Thawing the Viscount's Heart: A Christmas Regency Romance (Belles of Christmas: Frost Fair Book 3)

by Mindy Burbidge Strunk

  Aaron had gone to bed with thoughts of Gabrielle swirling in his head. What had changed from five days ago to today? How had his opinion of her shifted so dramatically? He’d gone from trying to avoid her and wishing her as far from his home as possible to her filling his dreams and his every waking moment.

  Was it just her voice? Had he changed his opinion of her because she sang so prettily?

  His brow furrowed.

  A knock sounded at the door and Rebekah poked her head in. “My lord, I was hoping you could accompany me to the tenant cottages to deliver the St. Stephen’s gifts.”

  Aaron stopped his pacing. “I see no reason why I could not. What time did you wish to go?”

  She stepped fully into the room. “I hoped you would help me assemble the baskets first. Then we could deliver them.”

  Aaron shrugged. It would not answer the questions plaguing him, but it would allow him to postpone thinking on them for a time. “I am happy to help. Is my mother not available?”

  Rebekah shook her head. “When I married your brother, she turned the task over to me. She said it was the duty of the current viscountess.”

  That sounded very much like something his mother would say. She never had liked the delivery of St. Stephan’s Day gifts. “Then how may I be of assistance?”

  Rebekah smiled widely and waved him toward the door. “Come with me. We set everything up in the west parlor.”

  Aaron eyed her wearily. Which Rebekah would deliver the baskets with him? Flirty or quiet? He very much hoped it was the latter. Quiet Rebekah was not much of a conversationalist, but she did not irritate him either.

  They stepped out into the corridor and walked side by side to the parlor. The door was open, and a table sat on the far side. Baskets were piled up at one end, while baked goods and stacks of clothing filled the rest. There was gingerbread and crocks of soup from the night before. Large loaves of bread and biscuits filled many trays.

  Aaron whistled. “I have not helped gather the presents together in many years. I may need a reminder of how to do this most efficiently.”

  Rebekah showed him what she wanted in each basket. They distributed the clothes and then moved on to the food. When they ran out of gingerbread, they switched it for biscuits, and then Shrewsbury cake.

  Aaron was pleased to see that quiet, but efficient Rebekah had joined him. He imagined they could have developed a friendship, had she been this way from the beginning.

  When the last basket was covered, he rotated his shoulders. “I will find a few footmen and have them put these on the sledge.” He moved toward the bell pull in the corner when Rebekah called to him. He stopped and turned back. “Yes?”

  She was at his side in moments, her hands on his chest. Before Aaron even knew what Rebekah was about, she went up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

  Aaron stepped back and stared at her. “What the blazes are you doing?”

  She pointed to the kissing ball hanging above them.

  “I don’t care if there is a kissing ball. Your actions are improper.”

  She gawked at him. “What do you want me to do? I tried to be like the debutantes I saw in London, but that only seemed to push you further away. I tried to be quiet and reserved, but then you completely ignored me. What am I to do to get you to see me?”

  Aaron’s mouth hung open. “My brother has not yet been in the grave a year. You have not even completed your mourning period. Did you think this behavior would entice me to marry you? It is not possible, Rebekah. You are my sister in the eyes of God and the church. No clergyman would perform the marriage. Surely your father would not give his approval.” Aaron shook his head. “Henry led me to believe yours was a marriage of love. But I can see, now, it was only on his part.”

  A squeaky sob sounded. Rebekah put a hand to her mouth and blinked twice, her eyes shining with tears. She let out another sob and turned, running from the room.

  Aaron stood with his hands on his hips. He did not know if she was crying because of his rejection or his harsh words about her conduct. But either way, what he had spoken was just, and she had needed to hear it.

  He looked at the table of baskets and sighed. Now what was he to do? It was doubtful his mother would willingly deliver these with him. He growled. It appeared he would be delivering the gifts on his own.

  Why could Rebekah not have left well enough alone? It was not as if she was the first young woman left widowed. Others before her had survived, and without marrying their brother.

