To Warm A Wintered Heart (Regency Romance)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Cropp!”

  Gabriel’s deep voice echoed around them as Charlotte watched him fly off of his horse, slide upon his feet down the embankment, and run toward them with rage in his blue eyes.

  She heard Mr. Cropp approach her from behind, but before she could move, he pushed her to the ground, and she scrambled across the snow as she looked over her shoulder in time to see Gabriel landing his fist squarely in Mr. Cropp’s jaw, knocking him flat to the ground.

  “I warned you!” Gabriel shouted as Mr. Cropp struggled to stand. “I said you would not live if you touched her again!”

  Hearing Horatio whinnying before her, Charlotte looked to see him skittering nervously in place, so she moved toward him until the animal created a barrier between her and the fighting.

  She rested her gloveless hand upon his neck, stroked his hair, and whispered, “He is here. He will keep us safe,” as Gabriel landed another blow to the man’s stomach.

  In the next moment, however, Mr. Cropp threw a handful of powdery snow into Gabriel’s face, and as Gabriel struggled to wipe the moisture from his eyes, the man brandished a solid tree branch overhead and hit Gabriel from the side.

  “No!” Charlotte screamed as he fell back into the snow.

  Her heart lurched forward when Mr. Cropp advanced upon her, moving around Horatio and wrapping his thick fingers around her neck until her head began to spin.

  “You will be sorry!” he shouted at her.

  She clawed and thrashed as she was choked breathless, and darkness was swiftly overcoming the white until a sudden breaking of a branch snapped her into awareness.

  Mr. Cropp’s grip around her neck loosened, and she fell back into the snow as she gasped for air.

  Coughing, she looked around for the man, disoriented until she heard his grunts next to her, and her eyes widened to see Horatio, with his lead still tied to a broken branch, standing upon his hind legs before pouncing upon Mr. Cropp’s chest over and over again.

  She closed her eyes, flinching at the memory the scene had evoked before strong hands wrapped under her arms, and she looked to see Gabriel pulling her away from the chaos.

  “Please, Mr. Worthington,” she said between coughs, “you must stop Horatio.”

  Gabriel pulled her to rest against a distant tree trunk before his shrill whistle pierced the air, and Horatio ceased his stomping instantly and moved toward Charlotte and Gabriel, the air around them finally silent.

  Gabriel moved to where Mr. Cropp’s lifeless body lay, but Charlotte remained where she sat, warily eying the horse approaching her as her body shook.

  When Horatio lowered his head to be level with hers, his large brown eyes calm as he nudged her gently with his nose, she smiled and reached up to rub his forelock.

  Gabriel approached her soon after with a weary look upon his face, and his boots crunched through the snow until he knelt down next to her.

  “Is he…” Charlotte began, attempting to peer around Gabriel’s shoulders, but he quickly placed a gentle hand upon her arm to prevent her view.

  “Yes, he is,” he said, “but you mustn’t look.”

  His soft warning convinced Charlotte to do as she was told, so she moved her gaze to her hands until Gabriel spoke again.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice cracking.

  Charlotte nodded. “Only my shoulder and brow from when the carriage fell.”

  Gabriel’s fingers moved her wet hair away to examine the wound upon her head.

  “I am so sorry,” he said, “for everything.”

  Charlotte shook her head, avoiding his gaze as tears welled in her eyes, the emotion within her preventing any words from forming.

  “Are you able to stand?” he asked.

  Charlotte nodded before Gabriel pulled her gently to her feet, and the two of them walked to where Mr. Daw still lay unconscious in the snow.

  “What happened?”

  Charlotte told the tale in a daze, wondering herself if it all had truly occurred, and Gabriel listened as he looked at Mr. Daw’s wounds.

  “And when did Mr. Cropp arrive?” he asked, standing to face her again.

  “Shortly after,” she said. “He told me he happened upon me, but I know he must have followed me the moment I left Greyston.” Her voice broke when she continued, her body beginning to shake uncontrollably as her tears flowed down her cheeks. “I thought when he appeared, he might…”

  As her cries finally escaped her lips, Gabriel hushed her, pulling her into his arms.

