The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection

by Patricia Kiyono

  His curiosity had increased when she’d slipped into a side door of St. Paul’s Cathedral. Why ever would she dress so plainly for a visit to the church? Was she meeting someone?

  Amelia had indeed been meeting someone. Nearly a dozen little someones. Now he watched, entranced, as Amelia led the students through their lesson.

  He started when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he saw Robert had brought him a chair. He nodded gratefully and sat in the dim hallway where he could continue his observation. Lady Amelia was a wonderful teacher. She kept her students engaged, encouraging them with a gentle smile or a pat on the shoulder. So unlike the stern taskmasters who had come to Bartlett Manor to teach him. His knuckles still smarted from the many raps he’d received when his letters hadn’t been formed properly.

  She ended her lesson by reading aloud to the students while they ate treats she provided. There had been extras, enough for the hungry adults who observed from the back of the room. She’s made friends for life. Feeding their bodies as well as their minds.

  What a remarkable woman. While other women of the ton were primarily concerned with their looks, wardrobe, or the latest gossip, Lady Amelia had a cause, a purpose. She was as unique as she was lovely. How proud he would be to have such a delightful creature standing by his side. But his disfigurement would preclude that from happening. Even a kind-hearted woman like her would be repelled at the thought of him as a mate.

  Phillip stood and beckoned for his valet. He waited while Robert returned the chair to where he had gotten it then stepped toward the door. Robert stopped him with a light touch on his sleeve, nodding to a point behind him. Turning, he saw Amelia walking toward them.

  “Good evening, Your Grace. I trust our lesson didn’t interfere with your evening prayers?” she asked as students and parents made their way past them.

  “On the contrary, Lady Amelia. Observing your lesson was the highlight of my evening. You have some eager young pupils. How did you come to teach them?”

  “I happened to be here when one of the priests was conducting a lesson. He was using ancient materials, text children didn’t understand. And he was horrid to them — smacking their little hands when they didn’t form their letters correctly. I was appalled and was ready to go to the Cathedral Council but decided to speak to the instructor himself. The poor man was in over his head. He was a Latin scholar and had no idea what to do with small children who couldn’t even name their letters. I volunteered to help and started teaching them the next day.”

  “How fortunate for them.”

  “Thank you. I do what I can,” she responded, a becoming blush staining her cheeks. “It’s not much, and we need more books and materials. And it would be wonderful if we had a place to meet that wasn’t quite so dark. But for now, the children are at least learning to read. I believe a little education will give them an opportunity for better jobs.”

  “I would be happy to assist you.”

  Her eyes opened wide. To be honest, his offer had surprised him as much as it had her, but the smile lighting her face made him glad he’d voiced it.

  “That would be wonderful, Your Grace. I’m sure the boys would welcome a man such as you. So many of them don’t have a father figure in their lives, you know.”

  “Er — I meant I’d be happy to sponsor your teaching. I have a great many books in my personal library, and it would be a privilege to supply the writing supplies.”

  “Oh! Thank you for that, Your Grace.” She bowed her head and turned to gather her materials.

  As she packed her bag, Phillip couldn’t stop the feeling that he would soon be helping her with more than just the supplies.

  Chapter Six

  It was a brisk December afternoon, and a light snow during the night had put a freshness in the air. Now it was sunny, and Amelia decided it was too nice to stay indoors. Despite the cold, she donned her cloak and took one of her new books, settling on a bench in the private garden behind her brother’s home.

  She had just begun to read when a tiny fur ball dashed across her line of vision and scampered up into the wild pear tree growing next to her bench. It was Colette’s newest kitten, Sophie. Of course, once the little thing got up in the tree, she didn’t know what to do. Frightened, she howled for help.

  “Oh, you poor dear,” Amelia crooned, setting down her book. “Let me help you.” She climbed onto the bench and reached up toward the branch. But the kitten backed away from her and climbed higher.

  “Come here, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you,” Amelia cajoled.

