His Blessed Epiphany (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 9)

by Marly Mathews

  Sometimes, he could attend, if he wasn’t helping his mother out at The Swan Inn where she worked. Once he realized how woefully uneducated he was in Colonel Blessing’s eyes, he had been quite red faced. The man had taken it in stride, and had told him that by the time he was done with him, his knowledge would be vast.

  Christian Blessing, 9th Earl of Painswick had been overconfident, but in some ways, he had been right about Felix because he had left Colonel Blessing’s service with a better understanding of the world, and though some words still befuddled him, he knew far more now, than he did as a raw recruit.

  Colonel Blessing enriched his knowledge, providing him with books, and helping him with the words he wasn’t certain about. Lady Epiphany furthered his education as well, sitting patiently with him and teaching him how to polish up his penmanship, helping him with his figures and sums, and talking to him about the music she loved.

  Between the two of them, they had turned him into a worthy pupil. If he had regretted one thing about leaving Colonel Blessing, it was that he would never see Lady Epiphany again, and now that he was faced with being reunited with her, he had no idea how she would regard him.

  Most women of her class and breeding looked down their noses at his lot, and even though she had been a sweet little lassie, time could change a person. If time had wrought such an alteration within Lady Epiphany, he didn’t know how he would deal with it. He couldn’t live with a harridan who wanted to fight with him all of the time. He just didn’t have the patience for it.

  Instead of being ill-tempered, she might have turned into a silly little cow who only thought of herself, complained incessantly, and cared more about the content of her wardrobes than she did about other people. Either option didn’t exactly settle well with him.

  He sat upright in his saddle, stiffening at the sound of a hunting horn being blown, and then, the noise of hounds barking and howling. If he felt drowsy before, he was wide awake now. That blasting noise worked better than a thousand cups of coffee ever could.

  He vaguely remembered what the different hunting horn call or hunting voice calls meant, and he knew what to listen for that meant he had to get the hell out of the way. He had never gone out on the hunt. He had been invited to attend the one that Colonel Elliot had hosted last Christmas, and he and Freddie had declined, probably because they would root for the fox.

  If Lucky had accompanied him, he would have refreshed Felix’s murky memory. What he did know was that the riders and their hounds could bloody well come racing down the road he was currently on, or go galloping through the meadows that surrounded him as they usually went wherever the hell they pleased while on the hunt, that and he suspected that he was now on Blessing lands, and he recalled Colonel Blessing telling him that he hosted the traditional Boxing Day Hunt every year.

  He heard a man shout out, Tally ho, and listened closely, straining to see the riders and hounds in the distance. He definitely knew what that call meant. The poor fox’s goose was cooked. He watched as the hunters broke off in the opposite direction from where he was.

  As he rode closer, he saw Blessing Hall in the distance. His breath hitched in his throat. The sprawling manor house commanded his heart. He had seen plenty of lovely country houses in his day, but this one, this one, spoke to something hidden deep inside of him. This one had a haunting majesty to it, and yet, strangely enough, it also seemed to beckon to him in a welcoming manner. It was good that he welcomed the sight of it, as things stood now, it was about to become his home.

  His home for the rest of his life. That realization startled him. He would search no longer for a place to rest his soul and his heart. He had found a place to call home. He felt it keenly in his heart of hearts. This was where he would live the rest of his life—this was where he would die.

  His home.

  For someone who had been constantly scouring the Earth for such a thing, it was a blessed relief to finally have it within his grasp. If only his mother could come and live here. She hadn’t been willing to leave her sisters, and he doubted that his future bride would want his common mother underfoot.

  He wished that Lucky was here with him. If he was, they would both race for the big house. Instead, he was alone, with no one to compete against. He groaned, and patted his horse. “We shan’t have a bit of excitement this day. I know you would have enjoyed being able to race freely over these majestic lands. Wouldn’t you have, eh? Don’t worry you’ll get a good rub down and lovely meal shortly, Blessing, my boy.”

