Lady Joy and the Earl: A Regency Christmas Novella

by Regina Jeffers

  “Harrison initially only used his hand or a strap,” she sobbed. “I would have a bruise, but those could be explained away. When father died, I had been in Yorkshire some three weeks before we encountered each other.”

  “Time enough for the bruises to fade,” he finished her tale. “Why did you not tell me? Or inform Emerson?”

  “There was nothing to be done.” Their gazes locked in understanding. “I was Harrison’s property. All either you or Emerson could do would be to issue a challenge. I could not bear either of you dying during a duel or being banished from England. The law was on my husband’s side.”

  * * *

  Under the circumstances, James placed his planned seduction aside. It was not as if he still did not desire Jocelyn, but he quickly realized she required his simple acceptance rather than his lust, and so he removed his boots, stockings, coat, waistcoat, and cravat and crawled into the bed beside her. Jocelyn had eventually fallen asleep, not rousing even once, while he had barely closed his eyes.

  He imagined more and more devious ways to exact his vengeance on Lathrop. Finally, he decided making Jocelyn’s life all of which she dreamed would be the perfect revenge.

  When daybreak sent its first fingers of light into the room, he extracted himself from Joy’s closeness and took his lust back to his suite. He did not want to look upon her sorrowful countenance. James preferred the quiet peacefulness of Jocelyn in repose.

  He did not think it possible to alter her plans to return to Powell Manor tomorrow. James inherently knew if she left Hough House, Jocelyn would never return, but he was at a loss how to prevent her leaving. She was going to return to her simple life—one where she could continue to hide. There was a terrible tightness in his chest. How could he permit her to leave without a backward look? How?

  Unfortunately, he had other duties today. It was the annual hunt, and James was out of the house early to oversee the final preparations.

  “Thinkin’ there be snow and plenty of it, m’lord,” his head groom said when James stepped into the stables.

  “Do we have time to complete the hunt?” James inquired.

  “Likely so, but those who trail behind may be up to mid boots in snow if’n they not be careful.”

  James nodded his understanding. “I will warn those who gather at Powell Manor, as well as those at Hough House.”

  Chapter Ten

  Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy that one short minute gives me in her sight. Do thou but close our hands with holy words, then love-devouring death do what he dare. It is enough I may but call her mine.

  William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene vi

  Jocelyn stared out the window. “Where are they?” She had been watching for her younger son’s return for what felt to be an eternity. Watching and making bargains with God. Begging for the lives of two of the men she held in her heart.

  All the riders except Michael and Lord Hough had returned to Hough House, before setting out for their homes, after the hunt was suspended because of the snow. Even after several hours, sleet and ice crystals pelted the windows and ground, accumulating quickly.

  “Hough will permit nothing to happen to the boy,” Lady Mary assured.

  “I know,” Jocelyn replied in distraction. They all thought it was Michael over whom she fretted, but Hough occupied her mind equal to her son. She could not bear the thought of losing either of them. She loved them both dearly.

  Loved them both? Certainly she had told James of her affections, but at this moment, she knew her words held more truth than she realized previously. She sighed, reluctant to continue her imaginings. James had recently described her as painfully direct, but unlike Harrison, Lord Hough had not meant it as a criticism. When she was young, she had promised his lordship, The only man I shall ever willingly give myself to is you. I always believed I could never cheerfully lie with a man unless I loved him with all my heart. And I would not marry him unless he returned that love. They forced me to break my vow not to marry anyone other than James, but they could not make me love my husband as I do Lord Hough.

  What if he did not return? What if she had turned him away one too many times?

  “Even the hounds came back early,” Lord Bluffton said as he joined her at the window.

  “It will be dark soon,” she rasped, her emotions high. “It keeps changing from sleet to snow and back again. Their horses will be of no use. They will not be able to decipher where the trails turn. The land is quite savage in places.”

  “Father knows the area better than anyone. He turned back as soon as he realized your Michael had not returned with the others in his flight. He will not fail you,” he said softly.

