A Regency Christmas Pact Collection

by Ava Stone

  Dutifully, Berks crossed the room until he stood beside his sister’s wingback chair. The chubby bundle in her arms looked more like a wrinkly old man than a little boy. “Aren’t you cute?” he lied through his teeth.

  “We are rather proud of him.” St. Austell pushed out of his chair and stepped towards Berks in order to get a better view of his tiny heir. “Such a good baby. Never cries.”

  His tiny heir. Something Berks would never have. He pushed the maudlin thought away almost as soon as it popped into his head. Keeping one’s skin had to take precedence to bearing an heir.

  From the other side of the room, Harry laughed. “I do hope Miranda and I can say the same this time next year.”

  Besides, Harry and his children could inherit. There was really no reason Berks needed an heir of his own. He could dote on his nieces and nephews over the years, just like he suspected Mr. Pratt had done with Miss Birkin. Though, it was too bad the old man hadn’t kept a keener eye on his niece. If he had, she might not have ruined herself so soundly.

  “Berks,” Pippa began, interrupted his thoughts, “would you mind taking Edmund so I can stand up?”

  “Of course.” He stepped around the chair, bent at the middle, and retrieved his nephew who blinked up at him with little, cornflower eyes.

  So, the little fellow might be on the edge of cute. Rising back to his height, Berks touched the baby’s cheek and couldn’t keep from smiling. Pippa hadn’t been the prettiest baby either. But still, he and Harry couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her all those years ago. Of course, doting on their new baby sister had been preferable to thinking about their step-mother’s unfortunate passing.

  His sister pushed up to her feet, a misty look in her eyes as she gazed at her son. Pippa might not have been a pretty baby, but she was a beautiful woman now. So there was probably hope for little Edmund after all, now that he thought about it.

  “You know, I think he favors you,” Berks said as he passed the baby back into his sister’s arms.

  Pippa’s bright smile was his reward for the compliment. Then she pressed a kiss to the child’s brow. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s time to go to bed.”

  “Oh!” Miranda called from the settee. “I’ll come with you.”

  Harry returned to his wife’s side and helped her alight from the settee. Then he handed her a handkerchief that she used to dab at her eyes.

  She was crying? Why the devil was she crying? There was no reason for tears, not as far as Berks could see. No one had even said anything remotely sad. “You all right?” he asked carefully.

  Harry shrugged. “Her condition just makes her a little weepy these days.”

  “I’m not weepy!” Miranda protested. Then she blew her nose into the handkerchief.

  “Of course, not weepy. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Harry amended, good-naturedly. “Just a little sensitive,” he muttered to his brother.

  She definitely seemed weepy to Berks. How much would it take to push a woman from weepy to bloodthirsty? Berks glanced towards the roaring fire in the hearth at the far end of the parlor. Even if Miranda bolted for the fire iron, he could still get there before she did in her current state—her weepy state, that was.

  Miranda sniffed. “You just looked so happy holding little Edmund,” she told him.

  That hardly seemed like something to cry about. Berks eyed his sister-in-law suspiciously. “I see.” Though he didn’t.

  Harry chuckled. “No, you don’t. But you will someday when your own wife is with child.”

  His own wife! Berks resisted the urge to snort. Over his dead body… Well, that probably wasn’t the best turn of phrase, considering. Still, there was no way in hell he would ever have his own wife. And if that’s what Harry…

  The blood drained from Berks’ face. That was why Miss Birkin was here! His brother and sister must have decided he’d been a bachelor long enough. Over the last year they’d made a few comments, here and there, about wishing he was settled and as happy as they were with their own spouses. But to go behind his back and try to foist some fallen chit upon him was beyond the pale!

  “I’ll have a word with you, Harrison. In my study!” he barked. Then his eyes flashed to his brother-in-law. “You too.” He quit the room without a glance backwards to see if either of the men followed his directive. There was no need to check. They’d follow him, or they could pack their things and leave the Park instead.

  Just as Tessie was leaving the music room for her borrowed chambers, she spotted Miranda and Lady St. Austell heading her direction. The two ladies’ heads were tilted together, concerned expressions on both their countenances.