  He walked the last steps to the pull and yanked several times, much harder than was necessary.

  “Are you well, my lord?”

  Gabrielle—Miss Babineaux. He really should quit thinking of her so informally—stood just outside the door, her hands clasped behind her back.

  He nodded. “Yes. Lady Brinton and I were to deliver these baskets to the tenants, but she…has taken ill and cannot join me.”

  “That is terrible. I hope she will recover quickly.”

  He shrugged. “I do not believe it is serious.”

  “If there is anything I can do—”

  Aaron stepped forward. “Actually—” He paused and shook his head. “Never you mind.”

  “Are you certain? I do not mind helping.”

  Aaron eyed her. Should he ask for her help? This was not something that was any of her concern, but the thought of delivering these gifts on his own was daunting. With Gabrielle at his side, however, it could be an enjoyable chore.

  “Would you come with me to the cottages? I have not been home in more than five years. I do not even know what to say to my tenants.”

  Gabrielle pulled her bottom lip in. “I do not know these people and have never done such a thing. Would not your mother be better suited?”

  “Yes, she would.” He grunted. “But she will never be prevailed upon to go out in this weather.” He glanced out the window. “I need to go. I believe it will start snowing again soon.”

  She played with her little finger. He had noticed she did it when she was thinking or was it when she was nervous? “If you need help, I will go with you.”

  His shoulders sagged. “Oh, thank you, Gabrielle.”

  She stared at him and it took him a moment to realize what he had done. Gah. Had he not just warned himself about thinking of her so informally?

  “I’m sorry. I did not mean to be so presumptuous.”

  She smiled. “You need not apologize. I was only surprised.” She looked like she wished to say more, but her eyes flicked to the window and she stopped. “I believe you are correct. Another storm is coming.” She turned toward the door. “Allow me to change my clothes and I shall meet you in the entry.”

  Aaron thumped his forehead with his fist. She had not told him he could use her Christian name, but when he had, she hadn’t told him not to do it again. He grumbled. Now he did not know what he should call her.

  She had walked several paces when he reached out a hand to stop her. Electricity surged up his arm. “Thank you again,” he said, his voice low.

  She nodded. “You are welcome.”

  This time when she turned away, Aaron let her go.

  A maid waited in the hall for Gabrielle to pass and stepped inside. “You rang, my lord?”

  “Yes. I need Jacobs to ready the sledge. I also need several footmen to take these baskets out once the sledge is ready.” He motioned to the window. “And we need to do it quickly. Another storm is coming.”

  The maid shook her head. “I’m sorry, my lord. But none of the footmen are here. Most of the servants are off today.” She paused. “It is St. Stephens Day.”

  Aaron grumbled. How had he forgotten that the staff was off for the day? It was no wonder the house was so quiet.

  “Very well; I will see to it myself.”

  She curtsied again. “I believe there is still a hand in the stable. I will ask him to ready the sledge.”

  Aaron sighed. “Thank you, Anne. And tell the stable hand thank you als
o.”

  She nodded and hurried from the room.

  He made his way to his study, pulling several small pouches of coins out of his top drawer. It wouldn’t make them rich, but hopefully, it would allow his tenants coal for the rest of the winter, or something else if they had a need.

  He hurried to the entry to wait for Gabrielle.

  He chided himself. As long as he thought of her by her Christian name rather than Miss Babineaux, he risked possibly offending her yet again.

  Aaron fetched his greatcoat and beaver from the coatroom, grabbing Gabrielle’s pelisse and bonnet. Thunder and turf! Now that he had started, he could not seem to stop thinking of her as Gabrielle. He stepped from the room and draped the coats over the back of a chair. Pulling on his greatcoat, he dropped the pouches of coins into his pockets. Then he worked his fingers into his gloves while he waited for Gabrielle. He shrugged. He truly was a nodcock.

  “The sledge is ready, my lord.” A red-nosed stable hand bowed while discreetly trying to rub warmth into his hands.

  “I suppose that means you are waiting on me.” Gabrielle, gah, Miss Babineaux stepped down onto the tile floor.

