Charmed at Christmas (Christmas at Castle Keyvnor Book 1)

by Claire Delacroix

  “You there!” a girl cried and he spied a young woman racing toward him.

  It was Miss Eurydice.

  “Please, sir, you must help my sister!” she said. “He dragged her into the maze...”

  She managed to say no more before Alexander gave the mare his heels. He leaped from the saddle at the entrance to the maze and strode inside. He paused to listen and heard a woman catch her breath.

  “You lying vermin,” she said. “You stole the Eye of India.”

  “I never suggested otherwise.”

  “But you lied to the earl and to your uncle,” Daphne said. “They both trusted you, Mr. Cushing, but you deceived them.”

  “Great Uncle Timothy thought I was stupid,” Cushing said, a sneer in his tone. “He liked keeping me poor, passing expensive gems through my hands, rubbing my nose in the fact that I’d never be able to afford even the smallest stone in his collection. He could have given the Eye of India to me! I would have sold it for a fortune! It would have changed my life. But no, he had to give it to some niece who barely remembered that he existed.”

  On stealthy feet, Alexander proceeded further into the maze. Could it be that Daphne knew he was there? Was she aiding him to get a confession of guilt? If so, she was a marvel worth every luxury he could shower upon her.

  “But this can’t be the first gem you’ve stolen?” she taunted. “You can’t call yourself a brilliant thief if you’ve stolen only once and then been left with a forgery.”

  Cushing swore and Alexander moved more quickly in pursuit.

  “Of course it’s not the first. I’m notorious.”

  “But still you’re said to be penniless.” Daphne sighed. “I think perhaps you’re not so clever after all.”

  “I lose at cards because they cheat me!” Cushing roared. Alexander heard Daphne make a little gasp and then her running footfalls. Cushing crashed after her, Alexander following. Deeper into the maze they went until there was suddenly the sound of a fall.

  Followed by silence. Alexander eased around a shrub to find Cushing creeping toward a corner ahead. The toe of a familiar slipper could be seen beyond the turn of the maze.

  The crash had been the sound of her falling.

  She must be unconscious.

  She must be injured.

  Cushing leaped around the corner, and Alexander saw the astonishment on his face just before he saw Daphne’s small fist. She tried to strike him, but Cushing recovered quickly enough to seize her wrist.

  He didn’t manage to twist it behind her back, because Alexander grabbed Cushing by the collar, spun him around and punched him in the nose. He struck the other man in the gut, then in the chin, so that he fell moaning to the ground.

  Daphne smiled at Alexander with pleasure. “I knew you would come,” she said, then her lips worked. “Did you hear his confession, Haskell?”

  Alexander smiled that she understood the ruse instinctively. “All of it, my lady. You have ensured his condemnation.”

  Daphne had also proven that she was utterly trustworthy and that his instincts about her had been right.

  “Good,” she said, surveying the fallen man with disapproval. “I despise dishonesty in a man.”

  Alexander heard Eurydice arrive behind him, her breath coming quickly, and doubtless some measure of the household following behind, given the noise.

  “Miss Goodenham,” he said, bowing to her even as he seethed that there was a bruise rising on her cheek. “His Grace, the Duke of Inverfyre, sent me to enquire as to whether you and your grandmother, Lady North Barrows, might accept a call from him this afternoon.”

  Daphne’s smile was radiant. “I should be delighted, Haskell. I am certain that my grandmother will also be amenable. Please do take my every encouragement to His Grace.”

  “I will and I am glad that the timing of my arrival was so fortuitous.”

  “As am I, Haskell. You have my thanks.”

  Alexander glanced at the earl. “But first, I will see this ruffian taken into the custody of the magistrate.” He pulled a velvet sack from his pocket, for this was his chance to put the real gem in the earl’s possession. “And this prize returned to where it rightfully belongs.”

  “An excellent plan, Haskell,” Daphne said and it took everything within Alexander to keep from bestowing a triumphant kiss upon her lips.