  Standing on tiptoe, she stretched her arm farther, but she still couldn’t reach the kitten. Exasperated, she stepped up onto the lowest branch, but the kitten was still out of reach. Worse yet, the little creature kept backing farther away. Amelia took a tentative step along the branch, and then another…

  And then found she couldn’t move.

  The lace of her petticoat had tangled in the gnarled branches of the tree, effectively pinning her in place. How would she get down?

  “Lady Amelia? How ever did you get caught in that pear tree? Are you hurt?”

  “What happened, Lady Amelia?”

  Startled, she turned her gaze downward. The Duke of Bartlett and his niece, Laurel, stood next to her bench, looking up at her. Amelia was torn between relief at being rescued and chagrin at being caught in such a predicament.

  “Good day, Your Grace. Please excuse my lack of manners, but I seem unable to curtsey at this moment. Mademoiselle Colette’s kitten climbed the tree and was too frightened to get down, so I came up here to rescue her. And yes, Laurel, I’m fine. I’m just… stuck, as well.”

  Laurel tugged at the duke’s arm until he looked down at her. “Uncle Phillip, you must help her.”

  Phillip nodded and stepped up onto the bench. His height allowed him to easily reach the branch that had caught her skirts. Leaning against the trunk for balance, he reached out and carefully detached her skirts from the tree’s grasp. As soon as she was free, she moved her foot to take a step down, but a pair of strong hands grasped her waist. Before she could utter a word, she found herself lifted off the branch and settled safely on the ground.

  Amelia stammered her thanks, but Phillip climbed up into the tree and caught the kitten by the scruff of her neck. Holding Sophie carefully, he dropped lightly to the ground and offered the shivering kitten to her.

  Amelia could barely meet her rescuer’s gaze. Heat flooded her cheeks — was it from embarrassment, or was it excitement from the physical contact with the handsome duke?

  “Thank you again, Your Grace. And I know my future sister-in-law will be most grateful to you for rescuing her Sophie.”

  Phillip bowed. “I assure you, it was my pleasure.”

  Before Amelia could frame a response, Laurel took Amelia’s arm. “I’m so glad we found you at home today, Lady Amelia. I need to speak to you. I’ve talked to Uncle Phillip, but he says I need a woman’s view, so I asked him to bring me here right away.”

  Amelia couldn’t imagine what advice she could give, but she gestured toward the bench and invited Laurel to sit.

  “How can I help?”

  The girl launched into her tale. “It’s Mama! She wants me to have a season next year, and she has lots of plans for dresses and parties, but I don’t need all that to find a husband. I don’t want to marry anyone but Nicky!”

  Laurel’s anxiety tugged at Amelia’s heart. She could sympathize with the girl’s dilemma, having had wishes totally against those of her parents. Amelia’s own mother, rest her soul, had cried endlessly at her only daughter’s total lack of interest in the selection of eligible bachelors attending the balls during her season. A few of the gentlemen had even offered for her hand, but she simply hadn’t been able to muster enough enthusiasm for any of them and had turned them down. “Why should I marry simply because a man asks?” she’d said when her mother had pressed.

  But now, Amelia needed to choose her words wisely. The young
girl with hopeful eyes was the daughter of her close friend, and probably as close to a daughter as she would ever have. She needed to tread carefully.

  “Have you explained how you feel to your mother? Does she know the young man?”

  “She knows him, but she thinks this is simply a schoolgirl whim and that I should see what real gentlemen are like. Oh, Lady Amelia, I don’t need to see anyone else. No man would ever compare to my Nicky.”

  She glanced at Phillip. “Nicky?”

  The duke cleared his throat. “Nicholas Kentridge, second son of the Earl of Dunham.”

  Though his voice had revealed nothing, his dark expression told Amelia exactly what he thought of the young man. Knowing the boy’s identity, Amelia had to agree. The earl was a rake, and according to rumor, his sons were cut from the same cloth. But the love-struck girl wouldn’t want to hear that.

  Amelia covered Laurel’s hand with her own. “Does Nicky feel the same? Has he expressed a desire for the two of you to marry?”

