Sebastian exhaled in annoyance. He didn’t need to be reminded of that fact.
“That's what my father wishes.” And in truth, he did too. He grew up an only child and hated it. Calvin was the closest boy from the neighboring estate, but friends weren’t siblings. His father had been desperate for children, but Sebastian’s birth had nearly killed his mother. His father never let him forget it.
“But now I don't feel like I know her,” Sebastian said, locking thoughts of his childhood out.
“What is there to know?” Calvin asked. “You know her family, you know her interests—painting, reading, intelligent discourse. I'm afraid you will leave her unsatisfied there. Perhaps in other arenas as well but that's none of my business.”
Sebastian picked up the pillow and chucked it at Calvin. Maybe they were like brothers. Calvin was the closet he’d ever come to a brother. He could remember meeting Calvin at a very young age, perhaps as young as six. Their fathers had put them together and ordered them to become fast friends just as their fathers were.
But Sebastian would never confess that at first, he didn't much like Calvin. It took many years to warm up to him, to feel as though he understood him, and then slowly, he had come to like him to a certain degree.
A small degree.
Calvin tended to let his mouth get ahead of his brain. Sebastian had come to ignore it over time. Theirs was a forced friendship from boyhood, pushed by their fathers. And since Sebastian had no one else to play with, he’d tolerated Calvin, but there were times when Calvin just rubbed him raw. Did his sisters feel the same? He never talked much about them, and usually only in offhand teasing remarks that Sebastian never fully understood. Like a joke, but he had missed the point. Or perhaps it was merely sibling banter, a language Sebastian couldn’t appreciate.
Right now, however, Calvin was being cagey about his sisters.
What could Calvin possibly be hiding?
He thought he knew him and Lord Holden, but upon his return, there was definitely a sense of ambiguity when it came to discussing his intended bride. Like any man, Sebastian had to wonder what Miss Bright looked like. Was she ugly? Was that what they were afraid of?
He vaguely recalled her as a pale-skinned girl with jet black hair. Her hand had shaken as she signed her name to the contract, but the memories were foggy. He’d been quite inebriated at the time of the signing, disgusted with himself and his father for tying him to a mere girl. He could easily recall the stab of remorse for his role, for blindly obeying.
He didn't even think they said a word to each other. When he should have been apologizing.
Soon they would marry and what did it mean that she hadn't been writing the letters to him? An uneasy feeling settled deep inside him. He went to the sideboard and filled a glass with brandy, taking a cautious sip. Calvin took out a knife and whittled a piece of wood, admiring his work in the glow of a lamp and kicking the little flakes near the grate.
Outside, the wind groaned as it passed through the boughs of trees and splashed raindrops onto the windows in its destructive course. By the end of a fortnight, his bride would arrive. He knew it was his duty, he was honor bound to fulfill the contract he'd signed, but deep down he could admit to himself that he didn't want to marry a woman he didn't know. He’d never been one to be sentimental or to have fantasies of falling in love, but damn it, this was all so cold and uncomfortable. Taking a woman to bed that he didn't know—it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like she would want to be there, and that left a bad taste in his mouth.
As a boy, he’d been all arms and legs with an overly large jaw. When he'd gone off to school, the other boys had made fun of him. But he matured and turned into a man many women had looked upon with a lustful gaze. Would his new bride feel the same?
He surveyed the drawing room of the Burrow, the grand estate of Baron Holden, and he spied a picture of two girls—young, still in braids and short dresses. He walked to it, trying to recognize which of the two girls would be his intended bride and decipher what she might look like now.
Calvin came to his side, almost as if reading his mind.
“That is Carina,” he said and pointed to one of the girls, tall and rail thin. “This one is Isabella.”
Sebastian frowned. “They look nearly identical?” Except for Carina’s slenderness. Isabella had a fuller frame, not overly so, but youthfully plump with the weight of a well-fed child.
“Irish twins. Isabella was born eleven months after Carina. They are as thick as thieves, I tell you. You may as well take both.”
Sebastian chuckled. “So, if Carina is the sweet and biddable one, Isabella is the wild one?”
“Most definitely,” Calvin said.
Sebastian could see there was something about the glint in her eye captured in the portrait that hinted of mischief and laughter, as if she couldn't bear to sit still and was about to break into a fit of giggles. Sebastian grinned and then made himself focus on Carina. There was no sparkle in her eye. He would say she looked tired as if standing there posing had taken too much effort.
Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. His insides squirmed like slimy eels.
He swallowed. He hoped it didn't mean he’d be suffering for the rest of the night. He tossed back his brandy, praying it would dull his nerves. Most people who knew him thought he had a serious drinking problem. If they only knew liquor was just a mask for something far more insidious and confusing, at least to him. He turned to face Calvin.
“We're friends, aren't we?”
Calvin cocked his head. “Of course we are, for as long as I can remember."
“You’d tell me if… There was something important I ought to know about Miss Bright?”
Calvin scoffed. “You think I would hide something from you, something bad? Are you afraid she's ugly?” Calvin asked with a smirk.
“I'm hoping not as ugly as you,” Sebastian returned.
