“How did you become so very wise, Miss Langsdale?” he whispered into her hair, tightening his embrace. “I’ll fund your orphans with all the money the world’s best steward earns for me, and then I shall buy you a scarlet cloak to wear always, so everyone will see my pride in you.”
She lifted her head to see the love burning in Ivo’s understanding eyes, and she let him ease the heavy burden she’d been carrying. “A cloak to match my gown for the ball,” she murmured. “Let them realize that if as unlikely a pair as a nesting dove and a soaring falcon can be happy, there is hope for all.”
IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER
Mary Jo Putney
CHAPTER ONE
December 26, two days before the ball
Captain the Honorable Kimball Stretton gazed out the window of the stone tower, his heart as gray and cold as the Northumberland hills. He’d grown up here at Holbourne Abbey, and once he’d loved the drama of the changing seasons, from vibrant spring through lush summer, dazzling autumn, to the subtle shades and warm fires of winter.
The locals called this remnant of an ancient Norman castle the Lucky Tower, and their vehement protests had prevented one of his ancestors from tearing the structure down when the new house was built. The tower had been repaired so it wasn’t a public menace, and now a drafty passage connected it to the back of the new house.
As children, Kim and his brother had loved playing up here. Usually Edward was King Arthur while Kim took the part of Lancelot. After Roxie arrived, they’d tried to persuade her to be their Guinevere, but she’d scornfully refused. She preferred playing Morgan le Fay, who had beauty, power, and danger.
Kim’s lips curved involuntarily as he remembered the first time he’d met Roxie. The April day had been clear and sunny, with the cool blue sky of the north country. Kim and Edward had been preparing to ride out into the hills when a small female figure with blazing red hair had appeared.
Their mother had told them of the poor little Hayward girl who had lost her parents in a carriage accident and had come to live with her grandparents on the neighboring estate. Her grandmother was going to bring the girl to Holbourne to visit Caro in the nursery. The new little orphan had nothing to do with the sons of the house.
Then a redheaded sprite with a pale face and dark circles under her eyes had marched into the stable yard. Looking from one boy to the other, she asked, “Can I go riding with you?”
Edward said gravely, “You must be our new neighbor. I’m Edward, Lord Brentford. I’m pleased to meet you.”
She bobbed a curtsey. “The pleasure is mutual. I am Miss Roxanne Hayward.”
Wanting that intense little-girl gaze on him, Kim said, “I’m Kimball Stretton, but everyone calls me Kim. I’m very sorry about the loss of your parents.”
Her lips quivered before she gave a short little nod of acknowledgment, then asked again, “Can I ride with you, please?”
Edward was not immune to the appeal in those great gray eyes, but he shook his head regretfully. “Not without your grandmother’s permission. Besides, we don’t have a pony your size. You might get hurt. You can play with our sister, Caroline.”
“She’s just a baby.“ Roxie tilted her chin up, miserable but refusing to ask again. She was so small, so gallant. Unable to resist her any more than he could resist a forlorn puppy or a kitten, Kim said, “You can ride with me.”
Edward frowned. “You really shouldn’t.”
“I’ll keep her safe.” Kim leaned over and extended his hand. “Come on, Red, I’ll show you the hills of your new home.”
Her small face blazing with delight, Roxie caught his hand and he lifted her up and settled her astride in front of him. Kim suspected that his mother and Roxie’s grandmother would not approve, but he was used to disapproval. If he got a scolding, it would still be worth it to see Miss Roxanne Hayward’s radiant smile.
He’d been a slave to her smile ever since. But he no longer belonged at Holbourne Abbey.
He was about to turn away from the window when a rider cantered over a hill on the path from Haywick Grange, the horse’s hooves kicking up dry particles of snow. Pale winter sunshine touched the rider’s hair to dark fire, but her grace and superb riding would have identified her even if Roxie had been wearing a hat as a proper lady should.
