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

by Ashtyn Newbold

  Mama had obviously hoped this time Selina would be spending with Edmund would help them grow closer. There was no questioning Mama’s intentions in forcing them to make a new pudding. By Cook’s watchful eye, it was clear she would have rather made a new one herself.

  Selina examined the ingredients: suet, currants, dried fruit, eggs, flour, milk, spices, and brandy. She had little experience with baking but learning something new was always thrilling. If Edmund hadn’t been standing so near, she might have smiled or squealed with excitement. But the way she felt his stare on the side of her face made her vastly uncomfortable.

  “Have you ever made plum pudding before?” he asked.

  “My family has done little more than each taking a turn to stir the pot on stir-up Sunday.” Selina smiled. “I confess I am rather ignorant when it comes to cooking.”

  “With a cook as accomplished as yours, I see no reason for you to learn.” Edmund glanced up as Cook smiled their way. He turned toward Selina. “I am certain you will always be in a position to employ a cook.”

  She looked down at the bowl in front of them. A life with Mr. Skinner could not guarantee an income sufficient to employ a cook, and she had no money of her own. Was Edmund still hinting that she would not marry Mr. Skinner? Her defenses rose. Cuffing the ends of her sleeves, she squared her shoulders. She would have to learn, then.

  “I hope you will too.” She picked up the instructions, looking them over in one sweep.

  “Did you just offer me a positive wish for my future?” He raised his eyebrows in shock. “It seems you are finally coming to like me.”

  “I did not say that I liked you. I simply . . . owed you a kindness for what you did yesterday.”

  “Well, I would not call that a fair exchange. You will have to humiliate yourself to spare me a punishment if you want to repay me.”

  “If your actions were truly out of kindness, you wouldn’t require payment.”

  He chuckled. “It is by no means required, but I might still request it.”

  She eyed him with misgiving. “What would you request?”

  He tapped his chin, his eyes sparking with deep thought. “I would request that you withhold your objections to spending the afternoon in my company. If I am to be here until the roads are safe to travel, we ought to become better acquainted. I don’t believe your mother’s list has anything scheduled until dinner. Would you grant me that one small request?” He gave a cajoling smile, one that sent a jolt through her stomach. What a strange request. Her heart pounded. Why did Edmund suddenly wish to spend time with her? By the way he was looking at her, a concern took root in her chest. Did he . . .

  She shook away the worry. She must have been imagining the admiration in his gaze. At least she hoped she was. It would not do if he developed an attachment to her. He would only end up hurt. A tiny thrill shot through her veins, born from a much younger version of herself who would have been flattered by Edmund’s attention. The younger Selina would have been shocked by his smiles and his new habit of speaking more than a few short words at a time. It made him more handsome.

  Stop.

  She steered her thoughts in a more proper direction.

  “Well?” Edmund cast a smile at her dazed expression.

  Oh, yes. He had asked her a question. That afternoon she had planned to see Noah. Realization crashed over her shoulders. Of course. That was Edmund’s reasoning for wanting to spend time with her. He was still being sneaky. Her brow furrowed into a scowl. “I am otherwise engaged this afternoon.” She glanced at the instructions again, avoiding his gaze.

  “Very well.” Edmund’s voice held a note of disappointment that sent another flutter through her stomach. “At least I will see you at dinner.”

  Selina searched for a way to lighten the air between them. “If we finish the plum pudding properly. I am fairly certain my mother would deprive us of the meal if we don’t succeed this morning.”

  Edmund’s lips quirked slightly upward. “Well, if she does deprive us, we could simply come back to the kitchen and eat the insufficient pudding ourselves.”

  Selina gave a quiet laugh as she poured the first half of the milk into the bowl as the instructions noted. “I believe the word you meant to use was devour.”

  Edmund’s laugh echoed in the kitchen, deep and hearty. “Forgive me. What a horrific mistake. That is precisely what I meant to say.”

