A Bride for Christmas (Sweet Regency Novella)

by Aileen Fish

  Chapter Four

  In spite of the late hour of their return from the assembly rooms, Julianna arose early the next morning. She ate her toast and drank her chocolate alone in her room, grabbed her pelisse and slipped into the garden before anyone else stirred. Or so she thought.

  Mr. Sinclair was returning from the stables. She noticed a slight limp she hadn't seen before. Had he injured a limb in battle, in addition to his head wound? After pulling off his gloves, he smiled when he saw her. "Good morning. Merry Christmas."

  "Merry Christmas. Have you been riding?"

  "Yes. Old habit. Maneuvers at dawn, that sort of thing."

  She knew nothing about maneuvers at dawn, or any other kind. No matter the number of books and treatises she read on battles, she would never fully understand what a soldier experienced. Even the wives who followed the drum—while they saw more than Julianna, probably rarely lived through a kill-or-be-killed moment.

  How many of those moments had he faced each day, and for how many years?

  He fell into step beside her. "Do you ride?"

  "A little. Father's horses were sluggards, so I haven't much experience at anything more than a walk."

  "My father has a few gentle mares my sisters enjoyed. Perhaps we could ride together one morning before I return to Town."

  "That would be nice. You live in London now?"

  "I have a townhouse there. I'm thinking of speaking to Father about some of his properties. I believe I'd prefer living in the country, perhaps managing one of his estates."

  She nodded, although her aunt's cottage in Lyminster hardly qualified as a country house. When her aunt died, that house would become hers. "My aunt's home is in a small village. I find I'm quite content there."

  "The men of Lyminster must all be married or blind to not be begging for your hand."

  Julianna tried not to laugh. "You would have me think all men have marriage on their minds?"

  "Well, no. Only the single ones. They've either accepted their fate or are still running madly from it."

  "If my neighbors are running, it's not past our house. I must admit that would be quite a silly sight."

  "I'm curious. I shouldn't presume enough of an acquaintance to ask it, though."

  That piqued her interest. "We are slightly less than brother and sister. If Clemmie or Geoff were here you would probably ask."

  He cleared his throat and glanced at the trees growing beside the path they walked. "I'm not certain I would. However. I wonder what sort of man might tempt you into marrying."

  His gaze lingered on her and she grew warm despite the winter morning chill. She thrust her hands more deeply into her muff. How should she answer? If she knew what qualities she desired, she would have found that man already. Better to answer lightly. "Only a man who slays dragons could win my heart."

  Mr. Sinclair laughed loudly, a delightful sound. "I should have suspected St. George himself would be the man for you."

  "Or Jim Pulk."

  "Jim who?"

  "Pulk." She raised her nose a bit and looked at Mr. Sinclair through lowered lashes. "In Lyminster, tales are told of the dragon of Knuckler Hole who ate all the maidens in the land. When only the daughter of the King of Wessex remained, the king promised her hand in marriage and half his kingdom to the man who slew the beast. The dragon is long gone, although both a handsome unnamed knight and a village lad named Jim Pulk have been given credit."

  "I see. I imagine if I heard a legend where the hero had no name, I'd be eager to lend it mine. This Jim person sounds quite the enterprising young lad. I believe I should have liked him."

  She gave a dramatic sigh. "As should I. But as he lived hundreds of year ago, you now see why I must remain unmarried. I'm afraid I missed my chance at happiness by being born too late."

  Mr. Sinclair picked up a small stone and tossed it into the distance. "I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss all men."

  "No?"

  "No."

  She waited, watching him as they strolled. She would never admit how much she enjoyed conversing with him. His wit was very entertaining, and each time she saw him he appeared even more handsome. She bit her lip. This would not do! She mustn't let her resolve weaken. She didn't need a husband. Her life was settled.

  But she was certain Mr. Sinclair had some sort of scheme in mind.

  "I believe I can find a man whose offer you can't refuse. Yes, I'm positive of it."