  “Well… no, but I’m certain he will. It just wouldn’t be fair for me to encourage anyone else.”

  “You wouldn’t have to encourage anyone during your season. But if you go along with your mother’s plans, you can show Nicky exactly how lovely and suitable you are.”

  “Nicky’s not interested in beauty.” Laurel’s eyes gleamed, and her posture straightened as she spoke of her intended beau. “He told me he admires my intellect and my artistic talent.”

  Amelia noticed Phillip turn his head away and guessed it was to hide the derision in his eyes. Thankfully, Laurel was too lost in her own thoughts to notice her uncle.

  “Perhaps not, but it would be a shame to deny your mother the joy of seeing her daughter as the beautiful debutante you would be.”

  “But, Lady Amelia—”

  “Hear me out. Even if your parents approve of — er, Nicky — you are not yet at the legal age of consent. Why not take a year and let your parents dote on you? I know you’ll have a lovely time.”

  “But you didn’t enjoy your season,” Laurel protested. “I’ve heard you complaining about it to Mother.”

  Amelia pursed her lips. Her family had always chided her about her runaway mouth. Now it could cause a problem for her friend.

  She cleared her throat, hoping the inspiration would come. “Laurel, dear, I was wrong to protest against my mother. Had I simply gone along with her wishes, I would have made her happy, and she would have seen for herself how unsuitable the young men in my circle were for me. It would have saved us both a lot of unpleasantness.”

  Laurel sighed. “So you think I should just let Mother have her way and make me spend an entire season being nice to mere boys in whom I have absolutely no interest?”

  “Mmm, there are some good things to consider.”

  “What would those be?”

  “Well, as a debutante, you will be presented at court. That’s quite exciting.”

  Laurel’s face brightened. “Oh, yes. I’d forgotten about that.”

  “And you’ll have an elegant new wardrobe.”

  “Well, that would be nice, but Nicky says I’m beautiful even without the fancy clothes.”

  “That’s quite… gallant of him. But I still think you need to attend a few social events. Nicky will probably be invited to many of the same events as you, and then he’ll be able to see how lucky he is to have your affection. Besides, the season is only a few months. If you don’t do it, you’ll disappoint your mother, and you might regret it later. If you go through with your season and make her happy, you’ll also have some wonderful tales to share with your own daughter someday.”

  The girl frowned. “I suppose you’re right. It is only for a little while. Nicky says he doesn’t enjoy the social life, but perhaps he’ll attend a ball or two to please me.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “I’m still not certain I should dance with other men besides Nicky, but I suppose I could go through with the presentation at court. Just to please my parents, of course.”

  “Of course,” Amelia replied. “And I know they will be so proud of you.”

  The girl surprised her with a quick hug and then launched into a flurry of plans, pacing excitedly in front of the bench. Amelia listened for a few seconds, but her attention was diverted when Phillip leaned close and whispered, “Well done, Lady Amelia.”

  Despite the cool weather, Amelia felt a definite rise in the temperature.

  Chapter Seven

  Phillip sat beside the young boy, his large hand gently covering Bertie’s smaller one, helping the child form the letters of his name. The lines were shaky, but the letters were recognizable.

  “Excellent, Bertie. Now, can you do it by yourself?”

  The six-year-old nodded and pursed his lips as he gripped the chalk tightly and concentrated on his task.

  Phillip wasn’t sure how he’d come to actually help Amelia in this makeshift schoolroom. He’d merely wanted to see that she’d received the supplies he had sent. And then suddenly she’d had to deal with a little girl’s tears, and Bertie had needed help. She’d turned to him, but he’d hesitated. He’d turned to her footman, who had shrugged.

  “Beggin’ Your Grace’s pardon,” Giles had said. “I’d like to help, but I can’t read. I help Lady Amelia carry her supplies and watch out for pickpockets and lowlife, but I can’t help her in here.”

  With a sigh, Phillip had seated himself next to the child, showing Bertie again and again how to form the letters of his name.

