by Aileen Fish
A Bride for Christmas
Copyright 2011 Aileen Fish
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Other Books by Aileen Fish
About the Author
Chapter One
December 23, 1814
Nash Sinclair stood near the fire in the drawing room at Renford Abbey, the family seat, wondering if his siblings planned to colonize a new country with their numerous offspring. Nash's parents, the Earl of Renford and his countess, couldn't be happier which their prolific brood. His father sat in a manner very unbecoming a man of his standing, his legs crossed tailor-style while he bounced his second-youngest grandson in time with the nursery rhyme he sang. Little William giggled each time he soared above the carpet. Will's older brother pranced in place begging his turn next.
His brother's voice drew Nash from his thoughts. "If you stand much closer to the flames, your trousers will catch fire."
Nash realized his right leg was warm enough to cook an egg. He smiled and moved away from the hearth. "Hello, Geoff. Some days I don't think I'll ever chase away the chill."
Geoff snorted. "If you'd taken my offer of the carriage instead of insisting on riding that battle-scarred nag of yours, you would have been plenty warm."
His brother was right, of course, but then he usually was. "Caesar would pine away and refuse to eat if I left him behind for the entire month I'll be here." The old nag, as his brother called him, had survived many battles beneath Nash, and wasn't ready to be put to pasture any time soon. He didn't want to discuss it. "Clementina looks well. Should she be traveling so soon after producing your heir?"
"She refused to remain at home for the holiday and Wigstead just isn't big enough to host the entire family. The children were so eager to see Father and Mother."
Few homes were large enough for this brood. Nash chuckled. "You lot could take a year or three off from filling your nurseries and that might help alleviate the problem."
"Easily spoken for a man who has yet to choose a bride. You've sold your commission. What's stopping you from marrying?"
There was an excellent question. He'd attended a few assemblies at the end of the Season before retiring to his townhouse to rest for the summer. He'd no eye for the young ladies, no matter how pretty or how well dowered. Both his younger brothers were married, and one of his two younger sisters. Evie never set down a book long enough to speak more than three words to anyone, related or not, so there was little chance of some man noticing her. Nash no longer had the excuse of the cavalry to keep overbearing mamas—and older brothers—at bay. But he couldn't find it in him to be excited over choosing a wife.
In truth, he'd always assumed he'd be married before his thirty-fifth birthday, but that was just a few months away. Apparently, one had to actively participate in the selection process for the event to happen. Or, heaven forbid, step back and let one's mother make the choice for you. He shuddered at the prospect. "It is past time I set up my nursery. I haven't a clue which young ladies of our acquaintance haven't trapped their prey already. And I haven't been able to summon enough interest to inquire."
"Don't let Mother hear you say that. Nor Clemmie. They'll have you parade-marching in any number of parlors between now and the first ball next spring."
Before he could contemplate how embarrassing that would be, his twin nephews came running up. Everett skidded to a stop on the highly polished floor. "Uncle Nash, may we see your sword?"
"Yes, please," Frank echoed.
"You've seen it before. It hasn't changed these past months."
"How many frogs did you kill with it?"
"Yes, tell us about the war, Uncle Nash. Did you see Napoleon?"
"Boys," Geoff interrupted. "Your uncle would rather forget about the war than retell it every time he sees you. You're too young to hear such tales, besides. Go play with your cousins."
"All right, Uncle Geoff. But, Uncle Nash. We'll be ten in March. Will you tell us then?"
Laughing at their earnest expressions, Nash replied, "We'll see. I think Timmy and Gray are playing war. Why don't you join them, before your grandpapa decides it's time to return you to the nursery?"
Geoff moved away with the boys, and Nash took a turn about the room before gravitating closer to his newest nephew, Geoff's son. Clementina's sister Juliana sat near the fire with the swaddled babe in her arms, and the boy's mother close by. The faint shadows beneath Clementina's eyes were the only sign she might be more tired than normal after the recent birth of yet another child. Tearing her gaze away from her son, she smiled up at Nash.
He nodded in greeting. "It's good to see you looking so well, sister."
"I could say the same to you, Nash. Welcome home."
"Thank you." He let his gaze sweep the room. "Every time I return, there seems to be another handful of relations added to our family."
Clementina smiled knowingly. "Those would be the husbands and wives your brothers and cousins have chosen. Not everyone is as slow to find love as you appear to be."
Nash grimaced. "Did Geoff put you up to this? Or is this all my mother's doing? She has yet to bring up the subject, at least on this visit, but everyone else has taken her part."
His sister-in-law laughed. "Is it so surprising that those of us who are enjoying our married state should wish you the same happiness?"
He bowed his head slightly. "I doubt I could ever be as happy as you have made my brother."
Was that a blush sweeping across her cheeks? She glanced Geoff's way, then back at her sister who still cooed at the babe in her arms. Clementina motioned towards the pair. "You remember my sister, Lady Julianna? She's been caring for our mother's aunt these past two years, but I persuaded her to join us for Christmas."
