Salt Hendon Omnibus 01 to 03
Page 79
“Are you as disappointed as my sister that there is not to be a wedding after all, Miss Aldershot?” he asked.
“Oh, no, Mr. Allenby,” Kitty said truthfully. “I am so very pleased that at their age they wasted no time in becoming husband and wife.”
“You believe people should marry in haste, Miss Aldershot?” he asked, and then quickly apologized. “Forgive me. That was forward of me and I—”
“What I believe, Mr. Allenby, is that we should be truthful with each other,” Kitty replied and smiled up at him. “Would you—would you like to have that word with me now?”
Kitty’s smile was so full of optimism that to Tom Allenby it was as if the sun had come out at night. It made him lose all hesitancy. “Yes! Yes, I would. Very much.”
He followed her to the other side of the Gallery, away from the animated family conversations about weddings and babies, and watched her duly spread out her quilted petticoats and sit on the window seat cushion, hands lightly in her lap. She waited for Mr. Allenby to join her. He did so, sitting stiff and nervous. But as she continued to look at him with a bright smile, he relaxed enough to say firmly,
“Miss Aldershot, after Twelfth Night I must leave here and return to London for the resumption of Parliament. During the day I am caught up in all manner of debates and conversations and surrounded by my fellows, which proves a distraction. But I return in the evenings to Arlington Street, alone. And it is then that I have time to think—to think about—to think about my future and about—and about—you, Miss Aldershot. Please! I do not wish to shock you with such revelations but I—”
“Oh, I am not at all shocked, Mr. Allenby,” Kitty assured him. “I, too, think of you—often. Very often.” Her brow wrinkled in thought. “But perhaps that shocks you?”
He shook his head with a shy smile. “No. Not at all. I am glad to hear you say so. For now I do not feel so awkward in my confession to you.” He moved a little closer, and when he put out his hand and she laid hers in his, he said quietly, gaze never wavering from her lovely eyes, “May I have permission to write to you, Miss Aldershot? I should like to write to you every day while I am in London. And I hope for a return reply to every letter. Knowing a letter from you awaits me upon my return home of an evening from Parliament would make the hours go by so much the quicker. May I write to you, Miss Aldershot?”
Kitty did not hesitate in her reply.
“Yes, Mr. Allenby. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to receive your letters all about London, and Parliament, and oh! all manner of topics you find interesting. But I’m afraid you may find me a rather dull correspondent by comparison, knowing as you do that I reside here, deep in the country, and with most of my time spent in the nursery, in the company of children and babies!”
Tom Allenby shook his head with a smile. “Not at all, Miss Aldershot. Where my nephew and nieces are concerned—where you are concerned—I am very keen for any news.”
“Then I very much look forward to corresponding with you, Mr. Allenby.” Kitty raised her wassail cup. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Allenby.”
“And a very Merry Christmas to you, Kitty—my Christmas angel.”
Naturally, Tom Allenby did not voice aloud this salutation. Yet, he was confident that by next Christmas he would have the right to do so. This Christmas Eve, however, he was content to raise his cup in a simple toast,
“And a very merry Christmas to you, Miss Aldershot.”
THE END (FOR NOW)
BEHIND-THE-SCENES
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ABOUT LUCINDA BRANT
WHEN NOT BUMPING about 18th century London in my sedan chair or exchanging gossip with perfumed and patched courtiers in the gilded drawing rooms of Versailles, I write award-winning Georgian historical romances and mysteries (with lashings of romance). My books are set in 1700s Georgian England, with occasional crossings to continental Europe. I pull up the reins at the French Revolution where I lost a previous life at the guillotine for my unpardonably hedonistic lifestyle as a layabout aristo!
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