Though he knew he should turn away, he couldn’t make himself do it. Roxie slowed her mount to a walk as she approached the Holbourne stables, and for long moments she lifted her gaze to the tower, her expression sad. She wouldn’t be able to see him in the deeply shadowed window, but she knew he was up here in his lair, like a wounded beast who’d gone to ground.
She’d tried repeatedly to visit him when his batman Welles had first brought Kim’s battered and broken body back to Holbourne, but Kim had refused to see her or anyone else. He might not be good for much of anything, but at least he could spare his family and Roxie from further grief.
For all their sakes, it was time for him to get out of the way.
Miss Roxanne Hayward, tomboy heiress, glanced up the old tower as she slowed her mount to a walk before entering the Holbourne stable yard. The gray stones and dark windows of the tower were as bleak as ever. Did Kim ever look out at the wide Northumberland hills with pleasure? What did he do during the cold days and endless northern nights?
Suffer, she supposed. He’d refused to see her, or even speak through the peephole in the massive medieval door. His only communication had been a note scrawled in an awkward script that was nothing like the smooth, impatient hand he’d used in the dozens of letters he’d written from Portugal and Spain and Belgium. The note told her to forget him. Think of him as dead. She must find a new life with a better man.
Unconsciously, she touched her breast, where the small folded note was tucked between her stays and her shift. The paper was limp after months of acting as a talisman.
Kim had sent no other notes, no word of any kind, since then. Her laughing, beloved companion had promised that he’d come back after Bonaparte was defeated for good and all. Then, finally, they’d marry.
He had come back, but with injuries so devastating that he couldn’t bear to let even his family near. His servant and protector, Welles, was the only person Kim would see face to face. The batman’s occasional reports implied that Kim was gradually improving, but he would never be the man he had been. The Strettons had decided to allow Kim as much time as he needed rather than force themselves in, but Roxie knew his withdrawal was as hard on them as it was on her.
Did Kim think she would stop loving him because he wasn’t the same young man she’d fallen in love with? He’d changed, but so had she. She’d believed that their love was true enough and strong enough to endure anything, but he wasn’t willing to give that love a chance, the damnable stupid man!
Her lips tightened. Months had passed, and perhaps it was time she took him at his word. By now, her refusing to accept his dismissal was one more burden on a man who had too many other burdens.
Feeling bleak, she rode into the stable yard. Her mood lightened when she saw Edward approaching from the direction of the house. He smiled and stepped up to help her dismount. “You’re up early, Roxie.”
“The dowager summoned me to servitude since the house is in chaos with preparations for the ball.” She slid from her saddle into Edward’s firm grip. “I don’t suppose your idiot brother has seen fit to emerge from his lair?”
“He hasn’t.” Edward hesitated. “But last night I did talk with him through the door. I was so exasperated that I told him if he wouldn’t marry you, I would.”
“Surely he didn’t believe you’d make such a dire sacrifice!”
“I wanted to prod him out of his cave. Instead, Kim said that was an excellent idea.” Edward closed his eyes for a moment, his expression strained. “He plans to leave Holbourne Abbey after Twelfth Night.”
Roxie gasped. “Surely he wasn’t serious!”
“Deadly serious.”
The last bit of hope drai
ned out of her. As long as Kim was at Holbourne, there was a chance he’d recover and return to the normal world. But if he left . . .
Seeing her expression, Edward wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “It may be the best thing for him, Roxie,” he said quietly. “Here everyone knows Kim as he was, and I don’t think he can bear that. A new home where he’s a stranger will be a fresh start. He said perhaps he’ll get a cottage on the south coast, which will be warmer.”
“How could he believe that you’d actually want to marry me? The idea is preposterous!” Roxie began moving numbly toward the house, grateful for the support of Edward’s arm.
“Is it, Roxie?” Edward said, choosing his words carefully. “During the years when Kim was dodging bullets and fevers on the Peninsula, it occurred to me that if he got himself killed, I should ask if you’d be willing to accept second best. You belong here at Holbourne as much as I do.”
