Her Silent Knight: A Christmas Regency Romance (Belles of Christmas: Frost Fair Book 1)

by Ashtyn Newbold

  Couldn’t he just let Selina marry Skinner?

  She was ungrateful and spiteful and unwilling to be advised. How could he continue trying to help someone who didn’t want to be helped, all while facing the potential loss of his inheritance? If his conscience would allow it, he could send Selina away with Skinner in her blissful ignorance and keep his grandmother’s will safe from the flames. But behind Selina’s fierce eyes, Edmund saw the quiet girl he had known all his life. Submissive, silent, always following in the shadow of her older sister. Edmund had pitied her at times, watching as her sister was showered with gifts and praise while she was ignored.

  How could he knowingly send her into a life where she would yet remain in second place? Above all else—money, status, and life itself—a husband should treasure his wife. Selina deserved that, even if she had been plotting to dispose of Edmund. From her perspective, Edmund was behaving in a way deserving of every scheme she plotted against him. He couldn’t blame her for her fighting spirit. In fact, he couldn’t help but admire her for it. She had grown a great deal from that submissive, quiet girl.

  “Unless,” Selina finally said, her voice firm. “Unless you would like to strike a new bargain wherein you agree not to stop me from seeing Mr. Skinner, and I agree to stop my schemes as well. We can simply tolerate one another until the frost melts, and you can leave London.” She watched him expectantly.

  Edmund let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes. Why was he tired now? He had been wide awake moments before when he had been trying to sleep. Perhaps his mind had finally reached its capacity. “Very well.” He met her eyes. “You have left me with no other choice.”

  “Did you truly just agree so quickly? I thought you were too stubborn for that.”

  “I am by far the least stubborn person in this hallway.” He cast her a pointed look.

  Selina glanced both ways, her brow furrowing. “I am not stubborn. I am in love. Love is the only thing that could alter my character so much. Love is more powerful than you or me or my mother’s ambitions for me.”

  Edmund wouldn’t bother arguing against her claim that she was in love with Skinner. Perhaps she was in love with the idea of him or the attention he gave her, but nothing more. His head ached, and he closed his eyes. The idea he had been struggling to grasp still hovered in his mind, just out of reach. What could he do now?

  Footsteps sounded from down the hall, a shuffling gait that was coming too quickly for Selina to move. Her gaze shot up to Edmund, then to the pudding on the floor. Before they could be seen together, he slipped back into his room, shutting the door softly behind him. The last thing he needed was a member of the household spreading rumors about a secret meeting between him and Selina in the night. Mrs. Ellis would force a marriage between them without a moment’s hesitation.

  At least then Selina would be safe from Skinner.

  He leaned one ear against the door, listening as the steps grew closer and stopped. A gasp echoed in the hallway. “Selina, what are you do—” The high-pitched whisper could only have belonged to Mrs. Ellis, and by the way it stopped abruptly, Edmund guessed that she had seen the dismantled plum pudding at Selina’s feet.

  Good. Selina deserved to be caught for scheming up something so ridiculous. What punishment would Mrs. Ellis concoct for such a dastardly act? He almost smiled as he listened to Mrs. Ellis catch her breath. By the increased volume, he could tell she had moved closer to the door.

  “My pudding! You—” Her voice trailed off. “What will Mrs. Perry think? She will think I fabricated the very existence of it! It cannot be recreated in time for Christmas. That is only three days away! The aging will not be proper. The flavor will be wrong.” The flustered words continued until her voice took on an edge of anger. “What are you doing out in the hall with my pudding at this hour? Did you mean to sneak it back to your room and taste it? Could you not have waited two days?”

  Edmund bit his lip. The ridiculousness of the situation combined with his lethargic, tired state, tempted him to laugh. He held back the sound, leaning his ear back to the door.

  “Mama! You cannot do that. Please, Mama, I am sorry. Is there not something else you could take away?”

  Edmund’s brow furrowed. He had missed the punishment Mrs. Ellis meant to inflict. By the desperation in Selina’s voice, it must have been quite harsh. Selina spoke again, her soft voice shaking with distress.

