Forgotten Friend (Roselund Heights)

by Miranda D Nelson

  The sparks she’d experienced from their first kiss erupted into flames that licked her heart and sent heat clear to her toes. The kiss itself only lasted a moment, but the warmth lingered long after his lips left hers. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes, sealing the moment forever in her heart.

  “Happy Christmas, Coralyn,” he said softly.

  She opened her eyes and gazed into his. She was vaguely aware that everyone was watching them, but she did not care.

  “Happy Christmas, Christopher.”

  Yes, this is a happy Christmas.

  For the first time, Coralyn was sure, absolutely certain.

  Christopher was her dearest friend, the one person to whom she would confide anything, the only man she felt entirely comfortable with. The only man she ever wished to kiss her again. The only man who held her heart.

  She was absolutely certain that she was completely in love with him.

  And she was more than hopeful he might love her, too.

  Compared to the joys of Christmas day, the day following brought its share of disappointment to Coralyn, the main cause of this being that the men spent nearly the whole day in a hunt, thus leaving her little time to see Christopher. Though his absence did not mean a lack of company for her. Lady Eversley seemed particularly interested in spending a good deal of time conversing with her, and they spent the better part of three hours in the sitting room while embroidering. Coralyn enjoyed the opportunity to become better acquainted with the countess, but was relieved for a rest from the constant conversation when her aunt called on her for assistance.

  As a child, Coralyn had always helped distribute the Christmas boxes to the servants, and this year was to be no different. Once the boxes had been given, Coralyn and Aunt Agnes stole away to the kitchen, where each enjoyed one of the small Christmas cakes.

  Coralyn awoke the next morning, excited for the day ahead. There were calls to be taken this morning, but the afternoon held no arranged plans. She hoped to spend as much time as she could with Christopher. But when she went down to breakfast, she was met with an unpleasant surprise as Christopher did not come down.

  Lady Eversley patted her hand. “Christopher asked me to tell you he had some business to attend to today and he will likely not be back until this evening.”

  Coralyn tried not to let her disappointment show. Another complete day without his company sounded dull and listless. She put on a smile. “It is well, as I have some calls I ought to return.”

  Lady Eversley patted her hand again before returning to her breakfast.

  A short time later, Coralyn sat reading in the drawing room, waiting on Aunt Agnes to come down before the first callers arrived. When the door opened and the butler came in, Coralyn felt uneasiness rise in her throat.

  “Lord Seton to see you, miss.”

  Coralyn stood, not in respect, but in fear.

  He’s come back?

  Her breathing became shallow and ragged.

  And Christopher is gone.

  Lord Seton walked into the room, the picture of composure, a small smile on his face. “Good morning, Miss Fairchild.”

  Coralyn forced herself into a curtsy. “Good morning, Lord Seton.”

  “I trust you had a happy Christmas.”

  Even through her fear, she held a satisfaction that he’d been unable to ruin the holiday, sore wrist and all. Memories of the kiss she shared with Christopher flew to her mind and chased a portion of the fear away. “Yes. In fact, it was perfect.”

  His eyes narrowed, but his expression remained even. “I am glad to hear it.” He reached into the pocket of his cloak. “I am sorry to say that my visit today is not a social one. I have come bearing a note from your father.” He extended a letter toward her.

  “My father?”

  “Yes. He called on me yesterday and asked that I bring this to you expressly.” He took a step toward her.

  Coralyn fell back a step, her hand going to her injured wrist.

  A cold smile crept onto his mouth. “I am not going to hurt you, Miss Fairchild.”

  This time or at all?

  She felt nauseous looking at that smile. Nonetheless, she gathered her courage and stepped forward enough to take the letter from him before hastening away to a safe distance.

  Lord Seton moved to sit in one of the chairs near the fireplace, obviously waiting for her to read the letter.

  She pulled it open and began to scan through its contents, eager to dismiss Lord Seton as soon as possible. However, this was not accomplished. Midway through, she had to return to the beginning to read it again. Panic began to settle into her heart as she read.

  Dear Coralyn,

  I hope this letter finds you well.

  Your mother and I have had many discussions since your departure regarding your denial of Lord Seton’s offers. When word came to us that he had traveled to Roselund Heights in the hope of securing you, we felt we must not let such an opportunity pass. We have thereby decided that you will accept his offer.

  He has been kind enough to offer to escort you home and we insist that you come immediately. He has expressed wishes to be married to you as soon as is possible. This being the case, we’ll make preparations for you to wed on the morning after you arrive.

  We are very pleased about this arrangement and are certain you will be too, once you experience what life has to offer as the wife of a marquis.

  Sincerely,

  Father

  Her hands shook as she completed reading it for a third time.

  How is this possible? How could they do this to me?

  The air around her seemed to constrict.

  The door opened again and Aunt Agnes entered, looking around the room as she did. Lord Seton stood and offered a bow. “Good morning, Lady Agnes.”

  “Good morning, Lord Seton. I did not realize you were back in town.”

  “I only just arrived.”

