Yuletide Happily Ever Afters; A Merry Little Set Of Regency Romances

by Jenna Jaxon

  But that didn’t mean she was innocent. Either Florentina had sent her here, or Silas had, at Florentina’s urging. Will had been generous with Florentina’s parting gift, but apparently not generous enough to save him from whatever mischief Penelope Hervey had been sent here to cause him. He should have expected a trick of this sort from Florentina.

  Not that it mattered what sort of revenge Florentina had in mind for him, because Miss Hervey and her friend wouldn’t be staying. The sooner he was rid of them, the better.

  Will reached under his coat, snatched the little muff pistol from his waistband and pressed it into Miss Hervey’s hand. “Here, take this, and for God’s sake, be careful who you shoot it at next time.” He turned her around and gave her a gentle push toward the carriage. “I wish you a pleasant return journey to London. Goodbye, Miss Hervey.”

  “Wait!” Oliver rounded the side of the carriage, dragging his captive along beside him. His brow was creased, and he had a fierce scowl on his lips.

  Oh, Christ. Will recognized that look. His dream of a quiet, peaceful holiday house party was fading before his eyes.

  “My brother is only jesting, Miss Hervey,” Oliver said.

  “The devil I am—”

  “We wouldn’t dream of sending you all the way back to London tonight. You and your friend must come and be our guests at Cliff’s Edge.”

  Will gave his brother a disgusted look. “You’re very gallant this evening, Oliver.” There was no mystery as to why, either. The young lady Oliver had pulled from the carriage was as pretty as Miss Hervey was.

  Oliver nudged him hard in the ribs. “Will! Have you forgotten you’re a gentleman? Do you truly intend to send these ladies off alone into the dark and cold?”

  Will fixed his stoniest gaze on his brother—the one that said he wouldn’t tolerate any nonsense. “They’ve come this far in the dark and cold without any mishaps. I’m certain they’ll make it back to London the same way.”

  “Without any mishaps? Shots were fired tonight, Will! Someone might have been killed!”

  Will threw his hands in the air. “They fired the shots! The only people in danger of getting killed were you, me and Christopher. I’d say Miss Hervey and her friend are more than capable of taking care of themselves.”

  Oliver opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by the sound of a horse approaching. They all turned to watch as Christopher came into view. Maddy was perched on the saddle in front of him, her face grim.

  “Maddy! Thank God.”

  Will stepped forward and reached for her, but Christopher, whose face was pinched with worry, stopped him with a quick shake of the head. “Caught up to her just before she reached Thorrington. No sign of Rowley. No doubt he was waiting for her there. I’d pay good money to see his face when she doesn’t arrive.”

  Will glanced at Maddy. She avoided his gaze, but he got enough of a glimpse of her face to see the tear tracks on her cheeks, and helpless frustration seized him. He adored his sister, but she was a young lady now, and he and his brothers hadn’t the faintest idea how to manage her.

  “Maddy, are you—” Will began gently, but Christopher interrupted him.

  “This is who shot at us? They don’t look like murderers.”

  “They mistook us for highwaymen!” Oliver, who loved anything ridiculous, was nearly chortling with glee.

  Christopher laughed. “Well, this is the most exciting thing that’s happened since we came to Cliff’s Edge.”

  “First they shot at us, and then this lady here kicked me,” Oliver said, with unmistakable relish. “That young lady slapped Will’s face. Pity you missed it.”

  “How fortunate you’re both still in one piece. I’m Lord Christopher Angel.” Christopher didn’t dismount, but offered each lady a polite nod. “Who might you two be?”

  “My name is Dinah Bishop.” The lady Oliver had dragged from the carriage came forward and curtsied. “This is my friend, Miss Penelope Hervey.”

  “Miss Hervey is the lady who tried to murder me.” Will shot Penelope a resentful look, but no one was paying the least bit of attention to him. His brothers were grinning foolishly at Miss Bishop, a curvy brunette with big blue eyes and a wide smile. Her lush beauty perfectly complemented Penelope Hervey’s creamy skin and striking red hair.

  Will’s lips twisted in a humorless smile. A lady for every gentleman’s taste. Silas Bragg was the worst kind of blackguard, but he was damn clever when it came to exploiting a man’s weaknesses.