“You’re not second best!” she exclaimed in surprise. “No need to settle for me just because we’ve known each other forever and our estates march together. Find a young woman you can fall in love with! There is no shortage of candidates, and not just because you’re heir to an earldom. You’re quite presentable, you know.”
He smiled a little, but shook his head. “Alas, apart from a mad bout of calf love when I first went up to London, no woman has made the least dent in my heart. I suspect it’s not in my nature to fall madly in love.”
“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “You just haven’t met the right woman.”
He shrugged dismissively. “I always assumed I could rely on you and Kim to produce an heir for Holbourne if I chose not to marry, but he’s not cooperating. So what do you think about my suggestion? I’ve found no one I like as well as you. We’ve been the best of friends for twenty years. That’s a decent foundation for marriage, I think.”
Roxie glanced at him as they continued along the path to the main house. Edward and Kim shared a strong family resemblance with their height and dark hair, but Kim’s eyes were blue and laughing while Edward’s were a warm, serious brown.
She’d loved them both since she was a child, but in different ways. Edward was the brother she’d never had, while Kim—owned her heart. They’d been privately pledged to each other for years.
Now Kim had broken that pledge. She wanted a husband and children. If Kim didn’t want her, who better to marry than Edward, her dear friend and one of the best men she’d ever known?
For the first time, she seriously considered him as a husband—and found that it wasn’t difficult. She could see them as friends and lovers, husband and wife, sharing a family and a future. The prospect was far more appealing than sliding into a lonely spinsterhood. As an heiress, she wouldn’t have much trouble finding a husband, but she had no interest in fortune hunters. She wanted a man she should trust. “I think we’d suit very well,” she said slowly. “Are you sure, though?”
“I’ve been thinking about this longer than you,” Edward replied. “And the more I think about it, the better I like the idea. If you accept me, we can announce our betrothal at midnight of the Christmas ball. Lady Holly and my parents would adore that.”
“Especially Lady Holly.” Roxie drew a deep breath, fighting the wave of pain that swept through her as she thought of giving up on Kim for once and all. “That might be too soon. I need time to think.”
“Of course, my dear girl. Take as long as you need.” He bent his head to give her a light kiss.
Edward’s mouth was warm. Firm. Masculine.
Not brotherly.
He stepped back, and she touched uncertain fingers to her lips. “I will make one last attempt to see Kim,” she said, her voice uneven. “I doubt he’ll be willing to change his mind, but I must try. If he still wants nothing to do with me . . .” She exhaled roughly. “You and I will announce our plans and move forward to a happier future.”
Edward’s rare smile lit up his face. “Fair enough. Take the time to be sure. I can’t lose either way because I’ll rejoice whether you marry me, or whether you manage to lure Kim back to life.”
“I can’t lose either, if it means that I marry one of the handsome Stretton brothers,” she said wryly. “For now, though, we are only considering a betrothal. Either of us can step away if we decide we won’t suit, or if we choose someone else.”
“You’re giving me the chance to fall in love with one of Lady Holly’s wistful young ladies?” he said with amusement. “Very generous of you!”
“One never knows,” she said seriously. “Sometime in the next few days, you may look across a crowded room and realize you’ve found the love of your life.”
He swung open the side door into the house. “You, Roxanne, are a hopeless romantic. It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you.”
As Roxie stepped forward, she saw movement in one of the windows on the floor above. The pale oval of a face and a flutter of closing draperies. She gestured upward. “Someone saw us. If they witnessed that kiss, rumors will be flying through the household that an Interesting Announcement is imminent.”
“Every house party needs a good subject of gossip,” Edward observed. “If anyone asks me about it, I shall raise my brows in my best ‘I beg your pardon?’ look.”
“That will silence the curious,” Roxie agreed. “If I’m asked, I’ll smile with an air of sphinxlike mystery. That will convince everyone that something is afoot.”
“Perhaps something is,” Edward said as he set a light hand on her lower back. “We shall see.”