“It is hard for me to be objective—they are my sisters, and a brother doesn't look at his sisters like that, one would hope. But from a completely objective viewpoint and comparing them to say, Lady Cassandra or that new actress Emilia Laforge, they certainly aren't ugly.” Calvin gestured with the drink in his hand toward the portrait. “They look just like that,” Calvin said, “but grown up a bit.”
“I should hope so,” Sebastian replied.
“Though I should tell you…”
“Oh God, there is something,” Sebastian said.
“Nothing to panic about,” Calvin assured him. “Carina is rather”—he grimaced—“bookish.”
“Bookish?”
“She enjoys reading a great deal, and it's all she likes to do. She's not a woman who enjoys the outdoors. In fact, she rarely goes outdoors except for the usual things, and she doesn't like nature. That's why she prefers Bath.”
He didn’t need a wife who enjoyed everything he did. Most of his hobbies he did alone. He could get used to having a bluestocking wife.
Sebastian wouldn't have to go out as much. No more overcrowded balls, card rooms that reeked of sweat and perfume. He might have fewer episodes of sickness if he didn't have to be the social bachelor that his father expected him to be. A bluestocking wife might be just what he needed.
He glanced at the portrait one more time and tried to picture Miss Bright as a grown woman. She might even be pretty. Wouldn't that be ironic? A pretty wife who didn't like to socialize.
Someone just like him.
Sebastian took a deep breath. “I look forward to meeting her,” he said to Calvin.
“Good. I'm sure she feels the same,” he said.
Sebastian saw Calvin’s eyes cut to the side as he finished the last of his brandy.
The wrenching in his gut returned.
Calvin was lying. Why? What was there to lie about? He would just have to wait until Miss Bright arrived and then he'd find out.
Chapter 3
December 22, 1818
Three days before the wedding
&n
bsp; Bella stepped out of the Goose Feather Inn and bright morning light struck her eyes. She could already feel a headache coming on. This wasn’t typical weather for this area, and it didn’t bode well for travel. She squinted and made her way toward the carriage that her sister and mother had already boarded. She climbed inside and her sister softly sneezed. Bella flinched with surprise and scooted closer to her sister in concern.
“Are you all right?”
“I'm fine,” Carina assured her. “It was only little sneeze. Everyone sneezes on occasion.”
Her mother huffed with annoyance. “For heaven's sake, Bella. You act as though she's on her deathbed. Leave your poor sister alone. You've been nothing but a nuisance this whole trip.”
“No, I've done nothing but look out for Carina's welfare on this trip and for her whole life,” Bella returned. “You might try doing the same.”
Her mother rapped her knee with her heavy fan. “Don’t you dare speak to me that way. I was securing a future for both of you when I insisted on this marriage. She will want for nothing as the future Lady Drummond.”
Bella bit her tongue not wanting to frighten Carina more than she already had with mention of how fatal her wedding night could be, let alone bearing an heir for Sir Sebastian. She'd already informed her mother one hundred times over about the dangers that her sister faced, and she'd even wrote to her father has many times as she could sneak a letter in the post. His replies were returned through her mother, and they held fast to their conviction that this was nothing but a fortuitous event. And as for Sir Sebastian, he'd been writing to Carina as well, and while they read his letters together, Carina had let Bella reply.
When it came to talk of Sir Sebastian, Carina folded up like a bud, furling itself tightly closed against an oncoming storm. Normally Bella knew just what to say to calm Carina down, but no one knew Carina's limitations better than Carina.
Carina was afraid of what her impending marriage might mean for her health and that meant Bella needed to fight harder to protect her, to save her. She was not going to let her sister die on the whims of delusional patriarchs.
In the months before they were due to leave Bath, Bella had begun to squirrel away money. A spare coin here and there. Pin money meant to be spent in the shops stayed in her reticule. She didn't think of it as stealing, not when such serious matters were at stake. She didn't know what they would do if they had to run away. There was only one place they could go and that was back to Bath. They would go back home and await their mother and father's wrath, whatever that may mean. Perhaps that would be the last straw and finally convince their parents of the error of their ways.
By midafternoon they would reach the Burrow.
Snow flurried around their carriage as the horses left the inn yard. The ground was not yet frozen, and the snow melted as soon as it touched the earth, leaving it damp but not so muddy it would pull at the carriage wheels.
Through his letters, Sir Sebastian seemed like a reasonable man, and Bella prayed he might be the one she could convince to help her save her sister.
If she could find a moment to speak with him alone.
Before leaving Bath, he'd sent a miniature of himself, so his appearance wouldn't be a total surprise upon their arrival, and they might remember him from the lad he used to be.
Carina had briefly glanced at it and made one comment. “Oh, he's quite handsome.”
Bella had stared at the image, shocked by the man depicted there. This couldn't be accurate, she'd thought. Gone was the overly tall lad with sticks for arms and legs and a heavy jaw too big for his body. This was…a man so beautiful he should have been a god. Deceptively handsome, she would say, like Hades. She could just imagine those startling blue eyes and thick brown hair as he lured Persephone into the realm of the dead. Any woman would follow that face willingly, but a handsome face would not save her sister from what was to come.