  Oliver offered the two ladies a polite bow. “This unpleasant gentleman is our eldest brother, Lord Archer, and that young lady is our sister, Lady Madeline.”

  For the first time since she rode up with Christopher, Maddy raised her eyes. She glanced at Penelope, then at Dinah, and the tiniest ray of hope crossed her face. “Have you come for a visit at Cliff’s Edge?”

  “No,” Will said, at the same time as Oliver said, “Yes.”

  Christopher lifted an eyebrow. “It seems there’s some confusion. Shall we all return to Cliff’s Edge and discuss it?”

  “Oh, no. I’m afraid we can’t. Will is insisting these ladies return to London at once. In the dark, that is, and without a chaperone, and on such a cold night as this, too.” Oliver gave an exaggerated shiver. “I believe it’s gotten colder in the past hour. Don’t you think so, Christopher?”

  “Indeed. Of course, they must stay.” Christopher frowned at Will.

  “Cliff’s Edge is dreadfully dull.” Oliver gave the ladies his most winning smile. “But perhaps you’ll help us liven things up.”

  Will smothered a snort. Oh, no doubt they knew how to liven things up. Actresses usually did. It was the very reason they weren’t staying. “No. It’s not a good idea for them to—”

  “Will?” Maddy fixed her wide blue eyes on him. “You don’t mean to say you’re going to send them off into the dark, alone?”

  Will met his sister’s pleading gaze, and a befuddling combination of frustration and shame washed over him. He’d promised himself he’d do his best to behave like a proper gentleman from now on, and a proper gentleman didn’t send two unprotected young women off into the night alone.

  At least, not while his young, impressionable, tender-hearted sister was around to see it.

  He sighed. Being a gentleman was a dreary business. It was far easier to be a rake, but the Angels’ days of whoring, gaming and drunken duels had come to an end. The sooner they all accepted that, the better.

  He glanced at Penelope Hervey. She did look cold. Her soft, petal-red lips were trembling. Damn it, he knew very well she’d been sent here to harass him, but even the most hard-hearted gentleman couldn’t withstand such a sight.

  One night. How much trouble could they cause in a single night? He’d keep an eye on them, then send them on their way tomorrow morning with one of his footmen as escort as soon as they lifted their heads from their pillows.

  “Oh, very well. Come on then.” Will reached down to help up the post boy, who was still on the ground where he’d thrown himself after the first pistol shot. He pressed a coin into his hand. “Help us free the wheel from the mud, take the two ladies to Cliff’s Edge, and then you can be on your way.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The boy bobbed his head and scurried off toward the carriage.

  Will gazed after him, a sigh gathering in his chest as his gaze landed on his brothers. Oliver, always the gallant, had handed each of the ladies to a dry patch of ground, away from the mud. Will noticed Miss Hervey still appeared shaken from the evening’s adventure. She certainly had delicate sensibilities for a lady who’d been wielding a loaded pistol less than an hour ago.

  He strode forward and set his shoulder to the back of the carriage, pushing it alongside the post boy. The wheel was dislodged from the mud, and in no time at all the ladies were back inside and the post boy astride his horse. Will and Oliver mounted their own horses and led the party back toward Cliff’s Edge.

  Will waited until his house
keeper, Mrs. Sedgewick appeared and took charge of Miss Bishop before he approached Miss Hervey. “A word, if you’d be so kind.” He didn’t give her a chance to answer, but took her arm and led her down the hallway to his study.

  Once he’d closed the door behind him, he waved her to a chair in front of the fireplace. “Please, have a seat. I’m sure you’re fatigued after your adventures this evening.”

  He strode to the sideboard, splashed some port into two glasses, then turned to find Miss Hervey perched on the edge of one of the chairs, her back straight, and her expression wary. She looked like a disobedient schoolgirl about to endure a scolding.

  “Are you cold? This will help warm you.” He offered her one of the glasses of port.

  She nodded her thanks and took the glass, but immediately set it aside without tasting it. “What can I do for you, Lord Archer?”

  He regarded her as he sipped at his port. “You can be gone first thing tomorrow morning, Miss Hervey, and on your way back to London.”