  She looked up at him, smiling without reservation. When his eyes met hers, she looked down, clearing her throat. “Well, are you going to help me? You are the reason this happened in the first place.”

  His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything more, a slight smile still lingering on his lips. As he read over the instructions, she studied the side of his face. When had he developed that dimple? It wasn’t deep, but it was noticeable, just to the right of his mouth, closer to his chin.

  “I must confess . . . I have never cracked an egg with the intent of baking. Keeping out the shells will be a challenge.” He picked up an egg and turned it over in his palm.

  Cook huffed out a breath in the corner. Mama had likely instructed her not to interfere, but the struggle she was experiencing not to was evident.

  Selina picked up an egg from the row of eight. “With the intent of baking? So you have cracked an egg with another intent?”

  A slow smile spread over his cheeks. “The chickens at my family’s estate were quite prosperous. As children, my older brother and I would often throw eggs at one another. To our parents’ dismay, of course. We even invited other boys from the neighborhood to play. We called the game ‘Spill the Yolk.’”

  Selina could remember well the first time she met Edmund. He had been just a child, visiting his grandmother in London. His hair had been even more curly then, but not quite as dark. With the serious, shy expression he wore back then, she never would have imagined he was one to throw eggs for amusement.

  She eyed the egg in his hand suspiciously. “Surely you don’t intend to play another game of ‘Spill the Yolk’ today? I don’t think I would enjoy that game.”

  Edmund chuckled, taking a step closer. “Are you quite certain?” His smile took on an edge of mischief.

  She backed away, laughing, though she knew he wouldn’t actually throw the egg at her. “Yes. Now put that down or crack it into the bowl. We have taken far too long already.”

  He walked closer with that grin, and when she backed away, her back clattered against the table. She whirled around to steady the table, but the remaining eggs were rolling in the opposite direction. She caught the jar of suet before it could tip, and Edmund lunged for the eggs, stopping all but two from falling to the ground.

  “Oh, dear.” Edmund steadied the eggs on the table and glanced underneath it to see the two that had fallen and spilled their contents on the floor. With his arms outstretched on the table, he was closer to Selina’s height. His face was flushed as he straightened his posture. “Perhaps we can make it with six eggs rather than eight? Would it even make a difference?”

  They both glanced up as a withered hand lowered two new eggs forcefully to the tabletop. Cook crossed her arms. “Yes. The texture’ll be all wrong. The raisins’re already unable to soak in brandy for the proper time.” Her eyes darted to Edmund, narrowing slightly. “Take care to follow the instructions without error.” She turned around, returning to her cooking across the room, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

  “I feel much like a boy who was just scolded by his mother,” Edmund whispered, casting a wary glance at Cook’s back.

  Selina pressed her lips together to keep from laughing again. “It seems Cook is the only person in London who does not like you.”

  Edmund rolled up his sleeves, picking up an egg. He tapped it twice against the tabletop before prying it open. A few fragments of the shell escaped into the bowl, and he picked them out. “Is that so?”

  Selina nodded, picking up an egg to add to the bowl. She followed Edmund’s pattern,
cringing as the contents coated her fingers. “Yes. My mother is quite fixated on you, Mrs. Perry and Miss Perry as well, and—”

  “And you?”

  Selina’s gaze shot up to him, protest already rising in her throat. “No. That is not what I was about to say.”

  Edmund cracked another egg, more successfully this time. He smiled down at the bowl. “You did say that your cook is the only person in London who doesn’t like me, so from that, I must conclude that you are just as fixated on me as your mother and neighbors are.”

  Selina scoffed. “There is a difference between liking someone and being fixated on someone.”

  “Do explain.” Edmund cocked his head. He was enjoying her discomfort far too much.

  She shifted on her feet as she picked up another egg. “Liking implies a general fondness for one’s company.” She shook her head fast, discarding her eggshells. “No, not even a fondness. A tolerance for one’s company. It is neither extremely pleasurable nor extremely miserable to be in the company of someone you simply like.”

