Brie reached a hand toward Julia’s knee. “Maybe being here and remembering the history of this place will remind him of who he used to be.”
The Countess wiped her eyes and smiled as she tried to hide her pain. “Perhaps you are right. Finish your tea and I’ll start by telling you about our biggest Christmas tree.”
* * *
Alec stood next to Morgan in the main salon as they stared up at the twenty-eight-foot spruce that reached the gallery above. The salon was a square room that went up two floors with overhanging walkways and balconies that overlooked the ground floor below. At Christmas, the room transformed into an oasis of green and gold. Their family coat of arms, along with other various crests, were placed on the stone balconies above and garlands hung down over the railings. Alec had forgotten how incredible Merryvale looked at Christmas time, which only made it more painful to be here.
“So, you and Ms. Honeyweather are acquainted, are you?”
“We sat on the same plane, so yes,” Alec replied without showing any emotion. He could count on Morgan to make trouble if he thought it would be amusing. Better to stop his little brother before he got started.
“Come now. I’m not blind,” Morgan said.
Alec glanced at his brother, trying to hide a flash of panic. Morgan couldn’t possibly have guessed that he’d slept with her.
“Mum, she’s in her matchmaking mode. I suspect she plans to set me up with Ms. Honeyweather. The woman is rather attractive, I admit. Not my usual type, but she has a nice smile, warm and open. From what mum says, she’s quite intelligent, too. I can’t imagine why she ever got divorced.”
Alec blinked. “You know about that?” How did his brother know but she hadn’t said anything to Alec? It was clear she’d told Morgan when they’d only known each other a handful of minutes. She’d spent two nights with Alec and never said a word. That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Alec folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t think you should seduce mum’s ghostwriter.”
“Who said anything about seduction?” Morgan pretended to look affronted, but Alec knew better.
“Just leave the woman be.”
Morgan grinned. “Hardly seems sporting. If anything, it would disappoint mum. Or perhaps you want in? Best brother wins the girl?”
“If that’s the rules, you’ll never stand a chance.” Alec socked his brother in the arm, just hard enough to make Morgan wince.
“Hey.” Morgan started to say something but voices in the hall warned them their mother and Brie were coming back.
“Back so soon?” Morgan took a step toward the two women, but Alec swung his arm out, effectively halting his brother with one dark look.
“Yes, we had a quick cup of tea.” Their mother shared a smile with Brie. “Now, you boys can stay or go, but Brie and I must talk Christmas trees.”
“We’ll stay.” Both Alec and Morgan replied at the same time.
Julia walked over to the base of the vast tree with Brie trailing behind her. Brie was still wearing the same cream-colored sweater and jeans she’d worn this morning. Her curves were hinted at but not overly displayed and Alec’s hands itched with the sudden need to grip her hips and hold her close so he could press a kiss to her ear. But that was the very last thing he could do right now.
“Martin Luther is the one credited for the tradition of lighting trees,” Julia explained to Brie, who scribbled notes in a brightly striped colored notebook. Julia adjusted a few ornaments’ positions on the tree as she continued. “The word tinsel is derived from the Latin word scintilla, which means spark.”
Alec moved closer, drawn in by his mother’s history lesson. He’d never realized she knew so much about Christmas.
“They used to use actual shredded silver to make silver leaves as the first tinsel, which must have cost a fortune. Let’s see, what else…oh! I’m sure you know that when Queen Victoria married Prince Albert, that’s when Christmas trees became popular in England.”
“I’d heard that,” Brie replied as she wrote down more notes. Alec joined her and Morgan followed too close behind.
“Now, we have a Norway spruce for the salon tree, the same kind Prince Albert chose for Queen Victoria.” Julia looked up at the massive tree and Brie did the same. “We can’t help but find the tallest one each year. We like it to be tall enough that the people in the balconies above can almost touch it.”