  Her lips thinned. Find a man? Perhaps he didn't find her as attractive as she found him. "Mr. Sinclair, I should hate to disappoint any young men you brought 'round with hopes of making an attachment."

  "I'm willing to wager on it. I will have changed your mind before Twelfth Night."

  "You think to change my mind in less than a fortnight?" Now she laughed. "I almost feel guilty accepting such a wager. What will you lose when I remain unattached?"

  "You think quite highly of yourself. That will make this all the more enjoyable. What shall we wager?" He stroked his chin, his lips pursed as if to hide a grin. Julianna couldn't take her eyes off those lips. The bottom one was so full. How would they feel pressed against hers?

  Stop! As long as he didn't present himself as the candidate, she would be fine. She tried to focus on what she'd like to win. A new hat, perhaps, or a book.

  "A kiss," he said.

  "A what?" Had he seen her staring at his mouth?

  "You heard me. When I win, you will give me a kiss."

  "And when I win?"

  "Well, you could also ask for a kiss. No?"

  She shook her head. "If we shall kiss regardless of the outcome of the wager, where is the point?"

  He stopped, turning her to face him. His hands remained on her shoulders. "Why, I believe you are right. You can kiss me now and save yourself the humiliation of losing."

  Julianna's breath caught in her throat. Was he going to kiss her? Should she stop him? Did she want to stop him? Her heart raced with the questions in her head. She grew warm, then cold, then warm again all in the same moment. He tipped his head and leaned in, his gaze focused on her lips.

  She swayed ever so slightly closer, then turned on her heel. "No, I think not," she tossed over her shoulder. "It will be so much more entertaining to see you lose."

  She skipped back to the manor house.

  <>

  Lady Julianna wanted a man who slays dragons, did she? Nash wasn't sure whether to laugh or kick the nearest rock. Finding a man who fit her dreams of knights and armor was next to impossible. Although it eliminated any competition for her hand.

  As he dressed for dinner, thoughts of Lady Juliana still filled his head. He really had gone bacon-brained this time. How on earth would he convince her she belonged with him, and only him? And when had he decided she was the only one for him? Perhaps it was the moments when she laughed without restraint. Or maybe it was the challenge she presented.

  She didn't want a husband, so there was little point in showing her how they suited. Their families got on well. His income would support a wife in some comfort, but he wished to work, and could easily earn enough to raise a family in a style more suiting the daughter of an earl.

  Lady Julianna didn't seek a rich man or a title, so he had no concerns there. "She wants no man, you fool."

  Givens, his valet, stopped tying Nash's cravat. "I beg your pardon, sir?"

  "Ignore me. Just speaking my thoughts aloud."

  "Very good, sir."

  Nash studied the taller man who had been his batman for many years, up until they both were wounded in battle. "Givens, do I appear to have lost my faculties?"

  "Other than calling yourself a fool, do you mean, sir?"

  "I deserved that."

  His friend and servant made one last adjustment before stepping back. "You, sir, are as sharp-witted as when you pointed out the Frenchie farmer who was acting oddly."

  Nash shuddered at the memory of the farmer who'd hidden half a dozen enemy soldiers in his hay cart. If not for Nash
becoming suspicious, he and his men would have been slaughtered like hogs. At least losing his bet with Julianna would be painless. Other than the blow to his ego.

  He was not willing to give up so easily, though.

  A scheme was required. He needed a good strategy. As worthy an opponent as Lady Julianna was, she would only appreciate losing in a good fight. She'd never give her heart to an undeserving man. But how was he to show her he'd slay dragons for her?

  Once Givens approved of his appearance, Nash strode down the hallway towards the grand staircase. The thunder of footsteps raced up behind him and he was nearly bowled over by Everett and Frank, and again by St. George. The latter paused to bark happily, his tongue hanging out the side of his silly grin, before chasing after the twins.