  Coralyn barely perceived the actions of her two companions.

  “To be honest, I have come to see Miss Fairchild home.”

  The alarm in Aunt Agnes’s voice brought Coralyn to her senses. “To see her home?”

  Coralyn held the letter out to her aunt. “He brought this from my father.”

  Aunt Agnes came over, took the letter and read it, her eyes widening as she read. “Why would he do this?” she asked quietly.

  “I do not know. I cannot believe it myself,” Coralyn responded in a hushed whisper.

  Lord Seton appeared in Coralyn’s field of vision. “I do not mean to be intrusive. But I must insist that we hurry the journey to London. There is much to do this afternoon.”

  Coralyn could not look at his satisfied smile without feeling ill. Her mind raced, seeking any way to avoid this disaster. There was only one thing to do. She turned to her aunt. “I have to go.”

  “Coralyn—”

  “I may be able to talk Father out of this madness, but I cannot do that from here. I have to go home.”

  Aunt Agnes nodded, though her eyes did not look convinced. “I’ll call for the carriage. We can spare it for today.”

  Coralyn turned toward Lord Seton. “Thank you for delivering this from my father. I will travel home as soon as I have packed my trunk.”

  The look he gave her was nothing short of mocking. “I’m afraid that will take too long.” He gestured out the window. “Your father sent me with his fastest horses so that we may make the journey to London in as short a time as possible. If we are to be married tomorrow, you must arrive as early as possible.”

  Coralyn would rather walk to London than travel with Lord Seton. But she could see no alternative. “Very well. Please excuse me while I pack my things.”

  Aunt Agnes followed her up to her room and assisted with the packing of her clothes. As they began, she looked at Coralyn with concern. “Coralyn, what about Christopher?”

  Coralyn swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “That is why I must go home, the sooner the better. I hav
e to see if there is some way to convince Father to call this off. Besides,” she said as she placed another dress in her trunk. “I do not know that Christopher feels anything for me at all.”

  “Oh, please, Coralyn. That man is as in love with you as a man can be.”

  A flutter erupted in her stomach at the thought and her heart swelled with joy. But she shook her head. “If I am to marry Lord Seton, it will not matter who else is in love with me. I must convince Father,” she said again.

  Twenty minutes later, Coralyn and the maid she’d brought with her entered Lord Seton’s carriage. He came in behind them and the carriage rolled along the road.

  Coralyn refused to make eye contact with Lord Seton, much less attempt to engage him in conversation. The maid had only been told they were going home, and looked a mixture of bored and confused.

  They passed the time in this same manner for nearly three hours. Coralyn used the opportunity of silence to contemplate what she could say to her father.

  At length, Lord Seton spoke. “We’ll be stopping soon to rest the horses for a short while before we complete the journey to London.”

  When Coralyn did not respond, he continued. “When I left London last night, everything was under arrangement. As long as your father signed the contract, there should be no problems.”

  Coralyn looked at him at last. His smile was still sickening. “Why would he not have signed the papers?”

  His brow creased for a moment before he chuckled. “That was not what I meant.”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “That once he signs them, everything will be in order.” His gaze was challenging, as if daring her to question him further.

  She kept quiet and returned her gaze to the window, her thoughts fighting for precedence. Had he really misspoken, or was there a reason Father might not be entirely willing to sign the contract? If Lord Seton had somehow coerced Father into the marriage, he certainly would not change his mind with the marquis standing beside her. Something about the arrangements felt out of place to her, and it was a feeling she could not shake. She had to speak to her father without Lord Seton present. She had to get to London before him.

  She looked at Lord Seton again. He looked so pleased with himself, so assured. She hated it. She hated the very thought of him.

  They arrived at a coaching inn a short time later. Lord Seton took her arm and led her inside. He walked directly to the counter and asked for a private dining room. The innkeeper began to lead them to the room when Coralyn resisted Lord Seton’s step, though it strained her wrist. “Would you allow me a few moments of privacy?”

  He lowered his brows at her. “What for?”

  “I would like a moment to freshen up.”

  He released her hand. “Very well.” To the innkeeper he said, “Show her to one of your rooms. I’ll pay you for her use of it.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The innkeeper first showed Lord Seton to the dining room, then led Coralyn and her maid up the stairs to a bed chamber. As soon as the door closed, she turned to the maid. “I am most sorry, but I am going to have to abandon you.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I must speak to my father and without Lord Seton.” She pulled a few coins from her reticule. “Here, you may use this to pay for your fare back to London. I would not advise you to continue forward with the marquis.”

  The maid looked at Coralyn with concern. “Miss, I’m sorry, but I’m not understanding what is going on.”

  Coralyn opened the maid’s palm and placed the coins on it. “All you need know is this is your fare to get home. My mother will be expecting you this evening, so do not dawdle if you would like to keep your position.”

  Coralyn turned and peered out the door, made sure the hall was empty, and slipped from the room, down the servants’ stairs, and out a back door. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the stables were on the inn’s opposite side to the room Lord Seton would be sitting in.