  Back in London, the Colonel had heard him refer to his stallion by name, and though the older man had raised his silver eyebrows, he had remained quiet. He felt a little guilty for using the Colonel’s family name for a horse, but the Colonel had always loved his horses so he thought in a way, that it was a homage to the old fellow, and he had agreed to take on the Blessing name once he was married to Epiphany, therefore adopting the double-barreled surname of Grey-Blessing.

  His eyes clapped upon a figure in the distance. Somehow, the rider must have gotten separated from the rest of the hunt. He was definitely a dandy, with a slight build, dressed in black, not scarlet, and seemed to be having trouble controlling his horse. Though the sounds of the hunt faded into the distance, they were still quite close enough for the horse, and if his horse were skittish, not used to the sounds of a hunt, or not used to his rider, it surely was a recipe for disaster. The weather wouldn’t help him either, if the beast was temperamental. Horses used in the hunt had to be of a certain temperament, and this one didn’t seem to have that disposition.

  He turned his horse in the direction of the struggling dandy, and urged Blessing into a gallop.

  *****

  Grey was unnaturally nervous.

  The thundering sounds of the hunt were affecting him in a way she had never witnessed before. She should have listened to Jamie. Her father had always told her to listen to those who handled the horses, as they knew them best, and she had been such a silly little twit, and her own harebrained actions had led her to this—if she were lucky she would escape with her life. She didn’t have to worry about her father doing something foolish—she already had.

  She could feel the tension rippling through Grey’s body. She should dismount, but she still wanted to find her father. She leaned forward, and rubbed Grey, and made the soothing sounds that usually contented him, but it wasn’t working.

  He was still skittish. He reared up and bolted, throwing her from his back. Most women would have screamed, unfortunately, whenever she was deathly afraid, she was crippled by that fear, and no sound came from her. She heard men shouting in the distance, maybe, she wouldn’t have to worry about her father leaving this world before her. She might be the one to go first. That was her last fleeing thought, just before she hit the ground.

  “Good God in Heaven, don’t be dead, old chap,” she heard a gruff booming voice say. The voice…it led her back out of the darkness. It was familiar—and yet foreign. She felt as if she had known the man. Why, why, he was calling her old chap? She heard someone crunch down into the snow beside her. He must have jumped off his horse and knelt by her side. He touched her, and her body recognized him. A shudder went through her body. Perhaps, she had known him in another life. It felt as if she had hit something soft. The snow must have broken her fall. Thank Goodness they been blessed with more snow this year than last year at this time. Heavy snowfall didn’t usually commence until January, but this year they had been treated to a good deal of it just prior to Christmas and it felt as if more was on the way. Her body ached, and she had a roaring headache. The rushing in her head barraged her ears, and she moaned.

  She fluttered her eyes open. The sun had come out from behind the clouds, and the blazing sight hurt her eyes. She winced, and quickly shut her eyes again.

  “Thank God, you are alive. Don’t shut your eyes. Open them up again, boy. That’s it. Look at me. Focus your attention on me.”

  Now his voice irritated her. “I am not a b
oy, nor am I an old chap,” she muttered, her voice came out as a croak.

  “What’s that, mate? I didn’t quite catch it,” the man said again.

  Someone else was shouting anxiously in the distance. It sounded as if it was one or several of the grooms, and they shouted, my lady, my lady, over and over again. The sound of it was only adding to the painful thudding behind her eyeballs.

  “I am not a boy,” she muttered again, this time more irritation laced her tone.

  “Damnation. I still can’t hear you. Speak up, man. Those grooms are having a bird about something. They both look as if they are about to lay an egg.”

  She chuckled, and the action made her moan with pain. “Oh, God, it hurts.”

  “That I most definitely heard. Where does it hurt?” he asked, reaching for her, and none too gently hauling her into a sitting position, while he patted his hands over her body to feel for a wound. She felt like a bloody rag doll the way he was jerking her around. He either didn’t know his own strength, or he really did think she was a man.

  “Ouch,” she groaned. “It hurts all over. That hurt me. Try to be a little gentler, eh?” He took his hands off her as if he had touched a burning flame.

