Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  Chapter 4

  Anne awoke feeling much more the thing. Despite the doctor’s recommendations, Anne saw no reason to lounge away the day in bed. Besides a rather fantastic bruise on her hip and side, she was not so very banged up after all, she reasoned.

  It was true that she did feel a twinge of discomfort when she tried to draw in a long breath. But that was easily solved. All she needed to do was avoid that practice and it wouldn’t be an issue.

  With determination to push past all of the unpleasantness of the previous day, Anne chided her maid into allowing her to dress for the day.

  “Mary, I am fine. Just a bit shaken. It’s nonsense to be holed up in bed when Lady Gen has an entire house full of guests. I must help her. Now, get me one of my looser day dresses.”

  In the end Anne decided to forgo her corset. It was scandalous in the extreme, but Anne had assured Mary that she would wear her shawl around her shoulders, and nobody would be the wiser.

  Once dressed, Anne started off in hopes of finding someone to entertain her. Imagine her surprise upon entering the library to see a lovely young woman reading near the fire.

  “I do beg your pardon,” Anne said contritely, “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I will leave you to your book.”

  Bright, curious eyes met her gaze. They were filled with intelligence as they assessed the other woman.

  “Please, don’t leave on my account. My name is Amelia Stanford, but everyone calls me Millie. I had hoped to meet the woman that my cousins so bravely rescued.”

  Anne smiled as she took in the young woman. She looked to be just older than the twins and dressed in the first stare of fashion. It was obvious that whoever her modiste was, they knew a thing or two about French fashion. Her hair was a lovely pale blonde, and she had the sweetest of dimples in her cheeks.

  “And you must call me Anne. As for your cousins, well, they were quite brave,” Anne said with a twinkle in her eye. She approached the child and sat across from her. Anne didn’t have a lot of experience with children, but she liked the open honesty in Millie’s eyes.

  Mille laughed. “Brave? I suppose they are. It’s more likely they were doing something terribly stupid and they just happened to save you. But I am so extremely glad that they did. Papa was terribly upset with them.”

  “Papa?” Anne blurted out before she quickly schooled her features. She told herself that the pang of disappointment that resonated within her had nothing to do with the fact that the handsome uncle was likely married.

  Millie looked at her quizzically. “My papa was on his way to meet Lady Gen. It was actually a bit serendipitous that they happened to save you right where both you and Papa were going to meet Lady Gen.”

  Anne wasn’t so sure what was so serendipitous about the meeting, but she smiled and nodded anyway. It was unnerving how much the girl was like her father, especially since they didn’t share many physical features.

  “You must be the spitting image of your mother,” Anne said kindly.

  Millie shrugged. “That’s what they tell me. My mother died when I was a child. I don’t remember very much about her.”

  Immediately Anne’s persona changed. Her body naturally swayed toward the younger girl and her face softened.

  “I lost my mother when I was very young as well.”

  “Do you remember her?” Millie asked.

  Anne’s brows came together as she thought, not wanting to give a glib answer. “I don’t remember very much. I know that her hair was darker than mine, and she liked to sing. I was lucky that my nurse stayed on with us. Eliza tried hard to keep my mother’s memory alive.”

  Millie nodded, and for some reason Anne felt that this young girl knew what she was trying to say.

  “What about your father?”

  Anne shrugged. “I have fewer childhood memories of my father than I do my mother. Their marriage was arranged, and my father preferred town when my mother preferred a quieter life. It was as if I lost them both when she passed, because he didn’t come to visit anymore.”

  Anne trailed off, not realizing she had shared more than she had intended to. Pasting on a bright smile, Anne said, “What brings you both to Brighton?”

  Millie shrugged. “I don’t know. My father doesn’t discuss things with me. I find it rather annoying.”

  Anne laughed; she couldn’t help herself. When Millie looked up at her in surprise, Anne waved her hand dismissively. “You sounded so very much like me just then. I have always hated when I have been left out of the conversation. I think you and I will get on well.”