  She hurried toward them and found a stable hand just within. “Excuse me, I need a horse.”

  The groom looked her up and down. “Just the one or do you want a carriage?”

  “No, just the horse.” She remembered her experience a week ago. “A mild one, if you have one available.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He disappeared and though surely was gone for but a moment or two, it seemed like an eternity to Coralyn. She paid him from her reticule, thankful she’d ensured it was well stocked before she left. She settled herself into the saddle. “How do I get to London from here?” she asked.

  The groom looked up at her, clearly doubtful that she would manage on her own. “The road splits in four places. Take the first two and the last right, but take the third left. You’ll reach London soon after the fourth split.”

  Her nerves suddenly got the best of her. “That was three rights and a left.”

  “Yes, but the left is third not last.”

  She nodded, eager to be on the road. “Thank you.” She flicked the reins and pain shot through her wrist, making her cry out.

  The groom came to her side. “Is everything all right, miss?”

  Coralyn flexed her wrist, gritting her teeth. “Yes, thank you.”

  Much to her dismay, she started slowly, testing alternate ways to hold the reins so as not to irritate her injury. At last she found a hold that was more comfortable.

  Since she had ridden twice more since her scare on Pilot, she felt comfortable pushing the horse to a gallop, though she did not test its limits. After a mile or so, she slowed, hoping she’d be able to maintain a lead on Lord Seton. She kept a steady pace, anxious not to weary the horse too quickly.

  She took the first three right forks she came to, just as she remembered the groom instructing, then the left on the fourth. It was not long before she realized something was wrong, for she could see none of the familiar sights of London.

  She was lost.

  Attempting to calm her nerves, she turned back. The sun was beginning to lower, casting shadows from the trees that surrounded her across the path. When she reached the split in the road, she took the other path, but soon determined that was wrong as well. The sun was now low, and there was little light left. When she reached the fork, she looked around at the three paths, confusion threatening to overwhelm her.

  I must have mistook the third split.

  Coralyn bit her lip.

  Or perhaps the second?

  She took an uneasy breath and looked down the straight way she had originally come. She felt as if her heart had stopped.

  Less than a mile down the road, a rider came along at a brisk pace. He must have seen her, for his speed increased.

  Could it be Lord Seton?

  She could not tell at the distance, but she did not wish to allow him to catch her to find out. She turned in her saddle and looked down the paths behind her. If she chose one, there was a chance he might catch her. She looked into the trees. There were trees large enough on one side that she might be able to hide herself behind one. The horse might be another issue, but she had to try.

  She slid from the saddle and led the horse into the trees a distance and behind the largest one she could find. From there she could not see the road, especially in the growing darkness, so she crept forward. She stopped near enough that she could see the road and listened, waiting for the rider to approach. She did not have to wait long.

  The rider came at a gallop, but when he reached the fork, he slowed. Even this close, he was little more than a silhouette in the fading light. He turned his horse toward the road she hid along, his familiar voice calling her name at the same moment she saw the white stripe down his dark horse’s nose.

  “Christopher,” she whispered. Her heart raced with relief and she hurried from the trees. She broke through almost directly beside him, just as he began to turn toward the other road.

  He reined in when he saw her. “Coralyn?”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “Christopher.
”

  He dropped from the saddle, his hat falling carelessly to the ground, and strode over to her. “Thank goodness.”

  Before she could speak, he took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was hungry and insistent and he kissed her again and again.

  Tears coursed from her closed eyes, relief filled her heart, and fire filled her soul.

  His lips separated from hers. But he remained so close she could feel his jagged breath on her face. “Forgive me,” he whispered, his voice husky.

  Her eyes flicked open, and he gazed into them with longing.

  “Forgive me.” He closed the distance between their lips again, his kiss just as intense.

  This time she allowed herself to sink into the depths of his kiss. Her hands lifted of their own accord and took hold of the collars of his waistcoat. She let him kiss her fears away, let him kiss her until her tears relented, and let his kiss burn through her until she tingled to her toes. She separated her lips from his just enough to say, “Christopher.”

  He pulled her to him again, kissing her one long, last time.

  He still held her face and rested his forehead against hers for a moment, his eyes pinched shut.

  “Christopher?”

  He licked his lips and shook his head, released her entirely, and walked a few steps away, his back to her.

  Coralyn could not understand. “Christopher?”

  He raised his hand toward her. “A moment.” He looked at her at last, but in the dark she could not read his expression. “Please.”

  She nodded, willing to give him anything he desired.

  He stood away from her for several moments, breathing deeply. He ran his hand through his hair then walked to where his hat lay in the dirt. He picked it up and brushed the dust off before placing it on his head. Finally he came to Coralyn’s side again.

  “Forgive me, Miss Fairchild. I just—”

  “Needed to breathe?” Coralyn suggested.

  “Precisely.” He stood close enough that she could see the intensity burning in his eyes and a blush rose on her cheeks. “You cannot know how grateful I am to have found you.”