A Captain For Christmas

by Louise Taylor

  "I should get you back inside," he said, his voice pitched lower than before. His hands betrayed his real feelings, however, as Serena felt them tighten around her waist where they had come to rest.

  "I want to stay here," she said, burrowing herself into his embrace, causing him to chuckle.

  "And I would have you stay here all night," he teased. "But I think you would be missed."

  Serena stamped her foot in frustration and then immediately regretted the action. It was silly and childish, and when coupled with her ridiculous costume made her look petulant.

  "Do not worry, sweetheart," he said softly. "I will kiss you again before the night is out. Your bedroom is on the second floor, is it not? At the side of the house?"

  "The third floor, at the back," Serena said, a little confused.

  Jonathan had been in their London townhouse enough times to know his way around, although he would never have been in her bedroom before. It was possible that he would be mistaken.

  "You have moved rooms? No matter," he said hastily, raising her hand to drop a kiss on the knuckles. "Put a candle in the window when you return home, and I will climb in to kiss you good night."

  Before Serena could do more than blink, he had swept her up in his arms once more and started along the gravel path back to the house. She clung to him, relishing the feeling of being so protected and so cared for in his arms. Could he have meant what he said? Was he planning to climb the trellis outside her window and sneak into her room?

  She couldn't let him. A kiss in the gardens was scandalous enough, but if he was found in her room it would mean that they would have to marry, immediately. Did he love her enough to risk such a fate? Serena's head was muddled. Jonathan had been flirting with her ever since she was old enough to know what flirting was, but she had seen him act in the same way with serving maids and society matrons. Was he now being serious?

  Before she could work out what to say, they had reached the terrace again. He put her down and they hurried up the steps and back into the ballroom. The crowded room was hot after the cool air of the garden, and Serena staggered a little at the change in temperature. Her pirate led her to the end of the line of dancers that were still moving through the steps of the country dance, and they finished the set without anybody noticing that they had left.

  They walked across the room, searching for Lady Olston who was found near the refreshment table.

  "Your shepherdess, your majesty," Jonathan said, reaching forward and kissing the chaperone's gloved hand.

  "Thank you," Lady Olston said, looking a little flushed. Whether it was the heat of the room or the attentions of a younger man, Serena could not stay.

  He bowed to her as well, gave her a roguish wink and disappeared into the crowd.

  "I want to go," Lady Olston said, fanning herself. "This room is a positive crush, and I am far too warm."

  "Of course, Mama," Serena agreed.

  She had no desire to stay now that the most wonderful event of the night had already happened! She wanted to go home, to pour out her feelings in her diary and, if she dared, light a candle and leave it burning at her window. Would Jonathan come to her window tonight? Would he climb into her room? Would he kiss her with such passion again?

  She had to go home and make sure that the candle was lit!

  Of course, leaving a grand ball was more difficult that it sounded. First one had to find the hostess, and take her leave, and then one had to find a footman to retrieve whatever wraps and shawls one had brought to the party (or over-decorated shepherdess crooks, in Serena's case) and then finally a message had to be sent to one's driver, who had to battle through the collection of carriages outside the house to find his employers. It took nearly an hour for Serena to be seated in the Olston carriage, and then another hour before she was home, undressed by her maid and alone in her room.

  She had a window-seat in her bedroom, a wide, comfortable space padded with cushions where she liked to sit and look out over the garden. The sill was wide also, and there was plenty of room for a candle in a glass shade to sit there, a quiet beacon to guide her lover to her.

  Serena wrapped herself in her dressing gown and settled down on the window-seat to wait for Jonathan to arrive. The whole situation was so romantic – just like something out of a book! She would only tell her best friend Bessie Pennell and her diary, she decided. She did not want Jonathan to be caught sneaking into her window that night. As much as she loved him and wanted to marry him, she would prefer a more formal proposal.