He ushered her inside. This short side passage led to the vast, lovely atrium that was the main entry to the house. The chamber rose two tall, columned stories into the air, with vast skylights bringing sunshine into the heart of the house.
Roxie loved Holbourne Abbey. She’d been in and out of the house since moving to Northumberland. She knew every nook and cranny that a child could hide in.
The Strettons had been her surrogate family, particularly in the years after her grandparents had died. The earl and countess had swiftly become Uncle John and Aunt Elizabeth, and she’d been presented in London by the reserved, elegant countess and the much more flamboyant dowager.
Today she looked at the house in a new way. If she married Edward, someday she’d be mistress of all this splendor. And yet, she’d always preferred the rambling warmth and coziness of Haywick Grange, which had begun as a farmhouse and been added to over several centuries.
Kim also loved her house and wanted to live there. They’d be close to his family but with privacy.
Because they were both horse mad, they’d planned to breed horses. Kim had received a good inheritance from his Great-Uncle Kimball, and they would use that to expand the stables and acquire first-rate breeding stock. It had all seemed so perfect.. . .
She bit back her grief over lost dreams. She was incredibly lucky, the possessor of a fine estate and fortune, rich in friends and neighbors, and now a proposal of marriage from a man she’d loved for years. It was a different kind of love from the intoxicating passion she’d felt for Kim, but equally real.
She and Edward would be happy together. She knew it.
But he wasn’t Kim.
CHAPTER TWO
Mouth set in a grim line, Kim turned away from the sight of Roxie going off with Edward’s arm around her shoulders. They looked so right, so at ease. He was happy for them, and he couldn’t bear to watch.
He leaned back against the cold stone wall, his left hand white-knuckled on his cane as a torrent of memories rushed through him. Roxie had been his constant companion when Kim and Edward returned from Eton for the holidays. She’d been his best friend, as close to him as Edward—until the day he returned home and realized that Roxie was no longer a child, but a young woman.
Their gazes met and a lightning bolt of awareness had blazed through him. Roxie was not just his friend, but infinitely more. Her wide, startled gaze had revealed that the lightning was mutual. From that day on, they w
ere a couple.
They’d been discreet, and no matter how powerfully youthful desire raged, they’d never crossed the line to full intimacy. Only Edward had known how intense their relationship was. He approved and thought it would be a most suitable match when they were both older.
Edward had also threatened to skin Kim alive with a dull knife if he harmed Roxie. The warning hadn’t been needed. As much as Kim desired Roxie, he would have skinned himself alive rather than hurt her. She was so full of life and intelligence and beauty that no other woman could match her. Though he enjoyed his years at Oxford, he was always mad to return to Holbourne and Roxie.
There had never been any question but that they’d marry. Roxie was as essential to him as his beating heart. Yet during his last year at university, he’d gradually and uncomfortably recognized that he needed something more than Roxie and an easy gentleman’s life.
The day he returned home after completing his education, he and Roxie had gone for a ride and ended up on a blanket in their private, willow shaded refuge by the river. They’d barely managed to keep their hands off each other before then.
Though they stopped short of the final joining, they’d learn to please each other with long, intense kisses and intimate touching. Satisfaction came swift and hot. Afterward, they lay panting together, Roxie half naked in his arms. Their families would have been horrified, yet it felt so utterly right.
Roxie murmured, “Now that you’re through with university, we can get married. Shall we have Mr. Langsdale start to call the banns this Sunday? I can’t think of any good reason to wait.” She tilted her head back and smiled lazily up at him, her gray eyes soft with contentment. “I think we’ve waited quite long enough.”
He opened his mouth to reply, then halted, unable to speak. The idea that he’d been pondering on and off for years surged to the center of his mind, too powerful to be denied. He swallowed hard and tried again. “Roxie, my love. You’re not going to like this, but . . . I’m going to buy an army commission.”
The Last Chance Christmas Ball Page 16