Only Bella could do that, and hopefully, Sir Sebastian. But a handsome face also did not vouch for his character. The only hope she had, came from his letters, from the funny observations he made about life. The little drips of humor he'd left on the page. It was those things that convinced Bella that just maybe the gangly lad they’d barely known had turned into a fine man and may choose to help them. That's what she told herself when she stared at his picture. Even now, it was in her reticule, the weight a comforting reminder that she might not be alone in this fight.
Carina had taken one glance and never looked at it again, but Bella looked at it daily. At night by candlelight, sometimes in the morning, tracing the line of that now pleasantly masculine jaw. His gaze so intense she could almost believe he already agreed with her that he would be their champion.
Someone to understand her.
She held her bag to her heart, feeling the picture with her hand through the thick fabric, and she prayed.
Please, Sir Sebastian. Don't fail us as my mother and father have.
The carriage rolled on in silence, her mother closing her eyes to doze and Carina opening her book. Bella looked out the window and imagined meeting Sir Sebastian. Her stomach erupted with butterflies, all fluttering madly.
Bella decided to close her eyes and try to rest. She needed her wits about her for this meeting. She hadn't slept well at the inn. Carina's raspy breathing had kept her up most of the night, her sister’s lungs irritated by the mildew in the air of the taproom and the musty old mattress that they'd slept on. Soon they would be back at the Burrow, and she should be better with winter setting in. All the mites and dust from the road would be frozen and not kicked up into the air as it is during the summer and spring months.
They hadn't been back to the Burrow for six years. Bella hadn't seen her childhood room since that time. She was all too aware that she didn't feel like the same girl who had left at the tender age of ten and four. She’d just become a woman, her courses arriving the week before, and they had been going to a new place where she would meet new people.
Bella hadn't known when she would see her home again.
When they arrived in Bath and Carina's health significantly improved, Bella had discovered she hadn't missed her home at all. In Bath, she and Carina had found a new life.
She had no longer carried a daily fear for her sister.
They had begun to socialize after a few weeks with other families in Bath. It was the closest to a normal life that either of the girls had ever had. They transitioned into women in Bath. Now the Burrow felt like a stranger in an alley who could take away everything they had come to hold dear.
The Burrow was no longer her home, Bella realized. If she didn't succeed with saving her sister, if the wedding went on as planned, she might have to stay, or they might return to Bath without Carina. A fist of fear closed around her heart at the thought. She’d never been anywhere without Carina.
Chapter 4
By the time they reached the Burrow, the clouds had thinned, and the snow had stopped. The wheels crunched on the gravel circular drive, pulling up to the portico. The family butler, Bayer, opened the door, and the staff formed neat lines in front of the steps to welcome the return of the lady of the house. Some of the faces Bella remembered and some she did not. Her mother stepped out first, and her father arrived to greet them, taking her mother's arm as the staff greeted Lady Holden. Next came Carina and then at last Bella stepped down. The clop of horse hooves pervaded the circular courtyard, and Bella turned to find her brother riding up with a silly grin, of which she hadn't seen for more than a year, and fondness filled her heart.
“Calvin!” she cried out. After he leapt down from his saddle, she jumped into his arms, and he spun her around just as he used to when she was a little girl.
“Little sister,” he said. “I almost didn't recognize you.” He patted the top of her bonnet and Bella swatted at him, adjusting the fur-lined bonnet on her head. Her ears already felt the chill in the air. She was not accustomed to this sort of weather anymore. The approach of a second rider held her
attention as Calvin moved on to greet Carina and their mother.
Bella’s heart skipped as she recognized him instantly. The miniature had done him great justice. Sir Sebastian reined in his horse and dismounted, doffing his hat and bowing to her.
“A pleasure to meet you once again, Miss Isabella,” he said.
The smooth timber of his voice jarred her senses out of place. She had to reorganize her thoughts before she could respond.
“Thank you,” she squeaked out. Her voice betrayed her, having run and hid. She blushed. Confused by her reaction to him, she turned away, beating a hasty retreat to Carina's side, and taking her sister's arm. He followed her and bowed to Carina.
“Miss Bright, a pleasure to meet you again,” he said.
Carina curtsied. “Sir Sebastian, I've enjoyed your letters.”
“As I have yours,” he replied, but his gaze flicked to Bella.
Bella bit her lip. Had he discovered that Carina hadn’t been writing the letters? Carina was present, of course. Bella hadn't done it in secret. Carina just preferred to paint and dictate what she wished to say, which in Bella's mind was never enough. What do you say to a man you might have to marry when letters were your only communication thus far?
Though he did not yet know it, Carina and Bella's plan was to trade places. All this time Bella had been staring at his picture, she had had to contemplate what it would be like to be his wife in place of Carina. Right now, the prospect was terrifying and exhilarating as he stood before them, so large, the very definition of a vigorous man. His dark brown hair was thick and disheveled, and mesmerizing topaz blue eyes that could stir any soul into confession.
Once Upon a Christmas Wedding Page 201