A Very Brethren Christmas (Brethren of the Coast Book 10)

by Barbara Devlin

“Viscount Huntingdon, if you were my husband, I would drink it.” Then Eileen turned to Amanda. “But I ignore my hostess, when you asked for my aid.”

  Before Amanda could reply, her nephew stepped to the fore. “What does my aunt require?”

  “A brief review of the history of Stir-Up Day, if you can manage it.” She flipped to the requisite page. “But if you intend to help, then you had better comport yourself as I would expect of a nobleman.” She wagged a finger. “Do not make me write your mother.”

  “Yes, Aunt Amanda.” From her escritoire, George gathered a pen, an inkwell, and some stationary.

  When the two put their heads together, Amanda backed from the area, but she monitored their interactions, as they continued to hurls insults, neither sportive nor serious. But it was when Eileen began to write that George admired her and smiled. They would bear watching.

  Chapter Four

  December 23, 1816

  A braying ass startled Mark awake, and he lurched upright in a bed of hay, his meager accommodation when he could secure no room in town. Rubbing the small of his back, he winced, given the previous day’s ride in driving snow brought him low. But it also saw him to Rochester and that much closer to home and his Amanda.

  In the next stall, telltale snoring left him shaking his head. While he hated to wake his friend, because Frederick groused the entire journey to Rochester, Mark had to keep moving.

  Wincing, he stood and rubbed his abused arse. With a newfound respect for the cavalry, he stumbled his way outside. To his dismay, the snow seemed to have intensified overnight.

  “Good morning, Admiral Douglas.” Cuthbert, the stablemaster, waved a greeting. “I brought you and Admiral Maitland something to eat. It is not much, just some bread and fresh milk, but you are welcome to it.”

  “I am grateful, Cuthbert.” Mark accepted the pitcher and the basket. “Any developments in regards to a hack that might deliver me to Faversham?”

  “Sorry, sir.” Cuthbert shrugged. “I suppose it is the weather that is keeping everyone at home. There are no horses for rent, and I had word that even the stage and mail coaches have stopped until the storm passes.”

  “Bloody hell.” Disappointed, Mark searched his mind for any solution. Then a vision of his Amanda flashed before him, as she paced before the drawing room window, and he shook himself alert. “Is there anything else you might think of, however far-fetched, that might see me safely to my family? Please, I am desperate. There is no price I would not pay.”

  “Sir, money is not the issue—wait a minute.” Cuthbert snapped his fingers. “My wife’s cousin operates a chicken farm a few miles outside town. He makes regular trips to Faversham, and I wager he would give you a ride if I asked him.”

  “Would you?” Then and there, Mark promised to return and compensate the young couple, because they had shown him immeasurable kindness. “I would be in your debt.”

  “Nonsense, sir.” The stablemaster shoved his hands into the pockets of his threadbare coat. “I was wondering if I might ask a question.”

  “Of course.” Mark nodded. “What is it you wish to know?”

  “Did you know Nelson?” Cuthbert inquired.

  “Indeed.” Mark smiled. “I served as his first lieutenant, aboard the Boreas, and I was honored to count him a friend.”

  “What was he like?”

  “Fierce in combat and in life.” Mark chuckled. “He was a seaman’s seaman, always leading from the front instead of the rear. But I appreciated his capacity for judging and advancing men based on their ability and merit, as opposed to their political connections, given I was but the second son of a viscount with little to recommend me except my tenacity and work ethic.”

  “You probably have fascinating tales to tell, and I would dearly love to hear them, but I should saddle the horses and prepare the sleigh, if we are to set off.” The stablemaster turned but then paused and peered over his shoulder. “The only problem we have is the sleigh has but two seats.”

  “Then I shall remain here.” Lingering in Mark’s wake, Frederick frowned. “Because I am not sitting in your lap.”

  “Well, sir, based on your weight, I would suggest Admiral Douglas sit in your lap.” Cuthbert snickered and then checked his stance. “But that is your choice. Eat your breakfast, while I make ready the sleigh, and I will be right back.”

  “All right.” Mark strode past Frederick. “Let us adjourn to the stable, where is it warm.”