  She peered out of the window, but there was no sign of him yet. No wonder, she judged; he would have had the same problems leaving the ball as she had, and he would want to leave enough time for the house to go to bed before scaling the garden wall. She yawned. He would be here at any moment, she was sure.

  Her eyes closed briefly. It was late – two o'clock in the morning – and she was very tired. She yawned again. It would not do to fall asleep, though!

  On the window sill the candle guttered a little, but continued shining as Serena's heavy eyes closed for the last time and she fell asleep on the window seat, leaning against the wall.

  The little light shone all night, but no pirate came climbing in through the window to his hopeful shepherdess

  ***

  William arrived home at Olston House shortly before luncheon, hurtling up the drive like a man possessed in his brand new curricle. The high-wheeled carriage was made for racing, but William was not a steady hand with the laces and it seemed to list precariously as it rounded the fountain in front of the house. From her seat at the window in the upper parlour, Serena watched as Jonathan Luttrell threw out a hand and grabbed the reins to steady the vehicle.

  The gravel of the drive crunched as the horses drew up, lather flying from their sides. William had worked them hard, it seemed. Their father would be annoyed at that. A gentleman always took good care of his horses, she knew. Michael would never have pushed his cattle that way. He would have taken his time, and arrived later. Her brothers had been so different from each other, Serena noted, sadly. Michael had been quieter and steadier than William. He would have made a good earl. William was rackety and noisy and seemed to drink and gamble far too much.

  Thank goodness William had Jonathan to help him. If his quick hand on the reins was anything to be judged, he was good at getting her brother out of trouble.

  Footmen swarmed to the curricle, unloading trunks and bags. Grooms arrived to walk the horses around to the stables. From her position at the window Serena saw her mother descend the steps to welcome William warmly, and give a more frosty nod of the head to Jonathan Luttrell. They went inside, and Serena began to check her appearance in front of the mirror hanging over the fireplace. She had chosen a blue dress this morning, in a shade close to that of Jonathan's eyes. She hoped he would notice her subtle invitation. Just as she was checking that her hairpins were in place, a footman knocked the door and entered.

  "Her ladyship requests your presence in the drawing room, Lady Serena," he told her.

  "Thank you, James," Serena said, patting her hair for the last time.

  He held the door for her as she left and walked downstairs to the drawing room. On entering the room, she found her mother, sitting happily next to her brother on the chesterfield, and her father, sitting opposite in his favourite chair. The maids had just brought a tea tray, and William was already helping himself to a slice of cake.

  "William!" Serena said, crossing the room. "How nice to see you!"

  He waved at her vaguely with the slice of cake to indicate that the sentiment was returned, but he was far too busy chewing to respond.

  Serena sat in another armchair and accepted the cup of tea that her mother passed her.

  "Is Mr. Luttrell not joining us for tea?" she asked, noting the absence of him from the room immediately.

  "He's in the stables," William said, finishing his cake. "Said he wanted to see to the horses. I told him there was no need, the groo
ms would do it, but he's funny about horses that way."

  "You rode them hard enough getting here," the earl said sharply. "A gentleman sees to his mount, William."

  "It's Penscombe now, or don't you remember?" William said nastily.

  Viscount Penscombe was the courtesy title given to the eldest son of the Earl of Olston. Michael had been Penscombe since he was born, but they had never used the title when they were just the family together. Now the title had passed to William, as had all the expectations Michael had shouldered since birth.

  Lady Olston's cup and saucer rattled, spilling hot tea into her lap. She cried out in pain, and the earl leaped to his feet, bellowing for the footmen outside the door to fetch her maid. Serena tried to help by pulling the sodden fabric away from her mother's skin, and there was much fuss and noise until Morgan, the countess' maid, arrived to take her sobbing mistress upstairs and put some salve on the burns.

  "You, in my study, now!" thundered the earl, pointing at William.

  William threw down his teacup on the tray, cracking the cup.