  “I see.” Edmund paused his egg cracking. “I am glad to know you are not miserable in my company.”

  “Not today, though I have been in the past.” She gave a slight smile before continuing, “On the contrary, fixation is rather like a deep interest in someone, or treating one with an excessive, unfounded admiration. Fretting about someone day and night, counting their virtues, and yearning to be just as admirable as they are someday.”

  Edmund’s expression had turned serious. His eyes flickered to hers. “Fixation can often be mistaken for something else as well.” He paused. “Love.”

  Selina struck the last egg too hard against the table, catching the spilling yolk between her fingers and thrusting it into the bowl. “Yes, I suspect it could be. The two are similar enough.”

  “I would have to disagree. They are very different.” Edmund met her gaze.

  Selina looked away, searching for a lighter subject. She glanced down at her hands. “Surely my mother still meant this to be my punishment.” She shook her fingers above the bowl with a grimace, letting the translucent substance drip off. She laughed at Edmund’s grimace as he did the same before pulling out his handkerchief instead. After wiping the tips of his fingers, he took Selina’s hand, pulling it toward him.

  His eyes met hers before flickering away, and his throat bobbed with a swallow. With methodical movements, he wiped the egg off her hands, starting with her fingertips. She couldn’t move as his fingers gently handled hers. A slight shiver trailed up her wrist, and her shoulder tensed. Her first thought was to call the service a kindness, but it wasn’t kind at all to make her stomach flutter in such an unnatural way.

  If it wasn’t for what he had done the night before, she would be locked away in the house for several weeks. It was natural to have positive feelings toward him now, though she was not accustomed to positive feelings toward Edmund. And especially not an increased pulse in his presence.

  When he finished, she tugged her hand away and let it hang at her side. “Thank you.” She shook out her fingers, afraid they would no longer function after he had touched them like that. She avoided his gaze, staring into the bowl.

  “Well, now that the most difficult part is over,” Edmund said, “Shall we finish making this blasted pudding?”

  Selina’s jaw dropped. “Do not let my mother hear you call it that, or she will send you packing for certain.”

  Edmund laughed, and she caught herself staring at that blasted dimple again. When his laughter subsided, he regarded her seriously. “Since you denied my first request, may I ask for something different?”

  Selina nodded.

  “As you know, I have promised to keep your secret. But when you see Mr. Skinner, please don’t tell him you have seen me recently. Please do not mention my name or tell him I am a guest here. Will you keep that one secret for me?”

  Selina frowned. She hadn’t expected that request. She wanted to ask why, but nodded instead, quietly turning back toward the instruction sheet. “Very well. You have my silence.”

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  Her breath felt suddenly heavy coming in and out of her lungs, made weak and compressed by the sight of that smile. Seeing Noah that afternoon would sort out all these strange feelings, she was sure of it.

  Chapter 9

  Noah stood in the alleyway between his father’s office and the neighboring shop. The frigid air tunneled through the alley, biting at Selina’s cheeks as she approached him. She had succeeded in getting his attention from the window this time. He smiled as she came closer, and she brought a similar expression to her own face. Edmund had stopped her from seeing him for three days, and by the way Noah took the final two steps to meet her, he seemed to have missed her a great deal. “Selina,” he said.

  She gazed up at his face as he took her hands in his, running his fingers over her gloved ones. Despite her effort not to, she was reminded of how Edmund had touched her hands that morning. Why had that felt so different? She had been replaying the moment in her mind over and over, unable to identify why it had affected her so greatly. Was it that all handsome men caused such feelings within her? She had connected the feeling with the gentleness in Edmund’s gaze. Noah was all intensity with his eyes, so that must have been what made the difference. Or the fact that she was wearing gloves this time. That was likely the true reason.

  “Selina?”

