“What is to happen to the other carriage?” Gabby could not remember which of the carriages held her trunk, not that she hoped anyone would have to be without their things.
“Phillip will stay with the carriage until we send this one back to fetch him and the trunks. Then once the weather clears, we will fetch the carriage for repair.”
Gabby looked out at the worsening storm. Poor Phillip. Would he be completely frozen by the time the carriage returned for him? “Are you certain Lord Brinton is at home?” Gabby grimaced again at her forwardness. But she did not receive a look of reproach from Lady Kirtley, so perhaps she was not completely out of line. Either that or the lady wanted to know the answer as badly as Gabby.
“I did not see him in town, so perhaps he is staying at the estate until after Christmastide.”
How could he seem so sure?
He shrugged. “Although, the family has other estates. It is possible they are not home.”
Gabby’s stomach flipped and not just because she hadn’t eaten since afternoon. What if this Lord Brinton was not at home? Where would they go? And would they make it there in this weather without freezing to death? The bricks had long since lost their heat and there was little left of the rugs once they covered Katie and Sophia.
“Even if he is not at home, I am certain we can apply to the housekeeper for lodging, at least for tonight. No good Christian would turn us away in a storm such as this.” There he was, sounding confident again.
Gabby knew that should make her feel better. But it didn’t. She’d met plenty of people who claimed to be good Christians but treated their fellow men with disdain. She’d seen it plenty from the British soldiers who had lived just outside her village in France. Not all were brutes, but plenty were.
Then there was that man at the fair. He would undoubtedly claim to be a good Christian, and yet he’d spurned her just because she was from a country he had ill feelings for. No, she was not confident in the least that they would have proper shelter tonight.
The carriage turned slowly, the wheels slipping as it made the curve. Gabby clutched at her dress and closed her eyes until the carriage re-gripped the road.
What felt like an hour passed before the carriage stopped. The snow came down so fast it was difficult to see the house through the window of the carriage.
The door opened and Lord Kirtley stood, ducking out of the door. “Stay here while I inquire within. There is no need for all of us to wait in the blasted snow,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Lady Kirtley gasped. “Hugh. Your language.”
He glanced back at the children. “They are asleep, Eleanor. I have not corrupted them, at least not this time.” He winked before he climbed from the carriage and pulled his greatcoat tightly around him. With his head down, he made his way up the steps, disappearing in the darkness and snow.
Gabby tried not to chew her lip. Lord Kirtley was certain things would be well. She needed to trust him. He’d never lied to her before, to her knowledge. Why should he do so now?
The carriage door opened, and he poked his head in. “It is just as I thought. We are welcome to stay at Ivydale for the time being.” He held out his hand to Lady Kirtley. “Come, come. Let’s get everyone inside and warm.”
Lady Kirtley roused Winston and guided the sleepy boy toward his father. Then she followed behind. Lord Kirtley positioned the boy over his shoulder and held his hand out to his wife. As he handed her down, he shouted into the carriage, “Please get the other children up to the nursery. They are readying it as we speak.”
Miss Carter and Nurse Jones waited for Gabby to stand before they moved to shift the girls into their arms. A footman handed Gabby down then turned to help the others from the carriage.
Gabby looked up at the front of the house. It was large. She dared say it was even bigger than Dovehaven, the Kirtleys’ estate, although she would never utter such thoughts aloud.
The wind pulled at her bonnet, the ribbons whipping against her face. It was difficult to tell which stings came from the snow and which came from the slapping ribbon. She bent her head and hurried up the stairs and to the doorway.
The warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the cold outside. Gabby worked her jaw, the prickle of cold making the action painful in her cheeks.
A footman approached and asked for her coat. Gabby unbuttoned her pelisse and pulled on her ribbons, releasing her bonnet. She handed them over, only now taking the time to observe her surroundings.
The entry was wider than it was deep. Dark wood paneling lined the staircase which sat to one side, and white walls reach high above to the coved ceiling. Portraits of a lady and a man hung on the wall at the landing, as if watching to ensure no one went unseen. Yellow and blue marble tiles formed a pattern on the floor that was quite pleasing to the eye.
Gabby smiled. The house was elegant yet inviting.
“Ah, is everyone in then?” A deep, gravelly voice jerked her head around.
“I thought this was the home of Lord Brinton,” Gabby whispered fiercely to Lord Kirtley.
“Yes, it is.” Lord Kirtley smiled brightly, his hand extended. “I had not heard about the death of his brother. Mr. Campbell—you remember Mr. Campbell, do you not?—is the new Lord Brinton.”
Gabby looked at the man walking down the stairs. It really was him.
“Brinton. It is good to see you again.” Lord Kirtley pumped the man’s hand. “Although, calling you Brinton will take some getting used to. I have no doubt I shall call you Campbell on more than one occasion.”
Gabby’s eyes widened. From the glance Lord Brinton tossed her way, he was no happier with her presence than she was with his. Gabby looked toward the doorway where the footman had disappeared with her coat. Perhaps she had been wrong. Freezing in the carriage seemed a perfectly acceptable option.