  Millie grinned at Anne. “I should like that very much.”

  Anne gave a firm nod. “Perfect. Well, I need to find Lady Genevieve. I promised that we would go over her plans for the Christmas holiday.”

  Millie looked on thoughtfully. “Do you always spend your holidays in Brighton?”

  Anne nodded. “I have since I’ve come to stay with Lady Gen. I know that it’s rather thin of company. But sometimes I find it better when there aren’t hordes of people milling about. In the summertime Brighton is teaming with society. It’s nice for the locals to have it for themselves for a while. Don’t you think?

  Millie seemed to be watching Anne rather closely. Anne wasn’t sure if she was trying to decompose her or not, but either way it seemed to be working.

  “Is something amiss?” Anne asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “Have I left a bit of breakfast on my cheek?” Anne asked again.

  Millie shook her head, a smile forming on her face. “You are rather lovely, Lady Anne.”

  Anne felt her cheeks flush and immediately chastised herself. This was simply a girl, one who didn’t look older than three-and-ten. Anne couldn’t help but wonder how it was possible that a child not yet out of the schoolroom could be so confident in her mannerisms.

  “Please, call me Anne. And thank you, Millie. I can very easily repay the compliment.”

  “Have you been here long, with Lady Gen?”

  Anne straightened her back. “Nearly three years now. Lady Genevieve is an exceedingly kind individual. I am most sincerely blessed to reside in her household.”

  “But don’t you find Brighton rather,” Amelia paused, searching for the right word. “Dull?”

  Anne felt a slight irritation at the question. “No, I rather prefer Brighton to the hustle and bustle of London.”

  Rather than be offended, Millie’s smile deepened. “I do as well. There is nothing quite so irritating that being forced to attend an elaborate party.”

  “Do you often find yourself in such situations?”

  Amelia shrugged. The movement was far more like the young girl she actually was, and not the cynical interviewer that she previously channeled.

  “My uncle is the Duke of Bilkshore. His duchess also happens to be the sister of the Marquess of Lancaster. When my mother died, the duchess took me to live with the Marquess and his family while she and my uncle sailed for America to find Papa. It was another year before Papa was able to return from the Americas to take charge of me. They are all very fond of parties, the more elaborate the better.”

  Anne felt overwhelmed at all of the information that Amelia freely shared. There was a level of disassociation from it all that seemed incongruent with the sensitivity of the subject. Something wasn’t right about the affair.

  “Goodness, Amelia, you mustn't bother Lady Anne.”

  Anne’s cheeks pinked again as she turned to see the man himself standing in the doorway. Ian Stanford was tall by London’s standards and while he was dressed to perfection, there was something raw, almost animalistic to his physique.

  She wanted to touch him. To see if his arm was really as strong and firm as she remembered. But that was terribly inappropriate, especially in front of his young daughter.

  There was nothing of the soft dandy that London favored. Ian Stanford was all man, large and muscular. His jaw was too square and instead of close shaved, Anne could see the faintest t
race of stubble on the man’s cheeks.

  He should have appeared disheveled to her. Instead he made strange things happen inside of her. There was something appealing and dangerous that made her want to touch him and run away at the same time.

  Likely he was angry that she was speaking to his daughter without his permission.

  “I beg your pardon,” Anne said once again, fearing that she was starting to sound like a parrot. “I must go and see Lady Genevieve. Millie, it was lovely to chat with you. Mr. Stanford, good morning to you.”

  She was very nearly to the door when he spoke to her. His voice was low and deep. She imagined it to be like warm honey coating her insides in a gooey mess of nerves.

  “Are you well after yesterday’s incident?” He asked in a way of his that demanded an answer, whether she wished to give it or not.

  Then to her utter shock, he placed a hand on her arm. It didn’t matter that the man wore gloves. His touch seemed to sear her even though the fine calfskin.

  “Perfectly fine,” she blurted out. Praying that he couldn’t see the rapid pulse beating at her neck. “I am quite well, thank you for inquiring.”