  “No.” Despite his professed refusal, Frederick retraced Mark’s steps. “I will not do it.”

  “There is fresh milk and bread.” In the stable, Mark squatted and pulled a healthy portion from the loaf. “And we have no choice.”

  “You have no choice.” Frederick grunted as he plopped to the ground. “I can do whatever I please, because no one waits for me.” After shoving a huge piece of bread into his mouth, he slumped his shoulders. “First I shared your bed. Then you dragged me halfway across Kent on a horse, and my arse may never be the same again. Now I am to ride to god knows where in a sleigh with you in my lap? Brother, I love you, but that is where I draw the line.”

  “You will do no such thing, because you are coming with me, and if memory serves we did much worse as midshipmen.” Mark gulped down the milk and handed the pitcher to Frederick. “Finish your meal, because we must away.”

  “Why am I doing this?” He averted his stare. “I could have stayed in London.”

  “And been all alone.” Outside, bells jingled, and Mark scrambled to his feet. “Come, as I believe it is time to depart.”

  Groaning, Frederick stood and dusted off his breeches. “Something tells me I will live to regret this.”

  “Not at all.” Then Mark extended a hand. “I would have your word as a gentleman that you will never breathe a word of this again, as long as you live.”

  “You think I want anyone to know I journeyed with you in my lap?” Frederick accepted the gesture, sealing the pact. “Well, let us have done with it.”

  It was not quite a minute after Amanda hung the kissing bough in the entry to the drawing room that the Brethren husbands lined up their wives to take turns claiming their boon. Grateful for the distraction, she tried not to obsess over Mark’s continued absence, telling herself he was delayed by some unforeseen assignment and would soon arrive.

  “Are they always like that?” Eileen loomed to the right and laughed, just as Sir Ross cornered Elaine. “Because I have never witnessed such displays of affection, and that goes double for my brother.”

  “Why, Miss Logan, don’t you know that all Brethren marry for love?” To Amanda’s surprise, George engaged Eileen in more verbal fencing, and she pretended not to notice that they still employed formal addresses, which she suspected they did to aggravate each other. “Or do you not believe in such fancies?”

  “I believe in many things.” Eileen turned to face him. “None of which would interest you.”

  “Is that so?” George stepped in her direction, and Eileen retreated, and Amanda immediately guessed his aim. “Just how do you know what does or does not interest me?”

  “Must I explain it to you?” Again, George encroached, and again Eileen withdrew, bringing her ever closer to the bough. “In order to care, you must first have a heart.”

  “Big words for a little lady.” He neared, and Eileen gave ground. A warning danced on the tip of Amanda’s tongue, but she kept silent. “Do you think me dim-witted?”

  “Oh, no.” She smiled far too sweetly. “You are as sharp as a marble, Viscount Huntingdon.”

  “Yet smart enough to corral you.” Gloating, he pointed to the kissing bough, which now dangled above Eileen’s head. “Well, Miss Logan? You know the lore. If you refuse me, you will not marry in the next year.”

  “George.” Amanda advanced, just as Sir Ross took note of the situation.

  “Huntingdon, do not accost Eileen, else I will box your ears.” The venerable head of the Counterintelligence Corps glowered. “I did no
t bring my sister to entertain you.”

  “It is all right, brother.” Eileen squared her shoulders and gained newfound respect from Amanda. “Yes, I know the lore, Viscount Huntingdon, and I am not concerned, because I have no intention of marrying anyone, ever. But I will satisfy you, not because I have any desire to join society but because I am a proud provincial.”

  Perched on tiptoes, she made to kiss George’s cheek, in full view of the family. At the last moment, he shifted, and their lips met for the briefest instant. Eileen drew back as if he struck her, and she touched her fingertips to her mouth. Then she ran across the foyer and upstairs.

  “Eileen.” When George would have given chase, Amanda stayed him, and it did not escape her notice that he at last dropped the formalities.

  “You arrogant ass.” Ross followed in his sister’s wake, with Elaine not far behind. “She has never been kissed.”

  “The study—now.” Amanda dragged her errant nephew by the arm and rued Mark’s absence, because upbraiding men in the family was his duty, not hers.