  She reached for her port then, and raised the glass to her lips.

  Will noticed her hand was shaking, and his conscience stabbed at him. Damn it, he didn’t have any reason to feel guilty. She’d come here to cause him trouble. He had every right to send her away before she reduced his Christmas house party to chaos.

  So why did he feel like the worst kind of ogre, towering over some innocent maiden?

  The thought made him angry. He had his siblings to worry about, and a carefully selected houseful of party guests to attend to, a few of whom were dreadfully proper, and wouldn’t be pleased to find a couple of scandalous actresses had been invited to stay.

  He’d left London to escape the sort of difficulties Penelope Hervey could cause him. She might look innocent, but there was no question she’d come to Cliff’s Edge on Silas’s or Florentina’s orders. It was simply too much of a coincidence for her to have appeared here otherwise.

  Two disreputable brothers, a lovesick sister and a dozen demanding house guests was quite enough to deal with for one holiday. The last thing he needed was a fetching little redhead with strawberry lips distracting him.

  Especially not with all the mistletoe hanging about…

  Will downed the rest of his port and rose from his chair. “You and Miss Bishop are welcome to remain here tonight, Miss Hervey, but I’ll expect you to take your leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next morning dawned cold and sunny. Penelope, who’d nearly forgotten such vibrant blue skies were hiding under London’s sooty gloom donned her frayed coat and gloves and ventured out into Lord Archer’s garden.

  What a fine thing it must be, to have one’s own garden!

  There were no flowers at this time of year, but Penelope didn’t mind. She took a long, deep breath of icy air into her lungs as she made her way down the gravel path, pausing here and there to admire a few rosebuds leftover from the summer bloom. They’d never opened, and were now frozen closed forever, but despite the hopelessness of their situation, they were still clinging stubbornly to their canes.

  Brave, hearty little things. There was a lesson for her there—something about tenacity in the face of blasted hopes—but Penelope didn’t want a lesson this morning. On such a day as this, she should fling her arms wide, and let the frosty air chase the cobwebs from her mind.

  She’d woken early this morning after a restless night, determined to make the most of her brief time at Cliff’s Edge, but as she made her way through the garden, her worries and doubts chased after her, like a pack of wild dogs snapping at her heels.

  Lord Snedley’s Christmas house party had been an utter disaster.

  She’d come to Essex with such high hopes she’d leave five pounds richer than she was when she arrived, but those hopes had been dashed before she’d spent a single night under Lord Snedley’s roof.

  As it turned out, Lord Snedley hadn’t been interested in having a Christmas theatrical at his house party at all. No, he’d been looking for another sort of entertainment altogether. Penelope had expected some ogling and pinching—it was Lord Snedley—but he’d had far more ambitious plans for her.

  Dinah had delicately hinted Penelope had been a fool to refuse his offer of protection. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and all that. But the vicar’s daughter that still hid inside her had recoiled at the thought of becoming Lord Snedley’s mistress.

  Or anyone’s mistress, come to that.

  So, she’d refused him. Offended, he’d tossed them out the door without a backward glance, and without the twenty pounds they’d been promised. As if that weren’t bad enough, they’d been forced to spend what little coin they had to hire a post-chaise to take them to the nearest staging inn. They’d been travelling in the direction of Chelmsford when they’d encountered Lord Archer.

  Lord Archer. Good heavens. The moment her gaze met his last night, she’d known him at once. No one but Lord Archer had eyes such a deep, startling blue. Her first confused thought was it was a pity a gentleman with such lovely eyes had turned highwayman. Once she’d gathered her wits enough to understand they’d been accosted by the Tainted Angels, she’d been stunned speechless.

  Yet here she was, wandering around Lord Archer’s garden, the sun bright over her head. That she and Dinah should have stumbled upon the Tainted Angels here was almost too fantastical to credit.

  Thank goodness they hadn’t shot him. That he was still alive and unharmed was the one piece of luck they’d had this entire miserable journey. Still, things were dire enough without Lord Archer’s blood on their hands.