“It’s such a lovely tree,” Brie said. “My mother used to take me to The Nutcracker ballet as a kid and I remember being in awe of the tree on stage. There’s a scene where Clara starts to fall asleep and dream of the toy soldier and the mice. During that scene the tree is supposed to grow larger to show that Clara is shrinking to the size of her toys. The ballet company had an actual tree that was made to grow larger from under the stage. You can imagine the effect this had on the kids. I was convinced it was magic how the tree stretched higher and wider while mice peered into the frosted windowpanes.” Brie’s eyes lit up. He could hear love and affection for the memory so clearly it made his throat tighten.
“I love that ballet too,” Julia confessed, then glanced at Alec. “But try convincing my boys to see it? Impossible.”
Morgan laughed. “There’s no way I would’ve seen that as a boy, but I would now if someone wished me to.” Morgan looked at Brie a little too openly.
“Morgan, why don’t you tell Brie about the rope and pulley system we use to get the tree in the place?” Julia suggested.
“I would be happy to.” Morgan offered Brie his arm and then led her around the back of the tree to show her the specially designed tree stand and ropes.
The scene created a pit in Alec’s stomach. He had to nip this whole matchmaking thing of his mum’s in the bud before Brie got hurt by Morgan’s infectious charm.
Alec turned to his mother once Morgan and Brie were out of earshot. “Mum, what are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Morgan…” Alec waved a hand toward his brother. “You know how much of a flirt he is. Just because you want him to find a serious relationship doesn’t mean he’s going to oblige. Don’t do that to Brie.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I believe they could be good together. Why not give them a chance?”
“Mum, she doesn’t want a relationship, all right?”
“You know this how?” Julia arched brow.
“Just trust me. No matchmaking.”
“Very well, if you don’t want Morgan around her, then I’ll need your help with showing Brie around the house.”
“If I must…” Alec wanted to fist pump the air in victory, but he acted as if her request was barely tolerable. If his mother wanted him to spend time with Brie, he would. And he would keep his dangerously charming brother far away from her.
7
Brie and Morgan stood by the Christmas tree, but she could see Alec talking with his mother through the decorated branches. It was amazing how similar the two brothers looked now that she was searching for familial resemblances. Both were incredibly sexy, but Morgan had a charming, playful side that was nice to be around. There was something about Alec’s reserve mixed with bursts of intensity that drew her in deep, almost drowning her with fascination. Yet, when he let his guard down and teased her with his playful barbs, she couldn’t help but respond in kind; it was exciting and fun. But his mercurial nature also confused her. She wasn’t quite sure where she stood with him.
Maybe it’s because we’re both broken. Me with Preston, Alec with his grandfather.
She’d read somewhere that broken people tended to find each other. Seek one another out, often unconsciously. Not that she identified herself as broken, but she still felt the damage after her marriage fell apart. She’d put back all the pieces, like super-gluing a broken vase back together, she knew one good fall might easily fracture it all over again.
The strange thing was that for the longest time she hadn’t even known she’d been broke
n. That first day she’d realized she hadn’t missed Preston had been a warning that came far too late. There had been no affairs, no fighting, nothing except a fading away of the life that she’d once believed in so strongly.
And that was how she’d finally understood the depth of her situation. She’d been too weak to fight for anything anymore, too weak to fight for love. Perhaps she wasn’t capable of it, or it didn’t exist. She honestly didn’t know.
“So, what else can I show you?” Morgan asked.
“Actually, it’s my turn. I’m taking her to see the Christmas cards.” Alec stepped between her and Morgan with an overly polite smile to his brother.
He led her down a wide corridor lined with portraits and busts of solemn looking ancestors made of white marble. A few of the busts had holly wreaths sitting at jaunty angles on their brows. Alec rolled his eyes.
“Morgan’s idea.”
“He seems like a pranking kind of guy.”
Alec suddenly smiled. “You have no idea. He was a nightmare to grow up with.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“Oh, the usual sibling stuff, I suppose.” Alec paused in front of a stern looking Romanesque bust and adjusted the holly wreath, so it sat more evenly upon the statue’s head.
