“Then I beg that you just tell me.”
Cathy almost hated to. For those few minutes she had liked to think she had David all to herself. He was perhaps the only thing on earth she did not want to share with her sister.
She'd been so happy with the dark knight who'd rescued her from the frozen path.
How she treasured their solitary ride that frigid evening. How she treasured everything about the most handsome man in the entire Royal Navy.
She knew, though, that once David and Elizabeth saw one another, she would never spend a single minute alone with him again.
He had never told Cathy he was in love with her sister, but she had often observed the way he hungrily looked at Elizabeth. He would never look at the younger sister in a similar way. No matter how badly she wanted him to.
“Actually it was David St. Vincent. Captain St. Vincent.”
Her overly dramatic sister clutched at her chest, her mouth gaping open. “David's home?” Her eyes sparkled like crushed crystal. “You must tell me, is he as handsome as ever?”
Cathy pictured him as he'd stood there in the snow, tall and exceedingly handsome as his hands clasped her waist to hoist her atop the horse. His greatcoat had stretched over broad shoulders, his dark hair spilled onto his fine, masculine face. Her heartbeat drummed at the memory of the man. And she nodded.
“Why did you not ask him in?” Elizabeth pouted, something she did frequently and to great effect.
“Had he dallied even for a minute, he might not have been able to reach home. The snow seemed to get heavier with each passing minute.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “He could have stayed in Papa's room.” Her lower lip puckered into a perfect pout.
Cathy glared at her sister. “Honestly, Elizabeth, consider the poor man's feelings! He hasn't seen his family in six long years.”
“There is that, I suppose.” Her pout stayed.
As dearly as she loved her sister, Cathy did not feel like talking to her right now. In fact, she merely wanted to go to her bedchamber. And remember every torturing word, touch, or glance that had passed between her and the man she had always loved.
For her love of David St. Vincent was the only secret she had ever kept from her sister.
Chapter 2
Miss Catherine Balfour's head was filled with just one thing: a very handsome officer, though she'd sooner forfeit her well-loved and completely spoiled Fluffs than admit to her obsession over David St. Vincent. In all other respects, she was competent, pragmatic, and relatively intelligent. Except in matters pertaining to a certain recently returned captain in the Royal Navy.
She may have refrained from giving voice to her thoughts of him, but those thoughts had done a thorough job the past three days of robbing her of rational judgment.
There had lamentably been the incident where she absently locked Fluffs in her linen press and sat down to read Scott while petting the shawl folded in her lap—completely oblivious to her poor cat's screeches.
And she still had not come up with a plausible story to explain how she could have mistaken the post boy for her youngest brother. He was a full head shorter than Matthew and of swarthy complexion. All of the Balfours were very blond.
She had even provided entertainment at the dinner table the previous night by pouring beef gravy into one of Mama's lovely stemmed crystal glass. “I declare,” Aunt Kate had chastised, her eyes wide with surprise, “I have never seen my level-headed niece act so scatter brained.”
“I will own,” Matthew responded, “Cathy's acting more like Elizabeth.”
Except for the similarity in their hair color, Cathy had never been compared to her elder sister—unless it be by someone uncharitably questioning how so beautiful a girl could have so plain a sister.
In the three days since she had seen David, Cathy had developed an inordinate curiosity about the weather. It was a wonder she had not worn thin the Turkey carpet between her desk chair and the window from her incessant trips to peer at the bleak winter landscape. She knew he would come once the snow cleared, and not an hour passed that she did not observe the relentless snowfall, willing it to go away.
On the fourth morning, she had awakened to radiant skies even though a great chill still hung in the air. David will come today, she had told herself as she dressed in her warmest garments in order to visit poor Mrs. Williamson and return in time for David's afternoon call. It always puzzled her that morning calls were paid in the afternoon.
That afternoon, she was returning to Stoneyway later than she would have liked, but she had not wanted to leave the unfortunate widow until she was better able to raise her spirits. When Cathy had arrived at the dark little Williamson cottage, the poor widow had not even attempted to draw open the curtains to allow in the day's meager light.
She had sat in front of the fire in the dark little room, knitting for her babe. “Oh, Miss Balfour, it is so very good of you to come. Your visits are the only thing I have to look forward to.”
“Now that simply isn't true, Mrs. Williamson. You've got the babe—your very own flesh and blood—to look forward to.”
The widow nodded. “I do look forward to having someone to love, someone who will love me as me Frederick did.”
“You must remember how blessed you were to be loved by Frederick. Conceive that some women will go to their graves and never know a love like that.” Will I be one of those women? Like sour Aunt Kate.
Though Mrs. Williamson was five years her senior, when she smiled up at Cathy, there was a child-like quality about her. “It always cheers me when you come, Miss Balfour. You bring cheer wherever you go.”
“That makes me very happy to hear.” Cathy handed her a wrapped piece of plum pudding. “Here, I know how much you like this.”
“You are so thoughtful and kind.” She quickly unwrapped it and broke off a piece to eat. “I hate to burden you with my problems, but you're the only person I have.” Mrs. Williamson's eyes misted. “I dreamt last night that the babe was born dead.”