  Tears filled Jocelyn’s eyes. “Your father is an exemplary person. He is above reproach.”

  Lord Bluffton leaned closer to whisper, “Once Hough has saved your Michael, please consider saving him by offering your appreciation. I do not relish watching him spend the remainder of his days second-guessing his decisions.”

  Before she could respond, Lady Meredith, who had chosen an adjoining window for her watch post, called, “There! On the hill!”

  Jocelyn’s heart hitched higher. Without thinking, she turned to follow Bluffton, Andrew, and Emerson through the halls. When she reached the foyer, she instructed his lordship’s butler. “Both Hough and my son will require warm baths and a proper meal afterwards. Send for their valets. Ring for his footmen.”

  She did not wait to view the man’s obedience. Instead, she grabbed two coats from the butler’s pantry and trekked behind her brother as Emerson led the way up the hill. The cold bit at her skin, but she thought only of the men she loved. Hough had paused to view their approach, and she could tell he was struggling to stand. His coat was gone, wrapped across a figure slumped over Sultan’s back. Ice caked the earl’s hair and his shirt. As Emerson reached him, his lordship collapsed into her brother’s arms.

  “Hurry!” She shouted over her shoulder to encourage Lord Hough’s servants, who swarmed from the house and stables to aid in his recovery.

  “Michael,” he rasped when she reached him.

  “His brother and Sebastian have him,” she assured, as she wrapped one of the coats about his shoulders. “You did all you could. Permit Emerson and your men to assist you.”

  “I love you,” he murmured, his cold fingers wrapping about her wrist.

  She lightly kissed his icy lips. “You have proven your love countless times, and I have been selfish in my response. Just permit us to see to your health; then we will discuss our future.”

  “Promise,” he said before closing his eyes.

  She was not certain whether his response was a question or a confirmation, but there was no time for more. She stepped from the way, so his lordship’s men could carry him to the house. Meanwhile, she turned her attention to where Andrew, Edward, and Sebastian steadied Hough’s horse and assessed how best to aid Michael.

  “He is alive,” Andrew grunted as he accepted Michael’s weight sliding into his open arms.

  “Not conscious,” Edward confirmed. Her nephew rushed to assist Andrew.

  Turning in a tight circle, Jocelyn noticed Lady Meredith watching what went on with Michael. The girl appeared quite stunned by the goings on. “Meredith, follow your father and see to his comfort. Make certain water has arrived for baths for both his lordship and Michael.” She gave the girl a gentle nudge in the direction of the house.

  Having turned Hough over to the earl’s servants, Emerson joined her at Michael’s side. “Wrap him in the coat, Joy. Then let’s move him inside.”

  After she dragged Hough’s soaked coat from Michael’s form and draped the dry one over him, Emerson lifted one of Michael’s legs, and Edward the other. Sebastian and Andrew caught Michael’s shoulders. Together, they carried her son aloft and into the house, where two footmen, having safely delivered Hough to his quarters, joined them.

  Although she followed the men to Michael�
��s quarters, Jocelyn was equally concerned for Lord Hough’s recovery. Thankfully, her brother provided her an excuse to call upon the earl by saying, “See to Hough while we undress Michael and bathe him. There will be no physician to see to either with this weather. Determine what Hough needs, and let me know what must be done to see to his comfort.”

  “I will return in a few minutes,” she said after caressing the cheeks of both of her sons. “Watch over him,” she instructed Andrew. “Come for me if there is any change.”

  She crossed quickly to James’s suite of rooms to knock on the door.

  His lordship’s valet answered after a brief pause. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I came to verify Lord Hough’s condition.” She knew she should be ashamed to be so bold to call upon the earl’s rooms, but none of that mattered at the moment.

  The valet glanced behind him. “His lordship is in his bath, ma’am.”

  “Tell Lady Lathrop to change from her wet clothes.” Hough’s voice could be heard in the background. Although not as strong as customary, he did not sound in pain. “Then return. I would be happy to accept her presence at that time.”