  “Please, Mama,” she choked. “It was an accident.”

  A surge of pity unfolded in Edmund’s chest, and he tipped his head back with exasperation. All it took was a quivering of a lady’s voice and he was a servant to compassion. Whatever Mrs. Ellis had tried to take away from Selina must have been a far greater penalty than her crime warranted. While he had hoped for her punishment just moments before, he now felt the sting of her soft, cracking voice in his heart. Blast his compassion. It had never served him well. He always ended up trampled on. The stubborn woman would likely not even be grateful.

  Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door enough to lean his head and shoulders through, startling the two women. They turned to face him, and he noticed a sheen of tears in Selina’s eyes. She blinked hard, staring at him as if he were a ghost that had just materialized in the hallway. Yes, he’d had every intention of staying hidden in his room, but there was no turning back now.

  “Oh! Sir Edmund! My sincerest apologies for having awakened you.” Mrs. Ellis’s face was a dark shade of crimson—a combination of her anger and embarrassment no doubt.

  Edmund shot a quick glance at Selina before clearing his throat. “You did not awaken me, Mrs. Ellis. It must have been I who caused both you and your daughter to come investigating this hallway.”

  “Pardon me?” Mrs. Ellis’s brow scrunched.

  With a sigh, Edmund raked a hand over his hair. If he was going to do this, he ought to put on a good act. “I am ashamed to confess that I have a propensity for walking in my sleep. I have done so since I was a child.”

  She gasped. “You cannot be serious.”

  “I am, indeed. Considering all the conversation regarding your plum pudding at the fair today, I suppose I developed a strong desire to taste it.” He glanced at the mess on the ground, casting his eyes downward in shame before looking up.

  Mrs. Ellis’s eyebrows rose in shock. “Do you mean to say you . . . you stole away to the kitchen in your sleep to steal my plum pudding?”

  He released a long sigh. “I confess, I did. I was entirely unaware of my actions, of course, but I assume, by the taste of fruit and brandy on my lips, that I did indeed take a taste before I awoke, and that it was indeed delicious enough to be recommended by a duke, just as you professed.” He gave Mrs. Ellis the most genuine look he could muster. He could feel Selina’s shocked gaze on the side of his face.

  As he expected, the lines in Mrs. Ellis’s face faded, a bashful smile filling their place. “Do you really believe so?”

  Edmund gestured at the floor. “I obviously devoured a great deal of it, and with no small amount of zeal considering the mess I made.”

  A muffled sound came from Selina, and she covered her nose with her knuckles briefly.

  Mrs. Ellis didn’t appear to notice, her gaze fixed on Edmund. She gave another modest smile. “Oh, my, it seems you did.” She laughed, cupping her cheeks between her hands. “Why did you not say so, Selina?” She scowled at her daughter. “I cannot hold this against Sir Edmund if it was so accidental.”

  Selina continued staring at Edmund, her eyes just as round as before.

  “I suppose we shall have to remake the pudding,” Mrs. Ellis said, “however it will never age properly in time for Christmas Day. Perhaps we might break tradition a little and serve it on Twelfth Night. I will invite the Perrys to dine with us then instead.” Mrs. Ellis’s lips curved into a sly grin. “It will have to be prepared and hung to age immediately.” She turned to Selina. “You and Sir Edmund should stir it up yourselves. How very festive would that be?” She turned to Edmund e
xpectantly. “Tomorrow morning, if you please.”

  “It is the very least I can do,” he said.

  Mrs. Ellis clasped her hands together. “You are so very kind. I suspect with my cook’s recipe, and your natural compatibility, you and Selina will make a plum pudding just as delectable as the one you—er”—she gave a stiff smile—“devoured.”

  Natural compatibility? Edmund glanced at Selina from the corner of his eye. Natural enmity was more accurate. She inspired the best and worst in him simultaneously. No matter how striking she appeared in candlelight.

  Mrs. Ellis stifled a yawn, wrapping her fingers tightly around Selina’s arm. “I will send a maid to clean the floor, and my daughter and I will be off to bed.” She paused, casting Edmund a sidelong glance. “And I will see to it that the kitchen remains locked from now on so we may avoid another . . . incident.”