  That would have to wait until the afternoon, assuming that Lady North Barrows accepted his offer for Daphne’s hand.

  “I find it most curious,” Eurydice said that night when the sisters were alone in their chamber together dressing for dinner.

  “That the duke should want to marry me?” Daphne teased, certain that nothing could be better in her world. All had been explained to the earl and the true gem exchanged for the replica, Nathaniel Cushing had been taken into custody and through it all, Alexander had pretended to be his own man, Haskell.

  He had arrived in his full splendor in the afternoon to ask for Daphne’s hand in marriage. Grandmaman had been surprised and had only agreed when Daphne entreated her to do as much. The match was a brilliant one for Daphne, to be sure. If Grandmaman cast a more shrewd glance over Alexander after that, it could not be that much of a surprise.

  Alexander had brought a salve for Daphne and insisted upon applying it to her cheek with his own fingers, the blue simmer of his gaze making her feel adored indeed.

  Matters could not be better.

  She sighed contentment and scarce even listened to Eurydice. Her sister had been over Nathaniel’s scheme repeatedly, apparently fascinated with the doings of crime.

  “Not that,” Eurydice said with impatience. “I meant Haskell’s eyes.”

  “His eyes?”

  “They were blue today when he rode to your rescue. Indeed, they were like blue fire.”

  “Yes,” Daphne agreed happily.

  “But I am quite certain that at the tavern, they were brown.”

  Daphne blinked. “You might have been mistaken,” she dared to say. “We barely glimpsed him at the tavern.”

  “I do not think so,” Eurydice said with her usual conviction. “I noticed that they were quite nice eyes. I wouldn’t forget them.”

  Daphne exhaled. “What a shame it is that you couldn’t look again today, what with him riding immediately for the magistrate.”

  “It is a shame,” her sister agreed. “I shall have to take a closer look once we arrive in London. Are we truly going to stay in the duke’s house in Grosvenor Square?”

  “Yes!” Daphne said, accepting the change of subject with relief. “He said it made more sense, since Grandmaman would have to let a house and his is simply sitting there, awaiting the pleasure of her arrival.”

  “She liked that turn of phrase,” Eurydice said, which was true. “And we are casting him out?”

  “Not exactly. She said he should stay somewhere else until we are married.” Daphne realized that his impassioned response might have been what changed her grandmother’s mind about the match. “He said he would get a special license instead.”

  “He does want to marry you!”

  “And I cannot wait to marry him,” Daphne said. All she wanted truly was an hour alone with Alexander, but she had a feeling that what they might do in that hour was better accomplished after their marriage vows had been exchanged.

  She thought of the thrum in his voice when he had vowed to get that license and knew their match would be one of the happiest of all time.

  She would ensure it was so.

  In his room at the Mermaid’s Kiss, Alexander savored a sip of brandy and considered the success of the day. He glanced out the window at the lights of Castle Keyvnor and felt unusual impatience to reach London. He had to push aside the vine to make space on the table to write his letter. It had recovered from its state earlier in the day and was on the cusp of blooming again.

  The wretched story was true, after all.

  He hoped the plant would fit in his coach, though he might have to ride with the
driver for that to be so.

  There was no question of leaving it behind or letting it perish. Daphne adored it and he was rather fond of its role in ensuring her safety on this day.

  He picked up his quill, summoned the familiar tone, and began to write.

  My dear Aunt Penelope—

  Such news I have to share with you on this merry Christmastide! You will be heartened to learn that Dr. MacEwan’s prescription worked admirably—I am fully restored to my former vigor, but it is not due to the sea air. I arrived in Cornwall to witness such excitement that it has driven all illness from me. Haskell chose the destination of Bocka Morrow when I told him to find accommodation in Cornwall, and for a reason of his own. It has been revealed that Haskell is a spy—yes, Haskell!—and he succeeded in unveiling a notorious jewel thief at Castle Keyvnor. The fiend stole a gift from one of the brides, but Haskell saw him apprehended. Even now, he journeys to London with the magistrate to see the villain brought to justice.