  “Aunt Amanda, I apologize.” At a side table, George poured a glass of brandy, and his hands shook. “I never meant to frighten her.”

  “But you did, in my home.” At the hearth, she paced to relieve the anger simmering just below the surface. “Eileen is family, and I will not have you enacting a seduction under my roof. Although she is no debutante, she is not out, and she is an ingénue.”

  “Do you think her unworthy of my attention?” The unmasked contempt in George’s query caught her off guard, because she never once considered him in earnest. “Do you believe her unsuitable?”

  “Of course, not.” She smacked a fist to a palm. Oh, where was Mark when she needed him? “If I thought you pursued her, in truth, with honorable intentions, I should applaud your choice. But you will not dally with her heart, because it is wrong, and I adore her.” Then she inclined her head and in a quiet voice asked, “Are you sincere?”

  “That is ridiculous.” He drained his glass and poured a refill. “Like Miss Logan, I have no wish to wed.”

  “But you will.” She met his turbulent gaze. “And when you meet your special lady, you will know it, as sure as you know your name.”

  “Is that how you felt when you met Uncle Mark?” He stiffened his spine. “Because I heard he insulted you.”

  “Indeed, he did, but it did not matter.” She recalled that magical if not so graceful introduction so long ago and clutched her clasped hands to her bosom. “I wish I could explain it in terms you could comprehend, but what I experienced at the Northcote’s ball defies efforts to define it, and no mere words could describe it. Suffice it to say I knew, beyond all doubt, that Mark was fated to be mine, as I was his, and no one, not even my father, could convince me otherwise. Is that what you share with Eileen? Because if it is not, then you have no business seeking her company.”

  “I am truly sorry, Aunt Amanda.” George speared his fingers through his hair, just as someone knocked at the door.

  “Come.” She whirled about to greet the untimely interloper.

  “My lady.” Hamilton bowed. “I apologize for intruding, but Viscount and Viscountess Wainsbrough, Sir Dalton and Mrs. Randolph, and Her Grace and Lady Beth are just arrived.”

  “Thank you, Hamilton. I will be right there.” Amanda rolled her shoulders and caught George in her sights. “You were raised as a gentleman, and you know what is expected of you, so there will be no more kissing for you beneath my roof. Am I clear?”

  Duly chastised, George dipped his chin. “Yes, Aunt Amanda.”

  Chapter Five

  December 24, 1816

  To Mark’s unmitigated gratitude, the owner of the chicken farm maintained a small cabin for seasonal workers, near the hen houses, so he and Frederick enjoyed their own bunks and a relatively quiet accommodation, after the miserable sleigh ride. Fortunately for him, Cuthbert’s cousin James planned a trip to Faversham the next day, because his wife had relations in the area, and they intended to spend the holidays with their family.

  Sitting at a small table, he inhaled the scrambled eggs, toast, and kippers a charwoman delivered just after dawn, because James wanted to get an early start. For some reason Mark did not quite understand, the host suggested the journey to Faversham would take the entire day, when they should have made it in a couple of hours by coach.

  “Oh, I forgot to mention I borrowed a blade, if you want to shave.” Frederick drained his cup of tea and wiped his mouth. “You know, for the first time since we commenced this nightmare of a trip, I actually feel human after that marvelous hot bath. And I am thrilled that we do not have to ride a horse to get you home, because my arse still smarts. Now, if only I had a change of clothes, I should celebrate, but I suppose we had to leave our trunks with your man, because we could not carry them. By the by, you have a boney arse.”

  “See? Things are getting better, and I acknowledge your criticism, but my Amanda has no complaints, and she is all that matters.” Mark stood and walked to the washstand. “And we will soon be home.” Something occurred to him, as he grabbed the soap. “What of your parents? And do you not have two sisters? They cannot all be gone. Why do you not celebrate Christmastide with them?”

  “Life happened, Mark.” Frederick tried in vain to smooth the wrinkles from his coat. “While you and I sailed the seas and climbed the ranks of the Royal Navy, life happened without us, and we cannot change it. For some, upon return, what remained of their world included no place for them, and it is just as well.”