At the mention of her name, Julianna lifted her eyes only briefly from the baby. Her golden hair was warmed even more by the firelight. "How are you, Mr. Sinclair?"
"I'm well, thank you. And is your aunt recovered enough for you to return to London in the spring with your mother and younger sister?"
She pursed her lips. "My aunt is quite well, thank you, but she enjoys my company. I shall be returning to her cottage after Twelfth Night."
He recalled his sisters discussing Lady Julianna the last time he was home. She must be four-and-twenty now. In some circles, she'd be considered on the shelf. And yet she preferred to stay with her aunt than attend balls and breakfasts, as one her age was expected to do. Was she waiting for a particular young swain to consent to the parson's noose, or perhaps pining over a man who had to marry elsewhere due to obligations?
But she was the daughter of an earl, and likely to have a handsome enough dowry to tempt most men who must think about those concerns when marrying. Nash studied her profile, so like that of Clementina. Her nose was slightly upturned, her chin strong without protruding. He remembered her eyes as always full of laughter. While perhaps not quite a diamond during her first Season, she could have easily been considered an Incompar
able.
The more he thought on it, the more perplexed he became. Why had Lady Julianna not married? "Can't your aunt be convinced to visit London with you for even a short time? My mother looks forward to it every year. I believe she hopes to arrange matches for my youngest sister next Season."
That drew Lady Julianna's interest. "But Evie is merely eighteen. Surely your mother doesn't expect her to marry so soon."
He shrugged. "If not marry, at least settle on a proposal. What reason is there for a young lady to wait to marry?"
"Why, she hardly knows herself by that age. She hasn't experienced any flirtations, or had to salvage her reputation from an intrigue. She knows nothing of life at such a young age."
Nash peered at Clementina for a reaction, but the elder sister kept her ethereal maternal glow, leading him to wonder if she had indulged in any intrigues before accepting his brother's troth. The more he thought about the balls he'd attended over the years, he was certain he'd never noticed eligible young ladies slipping away for assignations or whatever else constituted an intrigue to a lady of four-and-twenty years. A few desperate misses, perhaps, and more than one who hoped to trap a titled husband, but not those such as his sisters.
Of course, he'd spent most of his time in the card room or dancing with a widow or two, to avoid drawing the attention of any marriage-minded mamas. A second son of an earl, without a title of his own, was still an eligible match to many families. His strategy, along with being away on the battlefield most of the time, had worked. The idea his Evie might be contemplating even a hint of scandal awakened an ugly beast inside him. "My sisters do not need frivolous flirtations to know what to look for in a husband. They have their father and brothers as excellent examples of men who are happily married. Do you think your sister married too young? She was just twenty."
Lady Julianna sat up straighter, giving Nash her full attention. "Clemmie isn't like most young ladies. She's always known what she wanted." She turned her attention to the tiny bundle in her arms, but Nash couldn't determine her thoughts.
"For my brother's sake, I am glad she did. I can't believe he could have found a better wife."
Clementina smiled, then spoke in her practiced, elegant voice. "Nor I, a better husband, had I waited another ten years to make my choice. But Julianna has a strong mind. She has never shared the dreams you think most young ladies do."
Intriguing. Using their common relations to imply a close level of acquaintance, he asked, "What dreams fill your thoughts, Lady Julianna?"
She wrinkled her nose at her sister, then closed her eyes and took a breath. Little Edward took that moment to squirm and whimper, and his aunt quickly handed him to his mother.
Clementina cuddled him close as she rose. "If you'll excuse me, I believe my son has had enough of the revelry."
Nash bowed, and when he saw his brother coming to Clementina's side, he decided to sit instead of seeing her to the door. Afraid he might lose the calm company of Lady Julianna, he repeated his question. "I am truly curious to know what you dream of, if not marriage. My sisters, except for Evie, can talk of nothing but beaus and prospects. Yet you do not seem the bluestocking type."
She raised an eyebrow. "And what type is that? Plain? Intelligent? Dull?"
He bit his tongue, wishing he'd chosen a different word. "I misspoke. You know you are none of those things. I won't try and insult you with flummery."
The scar on his temple throbbed and he rubbed it briefly. He leaned back into the chair, suddenly feeling twice his years. He stared into the bright orange glow of the fire. "I've been too long riding with my regiment and have forgotten how to flatter a fair maiden."
Lady Julianna snorted in a most unmaidenly fashion. "I thought you were not going to insult me, Mr. Sinclair. There is no need to continue our conversation now that Clemmie is gone. She will inform your brother you did the pretty and made me feel welcome. But you don't need to pretend to be interested in my thoughts."
"I was quite earnest in asking. I have spoken of nothing but the weather and the war for longer than I care to think. Please humor me with your thoughts. I promise I won't belittle them, nor share them beyond these walls."
She studied him as if she could know the true contents of his heart by reading his face. Her gaze lingered on his scar and he fought the urge to turn his head. At last, she gave a small nod. "I wish to travel and write books about the places I see."