  Of course, this put me in mind of Anthea’s perfectly dreadful experience. You will be delighted to know that this same man was responsible for that offense, so justice has been served. He used the most enchanting young lady here to aid in his scheme. Once all was revealed, I could only express my heartfelt sympathy to her for enduring even a short-lived shadow upon her good name. In the end, she proved to be such a delight that she and I are to wed. You might know her grandmother, the dowager Viscountess North Barrows? I remember my grandfather talking of the Lord North Barrows’ nuptials to that very lady...

  And we shall soon have the pleasure of each other’s company! I have sent word with Haskell to open the house in Grosvenor Square and will escort my betrothed, Miss Goodenham there, along with her sister, Eurydice, and Lady North Barrows herself. I had thought to leave the house to the ladies until Daphne and I celebrate our nuptials, but with each passing day, I see greater appeal in a special license. I will invite you to dinner to meet my intended once we have arrived in Town. I do indeed hope that Anthea can be coaxed to join us shortly. Daphne has a great deal of shopping to be done before the season and we both know what excellent taste Anthea has...

  Epilogue

  Anthea Armstrong was not surprised to receive a letter from her brother shortly after Christmas. She had been hoping to hear from him since his departure, and while Christmas had been festive, it had also been lonely. She missed Alexander’s laughter.

  It was snowing lightly and she sat before the fire in the library to read his missive, daring to hope it held tidings of his return. It was a nice fat letter, and she looked forward to a goodly amount of news.

  To her surprise, Alexander’s letter was folded around a plumper missive. His message was surprisingly short.

  My dear Anthea—

  The seed sprouted.

  You lost the wager.

  I look forward to seeing you at the London house so that you can meet my betrothed, Miss Daphne Goodenham.

  I shall let Daphne recount the tale of our whirlwind courtship, in all the fulsome detail that ladies so adore.

  Suffice it to say that I am well content and hope that you will ensure that Daphne’s first season is a triumphant one. I mean to stay in London long enough for Daphne to tire of its charms, then retreat to Airdfinnan. Please join us with all speed.

  With greatest affection,

  Your brother—

  Alexander

  It was marked with his seal.

  Anthea was pleased by the news, though a little troubled by the notion of going to London.

  Although she had made Alexander a wager.

  She had to stand by her own terms.

  She wondered, too, that Alexander had found a bride so quickly and feared the lady in question might not love him sufficiently well. The last thing he needed was a repeat of Miranda Delaney’s betrayal.

  Anthea opened the other letter with curiosity. Daphne’s writing was graceful, the letters elegant and regular but not overly ornate. Even without reading a word, Anthea was half-convinced that Alexander had found an honest and beautiful girl to make his bride.

  Dear Lady Anthea—

  I am writing to introduce myself to you at Alexander’s suggestion, though I would much prefer to do so in person. He seems to think that you will be skeptical of my existence without a letter from me, though why you might doubt his word is a complete mystery. He is the most honorable and constant man I have ever known, and already I trust in his word implicitly.

  He told me that the seed of the vine was a gift from you, and I must thank you for giving it to him. Not only did it grow into the most beautiful plant, but its vigor seemed to encourage Alexander to trust in me. I have a curious sense that our courtship might not have come to so happy or so quick a resolution without those red flowers in his buttonhole. They truly are splendid and their scent is enchanting beyond all else. Even now, Alexander seeks a way to take the vine with us to London that it might be planted at the house in Grosvenor Square. I greatly look forward to seeing the original vine, with its fearsome thorns, on the walls of Airdfinnan.

  Perhaps you will tell me the tale of Bayard of Villonne who first brought the vine to Airdfinnan. Alexander’s version of the story seems to be short and lacking in romantic detail.

