O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Nothing worthwhile then.”

  “Not during the holiday Season. I am to begin on the lowest rung of the Foreign Office in February.”

  The earl nodded. “So that business in Oxford hasn’t ruined your career.”

  “It appears not.”

  “I’m pleased. It was wise of me to take action then.”

  Hugh firmed his lips. “I was a naive fool, Grandfather, for which I apologize. Again. But I still don’t agree that it was necessary to have your solicitors fall for that scoundrel’s lies and pay him off, like so many others.”

  “He had to be silenced.” The earl lit a cheroot and rose. “Leo needs a walk. You probably haven’t eaten. Cook will prepare you some food.”

  The dog stood, shook himself, and followed his master. The door closed behind them.

  Hugh stared at the door. Nothing had changed. Why had he come? He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. If he had found the letter writer to be the older woman he’d expected, he would have returned to London, tout de suite, but he could not leave when Lady Alice thought so badly of him. He must explain. Hugh paused. Explain what? And what good would revealing the truth do?

  “Dash it all,” he muttered. A return to his empty rooms in London appalled him. Hawkinge Park had been home to him for most of his life. Hugh believed he’d come to terms with losing what he valued most, his home and his grandfather’s love, but he’d been fooling himself. He now wanted the impossible.

  Chapter Three

  While she drank her morning chocolate, Alice wondered how the earl and Lord Gifford were getting along. Carolers had braved the weather last evening, led by the vicar’s wife, Mrs. Burdette, who was in fine voice. She told Alice they’d called first at the earl’s manor. “I was never so surprised when the mulled wine and gingerbread was sent out to us,” she said.

  Everyone heartily agreed.

  Perhaps they had resolved their differences. Alice’s spirits lifted, and she donned her pelisse. It was not the hope of a glimpse of Lord Gifford that drew her into the garden after breakfast, she told herself, it was fresh air and a cuckoo calling for its mate. An early morning walk was pleasant and excellent for the constitution, didn’t Papa say so? And besides, Lord Gifford would ride before breakfast, as Gerald liked to do.

  She put on her favorite bonnet, the velvet with azure ribbons which matched the lining of her pelisse and pulled on warm gloves. The snow had eased, leaving drifts along the hedges, but heavy clouds lurked as she crossed to the arbor, now bare of leaves, and entered the path which passed beside the boundary wall. Alice couldn’t resist a quick peek over it. Her eyes widened. Lord Gifford strode across the lawn. Dressed in snug riding breeches, a dark blue coat, and glossy riding boots, he looked most attractive. Did he expect to find her here? Was she so predictable? She should hurry away but casually strolled on. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him scale the wall with far greater agility than she could manage.

  He sat atop it. “Good morning, Lady Alice. Enjoying an early promenade?”

  There was nothing for it, she had to acknowledge him. She turned casually to face him.

  He had tossed his hat down. Bareheaded, the winter sun brightened his disordered dark hair, a lock of which fell over his forehead. Her fingers curled with an urge to smooth it back. She wished the very sight of him didn’t make her heart leap. How cool his blue eyes were as he observed her.

  “Why, Lord Gifford, until I heard you speak, I thought you my sister’s cat, Blackie. He always sits there and suns himself. Are you of the same mind? I’m afraid more snow is…”

  He eased his long legs over the side and jumped down, landing on the ground close to her. “May I walk with you?”

  “A trifle late to ask, is it not? For here you are.” Alice cast a glance over to the west wall of the house. Some upstairs windows overlooked them, but Marian would still be abed.

  “I can easily climb back again,” he said, raising dark eyebrows.

  She turned to continue along the path. “I do hope we’re not observed.”

  “I could have asked first,” he said, matching his gait to hers. “But you would have sent me packing. Is that not so?”

  “I expect I would have.”

  He looked straight ahead, his jaw rigid. “I should thank you. Your concern for my grandfather was neighborly and kind.”

  “I have become fond of him. I am not privy to what has caused your estrangement, but I hope some good will come of your visit.”