He waited, but she didn't appear inclined to elaborate. "I can see where your parents might not think that a suitable life for their daughter."
"Were I a son I'd still be expected to marry after a year or two abroad."
"Does your aunt enjoy travel? Perhaps she would accompany you. Who knows, one might fall in love on such a journey."
She snorted again in laughter, and he was becoming quite fond of the sound. No pretentious little twitter for her. "I don't believe I'm likely to fall in love anywhere."
Chapter Two
In the thin light of Christmas Eve morning, Lady Julianna huddled on a pile of rocks at the edge of the pond at Renford. The air was brisk, the rock even colder beneath her, but the silence was what she sought. In the nursery of the manor house, her sister's nieces and nephews were likely stirring, with the older children already plotting the day's mischief. She'd avoided the morning room in case Lady Renford was there with her lists. "Gather greens. Decorate the drawing room. Take baskets to the vicar."
The other young ladies could easily dispense with the lists. Father had mentioned shooting as the men's entertainment for the day. She'd considered slipping into the library and reading the newspaper, even if it was days old. But either Mama or Lady Renford might discover her there.
She simply was not of a mind to be festive this year.
She sat on the largest rock, her back to the trail, and swirled a long, thin stick in the water below her feet. Her hair fell in loose waves down her back, and her pelisse was unbuttoned in spite of the chilly breeze. She needed the unrestricted air about her this morning. In fact, she had the most undignified urge to run screaming down a hillside and roll in the long grass, if any remained after the snowfall several weeks ago.
The melancholy that had awakened in her at the birth of her nephew Edward had worsened last night, thanks to Mr. Sinclair. His questions were no different from those asked by her mother and many of her friends. But coming from him, the queries made her dreams seem so frivolous. And she didn't want anyone to see her that way.
While the scar on his face had faded to a pale pink stripe that disappeared into his thick black hair, it shouted at her like a headline. Selfless Warrior. The man had done something completely unselfish with his life by joining the cavalry and defending his country. Now that he'd come home, he wasn't using his uniform and battle stories to draw attention at assemblies. From what Clemmie told her, he avoided the large gatherings almost as much as Julianna did.
Two years ago when Aunt Phillips had asked Julianna to become her companion, she promised to leave her money and home to Julianna on her death. Aunt Phillips no longer enjoyed travel beyond her annual trip to Brighton, but she had traveled quite extensively as a young lady. She encouraged Julianna's desire to visit new places and write about them. A spinster herself, the older woman did nothing to dissuade her niece's preference to remain unmarried.
Moving in with Aunt Phillips had seemed the ideal situation for Julianna, regardless of the possibility that her aunt was likely to live many more years. It was ideal, that is, until the Honorable Edward Milton Dowsett Sinclair was born. Julianna and her mother had been in attendance, of course, as they had for the births of Clemmie's daughters. But when Julianna held the young heir for the first time, a hammer and chisel struck the wall around her heart and shattered it.
There in her arms was why people fell in love. Why people married. That tiny life, still red and squinting in the candlelight, was the reason all battles were fought and kingdoms overthrown.
In the six weeks since his birth J
ulianna was unable to rid herself of a niggling notion she should be doing her part in the continuation of the family, of society. Though she couldn't fight battles nor pass along a title or a family name, by marrying she could enable a man to do so. How selfish was she to think only of herself?
Julianna drew in a deep breath. She must still be tired from the long carriage ride from Lyminster, or perhaps she was becoming ill. Spells of melancholia were not her manner. She never had a need for them, her life being richer than she could ask for, even if the pleasures were as simple as walks to the lending library and playing cards with her aunt's circle of friends.
"Good morning, my lady."
The voice from behind made her jump, her arms flaying as she wavered on the rock. She twisted to see who approached. "Oh, Mr. Sinclair. I didn't hear you coming up the path."
Motioning with the reins of the horse he stood beside, he laughed. "You must have been deep in thought to not hear Caesar's hooves."
"I suppose I was. It's so peaceful out here. It's easy to let one's thoughts wander."
"That is exactly why I came. To escape the noise of the household." Mr. Sinclair stood near the rock pile and his horse nibbled the grass at their feet.
"You do have so many brothers and sisters."
"And every one of their children is boisterous and loud, n'est ce pas?"
She had to agree. There were no sickly or mousy members of the Renford clan, excepting the youngest sister. "How does Evie manage to read among them?"
"I sometimes wonder if the book is just a prop to avoid joining a card game or other pursuit. No one knows how many pages she actually reads."
Julianna laughed and turned back to the pond, drawing her stick through the water. Immediately her thoughts returned to her dilemma. Perhaps she didn't have the attributes necessary to be a good mother like Clemmie. Could it be her dreams of spinsterhood had good cause?
"Am I disturbing your solitude?"
She glanced at him. He appeared to await instruction, and yet it was his family's pond, not hers. "I'm the visitor here. You mustn't feel put out. I'll go back to the house and leave you to your privacy."