  His hand flexed on her arm, almost as if he was trying to decide if he was willing to let her go. Finally, he released her without a word.

  Anne could still feel the strength of his presence even though he was no longer by her side. Mr. Stanford was certainly an enigma to her. All of those years ago, Anne had done everything in her power to avoid the gentlemen vying for her hand. They had made her feel a myriad of emotions.

  Some were tiresome in the extreme, never once taking into consideration that she might not want to have an in-depth discourse about their hunters. Others tried to fawn over her looks making Anne believe that they only saw a fashion plate and not the woman underneath. The worst sort of all would make her feel uncomfortable, as if they were undressing her with their eyes. Every touch, every word, was coated in unwanted innuendo.

  Mr. Stanford was tall, opposing, stood for no nonsense, and wasn’t handsome in the classical way that the dandies favored. He was too big, too muscular, too everything! And yet Anne was drawn to him.

  Covering her arm where his hand had once resided, she found herself uncertain as to why she was so attracted to the man. If she was being honest with herself, she would have to say that there was something intrinsically about him that intrigued her. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to watch everything in his wake. Or the aloof way he held himself back. Anne couldn’t help but wonder how much more there was to Mr. Ian Stanford.

  There was also the story of how he and his daughter came to be acquainted. Anne remembered truly little about the scandal. It obviously had been hushed up. From what she recalled, it didn’t by half resemble what Amelia had described.

  “Anne, how are you feeling this morning my dear?”

  Anne jumped at Lady Genevieve’s voice. With a sheepish grin, she replied, “Feeling much better. I am ever so sorry for worrying you.”

  Lady Genevieve brows pulled together with concern even as she gave her a soft smile. “Nonsense, child. It must have been quite the fright for you. Come into my sitting room, we have much to plan for the approaching Yuletide.”

  Anne helped her godmother into the frilly feminine room that served as both a study and sitting room for the grand lady. Anne had often wondered what the story was behind the older woman’s choice to remain a spinster. Anne wanted to believe that Lady Genevieve had chosen her fate and wasn’t left behind on what many referred to as “the shelf.”

  “Dearest,” Lady Genevieve began, “take a letter for me?”

  Anne nodded her assent and pulled out the writing paper and quill after removing her gloves. “Certainly, please begin when you are ready.”

  The morning went on in a similar fashion. It was much like any other day for the pair. But unlike days gone by, Anne found her mind wandering several times. In fact, she was mortified to have had to ask Lady Genevieve to repeat herself twice. It was a blessing in itself when the older woman asked her to take the new menus to the kitchen.

  Saying a silent prayer that she would stop thinking about Ian Stanford, Anne stepped into the hallway and collided with the very person she had been so intent with forgetting.

  Large hands automatically came up to steady her.

  Her hands splayed across his broad chest. The menus were hopelessly crushed between them.

  Her heart began to hammer in her chest when Mr. Stanford didn’t automatically release her. She knew she should do something, but her brain had stopped sending signals to the rest of her body. That could be the only excuse for why she stood there, scandalously being held by a man that she didn’t know.

  His gaze was intent as he raked it over her features. Unlike the lechers from her past, Mr. Stanford’s hot gaze didn’t repulse her. Indeed, it was quite the opposite. Her breath came out in tiny puffs and she tightened her fists into his waistcoat without even realizing it.

  His pupils widened for the briefest of moments and she felt the electrical charge that surged between them.

  “Oi, Uncle Ian? Where are you?”

  One of the twins cried out from below stairs.

  The two jumped apart as if they had been burned by a fire.

  There was a mumbling of apologies on her part while Mr. Stanford stayed completely still. Anne didn’t bother to wait for a response before she fairly ran down the hallway towards the backstairs. Her cheeks were ablaze, and her heart felt like it might like to take a stroll outside of her chest.

  What in the blazes had just happened?

  This feeling, whatever it was inside of her, was making Anne crazy.

  “Well, hello there, Lady Anne.”