How cruel it would be for the woman to suffer two such losses so close together! “I'm sorry you had such a wretched dream, but you must realize that's all it was: a dream. As long as your spirits stay so low, those melancholy thoughts will invade your dreams. I must encourage you each night before you go to bed to force yourself to think pleasant thoughts.”
Cathy hated to leave Mrs. Williamson before she could brighten her outlook. When she finally felt comfortable enough to leave, she stood. “It's just four days until Christmas. I will save a place for you in our pew on Christmas morning.”
“I hope my babe comes before Christmas.”
Cathy shrugged. “It could be a Christmas baby.”
“What a blessed Christmas gift that would be!”
By the time Cathy returned to Stoneyway, the St. Vincents' carriage was already there. Her spirits fell. She would not have the opportunity to change into a more feminine or more flattering dress. She would have to greet the man of her dreams in her serviceable woolen frock while her beautiful sister would no doubt be stunning in something delicate and utterly lovely.Why should it matter what she wore? No man would ever even look at her as long as Elizabeth was in the same chamber.
As she moved along the lane, she remembered David reminding her of the last words she'd said to him when she was twelve and a half and had no sense of delicacy. It still embarrassed her that he knew her secret when not even her own sister suspected. How grateful she was that he had the decency not to repeat those embarrassing words when they had met again!
Inside her house, she was still shaking her head at her foolishness six years previously. How could she have been so humiliatingly honest? Obviously, she had been completely devoid of pride. She'd had six years in which to restore that pride, and she vowed to never again humiliate herself in such a way.
David's deep chuckle came from the drawing room. She removed her cloak, pelisse, and gloves before taking a deep breath and strolling into the drawing
room.
David and his elder brother Michael rose when she entered. She politely greeted them as well as Michael's pretty wife, Georgianne, before taking her place on the faded green brocade sofa next to her sister.
How natural it looked to see David sitting there in the high-backed upholstered armchair. How happy it made her to have him here in her favorite room. This chamber, more than any at Stoneyway, bore Mama's stamp. She had brought the pianoforte—and many other lovely things—when she married Papa. The painting over the hearth was of Mama's grandmother. Cathy's gaze flicked to the striped silk draperies which had been pulled away from each of the tall windows. Their silk complemented green silk brocade Mama had selected when she'd come to Stoneyway as a bride. As a newlywed, Mama had sewn them herself.
“Please, my dear Miss Balfour,” David said to her, “tell me you did not walk all the way to the Williamson cottage in this cold!”
Her eyes flashed with mirth. “Then I won't tell you.”
Elizabeth beamed at David. “My sister has a most stout constitution—and she adores walking—which allows her to carry on with the family's benevolent works.”
“Poor Miss Elizabeth,” their Aunt Kate added, “is not possessed of such robust health. I positively must put my foot down and not allow her to go traipsing about the countryside—no matter how much her tender heart calls on her to minister to the poor of the parish.”
Brows lowered, Cathy spun to Elizabeth. “I have never thought of you as not having robust health, and I've spent every day of my life in your presence! Is there some terrible malady you're hiding from me?”
“If you will think back to last winter, you will recall that horrid cough that sent me to bed.”
Cathy nodded. “Of course I recall it. I was already in bed with fever!”
“I am quite convinced had I not gone to bed I, too, would have come down with a fever.”
“Elizabeth's so delicate,” Kate said to the visitors.
David's gaze flicked from aunt to settle appreciatively on delicate niece.
A moment later, he turned his attention once more to Cathy. “How was Mrs. Williamson? Has the baby come?”
Cathy was disappointed that he—and not her sister and aunt who were actually acquainted with the unfortunate widow—was the one to inquire about her. She shrugged. “She's very low. The babe has still not come, and she grows more melancholy as Christmas nears. Had we another bed, I would have brought her home with me. How can the poor woman even send for the midwife when she's so alone?”
“Now, dearest,” Aunt Kate said, “you can't bring all the unfortunate souls in the parish to live under our roof. My brother will be the first to tell you so.”
“I know, it's just so heart wrenching.”
David's gaze cut once more to her. “I remember well how Miss Catherine was always trying to bring home what she called orphaned dogs and cats.”
“We must speak no more of sad topics,” Elizabeth said. “The captain has the most splendid news! He's going to look at Belford Manor this afternoon. He may purchase it from Lord Haworth.” Elizabeth could neither disguise her affection for David nor her enthusiasm over the potential purchase of Belford. It had been a long time since she had been impressed over a gentleman caller. “Dare we ask if we could come while you look at it?” Elizabeth peered at him through lowered lashes.
“You girls can go on without me,” Aunt Kate said, looking across the Oriental carpet at the visitors, “that is, if there's room in your carriage for my nieces.”
Michael St. Vincent, who sat next to his wife on a silk damask settee, hugged her. “I can always put Georgie on my lap.”
Aunt Kate's eyes narrowed. She had never approved of public displays of affection.
Cathy turned to her sister. “You must change into warmer clothing. It's beastly cold out there.” Elizabeth wore a spring-like dress of sprigged muslin which completely exposed her arms and displayed the tops of breasts straining beneath the scooped bodice. She looked incredibly delicate.