  Edmund nodded resolutely. “That would be very wise.”

  Mrs. Ellis bid him goodnight and turned down the hall, the light dimming as they went. Selina glanced back at Edmund just before he closed his door, a look of bewilderment still lingering on her features.

  What had compelled him to rescue her? He groaned as he closed the door. Now they would have to make a plum pudding together. It would be a miracle if that didn’t end in another fight of some sort. He leaned against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck and closing his eyes. It was over. They had made a new bargain. She had defeated him, and then he had rewarded her by taking the blame for the pudding. He couldn’t stop her from marrying Skinner now.

  Unless.

  His eyes shot open. The idea he had been struggling to grasp all day began to take shape in his mind, making his muscles tense.

  Love is more powerful than you or me or my mother’s ambitions for me.

  Selina had spoken those words, and they now echoed between his ears. She believed she was in love with Skinner, but what if she believed herself to be in love with someone else instead? If Edmund couldn’t overthrow her determination to marry Skinner, love—real love—could. What little effort Skinner was making to see Selina, to make her feel treasured, was quite pathetic. He had gotten far with his charms, but combined with a bit of effort, Edmund could do better.

  A slow smile pulled on his lips. He was tired. He couldn’t have been thinking clearly. But wasn’t he already on his way to succeeding? Selina must have been at least a little touched that he would take the blame and save her from whatever punishment her mother had had in store for her. She may have even seen his actions as gallant.

  Edmund paced across the room to clear his head. If he could simply show Selina what it meant to be charmed—truly charmed—by a gentleman, then she might see sense. He wouldn’t have to tell her to stay away from Skinner, nor would he have to tell her parents about the courtship. He could keep his end of the bargain. She would want to stay away from Skinner if it meant she could stay by Edmund’s side. Then, once her eyes were opened to Skinner’s inferior ways, Edmund could return home with his inheritance secured and know that Selina’s future didn’t include a fortune hunter.

  At the moment, there seemed to be no other option.

  If Edmund could help it, Selina would be in love with him by Twelfth Night.

  Chapter 8

  Edmund Sharp could do no wrong. Selina shook her head at her reflection as she pulled an extra curl out from her coiffure to frame her face. He was much like Rose in that way. An angel in Mama’s eyes.

  Perhaps even one in reality.

  Even after a night of contemplation, Selina couldn’t understand why he would take the blame for the pudding. What could his motive have possibly been? She had threatened him with sabotage and yet he had returned the gesture with kindness. Perhaps that was all it was. A kindness. A show of surrender. It had come entirely unexpected, and the image of the soft smile he had left her with as she walked away refused to leave her thoughts. Had he been genuine?

  After straightening the long sleeves of her white morning dress, she made her way down to the kitchen where her mother had arranged for her and Edmund to meet. The cook had been just as unhappy as Mama to hear about the pudding incident and had insisted that she be allowed to measure the ingredients prior to Selina and Edmund’s preparation of the pudding, just to ensure it was done correctly.

  As curious as Selina was to question Edmund, she didn’t try to find a way out of the meeting. Learning to make plum pudding sounded like an interesting way to spend the morning, even if it was in the company of Edmund. She cringed at the thought of the night before. Her embarrassment was rivaled only by what she felt when she had fallen on him at the Frost Fair. Her cheeks burned with shame. How could she have been so terrible to him? As vexing as he was, he didn’t mean to be her enemy. That much was clear by the way he saved her from her mother’s wrath. Then what did he mean to be? Her protector? Her jaw tightened. If only he could realize that there was nothing to protect her from.

  She started down the hall toward the kitchen. Edmund stood just outside the door. He wore a pale green waistcoat, his dark curls styled neatly, contrary to the night before when they had been spilling over his forehead. She had almost preferred him that way. It gave him a debonair, dangerous look. Her heart fluttered a little at the smile he gave her as she approached. Good heavens, what was wrong with her today? She hadn’t slept much, but that had never given her such strange thoughts before.