  A high privet hedge bordered the path ahead. When they reached it, he stopped, which forced Alice to stop, too. He frowned down at her. “Did it not occur to you that your letter might cause me some worry? That I would race down here afraid of what I might find?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “No, why should it? If he were ill, I most certainly would have advised you of it.”

  He folded his arms, his dark brows meeting over troubled blue eyes. “You are confident that you’re in the right, I see. Even though your action might have made matters worse.”

  Alice drew in a breath. “And has it?”

  “Well, it hasn’t made things any better.”

  “But have you tried?”

  His jaw tightened. “I don’t see why I must account for my actions, Lady Alice.”

  “Why are you here then, Lord Gifford?” Alice was angry with herself but also with him. “You’ve ignored your grandfather for a year, knowing he has no other family. You don’t think that was cruel?” Oh, why did she say that? She wanted them to be on good terms. For him to look at her with surprise and delight the way he had when first they met.

  “Grandfather sent me packing, told me he didn’t want to see me. That is why I’ve stayed away.”

  Alice gasped at the hurt in his eyes. She put up a hand to touch him but dropped her arm, appalled at how her actions had upset him. Whatever lay behind the rift, surely it was possible to mend it. Her family always talked over their differences at home. She tried again, for to leave it like this was unbearable. “I’ve always believed that a good talk can help mend hurt feelings.”

  His gaze roamed her face. “You are exquisite, Lady Alice. I expect many gentlemen have told you so?”

  She flushed. He was outrageous. But it thrilled her that he found her beautiful. “You should not say such things. The gentlemen I’ve met have better manners.”

  “Then, I am the first? I’m glad. I predict many men will shower you with compliments in London.”

  He left her, retracing his steps to the wall.

  Alice couldn’t bear for them to part on bad terms. “Perhaps we will meet in London?” she called after him.

  He pivoted and approached her. Alice stilled, for he came so close, her nervous breaths drew in the scent of woody soap and starched linens. His hands on her shoulders, he bent his head to hers and kissed her. He sighed and stepped back. “No, Lady Alice, I doubt we shall meet again.” He sighed. “Why did it have to be like this?” He was gone before she could protest.

  Alice trembled and traced her bottom lip with her tongue. The kiss had been a bare touch of lips, and yet she still felt the imprint of his mouth there. Her letter had brought him to her. And almost from the moment he walked into the drawing room, she had felt connected to him. Before he knew Alice sent the letter, something had passed between them, a sense of recognition, she was sure of it. Her sisters spoke of their experience of love. She understood that everyone was unique in that regard. Was it possible to fall in love on sight? It didn’t matter what Hugh had done to so anger his grandfather, for only a decent man would have hurried down to make sure he was all right.

  How could her heart ache so when she barely knew him? Alice turned and dawdled back along the path. He said they would not meet again. Her well-meaning but foolish act had caused more harm than good. Now there was an unbreachable gulf between them. She was impulsive, blurting things out, which should remain unsaid. Her mother often told her she must learn the proper way to conduct herself in Society.
London. Alice held onto that thought, although it didn’t excite her in the same way it used to. At least Marian could not have seen Lord Gifford with her in the garden. The hedge must have screened them from view.

  She mounted the porch and smiled at the footman who opened the door.

  Heloise, Marian’s personal maid, waited for her in the hall. “Lady Belfries wishes to see you in her sitting room, Lady Alice.”

  “Thank you.” Alice dreaded what lay in wait for her. Her steps slow and heavy, she mounted the stairs.

  Marian sat on the sofa dressed in a spring green morning gown. She patted the space beside her. “Come and sit beside me, Alice.”

  “How well that color becomes you, Marian.” Alice sank onto the sofa.

  “We have a fine view of the garden from this window,” her sister said.

  “Oh.”

  “You and Lord Gifford together? To say it shocked me is an understatement.”

  Alice dragged in a breath. “Yes, he came to speak to me about a matter…”

  “He kissed you. Did he force himself on you?”