  “He’s not usually so gruff,” Lady St. Austell said as she jostled the baby in her arms. “I am sorry he barked.”

  Miranda swiped at a tear. “I don’t know why it was necessary for him to yell at Harry. I nearly leapt from my skin, I was so startled.”

  “He must be tired from his journey.”

  “We’ve all had a long journey. There’s no reason to behave boorishly.”

  Lady St. Austell sighed. “It must be the funeral, Miranda. Lord Arrington was an old friend. It must have troubled him to lose someone he’s known most of his life.”

  Miranda sniffed again, then noticed Tessie standing in the threshold of the music room. Her friend seemed to force a smile to her face. “Are you done practicing?”

  Tessie hadn’t been able to practice since Lord Berkswell had interrupted her, but she thought it best not to mention that. “For now.” She nodded. Then she turned her attention to the countess. “Didn’t mean to overhear, but did you say something about a funeral?”

  Lady St. Austell’s kind green eyes seemed to assess Tessie. “My brother’s been in Cambridgeshire this last sennight. An old friend of his from Harrow died unexpectedly.”

  “Oh!” Tessie’s hand fluttered to her heart. “That is awful. I am sorry.” Sudden death she understood. Though Aunt Margaret had passed away several months ago, Tessie still felt the loss every day. In fact, that was why she and Uncle Martin were here at Wellesborne this holiday. It just seemed too sad to spend Christmas at home without Aunt Margaret flitting about the place, hanging mistletoe across the banisters, urging all visitors to try her special cider. Honestly, Christmas would never be the same again. She’d been so relieved when Miranda and Lord Harrison invited Uncle Martin and her to Warwickshire for the holidays, last minute though it was. She was grateful anyway. It was such a relief not to face Willow Downs alone this year.

  “That is kind of you,” Lady St. Austell replied, shifting her squirming baby in her arms once more. “Do excuse me, both of you. I’d better put Edmund down before he gets too unruly.”

  As soon as the countess was gone, Miranda towed Tessie back into the music room. “I don’t think the man has ever been overly fond of me, but he seems to be in worse spirits than normal.”

  “His friend…” Tessie began, but Miranda shook her head.

  “I lost my brother and father within a few hours of each other and I was never snappish.”

  Tessie opted not to inform her dearest friend that she was a tad bit snappish right now. It wasn’t Miranda’s fault, and certainly not something she could help. Not if Tessie’s memory of her own pregnancy was any indication. She’d cry at times for no reason, and she wasn’t her usual cheerful self. Of course, Tessie hadn’t had a reason to be cheerful in those days. Unmarried, abandoned by the man she’d thought had loved her, her future more than uncertain. She’d been terrified every moment after she first realized she’d missed her courses. Many people would have found her miscarriage a blessing, but Tessie still carried the loss of her unborn child. Had her babe been born, life would have been extraordinarily difficult for the two of them, but she’d have loved the child. She still did.

  “We all grieve differently,” she said softly as the two of them dropped onto the piano bench.

  Miranda squeezed her hands. “I know you miss your aunt.”

 
; Tessie nodded. “I do. I can’t thank you and Lord Harrison enough for allowing Uncle Martin and me intrude upon your Christmas.”

  “You can’t intrude,” Miranda replied. “You’re family.”

  But she wasn’t family, not by blood anyway. Still, Miranda was the closest thing Tessie had to a sister, and she’d been her one and only confidant since they were in leading strings. She tilted her head towards her friend’s. “You’ll think me awful, but I’m relieved to hear that Lord Berkswell’s mood is in regards to his friend. I thought it was me he objected to.”

  “You?” Miranda leaned back slightly as though to assess Tessie better, her dark curls bounced about her shoulders. “What he could possibly find objectionable about you?”

  Tessie shrugged. “He just seemed…” How could she put this? “Well, he seemed like he recognized my name, and I thought perhaps the rumors had spread across London after all.”