  "I didn't spill it on her!" he protested, standing.

  "Now!" repeated the earl, at ear-splitting volume. William stormed angrily from the room, followed by the earl. The door to the study opened and was slammed shut before raised voices could be heard. Serena looked at the butler, who had come running with the lady's maid.

  "Could you please see that this is cleared up, Lowell?" she asked. "I expect my mother will need one of Mrs. Ainsworth's sleeping powders, if she would send one up to her room."

  "Yes, Lady Serena," the butler said, motioning one of the footmen to go to the housekeeper's office and arrange for the sleeping powder.

  "I expect luncheon will be delayed; a tray to my mother in her room, if she can manage it, and one for my father in his study," she said, thinking hard. "I expect my brother and Mr. Luttrell will eat with me in the dining room. In half an hour, perhaps?"

  Loud shouting and the sound of breaking glass came from the study.

  "If I may suggest an hour's delay, Lady Serena?" the butler said, wincing.

  "I think you're right, Lowell," Serena said, sighing. "If anybody asks for me, I'm going to greet Mr. Luttrell in the stables before I change for luncheon. Somebody needs to remember their manners around here."

  "Very good, my lady," Lowell said approvingly. Their butler was a stickler for propriety and such an explosive scene was anathema to him, Serena could tell. If he sounded as if he approved of her actions, at least one of the family would get off easier in the servants hall gossip that evening.

  There was an entrance to the stables through one of the winding corridors of the main house, meaning that Serena did not have to brave the bitter cold by walking outside and around the house to the stable block. She did wrap herself in a bright red shawl, however, as the stables were not as warm as the house. She passed the head groom in the yard, who pulled at his cap and informed her that Mr. Luttrell was at the far end of the stable with Lord Penscombe's horses. Their stables were kept as clean as possible. Neither the stable master, nor the earl would stand for anything less – but Serena still stepped carefully as she walked down the packed earth floor. She didn't want to dirty her shoes.

  He had taken off his jacket and waistcoat to work with the horses, leaving him in his shirt and breeches. His cravat had been abandoned too, which meant that the fine length of his neck was on show as he brushed down the horse. He was murmuring things as he worked on the animal, calming words designed to settle the animal that had been badly used and was now in a strange stable. Serena watched him work for a while, as his back was to her. She liked to see him like this, totally focussed on his animals. She'd seen him like it many times before, when he and William had allowed her to tag along with them as they played when they were younger. If they met one of the estate barn cats or a working dog when they were out and about, Jonathan would stop to play with it, stroke it or fuss with it. He liked animals, and they seemed to like him in return.

  He noticed her eventually, however.

  "Lady Serena," he said, straightening up and giving her a polite bow. "I did not notice you there."

  "You were busy looking after William's horses," Serena said, rolling her eyes. "Thank goodness they have you to see to their comfort. My brother would not do the same."

  "Oh, I'm just being fussy," he said lightly. "William is right, you have many grooms here that would do a better job than me."

  Serena stepped closer to the horse that had already been brushed and watered, and who was now chomping happily on some hay from a feeding bin in his stall. She raised a hand to pet the white flash along his nose, but Jonathan moved quickly, darting towards her, grabbing her wrist and yanking her away just before the horse took a nasty snap at her.

  "Goodness," Serena said, blushing. "I did not think he would do that. None of the horses here have ever tried to bite me!"

  "None of the horses here are ever whipped as these two were this morning," Jonathan said, frowning at the memory. "They are not in the best of moods, Lady Serena. It would be best if you did not venture near them today."

  He still had hold of her wrist, and when he realised it he dropped it quickly.

  "I didn't hurt you then when I pulled you out of the way, did I?" he asked.

  "No," she said, still rubbing her hand over the spot where his hand had held her arm. "Although," she went on flirtatiously, "You have hurt my feelings, Mr. Luttrell!"

  He frowned.