  “No! No! Oh, Marian. Lord Gifford is so angry with me.”

  “I am angry with him. With both of you.” Marian’s green eyes were condemning. Alice clutched her hands together to stop them trembling. She had never been on bad terms with either of her sisters.

  “I’ve made such a mess of things, Marian.”

  Marian frowned. “How could you? Lord Gifford arrived only yesterday. I’m not sure if Gerald has met him. I am surprised at you, Alice. Men, well, they will take any opportunity offered to them.” She huffed. “But I did not expect such behavior from you.”

  “I wrote to tell him his grandfather was lonely. And he came straight away.”

  “What? Did the earl ask you to do that?

  “No.”

  “How did you get Gifford’s address if the earl didn’t tell you?”

  “It’s a secret. I’d rather not say, Marian.”

  Marian frowned. “What’s this nonsense about a secret? This is a serious matter.”

  Alice sighed, realizing the hopelessness of it. “I’d best tell you then. I shall have to apologize to Gerald, though.”

  “Gerald? What does my husband have to do with this? Let’s have it all. Now, please!”

  Hugh roamed the lawn. He should not have kissed her. Was he mad? He suspected where Alice Dountry was concerned, he was a little mad. The foolish notion of marriage had entered his head. He’d never given it a thought before this. Wedlock lay far ahead, years from now. After which, he would settle down, tackle the responsibilities which came with the earldom, whether he had much money left to him or not. Become a pillar of society. As things stood, he had nothing to offer a young woman like Alice.

  A diamond of the first water, she would take London by storm. And there was so much more to her. She was caring and strong, sweet.

  He was furious with himself. He’d made a hash of his life up in Oxford when he’d got involved with the wrong company. A schemer had attempted to blackmail him, accusing him of having an affair with his wife. It had been a swindle. A net which caught up several of his friends. But he’d merely been present when they’d succumbed to the lady’s considerable charms, and though he quit the place speedily, they tarred him with the same brush. Now his grandfather, of whom he was excessively fond, no longer respected him. And this extraordinary girl who had stolen his heart at first glance, was as far from him as the stars in the sky.

  Chapter Four

  “Gerald asked you to keep a secret from me?” Marian’s eyes were full of fire.

  “No, no,” Alice said hastily. “He merely asked me not to worry you with the matter when you had so much to do with the children and Christmas dinner.”

  “I see,” her sister said, slightly mollified.

  Alice dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “I only wanted to help poor Lord Hawkinge. He is only bad-tempered because he is lonely.”

  “But don’t you see, my pet, you interfered in another family’s affairs,” Marian said, gently. “You did it for the best reasons, I quite see that. But the outcome may not be the one you hoped for. And if anyone saw you and Lord Gifford kissing, when you’re not yet out, your London Season would be over before it began. I have discreetly questioned the staff. Thank heaven, no one did.”

  “I do see that,” Alice whispered.

  “I can’t imagine what Gifford meant by such conduct. We must take him to task,” Marian said as Gerald strode into the room.

  “What is this all about?” he demanded.

  Marian promptly told him.

  “I’ll have words with Gifford if you wish, but wouldn’t it be wiser not to make a big thing of it? Young people being what they are? Better to extend the invitation for Christmas dinner to include Lord Gifford. Let’s have a good look at him.”

  “The earl has already declined the invitation. And anyway, Mama will not approve,” Marian said crisply.

  “Your mother won’t be here for Christmas. And you shouldn’t condemn Alice for an act of kindness, puss,” he said, seating himself uncomfortably on a spindly guilt and satin chair.

  Marian flushed. “Really, Belfries, must you call me that in my sister’s presence?”

  Alice choked down a nervous giggle.

  “You’ve become quite stiff-rumped, Marian,” Gerald observed. “You were not that way when we first met, why I remember when you and I…”

  Marian leaped to her feet, scarlet faced. “We shall talk further on this, Alice. I am compelled to write to Mama because she has entrusted your care to me. But now, I wish to speak to my husband alone.”