  Penelope pulled a dead leaf from a branch and crushed it between her fingers as she wandered down the gravel paths. She made one turn after another until she reached an elaborate fountain with three naked cherubs holding what looked like a giant seashell. A row of stone benches surrounded it, and she plopped down onto one of them. She sat there for some time—long enough so the cold crept through her thin coat and her bottom went numb.

  If things had turned out differently, she might have had her own garden. Oh, not one as grand as this, of course—no fancy cherubs or rows upon rows of elegant roses for her—but something small. A modest cottage garden, perhaps. It would have been enough.

  More than enough.

  She rested her chin on her hand and indulged in a quiet sigh. A clear blue sky, a winter garden, breathtaking in its frozen beauty, sprigs of fresh mistletoe and a Christmas fire…it wasn’t so very long ago these things had been a part of her life. She did what she could to hold onto her past, but her memories grew hazier as the weeks went by, until she could hardly recall who she’d been back then—

  “My goodness, my lord, what a lovely garden this is!”

  Penelope leapt to her feet, startled by the voice, and the tinkling feminine laughter that followed it.

  “Why, I’ve never seen such a clever design in my life, Lord Archer!”

  Oh, no. The last person Penelope wanted to meet was Lord Archer. He’d have her bundled into a carriage and on her way back to London before the sun rose another inch in the sky.

  “Thank you, Lady Lavinia. That’s kind of you to say.”

  The voices were drawing closer. Penelope’s frantic gaze darted from one tall hedge to the next, searching for a quick escape route. Perhaps she could hide behind the fountain, or—

  “And what a cunning rose arbor that is, my lord. I’ve never seen one to equal it!”

  “Yes, well, I can’t take credit for the…oh. Miss Hervey. You’re up early.”

  Oh, blast. Caught, Penelope turned reluctantly to find Lord Archer emerging from a pathway behind her, leading a fair-haired lady in an extravagant pink hat adorned with a white ostrich plume. “Good morning, Lord Archer.” She pasted a smile on her lips and waved a cheerful hand at the sky. “I did venture out early this morning. I couldn’t resist the sunshine.”

  His magnetic blue gaze swept Penelope from head to foot, and he didn’t look any more pleased to se
e her now than he had last night. “Lady Lavinia, may I present Miss Hervey?” He said, when it became obvious he couldn’t avoid the introductions.

  Lady Lavinia took in Penelope’s worn cloak and cheap gloves in one shrewd glance, and the corners of her mouth turned down with disdain. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Hervey.”

  Her voice dripped with sweetness, but Penelope wasn’t fooled. She let her gaze roam over Lady Lavinia, conducting her own subtle inspection. Her ladyship was a dainty little thing, with blue eyes and fair skin, every crisp blonde hair in place. She was dressed in the height of fashion in a pink and green striped silk pelisse with white swansdown trimming at the collar and cuffs, everything snug and warm. “How do you do, Lady Lavinia?”

  Lady Lavinia hung on Lord Archer’s arm, her fingers curled into the sleeve of his coat. “I thought I’d already met all your guests, my lord. How is it I’ve managed to overlook you until now, Miss Hervey?”

  “Miss Hervey and her friend only arrived last night,” Lord Archer said.

  Lady Lavinia gasped, and raised a gloved hand to her mouth. “What, you mean to say you traveled at night? My goodness, I’ve never heard of such a thing. I wonder you aren’t more careful with your safety, Miss Hervey.”

  Penelope shrugged. She couldn’t tell whether her ladyship’s shock was real or feigned, and she didn’t much care. “Yet here I am in one piece, just the same.”

  “Miss Hervey and Miss Bishop know very well how to take care of themselves,” Lord Archer said dryly. “Any unfortunate thief who happened to come upon them would be in far more danger than they would.”

  “Indeed.” Lady Lavinia’s voice was cold. “How…extraordinary. But I believe I’ve taken a chill, standing still so long. Shall we continue on our walk, my lord?” She gave Penelope a bright, false smile, then dragged Lord Archer down one of the pathways leading back toward the house.

  Once they’d gone, Penelope sank back down on her bench. Heavens, what an unpleasant woman! But then perhaps Lord Archer preferred unpleasant women. Florentina was unpleasant enough, after all.