  She did not wait for the valet to repeat what could not be interpreted as anything less than a command. Instead she turned on her heels to return to her rooms, calling,“Yes, my lord,” over her shoulder as she went.

  Changing quickly into a simple day dress, Jocelyn returned to James’s suite a quarter hour later. “You appear cozy,” she remarked when she was shown into the bedroom.

  “Cannot seem to know warmth,” he said with a pronounced shiver.

  “Permit me to look upon your hands,” she instructed as she sat, not in a nearby chair, but upon the edge of his bed. She captured his strong hand in her two. “The skin is still a bit red,” she murmured as she examined each of his fingers. Pressing down on the skin near his wrist with her thumb, she studied how quickly it recovered upon release. “But the blood appears to be flowing freely.”

  “That particular hand is warmer,” he said with an arched brow, an invitation in his expression.

  She brought his fingers to her lips and kissed each lightly. “I do not plan to touch you all over,” she said primly. “Rather, why do you not tell me how you discovered Michael.”

  His hand clasped hers. “I followed what I thought were his horse’s prints only to discover them left from the hunt, but as I turned to retrace my tracks, I spotted Michael’s leg sticking up like a tree branch from a ditch. He was unconscious, and although I feared moving him, I had little choice. We were not close enough to the manor for me to return for assistance. As best I could, I wrestled him first onto my back and then upon Sultan’s. I set out on foot, leading my horse, fearing if it lost its footing we would both be doomed. Please say Michael is recovering.”

  “I must still call upon him to know for certain the extent of his injuries. Emerson ordered me from Michael’s room. He, Edward, Sebastian, and Andrew were removing their jackets and rolling up their sleeves to bathe Michael and change out his clothing when I left.”

  “I could not find his horse,” James confided. “I pray I reached him in time.”

  “Michael will be well,” Jocelyn said emphatically. ”While I watched for news of you, I promised God I would no longer hide from life if He would permit your and Michael’s safe return.”

  “And you believe you have God’s notice?” he asked with a skeptical lift of his eyebrows.

  “I believe I have refused God’s grace long enough. He will be glad to welcome me home.”

  A knock brought his lordship’s mother, aunt, and daughter, and so Jocelyn excused herself to return to Michael’s bedside. Little did she know she would not leave her son’s side for another five days, for it was more than fifty hours before Michael woke and another three days before the physician permitted her son to rejoin their party, broken leg and all. Although Edward, Constance, her mother and the Effroms had removed to Powell Manor, Jocelyn and her sons remained at Hough House. First Michael’s unconscious state kept them in James’s household and then her son’s broken leg would not permit his removal. More importantly, Jocelyn’s heart had staked a claim and would not be overturned.

  * * *

  “It is good to see your Michael finally from his bed,” Lady Hough remarked as she and Jocelyn shared a settee. The Houghs hosted a large array of the local gentry for the supper planned what felt to be eons ago. It was the eve of the New Year, and all were in a festive mood, and with both Michael’s and Hough’s recoveries, for a change, even she was feeling optimistic.

  Jocelyn smiled at the image of Michael and Lady Meredith, heads together, indifferent to his lordship’s other guests. “Michael has discovered a kindred spirit in Lord Hough’s daughter.”

  Her ladyship nodded her agreement. “Unlike many of those of the younger set, they both appear quite sensible. Nothing like Meredith’s school friend.” Lady Hough rolled her eyes. “Perhaps someday Michael and Meredith will choose each other in marriage.”

  Jocelyn glanced to where Miss Stephenson flirted with two of the young men from the neighborhood. “I feel sorry for Ophelia,” she admitted reluctantly. “It must be quite disconcerting to have one’s parents run off to enjoy the pleasures of Paris, now that Napoleon has been deposed, and without even a proper farewell. Meredith confided to me if she had not brought the girl with her, Miss Stephenson would have spent a lonely Christmas at school.” Her eyes again settled upon Michael and Lady Meredith. “And if the day comes for Michael to declare himself, I pray he and your granddaughter are permitted the freedom to make their own way.” Instinctively, she looked again to where Hough and Emerson held court among a group of boisterous gentlemen.