  Their angry voices reached Alice as she walked down the corridor. Her throat tightened on unshed tears. Lord Gifford, Hugh, might be quarreling with his grandfather, and now she had caused trouble between Marian and Gerald, who dearly loved each other. It was intolerable. She should go home and nurse her father and become an old maid. Should she have the maid pack her trunk? She moaned. Mama! What would she do when word reached her? Alice feared she would abandon her father to a lonely Christmas and come straight down.

  She wiped away a tear. Would she ever see Hugh again?

  A dusting of snow drifted down, and the air turned frigid. Hugh abandoned his pacing of the gardens and entered the house. In the drawing room, a yule log burned in the hearth. His grandfather sat in his favorite chair drawn up to the heat, a brandy in his hand, a book on fly-fishing in his lap. He looked up as Hugh edged closer to the fire to thaw the cold lump in his chest. “It’s snowing,” he said for want of something to say. The view from the window confirmed it.

  “You look cold and miserable,” Grandpa said. “Pour yourself a brandy and come and sit down. Did you enjoy your ride?”

  “I did. Rode Tarien all the way to the river,” Hugh said at the drink’s tray. He removed the stopper from the crystal decanter and poured brandy into a glass. “The gelding enjoyed the exercise.”

  “Doesn’t get ridden enough these days. I’ve been thinking of selling him.”

  “That would be a shame.”

  Hugh took the armchair opposite the earl and stretched his legs out toward the warmth. He eyed the book in his grandfather’s lap. “I remember when you taught me to fly fish for trout.”

  “You were keen and quick to learn. Your father never shared my interest.”

  “Didn’t he?” Hugh’s father and mother died in a carriage accident when he was ten. His grandfather had reared him from that day on. The bond between them had been so strong, he never imagined it could break.

  “Christmas is a time for memories.” Grandfather gazed into the flames. “For remembering our lost loved ones.”

  Hugh nodded, although he didn’t remember his parents well. To lose his grandfather, now that would be devastating. He took a deep sip of brandy.

  “I am glad you’re here, boy.”

  Hugh sat up sharply, causing Leo to stir on the rug at the earl’s feet. “You are, sir? Despite ev
erything?”

  “Yes. I can see you regret the business, and you’re trying to sort out your life. I’ve been thinking it’s time we put that where it belongs, in the past.”

  “I am, sir. I acted unwisely at Oxford, got into bad company. I did not do what that scoundrel accused me of, although his witnesses would swear that I did.” He shrugged. “I like to think I’ve grown up a bit since then. I want you to be proud of me.”

  “I was angry with you, but I’ve always been proud of you, Hugh. I’ve had to take a good look at myself, as a matter of fact,” his grandfather confessed. “Elizabeth keeps visiting my dreams to remind of the way Christmas used to be. I was worthy of her love then. But of late, I’ve turned my back on the needy in the parish and fobbed off those seeking my advice. I no longer visit my tenant farmers, my steward deals with them.” He firmed his shoulders. “I intend to make changes, beginning tomorrow. Perhaps you’ll accompany me on a visit to Ben Shilling’s farm. You remember him? He’s a splendid fellow and an excellent tenant. When the weather improves, we can enjoy a spot of fishing, try out those new lures.” He bent down to pat Leo. “I’ve prepared you over the years to take the reins when the time comes, but I can still teach you a thing or two about running this estate.”

  Hugh grinned. “I would like that, Grandfather.” Warmth spread through him, which came not from the fire. He was home again.

  The butler entered the room. “A note has come for you, Lord Hawkinge.”

  “Now who can that be? Fetch my spectacles, will you, Hugh? They are on the desk by the window.”

  Hugh handed them to him. “Were you sitting by the window this morning, Grandfather?”

  “Eh, yes I was, why?”

  “I just wondered if you saw me.”

  “Disappear over the wall? I did.” He chuckled. “Just the thing I would have done in my youth.”

  “I’ve fallen rather heavily for Alice,” Hugh admitted. “I know it’s ridiculous when we only just met…”