Chapter 4
Aaron folded the paper on his lap and took a sip of his tea. The rustling of skirts, however, had him unfolding it once more, just in case it happened to be the Frenchwoman. He folded down a corner and lifted his eyes. Rebekah stood in the doorway, her gaze darting around the room.
Aaron returned his eyes back to his paper. “Good morning, Lady Brinton. I hope you slept well.”
“I did. Thank you, my lord.” She moved to the sideboard and placed several things on her plate before setting it down on the table.
Aaron tilted his head to the side just enough to see that she was sitting across from him. Now why, with all the chairs at this table, would she sit directly across from him? It was not as if they knew each other well or had anything to discuss. “Come now. Are we not brother and sister? I believe it would be appropriate for you to call me Brinton.”
She smiled eagerly, and he cleared his throat. “Or Aaron? Perhaps that would be best if you are comfortable with it.” Now that he thought on it, he might be more comfortable with the latter. With people calling him Lord Brinton, it felt too intimate then to be called by the same name. It inferred a connection they did not have, nor did he want. Although, the notion of her calling him Aaron didn’t settle all that well either.
“Good morning, Camp—Brinton.” Lord Kirtley entered the breakfast room.
Aaron’s body relaxed slightly. It did not appear an intimate conversation with Rebekah would happen, after all. He would have to thank Kirtley for the interruption. “How are you this morning, Kirtley?” Aaron grinned up at his old friend.
“Much better than we would have been in that carriage had you not taken us in.” Kirtley placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and squeezed. “I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.”
“I am happy to have you here.” His smile faltered. He was happy to have most of them there.
Lady Kirtley appeared in the doorway.
Aaron stood and bowed. “Lady Kirtley, how do you do? I hope you found your rooms acceptable.”
She smiled prettily. It was no wonder Kirtley adored her—you could see it in his eyes whenever he looked upon his wif
e. “I could ask for nothing more, my lord. Thank you.”
Aaron retook his seat, the realization that if Lord and Lady Kirtley were here, the French girl must soon follow. Perhaps a conversation with Lady Brinton was not so unappealing as he’d previously thought.
By the time he’d finished his second cup of tea, Aaron realized that perhaps he had been wrong about the French girl coming down.
Perhaps she was a late sleeper. He scoffed. Such behavior would not surprise him of her kind. His eyes narrowed at the thought of such indolent behavior.
Finally, he could not stand the anticipation of the impending unpleasantness. “And where is the young lady you brought with you? I hope she has not taken ill from the cold.” He rested his paper in his lap, feigning interest.
“When I checked in on her this morning, she said she was well, and I’m inclined to believe her. Her cheeks had plenty of color in them.” Lady Kirtley sopped up the sauce on her plate with a piece of bread.
“Then why has she not joined you for breakfast?” Why did he care? Was he not relieved she was not here?
“She said she wished to take breakfast in her room this morning.” Lady Kirtley shrugged as if it was nothing to concern himself about.
Why would she take breakfast in her rooms if she was well? Was it him? Had she not wished to be in contact with him? He bristled. It felt personal. As if she were slighting him. But then, why should he expect any less from the French?
“I assume she will go up and eat with the children. I think she misses her time with them.” Lady Kirtley smiled as if she found such behavior endearing.
Aaron nodded but did not reply. Had she been their governess? If so, why was she being treated now as if she was more than hired help?
He glanced out the window. It appeared to have stopped snowing, but the wind made it difficult to know for certain. “I am afraid you will not leave today. The roads are surely too slippery. I do not know if we will even be able to retrieve your carriage as yet.”
Kirtley followed his gaze outside. “Yes, I was afraid that would be the case when I opened our curtains this morning. It is still frigid. It will keep the roads from being muddy, but the ice may not be any better.”
“I hope you do not feel as though you need to leave immediately. I would welcome you to stay on through Twelfth Night, though I am sure you have plans for Christmastide.” What was he saying? He truly would not mind having Kirtley and his family stay on for a fortnight. But if they stayed, Miss—he did not even remember her name, though he was certain Lady Kirtley had mentioned it last night—would stay on with them. Did he really want her in his house until Twelfth Night? He gripped the arms of his chair. It seemed too late for reservations. He couldn’t very well retract the offer now.
“We have nothing so pressing as to risk traveling in this dreadful weather.” Lady Kirtley wiped at her mouth with her serviette. “We thank you for your invitation and hospitality, my lord.”
Aaron placed his paper on the table, scooting his chair back. “I have some papers to review in my study.” He looked to Kirtley. “Please join me, if you are so inclined. I should rather enjoy hearing of your life these last years.”
Kirtley’s eyes brightened. “I am sure I would enjoy that. I have some letters I must send off and then I shall find you.”
Aaron dipped a shallow bow. “Lady Kirtley. Lady Brinton.” It felt more intimate to call his sister-in-law by her title—the name they now shared—than it would her Christian name, but she had not yet granted him that liberty.
He moved into his study and picked up the most recent ledger off the desk as he sat down behind it. Aaron had not been through all the books, but from what he had seen, his father and brother had both been good managers of the estate. Judging from some earlier ledgers, the coffers were full, although he’d never been privy to that information before, so he did not know if they could be more so. He still needed to visit the tenant cottages. Although, he doubted there was anything there worth his concern.