  “But you can go home and visit, can you not?” Mark worked up a thick lather and smeared it over his skin. In the mirror, he monitored his handiwork as he shaved and tried not to reflect on the worry his wife, no doubt, suffered. There would be hell to pay, but he would gladly do her bidding to pass the night in her arms. “Do they still reside in Portsmouth, or was it Plymouth?”

  “Plymouth.” Frederick stacked the dishes and folded the cloth napkins. “There is still some tea in the pot, if you want it.”

  “No, thank you.” Mark rinsed and dried his face. After kissing the portrait miniature of his bride, he tucked it, along with her handkerchief, in the little pocket of his waistcoat and donned his coat. “I say, did not your elder sister marry a lobster? As I recall, he was a lieutenant assigned to the Inconstant, was he not?”

  “Yes.” Frederick folded the blanket from his bunk. “What of it?”

  “I was just wondering—”

  “Oy.” James opened the door to the cabin, and Mark turned. “Admirals, we are ready to depart, if you will join us in the yard.”

  “I am only too delighted.” He held the oak panel for his friend and followed him outside, where a large cart awaited, and he halted in his tracks, as his stomach sank. Frederick would never forgive Mark. “Hell and the Reaper.”

  “You are going to pay for this,” Frederick whispered. “And I am not talking about something as simple as brandy and cigars.”

  “I could not have possibly known.” Mark reminded himself of his predicament, and he was in no position to be choosy. “But it may not be that bad.”

  “Since I have to go to Faversham, I figured I would work along the way.” Without a care, James lifted his wife, who carried a small babe, to the seat. “Just jump in the back, and make yourselves comfortable, because we have several stops to make, given I have numerous orders to fill.”

  So that was why the relatively short journey would take all day.

  “Right.” Mark offered Frederick a hand, but he slapped him aside.

  “I can do it myself.” With a wild series of grunts, in perfect time with multiple failed leaps, Frederick gained the cart with a healthy push from Mark. “Where are we to sit?”

  “Anywhere there is room,” James replied. “And hurry it up, as I would like to make Faversham by nightfall.”

  “Nightfall?” Frederick remarked in a high-pitched tone, as his eyes widened. “And what a lovely smell you have discovered.”


  “Stop grousing.” Mark climbed into the not-so-elegant rig and shoved aside a crate. “Would you rather walk?”

  “Yes.” A chicken clucked a response, and Frederick rolled his eyes. “And I thought it could not get worse.”

  “My friend, if there is anything we learned in the navy, it is that it can always get worse.” Tucked amid stacks and stacks of foul fowl, Mark and Frederick held fast, as James barked a command, and the cart pitched and lurched into motion. After navigating the farm road, the cart turned onto the lane with a mighty jolt, which thrust Frederick at Mark. “Really, though, it is somewhat comfortable, and the birds deflect some of the wind.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, because you just might believe it.” Frederick shook his head. Somewhere in the heap a rooster crowed. “Oh, shut up.”

  Christmas Eve was always a calamitous affair in the Douglas household. With the entire Brethren family gathered in the drawing room, Amanda sat in a high back chair near the window, bouncing Horatio in her lap and searching through the snow for any sign of Mark.

  “Lady Amanda, would you care for more tea?” Red-faced and sporting puffy eyes, as if from crying, Eileen dragged a chair near the hearth. “Or, perhaps, some company?”

  “They can be a bit overwhelming, but you will accustom yourself to them.” Amanda tittered, as Weston, Trevor’s heir, rode Blake’s back, and Edward, Everett’s heir, mounted his papa and charged with great fanfare. “And I hope my nephew did not ruin your holiday. George is a nice boy, if only he remembers that.”

  “But Viscount Huntingdon’s behavior does not signify, Lady Amanda.” Despite evidence to the contrary, Eileen projected a shaky smile. “His was harmless banter and play, and I apologize if I concerned you.”

  “Nonsense, my dear.” In that moment, Amanda noted George’s attention focused on Eileen, and she arched a brow. Despite the protests, there were games afoot, and she met Hamilton’s stare.