Elizabeth pouted. “I suppose I must.” Her disdainful glance fell on Cathy's ugly brown wool dress.
“That is,” Cathy added, turning her gaze to David, “if we shall be permitted on this journey. You have every right to want to purvey so important a purchase without two babbling females in tow, meaning, of course, my sister and me.”
“I would be delighted to have the sisters Balfour accompany me. I should value a female's opinion.”
“Then my sister and I shall be honored to be included in your party,” Elizabeth said.
While Elizabeth went upstairs to don warm clothing, Cathy said, “I must apologize that Papa has not come to greet you. He buries himself in the library each day. Had he known you'd come home, I daresay he'd have flown out of the musty chamber.” She stood. “Pray, Captain, let us go and see Papa.”
Aunt Kate's brows lowered. “You know your father does not like to be interrupted when he's in his library.”
“My dear aunt, I assure you Papa would be angry not be notified that David St. Vincent is at long last home. David's a great favorite with Papa.” Uh oh. She had slipped and called him David. Hopefully none of the others noticed.
“Are you certain I won't be imposing on your father?” David asked as he stood.
“I am absolutely certain.”
Papa's library was just across the hall. “Look, Papa, who's come home.”
If the drawing room bore her mother's stamp, the library bespoke Mr. Balfour's introspective personality almost as thoroughly as a portrait bespoke his physical appearance. Every shelf was crammed with a vast assortment of books on every topic. Some had been purchased new, most second hand, and a few were gifts from young men he had tutored in the classics over the years. The wall of shelves was not enough to hold all the clergyman's books. They stacked in teetering columns on the floor, with many other book stacks surrounding his desk.
He sat at his desk, which was piled high with stacks of papers. Its drawers were so crammed with old letters, they could not be closed but reposed at varying degrees of openness.
The moment he beheld David, a smile brightened his craggy face, and he leapt to his feet. “David St. Vincent! You are home! What a happy day this is!”
Cathy beamed. David was almost as special to her father as he was to her.
* * *
While he had fully intended to finagle a seat in the coach next to the Incomparable, somehow she ended up sitting across the carriage from him. True to his jovial word, Michael had yanked Georgianne onto his lap, and the disgustingly happy husband and wife were seated beside the beauty. As he settled back into the squabs, David realized this seating arrangement worked very well since it afforded him the opportunity to openly gaze upon the extraordinary Miss Elizabeth Balfour.
The wistful memories of her fair blond loveliness that had invaded his daydreams and night dreams for years had not embellished her beauty at all. As a woman of two and twenty, she had grown even more beautiful than she had been when he last saw her at sixteen. How stupendously fortunate he was that she had not married.
That lady bestowed a bright smile upon him. “I am so happy you are home, Captain. You must come to our Christmas Eve assembly.”
“To be fortunate enough to dance with you, Miss Balfour, I would tread through snow.”
Her lashes lowered coyly.
Then he remembered his manners and turned to the plainer sister who sat beside him. “And I pray that you will also do me the goodness of standing up with me at the assembly, Miss Balfour.”
Cathy favored him with a smile. “I would be honored.” Even though the bracken color of her eyes was not as pretty or as striking as her sister's blue, there was something in the way they sparkled with such warmth that captivated him. He found himself staring at her before he quickly looked away.
“I am so excited about the assembly,” Elizabeth said. “I am making a new dress just for it.”
“What color?” Georgianne asked.
“How lovely!” Georgianne eyed Cathy. “And what color is yours?”
“It is the same green one I've worn to the last three assemblies.” She shrugged. “I'm the practical sister.”
“Enough talk of fashions!” Michael said. “I'd rather boast on my brother. He's quite the naval hero, you know?”
Miss Elizabeth Balfour's mouth gaped open. “I did not know!”
Miss Catherine Balfour turned to him. “My sister finds reading about sea battles utterly boring, but I read the accounts of every single battle during the war, and I saved any newspaper which mentioned you or one of your ships.”
As surprised as he was that his actions had been reported in newspapers back in his homeland, David was equally surprised at Cathy's loyalty to him. His mouth curved into a smile as he remembered her as she looked when he'd left that day in his midshipman's uniform, how she had exclaimed, “I shall wait for you to come home and marry me for no one but you will ever do.”
He had forgotten her proclamation until the other afternoon when he'd felt her back pressed against him as they shared his horse, his arms bracketing her. He had been shocked to realize that Cath was no longer that little girl who'd once called him Dabid. She was a woman now, and he was flooded with memories of that long-ago day.
Now in his brother's carriage, with the side of her leg pressing his, he was swamped again with awareness that little Cathy Balfour was now a grown woman.
He turned to her. “I am humbled, but not humbled enough that I wouldn't derive great pleasure from seeing those newspapers.”
“I would be happy to show them to you.”
He addressed his brother. “It is my good fortune to have had a loving family—as well Miss Catherine Balfour—praying for my safe return.”
“La!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I'm sure I, too, prayed for you.”
As much as he wanted to believe this incredible creature had spared a thought for him during the years he was gone, somehow her words lacked sincerity. “I thank you, Miss Balfour.”
Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas) Page 9