  “You fought bravely,” he said, “but you are safe now.”

  She returned his embrace, grasping the folds of the fabric upon his back as she cried against his chest, unaware of how long her sobs continued until her tears finally slowed, and Gabriel pulled away to look into her eyes.

  “We must return to Greyston Hall before the storm worsens. Are you well enough to travel now?” he asked, and she nodded.

  Gabriel led her up the embankment, and she winced at the pain in her shoulder before waiting near his black horse, who had remained where his master had left him during the commotion.

  She peered down to watch Gabriel lift Mr. Daw onto Horatio’s back, and after struggling to bring them both up the embankment, he tied Horatio’s lead, at last, to Buxton.

  Charlotte looked at the snow falling thickly around them, and her stomach sank.

  “Do you think the snow is much worse beyond here?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Gabriel said. “I rode in from that direction. Why do you ask?”

  “It is just, well,” Charlotte began, “my family…”

  Recognition dawned in Gabriel’s eyes, and he shook his head, “I am certain they will have stopped to take shelter.”

  He smiled reassuringly in her direction, but Charlotte’s concern only grew when she watched Gabriel securing the saddle, noticing at once the bump swelling upon the side of his face between his cheekbone and ear.

  “You are hurt,” she said, her brows pulling together as she caressed the bruise already forming.

  “It is nothing,” Gabriel said, his voice soft, and only when their eyes met did Charlotte drop her hand.

  “Here,” he said, reaching for her hands and placing his own gloves upon her fingers.

  “Oh, but I would not wish for you to be cold,” Charlotte said.

  “If you remember, Miss Rosebury, I am a man, and men do not ever feel cold.”

  She smiled before her lips cracked in protest, and she soon felt the warmth of the thick fur against her fingers.

  “Come,” Gabriel said, “we must ride my horse as one.”

  “But how are we to find Greyston Hall?” she asked, eying the snow around them.

  “The horses know their way,” he said before facing her. “Now, I am afraid you must sit astride Buxton, as we do not have a sidesaddle in our possession.”

  Charlotte stared at him blankly until her eyes widened. “Oh, but that would not be very proper, would it?”

  “No, but when the choice is between lack of propriety and death,” Gabriel said with raised brows, “I would choose the former, and I hope you would, as well.”

  Charlotte frowned. “Very well, you have convinced me.”

  Gabriel nodded before hunching down to reach the bottom of her dress and pulling at the fabric until it tore.

  “You may tear the rest,” he said, and he turned around.

  Charlotte eyed him warily before ripping the dress to just above her knee, the wind chilling her until she pulled her pelisse closer to her person.

  Soon, Gabriel helped her to mount, situating her pelisse to surround her legs before pulling a blanket across her lap, and Charlotte waited until he mounted behind her and urged the horses forward.

  “How far is it to Greyston?” she asked.

  “A little less than half an hour,” he responded, his deep voice next to her ear.

  They rode in silence, Charlotte’s thoughts swirling with questions for the ma
n sitting behind her, but she focused instead on remaining warm, though her limbs refused to cease their shivering.

  Their journey proved tedious, the pain in her head and shoulder increasing, her teeth chattering and body throbbing with aches, until at last, they could see the faint outline of Gabriel’s home in the distance, and the horses increased their speed until Charlotte watched as the doors of Greyston Hall swung open, and Mrs. Worthington ran out in the snow toward them, followed closely by nearly the entire household.

  “What on earth has happened?” the woman called out before Gabriel reined in his horse, dismounting and turning to help Charlotte down.

  “The carriage slid off the road,” he responded hurriedly, Mrs. Worthington’s eyes widening at Charlotte’s ragged appearance. “I shall tell you more later.”

  He lifted Charlotte from the horse, and but when her feet touched the ground, her legs gave way, and Gabriel scooped her up without hesitation, heading straight toward the door.