He opened the book and ran his index finger down the columns. The first harvest of the season last year had been good. But winter had come earlier than usual, and the second wheat crop had frozen before they could harvest it. It seemed the cherries had suffered a similar fate.
Aaron ran a hand through his hair. Because the estate had been managed well previously those losses were not so devastating as they could have been. He sat back and stared at the pages. But they could still be for the tenants. Was there anything he could do to help them?
He stretched his head to the side. Was he ready for this kind of responsibility? Steepling his fingers in front of his chin, he stared at the flames flickering in the grate across the room. He’d been responsible for the lives of dozens of men—perhaps even hundreds over the years—while serving in the army. Surely managing an estate was not so stressful. It was not as if lives were at stake as they had been in France.
He pushed his chair back and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. It may not be lives he now held in his hands, but it was livelihoods, which could equate to the same thing, could it not? If he mismanaged this estate, people would lose the means of supporting their families—their homes. It was a position he did not take lightly.
He glanced at the mantel clock. Even if it were cold, his horse, Sargent, could make it to the far side of the estate where the tenant cottages were. It would give him a chance to see with his own eyes their condition. It would also give him some notion of what he could give his tenants for St. Stephen’s Day.
He shook his head. He’d never thought he would need to worry about such things.
A knock sounded at his door. Kirtley was earlier than Aaron had expected him. He must have been very concise in his letters.
“Come.”
The door pushed inward, but it was not Kirtley who entered. It was Lady Brinton. Oh, lud. What could she want?
“Lady Brinton.” He cringed inwardly. “What brings you to my study this morning?” He watched as she turned and closed the door behind her. Now, why did she do that? The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
She moved noiselessly to the chair across from him. “I have wanted to speak with you.”
Aaron slowly straightened, clasping his hands together on his desk. “How may I be of assistance?”
Rebekah swallowed and looked at her hands. “I wondered—that is—I am uncertain of what is to become of me.”
Aaron turned his head slightly as if he had not heard her correctly. “What is to become of you? I do not understand your meaning.”
“I am not the wife of a viscount anymore and I was not fortunate enough to have a son who would ensure my tenure in this house.” She looked up and caught his gaze. “And so I ask you, what shall I expect? I have little jointure to live on and my father cannot accept me back in his house.”
Aaron’s brows rose. ’Pon rep, he’d not considered any of her concerns in the slightest. He furrowed his brow. “Your father is a vicar, is he not?”
She nodded. “He already has five children living at home. He thought himself rid of me—with a husband to care for me. But now…” Her breath came out as a flutter. She twisted at the lace on her sleeve.
“I confess, Lady Brinton. I have not thought on this. I had not realized it was a subject of concern.” He licked his lips, and she stared intently at him, her face softening. Oh, lud. That was not what he’d been after. “Please, give me until Epiphany to come up with a solution.”
She nodded. “I have an idea if you would like to hear it.” She smiled coyly at him. Her demeanor having completely changed since her arrival at his study door.
“Thank you, but I believe I can discover a solution.” She opened her mouth, and he cut her off. “However, if I find I am unable to find something suitable, be assured, I shall seek you out.”
She nodded. “If you are in need of anything—”
“No.” The word rang from his lips as he shot to his feet and strode around
his desk. “I do not think that will be necessary. But thank you for your offer.” He bowed to her, hoping she would take it as a dismissal because he wanted her out of his study. Now.
She read him correctly and stood, her face creased in a frown.
His stomach burned, and he tried to soften his words. “I understand your concern and I will make every effort for your continued comfort.” He walked toward the corridor, yanking open the door. Kirtley stood just outside, his hand raised to knock.
“Kirtley.” What would he think when he saw Lady Brinton leaving Aaron’s study? Why had she insisted on shutting the door?
Kirtley grinned at Aaron and made to step inside until Lady Brinton appeared in his way. He stepped back. “Begging you pardon, my lady. I did not see you there.” His eyes flicked to Aaron.
She brushed past them. “Thank you for your assistance, Aaron.” She said a bit breathlessly.
Of course, now she would use his Christian name. Why had he told her that was permissible? Why did every name he had sound too informal when coming from her lips?
She hadn’t needed to explain her plan to him. Her body language had told him all he needed to know. And he was not in agreement.
He frowned. At least he believed he knew her intent. But it was possible he was reading her wrong. Lud, I hope I am.
He dipped his head to Rebekah and motioned Kirtley in with a grand sweep of his arm. “Come in, Kirtley. It’s been much too long since we’ve spoken.” The earl stepped in and Aaron shut the door behind him, moving toward the sofa in front of the fireplace. “Would you care for a glass of brandy?”
Kirtley took a seat on the opposite couch. “Yes, thank you.”
Aaron poured two glasses, taking one over and handing it to his friend. “It has been too long. While I enjoyed my time in the army, I find I have missed out on a great deal here at home.” He grinned “For example, you seem most fortunate in your choice of a wife.”
Thawing the Viscount's Heart: A Christmas Regency Romance (Belles of Christmas: Frost Fair Book 3) Page 3