  “Lawks! You are…” he stammered, his accent suddenly thickening. From what she could tell, he was from the Newcastle upon Tyne area. He was a Geordie. “You are not a blooming boy—you…you are a girl. Egad. You are a ruddy girl.” Disbelief and horror bled through his tone.

  She opened her eyes up, and fixed him with her groggy gaze. Summoning her energy, she responded to him, “That, sir, is something I have been well aware of for the last twenty some odd years. And every single day, when I look into the mirror, I am keenly reminded of it. The way I look can be a blessing, and a curse.” She chuckled, and groaned again.

  He was shocked, and dare she think it, a little appalled? She squinted her eyes at him, trying to see past the blinding sunlight haloing him, as the rays danced off the snow. Sunny winter days were not something she could deal with at the moment. It made her eyeballs hurt. His large image was so obscured, and yet…

  “Mr. Grey?” she asked softly, studying him intently.

  It was the eyes.

  His beautiful blue eyes. The ones that she had lost herself in on so many past occasions.

  That startling shade of indigo blue. With a gaze that could freeze or warm a person with just one look, and his chiseled jawline. Oh, God, he was the handsomest man she had ever clapped eyes on, and time hadn’t altered that. If anything, he had gotten even better looking. The charming rogue was still there, hiding behind the look of concern shimmering in his eyes. Was she seeing things, or was he real?

  He had the same strong features, flaxen blond hair, and from how large he was even down on his knees, it had to be Felix Grey—she wasn’t dreaming it. Surely she wasn’t, and his touch had felt real enough. No other man she had ever known was that large. He looked the same. He had weathered the years well. He seemed more like a man than the last time she had seen him. It resonated within her that the last time she had seen him, he had been little more than a lad himself. Life had matured him. While his body had survived the years remarkably well, there was a hardened glint in his eyes.

  He had seen a lot of death, and lived to tell about it.

  Recognition flooded through her. That was why his voice had seemed so familiar, and why his touch had elicited such a startling response within her body. Her body had recognized him, even if the rest of her senses hadn’t yet remembered him.

  He was her Felix, and he had come to rescue her in her time of distress, just like a gallant knight of old.

  Felix’s gut sunk right down to the ground.

  He felt loathsome. His right hand had brushed the side of her breast. How would she ever forgive him? Fortunately, she hadn’t seemed to notice his blunder. And if she did, she wasn’t going to rebuke him for it. In his defense, she had looked like a he, and he had been fooled, right until that moment.

  Why the bloody hell was she wearing a man’s riding outfit? Did she want to be taken for a man, or had she dressed in breeches so she could ride astride? It made no sense to him whatsoever. As a lady, she would be accomplished enough to ride sidesaddle, she would have no need to ride astride.

  The eyes pinned on him, were undeniably female. He felt like a bloody simkin for ever mistaking her for a man. What a bloody idiot he was. She blinked her big beautiful blue eyes again, her long lashes, made him a little short of breath. Her eyes were so blue they were the hue of violets. He was still on his knees, and he was frozen in shock, captivated by her spellbinding gaze. He knew those eyes. He recalled those eyes in a frightening intensity. God, he could drown in that luscious gaze.

  It was Lady Epiphany Blessing.

  The woman he was affianced to marry. His golden haired blessing. If he wasn’t already on his knees, he would have been, as he felt quite certain the realization would have made him weak in the knees.

  “My lady,” he whispered, bowing his head gallantly to her.

  “I…” she moaned again in pain. “I do beg your pardon, sir. I addressed you incorrectly. You are Lord Spaulding now. Pray forgive me. You have come a long way since we last met. I am glad for it. You were worthy of such a high honour.”

  He got to his feet, and looked down at her. The grooms that were calling her name had almost reached them. He was tempted to scoop her up into his arms.

  “Oh, hell, when have I ever fought temptation?” he asked aloud, looking up at the heavens, he shrugged his shoulders. He couldn’t be a saint, and he was definitely no angel. He couldn’t even pretend to be either one. He was really going to shake up the House of Blessing. He was a rascal and that was a widely accepted fact. He might as well embrace it. He bent over, and he reached out for her.