  Lady Hough’s gaze followed Jocelyn’s. “The aristocracy is not so unforgiving as it once was. Moreover, here in Yorkshire, we ignored much of what would ruffle a feather or two in London. You should follow your mother’s example. I imagine you and my son could still claim a bit of good fortune, if such is your wish.”

  Something soft and feminine stirred inside of Jocelyn—an emotion she had placed away on a shelf the day James Highcliffe had informed her of his father’s edict. “You would hold no objections?”

  “I hold an objection to your not accepting my son,” Lady Hough said smartly.

  Jocelyn whispered, “With Michael’s troubles, since the day of the hunt, Lord Hough and I have not had an opportunity to speak privately.”

  “Then speak to him now,” Lady Hough instructed.

  “There are all these people around,” Jocelyn protested. “I should wait until tomorrow.”

  “How many tomorrows have you wasted? How many promises to yourself have you abandoned?” Lady Hough countered. “What better way to set the ton on its ear?” She leaned closer to speak privately. “Do you know I proposed to Robert Highcliffe in this very room? His father had meant Robert for my cousin. You could create a tradition.” A soft chuckle followed. “Give this old house character.”

  “I would not know how to begin,” Jocelyn admitted.

  “Go stand in the room’s middle.” Jocelyn caught a hint of humor lurking behind her ladyship’s words. When she gave the woman a questioning look, Lady Hough smiled widely. “It is the only place in the room where you will know any privacy. Set your gaze upon James. Believe me, he will come to you. But when he does, do not fear to speak your heart. Remember being brave simply means you permit no one to realize you know fear.” Her ladyship made a little shooing motion.

  Jocelyn awkwardly stood. She glanced again to James’s mother and then back to the room’s middle. Despite more than forty in their party, the center was empty. The countess pointed to the exact spot where she thought Jocelyn should stand. Beneath the kissing bough.

  Feeling very conspicuous, Jocelyn made her way slowly toward the middle of the room. A twinge of panic filled her stomach, and for a few brief seconds, she thought to run again, but her eyes fell upon James. Their gazes held, and so she rolled her shoulders into a
more comfortable position and waited.

  As Lady Hough predicted, within seconds, Hough excused himself from the circle of men with whom he conversed to join her beneath the chandelier. “You were not thinking of fleeing, were you, Joy?”

  “Would you have followed?” She found herself leaning toward him. Despite being where all could observe, unable to stop herself, she reached for him, needing the reassurance of his touch.

  He caught her hand in his. “I would follow wherever you choose to lead, my lady.”

  As if someone signaled their silence, his lordship’s guests fell quiet, and Jocelyn suspected Lady Hough was the culprit. She dared not to look around, fearing, if she did, she would lose her resolve. Instead, she concentrated on how relaxed James appeared.

  “What if I wished to remain at Hough House?” she asked softly, attempting to conceal their conversation from those who edged nearer.

  “That would be spectacular,” he said with a genuine smile. “How long might we anticipate your tarrying with us?”

  She fought to draw a breath. Could she say the words that would alter her life? With a hard swallow, she rasped, “I was thinking of staying forever.”

  Thankfully, he did not appear appalled by her suggestion. Hough reached to caress her cheek. “Forever would be perfect.”

  She could not help laughing. A nervous laugh. “That simple?”

  “I suppose one of us should propose. I doubt you meant we should live in sin.” James chuckled with genuine amusement.

  Sensing the others in the room pressed closer, Jocelyn studied his features. She had fooled herself: There was more of Captain Jackson Highcliffe in James than she once thought. Features passed from father to son. In him, she saw the same strength and steely determination found in Andrew’s all-too-serious countenance. The same insulated defenses. A smile touched her lips. “I believe it is my turn.”

  “I am secure enough in my manhood to permit a woman to lead.” His thumb traced her lower lip in a sweet seduction, and Jocelyn found herself swaying to know more of his touch.