  A sixth sense made him twist around. Behind their bench, a man watched intently as Bertie worked. One hand was raised, his index finger tracing a path in the air. Was he Bertie’s father? He didn’t bear any resemblance to the child.

  The man must have felt the duke watching him, because he abruptly put his hand down and lowered his eyes. His cheeks reddened. “Sorry, Yer Grace. Since me little neighbor Bertie and me share the same name, I thought so’s I’d learn along with ’im how ta write it. That way, I can sign me own name rather than just a mark.”

  Phillip’s mind whirled at the man’s words. Reading and writing were so much a part of his life that he couldn’t imagine not having the ability to do so. And being able to sign one’s own name to a document was a basic skill this man didn’t have.

  “I have an extra slate and some chalk,” he told the older Bertie. “Why don’t you sit down and join us?”

  The older Bertie’s jaw dropped. “Me? Sittin’ down wi’ a duke? Truly, Yer Grace?”

  “Truly. I’d be honored to help you.”

  Big Bertie promptly plopped himself on Phillip’s other side. “Thank ye, Yer Grace,” he said. “Me name’s Bertie Jones, and if ye ever need yer chimney swept, I’m yer man.” He was soon hard at work writing the letters of his name, his face as determined as the younger Bertie’s.

  The boy finally finished writing the last letter and looked up with pride shining from his dark eyes. “I wrote my name all by myself,” he bragged. “Mama will be so proud of me.”

  Phillip shared in the boy’s joy. “Perhaps she’ll give you a treat.”

  Bertie’s face fell. “Maybe. If Mama can get enough washing to buy food this week.”

  “What about your father?”

  “Papa is sick. He got hurt at his work. He has marks like yours all over his whole body.” He pointed to the scars on Phillip’s face.

  “How did he get them?”

  “He was working in a factory, and the furnace exploded. Now he can’t walk. Mostly he just stays in the bed because he can’t see and he can hardly hear.” Bertie reached up and gently traced a scar on Phillip’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”

  Phillip shook his head. “Not anymore.”

  Bertie nodded. “Mama said someday soon Papa’s sores won’t hurt him anymore.” He turned his hopeful eyes back to Phillip’s. “Do you think that will be soon?”

  Phillip’s heart ached. Bertie’s father didn’t have long to live. What were a few facial scars
compared to the agony this boy’s father had had to endure? He swallowed. “I hope so, Bertie. I sincerely hope so.”

  ~~~~

  “Thank you again for helping little Bertie Crabtree, Your Grace,” Amelia said as he escorted her out of the cathedral to his waiting carriage. “I know he looked up to you. He misses interaction with his father.”

  “Yes, he told me about his father’s accident. I would like to do something to help his family.”

  “How generous of you, Your Grace. I know they would appreciate your donation.”

  “I could donate, but I thought perhaps I would see if Bertie’s mother could join my household staff. He told me she presently takes in washing.”

  Amelia stopped in her tracks. “What a wonderful idea! I’m sure that would help the family immensely. I’ve been trying to think of ways to help the students and their families. But giving them positions would benefit them so much more than simply giving them food and money.”

  Her mind raced with new ideas. She bubbled with excitement as he handed her into the carriage. “I can’t offer positions to every family, but I think I can persuade Mrs. Garrett, our housekeeper, into hiring one or two more maids. And I shall speak to some of my friends, too. They’re always complaining about how difficult it is to get good help. I shall have to gather the children’s parents together and find out what their talents are. If there are men who have training of any kind that will make them more marketable…”

  Before she knew it, they had arrived back at Sudbury House, and she bade the duke a good night. She went straight to her room and gathered her writing materials. There was work to be done.

  Chapter Eight

  Phillip had attended nearly every session since his meeting with the two Berties, and he had faithfully supplied materials for each lesson. He’d even produced an easel to make it easier for Amelia to instruct the entire group. And each time, his cook had sent tasty sandwiches for the children and the increasing number of parents who came to observe. The food was as much of an attraction as the lessons, but knowing he was feeding their stomachs as well as their minds gave Phillip a sense of purpose he’d never known.