  “Good morning, Selina.” Edmund gave a polite bow of his head, his sharp blue eyes taking in her appearance. His gaze settled on her face, roaming her features intensely as he took a step forward. She stared at him, puzzled.

  “You look well.”

  She swallowed, looking down at her hands.

  “Especially for someone who spent half the night awake plotting sabotage.”

  Glancing up, she was surprised to see a broad smile on Edmund’s lips.

  “It was more invigorating than exhausting,” she said.

  “Ah. That must account for the brightness of your eyes today.” His gaze seemed to search her soul as he continued smiling down at her.

  “My eyes are not any brighter than they were yesterday.” Selina backed up a step, taking a deep breath. “But if you insist there is a difference, it might be because for the first time since you arrived I am not tempted to injure you.”

  Edmund’s eyebrows shot up and a laugh escaped him. “Yes, your glare is absent for once. Perhaps that is why.” He still looked at her in that strange way, and she had to look down.

  How could she find the humility to apologize? She wanted to ask why he had taken the blame, but she didn’t know how. “I—I believe I ought to thank you for what you did last night.” She glanced up, a smile pulling on her lips as she recalled how he had explained it. “It must have come at great expense to your pride admitting that you—you . . . ”

  “Devoured the plum pudding in my sleep?”

  Selina laughed, covering her lips with two fingers. “Yes. That.” Her giggling continued for several seconds before she could rein it in. Edmund’s deep chuckle joined hers, making it difficult to stop. When her laughter subsided, she cast him a curious look. “Why did you do it? I do not deserve your kindness. I especially didn’t in that moment.”

  Edmund dropped his gaze. “From inside my room, it sounded as though your mother planned to punish you. I knew if I took the blame, neither of us would be punished.”

  Selina’s guilt over her behavior toward him increased. She wrung her hands together. “I was surprised that you weren’t pleased with my punishment.”

  “Why would I have been pleased?” Edmund asked, his brow furrowing.

  “Because my mother threatened to restrict me from leaving the house for an entire month. No parties, no balls, no trips to any shops or fairs. Essentially, your aim to keep me from Mr. Skinner would have been accomplished.” Selina stared up at him with wide eyes. That had been the most curious part of it. Edmund could have claimed his victory, but he had chosen to help her instead.
<
br />   He blinked down at her, his smile gone. He seemed to be struggling to find words. He cleared his throat. “Well, er—I—decided that you did not deserve such a great penalty for a harmless pudding mishap.” He exhaled loudly, offering a fresh smile, but it seemed more forced. “So now you are free to leave the house without opposition, even if you know there isn’t a single soul in this household who would be pleased to hear where you are going.”

  Selina held his gaze for a long moment before releasing a sigh. “Why must you attempt to make me feel so guilty about it?”

  “You are guilty of nothing but following your heart.” Edmund’s expression softened. “Your heart will often pull you where it wants, and it takes great courage not to pull against it. In the tug of war with love, it’s easier for us to never pull at all. We are bound to lose, so there is no point exhausting ourselves.”

  Selina stared at this new and peculiar Edmund. Was he in his right mind? She had never imagined such heartfelt words coming from his lips. She followed after him as he opened the kitchen door. “I thought you said you believed that I didn’t truly love Mr. Skinner.”

  As she passed through the door, Edmund cocked one eyebrow. “Does it matter what I believe?”

  Selina paused in front of him, crossing her arms, though her confidence wavered. “No.”

  “That is what I thought.” Edmund smiled down at her before stepping away from the door and starting toward the table where Cook had placed the ingredients and instructions for the plum pudding.

  Selina watched Edmund’s back as he walked, her confusion rising with each step. When had he ever been so quick to surrender? She followed him, turning her attention to the tabletop. Every ingredient was separated into dishes surrounding a pot at the center of the table. On the opposite side of the room, Cook gave them a cold greeting from the stove, likely still upset over the fact that her pudding had to be remade at all. Her ginger hair hung straight around her face, her narrow shoulders curving in a permanent arch toward the pots and pans she spent so many hours hunched over throughout the day.