  She tried to protest being held, but the lightness she felt in Gabriel’s strong arms brought a calmness to her, and she rested her head upon his shoulder.

  “Mr. Harding,” Gabriel called out to the butler, “see to Mr. Daw and assemble a search party for Simon along the east road.”

  They traveled in silence until they reached Charlotte’s room, and as Mrs. Worthington stood near the door, speaking in hushed tones to the housekeeper, Gabriel marched straight in to lay Charlotte gently upon the bed. She attempted to thank him, but her words slurred as fatigue took a hold of her mind.

  However, when she glanced up to see him still leaning over her, his eyes focused behind the pillow she rested upon, Charlotte frowned.

  “What is it?” she asked, following his gaze until she saw the fingers of a glove, his glove, sticking out from her pillow, and she became suddenly aware as a blush burned her cool cheeks and horror filled her.

  “I have been looking for this,” Gabriel said, motioning to the glove, one of his brows raised higher than the other.

  “Oh, I really had meant to return it to you,” she said, recalling her desire to bring the glove with her to Brightwood, though she had decided eventually to leave it behind, for she knew a physical reminder of the man would only bring her further heartache.

  “Not to worry, Miss Rosebury,” Gabriel said, reaching forward to tuck the glove fully under her pillow, a smile growing upon his lips, “you may have it, so long as you promise to keep it better hidden. We would not wish for the maids to gossip more than they already do.”

  Her heart fluttered, and they stared in silence at one another until Mrs. Worthington approached them.

  “All right, son,” she said, “I shall tend to Miss Rosebury. You may see to yourself now.”

  Gabriel hesitated only a moment until his mother waved him away from the bed, and his broad figure crossed the room until he glanced over his shoulder.

  He sent a small smile in her direction, and when he finally disappeared out of the door, Charlotte’s heart instantly longed for his return.

  Charlotte was soon changed into a warm nightdress of Mrs. Worthington’s, as her clothes remained at the fallen carriage, and warmth enveloped her at last as the crackling fire lulled her to sleep, the last image in her mind’s eye being that of Gabriel Worthington coming to her rescue and holding her so lovingly, she wished he might never let her go.

  ***

  Charlotte slept for hours, awakening only for an assessment by the physician, in accordance with Mrs. Worthington’s request, before sleeping soundly once more.

  Well into the night, however, a soft knock sounded upon her door, and her eyes fluttered open to a dark room lit only by the fire still glowing in the hearth.

  “Come in,” she called out as she struggled to sit.

  The door slowly creaked open, but when no one appeared, she frowned.

  “Who is there?” she asked cautiously before a deep voice responded.

  “Miss Rosebury?”

  “Mr. Worthington?” she asked in surprise before she slid out of her bed, moving slowly to avoid further pain to her head.

  She pulled a blanket over her shoulders and smoothed down her hair as she tiptoed across the cold floor, and a smile spread across her lips when she finally peered around the door, coming face-to-face with Gabriel.

  Her heart fluttered when she took in his appearance, his cravat and waistcoat missing and his billowing white shirt slightly open to reveal the top of his chest.

  “Forgive me for causing you to leave your bed,” he said, his eyes perusing her face as he returned her smile, “but I needed to see if you were well.”

  Her smile grew. “I am, thank you,” she said. “And you?”

  “Yes,” he responded, and they remained silent for a moment before he continued. “I thought you would like to know, the physician has seen to Mr. Daw, and he is expected to make a full recovery. Simon has also been found, and apart from a small bump on his head, he is well.”

  “Oh, what a relief,” Charlotte said. “Do give them my best.”

  Gabriel nodded. “I was also able to speak with the constable concerning Mr. Cropp. I explained everything so you might not have to recount the man’s actions again.

  “Thank you,” Charlotte said softly, her thoughts swirling with love. “That is very kind.”

  Gabriel glanced away with a single nod, and Charlotte thought once again of her departure, of his absence, and she could not help but ask, “How did you come upon me this morning? Did you have business that finished early, perhaps?”