  “My lord, I can get to my feet unassisted, you mustn’t,” but her protestations fell on deaf ears, as he had already swept her up into his arms. “Put me down at once, Lord Spaulding!” This time it wasn’t a request. It was definitely an order. A woman, other than his mother, had never given him a command before. He had forgotten just how alike Lady Epiphany and her father were. She was a chip off the old block. They were both used to snapping off commands, and getting their own way. Grudgingly, he did as she asked.

  She wobbled precariously on her feet, and looked at him with eyes that looked a little too befogged for his liking. “Did…do you have a twin, Lord Spaulding? If not, I fear I am seeing double.”

  He shook his head. Blast it. She had knocked her head a little harder than he originally thought. He wished that Lewis was here right now. She clasped her arms across her chest, looking every bit the damsel in distress. Her teeth chattered together. She not only looked cold—she sounded cold as well.

  “I think…I think I might take you up on that offer to carry me like a knight in shining armour, sir…I feel terribly sleepy, and a little chilly all of a sudden.”

  He reached out to steady her. “Whatever you do, do not go to sleep,” he instructed. He reached for her chin, and tilted it up so she was staring him right in the eyes, she blinked innocently at him, and the sweet gesture nearly undid him. “Do you understand, Lady Epiphany? Do not go to sleep, no matter how great the temptation.” He might not have Doc’s healing gift, but he knew enough about head injuries to know one thing. Some men who fell asleep after knocking their heads and losing consciousness briefly back in the Wars, never woke up. There was one thing about her that was different from the other cases he had seen. She knew who he was, knew who she was, and she was responsive…oh so responsive. He had never had a woman react to him the way she did. She lit up like a torch around him—even in her confused state, her extra wide eyes had lit with a light that he had never seen in another woman’s eyes. Other women that he had been around, their eyes only lit up during the throes of passion, and after they were paid.

  He was tempted to pick her up again, but that would only relax her, and possibly cause her to fall asleep. He re
sted his hands lightly on her shoulders. “If I pick you up, do you swear not to go to sleep? Upon your honour, my lady?”

  “I swear. Upon my honour,” she said softly. “I fear…I fear if you don’t pick me up, I shall fall down. I think I am seeing stars, and I have an awful ringing in my ears…or is that the hunting horns blowing? And where is Grey?”

  He scooped her up into his arms, before she could say anything else. The feeling of her arms around her neck felt right. They felt as if they belonged there. She felt so damn good pressed tightly to him. She had snuggled up against him, and let out a sound that resembled a purr. Groaning, he prayed. For himself and for her.

  Perhaps, the thought of marriage wasn’t so revolting after all.

  Chapter Three

  The grooms caught up with them.

  “Is Her Ladyship all right?” One of them gasped, bending over to catch his breath.

  “Aye, Jamie. I am fine,” she whispered. “Thanks in large part to Lord Spaulding.”

  “Lord Spaulding?” Jamie asked, straightening, he looked up at Felix in surprise. “Is he…is he?”

  “Aye, Jamie. This is the man that I shall marry.”

  Her voice was strong. She didn’t seem afraid of the prospect at all. If anything, Felix feared it more than she did. She hadn’t been intimidated by his size either, and he knew that she was still in a state of confusion, but she was clearheaded enough to hold a conversation, and it seemed as if she was in full control of her other sensibilities. Now that he reflected upon it, as a younger girl, she hadn’t been afraid of his size. She had been comfortable around him, something that her mother used to keep a watchful eye on. He could still hear her rebuking Epiphany and telling her to leave him alone to do his duties. Her father had reacted to that chastisement by saying that she wasn’t causing any harm, and that Felix could safely keep her out of trouble.

  Colonel Blessing had always trusted him around Epiphany, something that hadn’t escaped Felix’s notice. If only he had someone to watch over him to see that he never got into mischief.