  A sad expression settled on Miranda’s face. “No one knows, Tess. Harry would never tell a soul, and if he ever heard anyone mention it, he’d squash the rumor in an instant.”

  Truly, after the mess Tessie had made of her life, she didn’t deserve a friend as loyal as Miranda, and by extension, Lord Harrison. “I suppose I always feel like everyone knows, that they can see the truth as plain as the nose on my face. And—”

  Miranda squeezed Tessie’s hands once more, offering the same comfort and support she had over the last year. “We all make mistakes.”

  But not ones as giant as Tessie had made.

  “And someday you’ll find the perfect gentleman. One who won’t care…”

  One who wouldn’t care that she wasn’t an innocent? For all her bravado, Miranda was a bit naïve. But Tessie knew better. “There isn’t a man on Earth who won’t care about my past.”

  Her friend shrugged slightly. “I don’t think it’s as dire as all that. You’re young, pretty and the kindest girl I know. An intelligent, honorable man will see that. A fellow who is the exact opposite of that villain Stalbridge.”

  Tessie couldn’t help but flinch at hearing his name said aloud. “Please, Miranda,” she begged. “I’ve come to terms with my lot in life, and I don’t have any room in my heart for false hope.”

  Berks shut the door to his study a bit more forcefully than was needed, but he couldn’t help it. How dare his siblings try something so ridiculous? He’d gotten along just fine for thirty years without assistance from either of them.

  “You!” He dropped into the leather chair behind his desk and pointed at his brother. “You will not interfere in my life. Do you hear me?”

  Harry simply blinked at him and then exchanged a confused look with St. Austell.

  “And that goes for my sister too. As her husband, I expect you’ll make certain she heeds my wishes.”

  Harry stepped closer to Berks’s desk and leaned his large frame against the back of one of the wingback chairs before him. “You don’t seem at all like yourself. What is the matter with you?”

  Berks narrowed his eyes. His brother knew good and well what this was about. “That girl.” He gestured towards the corridor. “What is that girl doing in my home?”

  Harry and St. Austell glanced again at each other. His brother-in-law shrugged. “Which girl?” he asked.

  “Don’t be obtuse,” Berks growled. They both knew which girl he meant. There was only one girl who shouldn’t be here.

  “Miranda?” Harry asked, his voice tinged with confusion. “She doesn’t mean to be weepy. Truly.”

  “Pippa was much the same,” St Austell commiserated.

  “That Birkin girl,” Berks ground out. The two dolts were being intentionally difficult. As though Berks had meant Miranda! Of all the inept things to suggest.

  “Tessie?” Harry’s brow furrowed. “Well, she’s a very sweet girl.”

  “I will have you know,” Berks nearly seethed, “that I will not have you foist Stalbridge’s castoffs on me, Harrison Casemore.”

  Harry’s face turned slightly red, which only went to prove his intent, and at the same time St. Austell echoed, “Stalbridge’s castoffs?”

  “Why the devil would you say something like that in front of him?” Harry jerked his head in St. Austell’s direction. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Miss Birkin and that wastrel Stalbridge?” St. Austell continued as though he hadn’t just been disparaged.

  For a moment Berks had a twinge of remorse. He probably shouldn’t have said all of that. He just assumed St. Austell knew. He assumed everyone knew. “You didn’t tell him?” he asked more softly than he’d spoken thus far.

  “Why the devil would I tell him anything?” Harry barked.

  “Well, I’m quite trustworthy,” St. Austell returned.

  “When you’re not lying about your identity, I’m sure you’re very trustworthy.” Harry glared at their brother-in-law. Then he turned his angry green eyes back on Berks. “You were the only one I confided in because you’re my trusted brother.”

  That twinge of remorse grew in Berks’s chest.

  “And,” Harry continued, his fingers biting into the upholstery of the chair in his grasp, “I don’t appreciate you blabbering everything to St. Austell, for God’s sakes.”

  “What kind of girl would involve herself with the likes of Stalbridge?” St. Austell mused aloud, his lips twisted up as though he’d tasted something that had gone bad.