  He shook his head. “No, I did not have business,” he said, and Charlotte’s heart dropped along with her gaze. “In truth, after noting the approaching storm in the morning, I left early to ensure the roads were clear enough for your travels.”

  Charlotte’s eyes slowly returned to stare at Gabriel’s handsome face.

  “Truly?” she asked.

  “Indeed. I had planned to return before your departure, but I was soon caught in the snow myself, so I made my way back slowly enough to search for your carriage. When I did not see you, I hoped you had remained at Greyston, but in that very moment, I heard your screams for help.”

  Charlotte nodded, ignoring the frightening memories from earlier that day.

  “I must thank you, Mr. Worthington,” she said, “for coming to my aid. I do not believe I would be here now, were it not for you rescuing me.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “If you remember, Miss Rosebury, it was Horatio who ultimately rescued you.”

  Charlotte’s eyes focused upon Gabriel as she recalled the horse’s actions of breaking free from the tree to knock Mr. Cropp away from her, and she listened as he continued.

  “The bond you share is strong. He sensed the danger you were in and did everything within his power to help you. That is why he is yours.”

  Charlotte pondered his words before she smiled.

  “How very strange it is,” she said, “to have what I feared for years be the very thing to save my life.”

  She glanced up to see Gabriel merely staring at her, his expression unreadable, until he cleared his throat.

  “Mother has told me the physician suggested you remain here for at least a week. I am sorry you will have to wait even longer now to see your family.”

  “As am I,” Charlotte began, “but I think it will be for the best. I only wish…I cannot help but worry over their own safety, as I am certain they worry over mine. If only I could know for certain they are, indeed, safe.”

  When silence met her remarks, Charlotte watched Gabriel as a frown formed upon his brow.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he responded, blinking away his distracted look before smiling. “I ought to leave you now. I apologize for disturbing you from your much needed rest.”

  “Not at all,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “I have enjoyed seeing you for a moment. Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “I am not certain,” h
e said, seeming to hesitate, “as I have things that need seeing to. Do sleep well tonight, though, Miss Rosebury,” and he left her at once.

  She watched his departing shoulders move quickly away, and discouragement filled her until he suddenly stopped, looked over his shoulder, and strode right back to her with a determined look upon his face.

  Her heart quickened when he reached her, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck and pulling her toward him until their lips met in a warm exchange. Their affection intensified as each moment passed by, and it seemed as if their kiss ended as soon as it had begun. Gabriel pulled back with a smile that caused Charlotte’s knees to tremble.

  “Goodnight, my darling,” he whispered, and Charlotte watched him walk slowly away until she closed the door behind her and sauntered back to bed, a finger to her lips in joyful memory of his affection.

  ***

  Despite the hope she held the night before, Charlotte did not see Gabriel for days, his mother hurriedly mumbling excuses the first morning of his absence, “sudden, urgent business…Very busy this time of year…Who knows when he shall return,” but her words only caused further confusion to Charlotte’s mind.

  To distract herself from her thoughts of the gentleman, Charlotte kept busy by writing to her family, praying the letter would reach them, and helping Mrs. Worthington plan for Christmas Eve and Christmas, as Charlotte would be present for both.

  Even still, she found herself watching the doors for Gabriel, praying he might walk through and join her, all the while wishing the man had never left her side.

  When Christmas Eve finally arrived, the sun shining brightly in the blue sky, Charlotte awoke with renewed determination to enjoy her day.

  She immersed herself in the bustle of the house, servants running to and fro, arms filled with evergreen boughs as they threaded the greenery through banisters, upon shelves, and across tall curtains and thresholds. The fresh scent wafted throughout the air, and Charlotte could not help but delight in the atmosphere.

  After Greyston Hall had been decorated from top to bottom and dinner had been eaten, Charlotte sat in the drawing room with Mrs. Worthington, the large log blazing in the fireplace before them as they sat upon their over-sized plush chairs. They both smiled with camaraderie as Charlotte listened to tales of Mrs. Worthington’s childhood.