  Aaron lifted her coat from the chair and helped her slip it on, then waited while she tied the ribbons of her bonnet.

  He stepped up beside her. “On the positive side, the cold will not allow us much time for visiting.”

  She tilted her head. “Do you not wish to visit with your tenants? How will you develop a relationship with them if you do not take the time to know their needs?”

  He shrugged, but a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Is it not acceptable to develop a relationship in the springtime, when the weather is more amiable?” He opened the front doors and motioned her out.

  A gust of wind blew into the house, pulling her bonnet ribbons taut. She gave him a half-smile. “Normally I am not one for procrastination, but perhaps today you are correct.”

  He chuckled. “Let’s be on our way.”

  He handed her up onto the seat of the sledge. It was not a fancy sledge by any means, used mostly by Jacobs and the stable hands to move hay bales to and from the stable in conditions such as this. The current weather was rare here in Kent so they’d never had need of anything beyond the simple sledge.

  Gabrielle sat on the bench with her back straight and her hands folded primly in her lap. Looking at her, he could see her mother’s aristocracy in her air.

  He swung up and took hold of the reins. The sledge had no sides or even rails to keep the baskets from tumbling off. Slow and easy was the course for today, even if the weather did not understand it as such. He clucked his tongue, and the horses set into motion.

  They reached the first cottage, and Aaron helped Gabrielle down. She collected a basket from the back of the sledge and together they walked to the first door.

  Aaron knocked, shifting from one foot to the other, trying to ward off the cold.

  An older woman with gray streaked hair opened the door. She looked leerily at them.

  Aaron smiled. “Good day, Mrs. Cole. And happy St. Stephen’s Day. It has been a long time since last we meet. I hope you and your husband are well.”

  She nodded, but the weariness did not leave her eyes.

  Aaron’s breath hovered in front of his face. He looked to Gabrielle and nodded.

  She thrust the gift forward.

  “Here is a small token of appreciation.” He removed a pouch from his coat pocket and placed it on top of the cloth covering the contents of the basket. “Please let myself or Mr. Bancock know if you have a need. We will do what we can to assist you.”

  She nodded. “Thank ye.” She shut the door.

  Gabrielle looked up at him with raised brows. “You were right. The cold is keeping conversation to a minimum.”

  He raised a shoulder. “It also helps that I have not seen these people in years. One or two of them are new since I left for the continent.”

  They moved on to the next cottage. The reception was similar, and they were on their way quickly.

  At the third cottage, a young woman with a belly swollen with child opened the door. “Ah, Mrs. Perkins. Happy St. Stephen’s Day to you. We have brought you a gift to show our appreciation for you.”

  The door opened wider, and a man appeared beside the woman. His leg was missing below the knee, a wooden peg in its place. “Major, is that you?”

  Aaron smiled. “Good day, Perkins. How are you and yours?”

  He nodded. “As well as can be expected.” He rubbed at his knee. “You know ’ow it is. This cold brings out the old aches and pains.”

  Aaron rubbed at his shoulder. He’d not noticed the ache until now.

  He looked to Gabrielle, and she handed over the basket. “This is for you.” She smiled and placed the gift in his arms. “It is an honor to meet one of Aaron’s friends.”

  Ah, she had called him Aaron. Surely, that implied she was amiable to him calling her Gabrielle.

  Perkins’s smile faded, and he squinted at Gabrielle then looked to Aaron.

  It took a moment, but then Aaron’s stomach dropped. He had not considered how Perkins and Millard would react if they heard Gabrielle speak. Seeing Perkins’s face, he thought about it now. Had it not taken Aaron nearly a week, constantly in her presence, to see past her accent? He barely heard it now. But Perkins and Millard had not had the time Aaron had to find the good in Gabrielle.

  He swallowed. This interaction could turn ugly rather quickly if Aaron did not get Gabrielle away.

  He put his hand on the small of her back and moved it slowly to her waist. She flinched slightly but did not move out of his arm. He pulled her back several steps. “I shall not keep you out in the cold any longer, Perkins. When it warms, we must reminisce about the good times.”