  She glanced up at him with wide eyes. “Yes?”

  “I asked where you have been these last three days.”

  How had she not heard his question? She pushed all thoughts of Edmund out of her mind as quickly as she could, focusing on Noah’s worried gaze. His forehead was creased, and the tip of his nose was red from the cold. His dark hair fell over his brow, but it was straight and didn’t curl the way Edmund’s did.

  Good heavens.

  She drew a deep breath, bringing a reassuring smile to her lips. “My mother has created a list of all the activities she wishes to have us and our guest participate in for Christmastide. You know how she enjoys controlling everything and everyone within her house.” Selina laughed. “It is no matter.”

  “Guest?” Noah’s eyebrows lifted. “Is it not too cold to travel?”

  Selina recalled Edmund’s request . . . she couldn’t tell Noah about him, even if she didn’t know why he had asked. Edmund was keeping a much greater secret for her, so she couldn’t help but take it seriously. “Oh . . . a female cousin of mine. She arrived before the roads became so treacherous, and now she has been invited to stay at least until Twelfth Night.”

  “Ah, I see.” Noah smiled. “What is her name? I have not heard many tales of your cousins.”

  Selina bit her lower lip, glancing at the brick wall to her left in search of any sort of inspiration. There was none. “Miss Mildred Ellis.” She blurted the first name that came to mind.

  “A relative of your father’s side, I take it.” Noah nodded with understanding. “I wish I was in a position to meet her. If our circumstances were different, I could meet all of your family members.” He turned her hands over in his, running his thumb over her palms. “So we must still marry in secret.” She waited for the shivers she had felt with Edmund’s touch, but she felt nothing. How strange. And frustrating. It had been the longest stretch of time she had gone without feeling vexed by Edmund, but now she was vexed all over again. The reasoning had changed drastically. That was the most unsettling part.

  Even more unsettling was the way her stomach flipped at Noah’s words, marry in secret. Could she really do it? Her legs stiffened and she tightened her jaw. Why was she letting Edmund’s words bring any doubts to her mind? What had changed in three days?

  “Since we are on the subject . . . ” Noah’s intense brown eyes met hers. “I have a friend who is willing to convey us to Gretna Green, even in these frigid conditions. The trip will take longer than usual, of course, but I think we should leave sooner than we originally planned.�
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  Her eyes rounded. “How soon?”

  “We could depart as soon as the seventh of January.”

  Selina’s heart picked up speed. They had discussed her telling her mother on Twelfth Night, but not eloping the very next day. “I—are you certain the roads will be safe? There is no harm in waiting a little longer. We might even wait until Spring when there will be no risk of ice on the roads.” Her words spilled out quickly. She smiled to soften them. “It will simply give us more time to plan.”

  “When you elope, there is little to plan.” He smiled. “And I will take care of all the details to ensure you are warm and comfortable on our journey.”

  She nodded, though her stomach had begun to twist in knots. It is completely natural to feel nervous about something so secretive. “I think we are right to marry in secret. My mother will have to accept my choice to marry you if we are already married. Telling her beforehand would be disastrous.” Selina’s heart still raced, and it took several deep breaths to slow it down.

  “I am very glad you feel that way.” Noah gave her hands a squeeze before touching the side of her face. “I thank my good fortune every day to have found a woman like you. I do not deserve you.” He cast his eyes downward.

  Noah’s humility stood in stark contrast to Edmund’s earlier teasing when he had implied she was fixated on him. The corners of her mouth lifted, and her nervousness faded a little. Soon she would be out of the cold and back home. Edmund’s words flitted through her mind. At least I will see you at dinner.

  She stopped herself. Why was she so eager to return home? She had been looking forward to seeing Noah since her first visit to the Frost Fair. Her confusion rose again, and she stamped it out. She didn’t know how to respond to Noah’s words, so she simply glanced down at their interlocked hands, wondering again why it lacked the sensation she had felt earlier that day.