish a permanent residence before the season starts,” he announced as he turned away. “How’s that new horse of yours coming along, Clement?”

  Meg gaped and then cast a quick glance at the countess. She tried to smile. London and the season, parties and pretty gowns and stumbling through reels and waltzes as if one were happy, was unthinkable right now. She was still in mourning, even if Hector believed otherwise.

  Hector had broached the subject of finding a husband on the long journey from the coast but she had refused to consider it. Was he giving her no choice?

  “Fine. Fine.” Lord Clement glanced over his shoulder at Meg, frowning. “Don’t look so worried. It is a lovely little spot. Very close to everything.”

  “Yes indeed,” Hector promised. “She’ll enjoy shopping and the parties very much.”

  “But Hector—”

  “Later, Meg.” Hector drew Lord Clement firmly away from her.

  Meg’s heart began to race with renewed anxiety. What else hadn’t Hector told her about lately? This trip, and now a home in London. A season she hadn’t asked for.

  When Lord Clement glanced her way one more time, Meg studied her fingers. An uneasy sensation was growing in her stomach. She was supposed to do as her brother decided, the way she would have obeyed their father. The temptation to run away was very strong right now. If only she were a little older, she could make her own decisions.

  Lady Vyne drew closer. “Have you done any preparation for the coming season?”

  “No,” she said in a tiny voice. She glanced at her brother, but he wouldn’t meet her eye anymore. Panic began to overload her senses.

  “Well, no matter. There’s still plenty of time.” The countess smiled warmly. “I think you might be warm enough now to venture upstairs to your bedchamber. I’ve had everything prepared for days. Come, let’s get you settled. Do excuse us, gentlemen.”

  Hector nodded but Lord Clement murmured her name softly as she passed him by.

  Once beyond the room, Meg’s despair only grew worse as she shivered anew in the chill air of the hall. Hector should have confided in her.

  “I wish I could be in London to support you finding a husband,” Lady Vyne whispered. “Unfortunately, my husband is in poor health and I cannot leave.”

  Dread filled Meg at the news. “I am very sorry to hear that.”

  Having the countess by her side might have made the situation bearable.

  “Not to worry. Your brother wrote of his intentions to bring you out when he accepted my invitation to come for the holiday, and I will be very happy, very honored, to offer any assistance I can to prepare you while you are with us.”

  “You’re very kind,” she said at last.

  “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do for my friend’s daughter now that she has gone. I look forward to meeting your future husband one day, too.”

  Meg nodded miserably and started up the next flight of stairs at the countess’ urging.

  There was no reason to confess to the countess that the thought of a London season terrified her. Meg had hoped to marry one day, but not now. She felt the insult of her brother’s rush very keenly.

  She had seen the signs of Hector’s restlessness and shrugged them off. How could she have been so blind to the truth—his unhappiness was with Meg’s unmarried state!

  The countess suddenly clucked her tongue. “Now who do we have here? Are you not supposed to be taking your lessons?”

  Meg looked up in surprise. Three children, two pretty girls and a tiny boy, were looking down on them, their serious little faces pressed between the railings. The girls rushed down to greet their mother and Meg, dragging the small boy with them. “We waited ever so long.”

  The countess smiled and gestured to Meg. “My dears, this is our good friend, Lady Margaret Stockwick. You must make Meg feel welcome.”

  The girls, Esther and Molly, curtsied and the little boy, Evan, made a bow when urged.

  Meg couldn’t help but smile at them all. They were adorable and reminded Meg of Lord Clement at that age. There had been another girl too, one closer to Meg’s age, but she had been married off some time ago. “You are both so pretty,” she murmured to the girls, and then looked at the boy. “And you, sir, are very handsome, too.”

  The children giggled, apparently delighted by her compliments. One of the girls took her hand and drew her along, surrounded by the Vyne family. She was taken into a bright room and then the children fled soundlessly.

  Meg glanced around a bedchamber fit for royalty and stood gaping.

  “I think this room will do very nicely for you. What do you think, my dear?”

  This bedchamber exceeded her every expectation for comfort.

  The walls were papered in yellow striped silk and a thick cornflower-blue silk comforter covered the bed. The room was warm and light and so much nicer than the one she’d left behind; nicer than any room she’d ever stayed in before for that matter. There was a fire already burning in the grate.

  “It’s lovely,” she promised.

  The maids had already begun unpacking Meg’s trunks, storing her belongings in the tall oak chests that lined the walls. Meg collected a few of her more personal items and set them on the mirrored table between the tall sash windows. She glanced outside, noticing thick vines, though dormant now, bracketed her window.

  She turned around to ask what flowers the vine would produce—until she noticed the maids were unpacking gowns she’d never seen before. She saw bright colors instead of the somber grays and lavender gowns she’d asked to be packed for this short holiday. Her familiar clothing was nowhere to be seen.

  The countess asked a servant to add more fuel to the fire and then bid them all to go. She came to stand beside Meg. “Hector didn’t mention moving to London, did he?”

  “No.”

  “And you’d not intended to rejoin society yet.”

  She lifted her chin, determined not to fall to pieces in front of the countess. “I didn’t.”

  “I am so sorry. All of this must be quite a shock. I know what it’s like to have no voice, no say in any decision.”

  That was an understatement if ever she’d heard of one. “Three days ago, I had a home,” Meg whispered.

  “You will become accustomed to the change of pace in due time.”

  “Yes, I am sure one can grow accustomed to being treated as cattle, too.” She swallowed the lump of horror that ha
d lodged in her throat. “I think my brother will foist me off onto the first man who notices me.”

  “It won’t be as bad as all that,” the countess promised. “You’ll make friends easily.”

  “What of the friends I have already?” She fought back tears. “He didn’t even let me say goodbye to anyone.”

  The countess settled an arm around Meg’s shoulders and drew her close. “He should have told you about the decision he made when your father died. What can we do? We women hardly ever have a say in our lives.”

  Meg allowed her tears to slide down her cheeks unchecked then. Hector had been planning to be rid of her for months and months and never told her. But he had certainly told the countess, and Lord Clement must know, too. They were best friends. Meg was nothing but a burden.

  The countess rubbed Meg’s arm briskly, trying to bolster her spirits. “It will be all right, I swear. I will do my best to help you. I will write to my friends and discover who will be in London when you are. They will help you if I ask.”

  It was a kind offer, but Meg didn’t feel reassured. She had never felt so powerless before. She moved to the window and stared blindly at the view.

  The Vynes was set in the center of the bowl-shaped valley, and she could see a small slice of it from this room’s window. Everything was white and uninviting. “Has it been a harsh winter so far?”

  “It has. I’m hoping the weather clears soon because it becomes quite dreadful when the children are shut up inside for excessive time.”

  “Yes, children do love their freedom,” Meg agreed, wrapping her arms around her chest. She had lost hers when her father had died.

  Chapter 4

  Otis invaded his mother’s bedchamber the next morning without knocking too loudly and risking waking his father in the next room. Mother customarily rose early while Father slept late. And he had a sour temper if anyone dared wake him earlier than elevenses.