  I do hope that you will come to London for our nuptials, and also to offer me your advice. Alexander means to stay for the season, which is very exciting, but it will be my first and I would not wish to make a misstep. I should welcome your assistance.

  I confess that I have always yearned to have an older sister, instead of always being the older sister, and so your existence is yet another wish of mine come true thanks to Alexander. I hope that we will also be friends, but truly, if you have any traits in common with Alexander, I know that I will love you dearly. There will be those, I am sure, who think our match a hasty one, but the truth is simple and I share it willingly—the Duke of Inverfyre, were he known by any other name, would be just as beloved by me as he is in this moment. I would adore Alexander if he were penniless. I never thought to meet such a man, and I am awed that I shall be his bride.

  If you doubt the truth, you are welcome to ask my sister, Eurydice, who is always glad to surrender my deepest secrets to others. She has not a shred of artifice and is terribly clever—Alexander has told her of his library and she has already ensured her invitation to Airdfinnan. She may well set foot in his library and never be seen again.

  I eagerly await the opportunity to meet you, my new sister.

  With affection—

  Miss Daphne Goodenham

  Anthea read the letter twice. It was impossible to overlook the delight in Daphne’s letter or to fail to note both her affection for her sister and her adoration of Alexander. Even Alexander’s short message held a distinct note of satisfaction, and Anthea could well imagine his contented smile.

  She wanted to see his smile and meet both Daphne and Eurydice.

  Anthea took a fortifying breath and made her decision. She rang for Findlay before she could change her mind and watched the falling snow with her heart hammering as she waited for him. She felt a curious mix of satisfaction, trepidation and excitement, one that she had always associated with journeys to London.

  “Yes, my lady?” Findlay said and she turned to him with a smile.

  “Good news, Findlay. My brother is betrothed and will marry in London in the new year.”

  “Fine news indeed, my lady.”

  “And I will journey there to join them.”

  If Findlay was surprised that she meant to leave Airdfinnan, he hid it well. “Very good, my lady.”

  “I shall stay through the season. My brother wishes his bride to have her fair measure of London society and I hope I can enhance her enjoyment.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  “I would like to leave in the morning, Findlay, and would appreciate you accompanying me to take charge of the London house. I believe there will be parties, as Alexander seems in a celebratory mood. Cou
ld you send Connaught to help me pack?”

  “Of course, my lady.” Findlay bowed, then hesitated before departing.

  “Yes, Findlay? Is there something else?”

  “Only that it is good to see you with a sparkle in your eye again, my lady,” the older man said. He had been in the service of the family for so long that Anthea did not think his comment impertinent. “I do not doubt that this foray to London will be far merrier than your last.”

  Anthea’s heart warmed. “Thank you, Findlay,” she said, her voice a little husky. He gave her a nod and a glance that was encouraging, if not paternal, then departed to do her bidding. Anthea opened Daphne’s letter and read it again, feeling her anticipation rise.

  Two more sisters.

  She dared to hope that Airdfinnan’s butler was right.

  About Deborah Cooke / Claire Delacroix

  Bestselling and award-winning author Deborah Cooke has published over fifty novels and novellas, including historical romances, fantasy romances, fantasy novels with romantic elements, paranormal romances, contemporary romances, urban fantasy romances, time travel romances and paranormal young adult novels. She writes as herself, Deborah Cooke, as Claire Delacroix, and has written as Claire Cross. She is nationally bestselling, #1 Kindle Bestselling, KOBO Bestselling, as well as a USA Today and New York Times’ Bestselling Author. Her Claire Delacroix medieval romance, The Beauty, was her first book to land on the New York Times List of Bestselling Books.

  Deborah was the writer-in-residence at the Toronto Public Library in 2009, the first time TPL hosted a residency focused on the romance genre, and she was honored to receive the Romance Writers of America PRO Mentor of the Year Award in 2012. She lives in Canada with her family.

  Visit Deborah’s website at http://deborahcooke.com to learn more about her books.