  “Did you forget zee coins?” Gabrielle whispered into his shoulder.

  “Ah, Perkins. I was so happy to see you, my old friend, I nearly forgot to give you this.” Aaron quickly extracted a pouch of coins and tossed it to the man. “Hopefully, it will buy you some extra coal to keep those aches at bay.”

  Perkins glanced to Aaron’s hand around Gabrielle and nodded slowly, one eye squinting nearly closed.

  Aaron lifted his hand in a wave. Turning them both around, he headed for the sledge. “Perhaps you should not say anything to the tenants. Or better yet, why do you not remain with the sledge while I deliver the next basket?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Did I say somesing wrong?”

  Funny how he noticed her accent now. He shook his head. “No. It is my fault. I did not consider that Perkins and my next tenant, Mr. Millard, may not take kindly to you—being French.”

  Gabrielle pinched her lips together tightly. “Ah. You served with them in the war.”

  He nodded. It felt lacking, as if there was more he should say. But what? Now was not the time to tell her of Mireille.

  She nodded. “If zat is what you wish.”

  His shoulders sagged. It was not what he wished. He quite enjoyed having her by his side, but he could not risk it. While he’d never thought of Perkins or Millard as dangerous men, he knew their hatred—similar to his—for Mireille. He feared the men may take that hatred out on Gabrielle. Had not Aaron done exactly that?

  “Please, do not be sad. It is nothing you did. It is merely the circumstances.” He looked up at the sky. “I will hurry with this one and then we can do the others together.”

  She nodded. “You need not apologize. I came to help. If staying with the sledge helps you, zat is what I will do. Zese are your tenants. Not mine.”

  How had he confused her for Mireille? Now he could see the stark contrast between the two women. He had let hatred color his previous views of Gabrielle.

  He had the sudden urge to kiss her, but he jumped from the sledge instead. He did not think she would appreciate the gesture as much as he would.

  He grabbed a basket from the back and hurried to the next cottage. Millard answered the door, the patch ov
er his eye slightly askew.

  “Major.” Millard stuck his hand out for Aaron to shake. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

  Aaron smiled. “And you, Millard. I will not keep you out in this cold long. But I wanted you to have this.” He handed over the gift and dropped the coins on top.

  “Thank ye, sir.” He shifted. “I s’pose I should get used to calling you my lord from now on.”

  Aaron smiled. “Major will do, as well.”

  Millard’s head bobbed. He glanced toward the sledge. “Who is the miss there?” He grinned. “You courtin’ a lady, sir?”

  Aaron chuckled. It was not the first time he’d thought about it. “No. She is a guest staying at Ivydale. Lady Brinton took ill and could not accompany me, so Miss—” Aaron paused. “The young lady agreed to accompany me instead.”

  Millard grinned. “She does pretty up the sledge, sir.” He winked as if he knew something Aaron was keeping secret.

  Aaron looked back. “Yes, she certainly does.” His stomach fluttered.

  He cleared his throat as if Millard knew about the flurry happening in his gut. “Yes, well. I should let you get back inside where it is warm.” He clapped the man on the shoulder. “Stay warm, Lieutenant.”

  The man looked solemn. “I will, sir. After some of those nights in France, I don’t believe I could ever be that cold again. At least now I have a roof over me head.”

  “I am grateful for that, as well. Good day, Mr. Millard.”

  Aaron climbed back into the sledge and took up the reins. “Again, I apologize for making you stay. You are probably freezing from sitting here.”

  She shrugged. “All will be well.”

  They rode in silence for a moment. “How long have those men been tenants here?”

  Aaron sighed. “About two years.”

  “And it is your doing?” She looked at him in a way he had never seen before.

  “After a particularly bad skirmish, both men received injuries that ensured the end of their military service.” He gripped the reins tighter. “If you’ve been to London, you surely saw how well England takes care of her soldiers when they come home. Neither man would have been able to find work in their conditions. I gave them letters of introduction before they left and wrote to Henry. I promised to pay their leases until they could manage it themselves.”