  Anne’s eyes flipped up to see Mrs. Fitzgerald, Lady’s Genevieve’s housekeeper, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

  “Dearie, are you alright?”

  Anne immediately straightened and pasted on a fake smile. “Indeed, Mrs. Fitzgerald. I am right as rain. I have brought the menus from Lady Genevieve. It would seem that she wanted to add some of her guests’ favorite items.”

  Mrs. Fitzgerald was another newer member of Lady Genevieve’s household. The woman was excellent at running a household. However, she is also excellent at spreading the gossip below stairs. Without missing a beat, Mrs. Fitzgerald leaned in close. “I’ve heard he brought his illegitimate daughter to Lady Genevieve’s home. It’s a crying shame it is. What is the world coming to? I never thought I would see the day when a bloke’s by-blow would be tossed in front of the decent quality folks of society. A crying shame, indeed.”

  Anne cut the woman off before she could say another word. It was one thing to talk about which maid’s room the new footman had slipped out of. But to disparage Lady Genevieve’s guest? That was too far.

  “Madam, you will not speak of Lady Genevieve’s guests in such a manner. It is unfitting of a member of Lady Genevieve’s household, as well as unkind in the extreme.”

  Mrs. Fitzgerald stiffened. “I beg your pardon.”

  Anne’s eyes glittered dangerously, and Mrs. Fitzgerald took a hesitant step backward.

  But in an attempt to state her point, Mrs. Fitzgerald lifted her nose in the air and said, “People of quality don’t allow bastards to sit at their tables.”

  Anne fought the urge to hit the woman. The bigotry was fairly choking her. Instead she said through clenched teeth. “I would suggest that you allow Lady Genevieve to decide who she associates with. Some find those that slander the innocent far more disgusting than an accident of birth. Good day.”

  She turned and left Mrs. Fitzgerald staring after her with a shocked expression. What Anne failed to see was Amelia who had crept up behind her and slipped into the butler’s pantry. Hearing every word, Amelia was used to those that disparage her humble beginnings. What was unusual was hearing a stranger defend her so vehemently. A smile crept onto the girl’s face.

  It seemed that there was more to Lady Anne than met the eye.
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  Chapter 5

  Later than evening Millie pretended to read the leather-bound book she had snatched off the table as she secretly watched Lady Anne and her father interact in what could be described as blatant non-interaction.

  It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the two were attracted to one another. Although she made it a point to never raise her gaze to meet his, Lady Anne’s head would turn to angle itself in the direction of her father’s voice when he spoke in his muted tones.

  Millie observed the way that Anne’s hands would still from her knitting and her body would tense as if the weight of the world rested upon whatever her father was about to say.

  Papa wasn’t any better. If anything, his attentions were barely concealed. His eyes were constantly on Lady Anne’s pale coiffure. His body turned in her direction and his lips pulled into a disapproving line. Papa liked the woman, but he didn’t trust her.

  It was true, Lady Anne was exceptionally beautiful. However, Amelia couldn’t see why that would signify. Her papa had been around beautiful women before. However, he had never acted like this.

  There had been women in the past that had tried to use Millie to get to her father. Ian had been noticeably clear that he had no wish to marry. Millie had nearly given up on the prospect of ever having a stepmother.

  Perhaps she had given up too soon? The current situation certainly called for further investigation. Millie knew that her father wasn’t a fool. His American upbringing had caused him to be leery of his British counterparts. More often than not they considered Ian inferior, despite the fact that his brother was the Duke of Bilkshore. Many felt as if the title should have been absorbed by the crown rather than fall into the hands of an American.

  Straddling two worlds, Millie was acquainted with not fitting in. Born a bastard, Millie knew that she would never walk in the same circles that the rest of her family did. There wasn’t to be a titled gentleman that would sweep her off her feet.

  Shaking her head to clear it of such thoughts, Millie once again began to observe Anne. She wondered what secrets Lady Anne might have. Everyone had secrets; that was one thing Millie had learned at an early age.