  “The same could be said about any girl who would involve herself with you,” Harry replied sharply, which only made their brother-in-law smirk. The man had been a notorious rake before he met Pippa. Even then he would have been a better catch than Lord Stalbridge. But maybe just barely.

  “Your sister is quite happy,” St. Austell picked at an imaginary piece of lint on his jacket. “Ask her if you don’t believe me.”

  “Oh, I know she’s happy. It’s the only reason you’re still alive,” Harry returned with a growl in his voice.

  “Enough!” This wasn’t going at all as Berks had planned. He didn’t want to rehash the less than traditional courtship of Pippa and St. Austell. He’d brought the two men in his study to disabuse them of their matchmaking plans. “I’m not happy that you invited people to my home without consulting me first.”

  Harry’s gaze snapped back to Berks. “The girl and her uncle are still grieving the loss of her aunt. Miranda thought a change of scenery would help them through the holidays.”

  “You still should have asked.”

  “Oh for the love of God.” Harry raked a hand through his dark hair. “It’s hardly the first time we’ve had guests for the holidays. If I had any idea you were going to be a chutless arse about it, I wouldn’t have invited them.”

  Was that all there was to it? Miss Birkin and Mr. Pratt were simply trying to get through the holidays? Berks frowned. “So you don’t intend to match me with the chit?”

  Harry’s glare softened to a look of astonishment. “That’s what you thought? I hardly think you’re her sort.”

  “She apparently prefers rakish ne’er-do-wells,” St. Austell chimed in.

  Harry’s head snapped once again towards their brother-in-law.

  St. Austell shrugged. “Stalbridge has already sold off or lost everything that isn’t entailed.”

  Harry’s glare returned full-force on the earl. “You will forget you ever heard such a thing, or I’ll pound you into dust, Pippa or no Pippa. Do you hear me?”

  “No needs for threats. I said I was trustworthy.” St. Austell held up both hands as though surrendering. “I just feel sorry for the chit, is all.”

  Berks scoffed. “If you want to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for Arrington.”

  “Aye.” St. Austell nodded. “Very sad situation, indeed.”

  Berks dropped his head in his hands. “Be glad you didn’t see him. I cannot understand why his casket was open.”

  Harry winced. “That’s rather morbid.”

  To say the very least. Berks looked up at his brother’
s hulking form. “What do you think Miranda would do if she discovered you’d been unfaithful?”

  Harry took a slight step backwards. “I would never be unfaithful.”

  “For the sake of argument, let’s say you were.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “For God’s sake, Harry! Do you think she’d take a fire iron to you? Do you think she’s capable of such a thing?”

  Harry shook his head. “She might cut off my bullocks, but…”

  “Agh!” Both of St. Austell’s hand flew to his crotch as though he could prevent such a thing from ever happening to him. “Good God! Pippa would never do something like that.”

  “She wouldn’t have to.” Harry cast their brother-in-law a sidelong glance. “If you were ever unfaithful to her—”

  “On the off chance you haven’t heard a word I’ve said since I met your sister, I love Pippa. I would never be unfaithful to her.”

  Berks sighed. That really wasn’t the point. “I hardly think one’s fidelity, or lack thereof, should subject him to murder at the hands of his wife.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” his brother-in-law agreed. “Did Lady Arrington fancy herself in love with the earl?”

  “I hardly see that it matters,” Berks replied.

  St. Austell rounded the chair in front of him and then dropped into it. “Must be a bitter pill to swallow, finding out your spouse was unfaithful if you fancied yourself in love with them, not that it justifies murder, mind you.”

  Nothing justified what had happened to Richard. Philanderer, gambler, drinker… Whatever he may have been, he didn’t deserve the treatment Lady Arrington had given him.

  “She always seemed slightly off to me,” Harry put in. “Lady Arrington, that is.”

  “Off?” Berks asked. He’d been around Lady Arrington on more occasions than Harry had.

  “Obsessive, perhaps,” his brother continued. “Arrington should have been more careful.”

  Careful. That’s what Berks was going to be. Careful the rest of his days. Still… “I hardly think we should blame the victim.”