  "I have?" he asked, clearly perplexed. "Forgive me Lady Serena, but how have I done that?"

  Serena looked around the stables in case they were being listened to by one of the grooms, but the far end of the stable block was empty, save for them.

  "Why, my pirate," she said, smiling, "you promised to climb up into my bedroom for another kiss, but you never turned up!"

  He looked utterly confused by what she had just said.

  "Lady Serena," he said carefully, "if this is some joke you are playing on me, then I will admit, you have caught me by surprise!"

  He backed away from her, picking up the brush he had been using on the half-groomed horse, and entered the other stall again if he were using the horse inside as a cover from attack.

  "A joke?" Serena said, completely confused herself. "Jonathan, this is no joke! In June, at the masked fancy dress ball – don't you remember?"

  His eyes flicked towards hers at the sound of his Christian name being used. When he had visited the house as a child, they had used their names with each other as children did. When they became older, however, and propriety had become the watchword, they were always Lady Serena and Mr. Luttrell.

  "I attended many masked balls, Lady Serena," he said, moving sideways, away from her, as he continued to brush the horse.

  "I think you will remember this one," she said, pointedly. "You were dressed as a pirate, and I was a shepherdess. We danced for a short time before you snuck me out into the gardens and you carried me over the gravel walk!"

  The noise of the brushing stopped and he rose from his crouch, visible over the flank of the horse. He looked horrified, Serena realised. Horrified and embarrassed.

  "No," he said, dropping the brush onto the floor, where the horse decided to kick it across the stable, just because it could. Neither human paid much attention.

  "Yes!" Serena said, stamping her foot with irritation. "Yes, Jonathan! You… you kissed me," she said, the word now sounding venomous as it left her mouth. "You kissed me, and promised you would visit me later than night and climb into my window!"

  She checked her volume, deliberately whispering the last few words in case there were any eavesdroppers. The force behind her words did not change with her volume, however.

  "That was you?" he asked, looking pale.

  "Of course it was me! Who did you think it was?" she demanded.

  "Lucy Hortop!" he blurted out.

  "Lucy Hortop?" Serena squealed. "Whatever made you think that… that... str
umpet and I were alike?"

  Lucy Hortop was as popular amongst the gentlemen of the ton as she was hated by the women. She was considered fast, a damning word amongst the matrons, for it implied a certain relaxation of character that well behaved women could not afford.

  "Well, she had told me that she would be wearing a shepherdess costume and her mother was Queen Elizabeth!" Jonathan said defensively. "And you were wearing a mask across your eyes!"

  "Lots of girls were wearing shepherdess costumes!" Serena said fiercely. "And there were more Queen Elizabeths than anything else! You didn't think to check you were kissing the right girl?"

  "You weren't exactly fighting me off with your blasted stick thing!" he shot back. "You wanted to go into the gardens, you liked that kiss!"

  Serena took a few steps back, the anger in his words hitting her physically.

  "I thought you liked me," she said, feeling the tears start to form in her eyes. "I thought you wanted to kiss me! I thought that you…" she bit the words off, unwilling to display her hopes and dreams in front of a man who turned out to be the opposite of the faithful lover she had imagined him to be.

  "I never gave you any sign that I had an attachment to you," he said stiffly.

  "No," Serena said dully. "I can see that now. I can see that every compliment, every flirtatious little comment, every private joke meant little to you, as you behave that way with every woman, don't you? It's my fault for thinking that I was… special in some way, to you."

  "Serena," he started, but she put up a hand to stop him, and she started to back away.

  "No," she said bitterly. "No, Mr. Luttrell, do not say anything more. It is partly my fault, I suppose; I have spent such a long time wishing for your affection that I was not surprised when I finally gained it. I should have known better, but I did not wish to… oh, Lord!" she said, blaspheming in her anger with herself. "I thought the reason you had not written was because you were protecting my reputation! And all this time you thought you were sporting with another girl!"