  That dog would be the death of someone, if the boys didn't quit teasing him. His size alone could break bones. When the grandchildren weren't in house, St. George was a calm animal, but he loved to run with the youngsters.

  A door opened and Geoff caught up to Nash. "Was that the twins I heard charging past?"

  "It was."

  "I don't know how Marianne puts up with them."

  Nash laughed. "She's too busy looking after the rest of her brood. Else those two hooligans would have some manners."

  "Manners? You've forgotten our childhood completely, then?"

  Nash shrugged. "Well, we didn't run in the halls."

  "Nor slide down the banister. Nor jump from the balcony into a snowdrift."

  "We were lucky in that one, weren't we? That bush we landed on was much softer than the tiled plaza would have been."

  Geoff combed back his hair with his fingers and tugged at his cuffs. "Remind me of this in a few years when Edward is walking."

  They joined the others in the drawing room. Lady Julianna was already conversing with Evie. Clementina came down after putting Edward to sleep. The other young parents looked exhausted after all the excitement of opening gifts with the children.

  Mother called out to Nash. "You haven't said what part you'll take in the entertainments on Twelfth Night."

  As he walked to her chair, Nash bit his tongue. Every year the servants and their families, along with the steward and a few of the tenant families, gathered to share in the cakes and treats, and enjoy the performances put on by Nash's brothers and sisters at the Twelfth Night children's ball. "I can honestly say I haven't given it a thought, Mother."

  "You've been missed these past years and everyone will be so happy to see you. Perhaps you could do a reading again. You do read so eloquently."

  He'd devise something if he must. "What about the children? They'd be much more entertaining than an old soldier."

  "Marianne is teaching some songs to the younger ones but we must find something for the older boys. I'm not completely certain we can keep them under control long enough to recite two lines, but if one of you men would take them to task, we might have some luck."

  Picturing Everett and Frank running at full speed made him consider what sort of charade would interest them enough to give their full attention. Something with swords and blood, yet nothing so gruesome as to send Lady Carrington into fainting spells.

  An idea began to take shape. Yes, he might be able to pull this off and accomplish two things at once. "Why don't you leave the boys to me, Mother? You may add them to your entertainment program."

  Mother gave his arm a squeeze. "I knew I could count on you. Have I told you how good it is to have you home? The holidays were the worst when I spent so much time wondering if your most recent letter would be your last."

  Her words wrapped around him as if her fleshy arms hugged him. For a moment he almost wished he were young enough to crawl in her lap and let her shield him from the world. But those days were long gone. He hoped his love shone in his smile. "I plan to be here for all the rest of the holidays, never fear."

  As he spoke, Lady Julianna turned her head and met his gaze. She undoubtedly couldn't hear him over the steady hum of voices, but he pretended her smile promised something to come.

  <>

  After dinner as the family broke into small groups in the drawing room, Nash strolled to where Lady Julianna sat near her sister. Bowing, he asked her, "Would you care to join me for a turn about the room?"

  Her small smile sent waves of heat over him. She stood and took his arm.

  Nash began to walk towards the hearth where a fire glowed and crackled. "Did you enjoy your Christmas?"

  "Yes, it was rather pleasant. If a bit more boisterous than I'm used to."

  "That's how it should be. Loud, boisterous and filled with children's laughter."

  She tipped her head to one side and studied him. "I suppose you're correct. Young boys home from school, the whole family gathered to celebrate."

  He led her to a grouping of large plants and pulled her behind them. Her eyes widened and she stepped back. He smiled. "I'm not going to seduce you. I wanted to give you this."

  He dropped a small, silk-wrapped bundle in her palm. She studied it and glanced at him questioningly, then unwrapped the package. She gasped as she lifted out the small dragon carving. "It's beautiful."

  "It's something I've had since I was small. When I saw it in the nursery this afternoon, I thought of you."

  She turned it back and forth as she studied it. "It looks quite fierce."

  "But hardly more than a snack, don't you think?"

  She snorted in laughter but caught herself quickly with her hand over her mouth. "I mustn't draw their attention. What will they think of us hiding here behind the potted palms?"

  "Your father will think the worst. My mother will think her prayers have been answered."

  "She wishes for you to seduce her guests?"

  His laugh bounced off the nearby wall. "Only the ones she considers an excellent match. I'm surprised she hasn't recommended me."

  "My mother has. She doesn't believe I have no interest in marrying."

  "Or perhaps, she knows your heart better than you?" Before she could reply, he led her back into the heart of the room and took his leave of her.

  Chapter Five

  After washing off the smell of damp horse that clung to him after his daily ride, Nash slipped into the library in search of some privacy to read the newspaper, which had arrived in the morning mail. He should have known he was too late to be alone. Evie and Lady Julianna already were tucked into chairs near the fire, their noses pressed close to their books.

  Grateful they were the most quiet members of the family, he found the latest paper and took a seat by the window. In his usual fashion he began at the top and read everything printed on the page. What was not usual was his inability to recall what he'd just read. He repeatedly adjusted the pages so he could glance at where Lady Julianna sat.

  More than once he caught her lifting her gaze, and was able to look away before their eyes met. He'd return to the article in front of him, only to read the same three sentences before glancing across the room once more.

  This would not do. How had she become such a distraction? She hadn't spoken to him. In fact, other than her stolen glances in his direction, he couldn't be certain she was aware of his presence. He was all too aware of hers.

  If the weather were warmer he could suggest a walk. Perhaps a game of cards would do. Or should he find the twins and discuss their charade for the Twelfth Night fete? Whatever he decided, reading the paper wasn't something he was presently able to do well.

  Nash folded the paper rather noisily and rose. The nursery seemed the perfect place for him at the moment, surrounded by chatter and screeches and myriad excuses to not think of Lady Julianna.

  Julianna watched Mr. Sinclair leave the library, smiling at his nod when he passed her chair. She almost followed him to enquire where he was going, and might she come along. But that wasn't wise, or even remotely proper. It appeared the more time she spent with him, even spent thinking of him, the more she questioned her life. The sooner she returned to Aunt Phillips'
house, the better. Right or wrong, her aunt supported her unusual notion to become a writer. She needed the affirmation at the moment.

  Questions about Mr. Sinclair's life ran through Julianna's thoughts until there was no room for anything else. She sighed. Evie continued to stare at her book, even after Julianna set down her own. Unable to hold back any longer, Julianna spoke. "Evie, may I ask you something about your brother?"

  The younger woman blinked and set aside her book. "Of course. Which one?"

  "Nash. I was told he was injured in battle. Was it a grave wound?"

  Evie folded her hands in her lap and kept her eyes down. "Quite. By the time news reached us, he'd begun to recover, but we feared we were to lose him until we got further reports from his batman."

  "He doesn't speak about it."

  "No. Nash doesn't talk about himself at all, but most specifically not the Battle of Toulouse, where he was wounded."

  Julianna couldn't recall what she'd read about the battle that took place the past spring, other than the great loss of life. "He should be proud to have fought in the battle that ended the war."

  Evie quickly looked up, her eyes softening, and glanced at the door before speaking. "But you see, Napoleon had abdicated before the battle began. All those men died for nothing. Nash's wounds were for nothing."

  "Are you certain?"

  She nodded. "As I said, we don't discuss it, but Mama explained it to me when I asked why Nash was so sad all the time. The Duke of Wellington didn't receive the news until the day after Nash was wounded. Of course, the French didn't know of his abdication either, so they continued to hold their ground."

  Pressing a hand to her mouth, Julianna considered this. Was Mr. Sinclair angry at how the war had ended? But he'd fought many battles by that time. Surely he understood how slowly news traveled. Yet how must he feel, nearly losing his life when Napoleon had already surrendered?

  "Thank you for telling me this, Evie. He is very affable, yet he seems to have something secreted away. Was he always that way?"