“I wouldn’t know. I’m an only child.” She twirled her pen between her fingers and looked at the bust, rather than at him. In some ways it was easier to talk to the stone face before her. “My dad was quite a few years older than my mom. It was a second marriage for him but a first for her. They had a hard time getting pregnant, so I was the only one they ever had.”
Alec put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. His hazel eyes were full of compassion. It surprised her, but she was relieved as well. She’d wanted to see this side of him. It was something she hadn’t seen that often with Preston. Her first husband wasn’t lacking in compassion, but he’d never really wanted to talk in depth about personal feelings
“Siblings are often a blessing, but in the case of Morgan, it was most definitely a curse.” Alec grinned as he said this, tempering the sting of his words about his brother. “He once put superglue in my shampoo. He stole my Halloween candy almost every year, and he broke a window with a cricket ball and blamed it on me. It was a stained glass one that was two hundred years old. The list goes on, but those are some of his primary offenses.”
“And he got away with all of it,” she guessed.
Alec tapped the tip of her nose with a fingertip. “Yes. Every time.”
Brie’s heart danced with excitement at this sudden playfulness. It was different than Morgan, she sensed that. When Alec opened himself up, it felt like it wasn’t for show. It meant something.
“So, your parents…”
“Both gone,” Brie replied. “Dad to a stroke and mom two years later to breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry, Brie. I had no idea.” Alec stepped closer to her and she remembered they were alone in the hall except for the marble busts. Busts who couldn’t judge her as she inched closer to him, not touching, but wishing she could. The hall was open, and anyone could come upon them at any moment. The thought thrilled her, but caution overcame her desire and she drifted back a step to put some distance between them.
“It’s fine. It’s been years now. I’ve grieved for them already.” But that wasn’t completely true. She’d grieved, but there were always days where she felt the pain of their loss almost as fresh as the day they had died. “Why don’t you show me the Christmas cards?”
“Right.” He escorted her into a beautiful room that had an old-fashioned card table, some bookshelves along one wall, and a grand piano. The piano hosted a dozen Christmas cards propped up on the piano’s surface.
“These are from major dignitaries all over the world. And…” He plucked an elegant red and white card and handed it to her. “Including Her Majesty, the Queen.”
“The Queen?” Brie accepted the card with reverence.
He held up another. “Queen Máxima of the Netherlands.” And another. “And this one is Alois, Hereditary Prince of Liechtenstein.” He examined the handwriting of the card. “Though I suspect his wife Sophie is the one who actually wrote it.”
“Oh my God, this is amazing.” She carefully handed the card back to him.
“Take some pictures if you want.”
Brie snapped a dozen photos and when she was done, she saw Alec opening an intricately carved wardrobe off to the side.
“Let me guess. You have a gateway to Narnia too. For your summer home, perhaps?”
Alec laughed. “Not quite. But I did want to show you these.” He retrieved a large mahogany box carved with flowers and waved for her to sit next to him on the leather sofa by the card table.
“What is it?”
He cracked open the lid, revealing stacks of cards and letters.
“Merryvale has been receiving cards for almost one hundred and fifty years.” He removed one of Christmas cards bound by purple satin ribbons. He slowly flipped through the batch to show her their covers decorated with plump robins on holly branches, wreathes of mistletoe, wintry scenes with children and coachmen with beautiful horses pulling sleighs filled with passengers through the snow.
Alec removed the next batch and treated these with even more care.
“These aren’t cards. They’re letters from soldiers in the Great War and World War II. Merryvale had many servants and members of the family who fought. My great-grandfather was in the second world war, and his father before him fought in the first.”
Alec removed a letter that was tucked into a dusty card that bore an ink sketch of a branch of holly leaves and berries. “This was from my great-great-grandfather. December 12, 1917, postmarked from France.”
“Do you mind if I read it?” she asked.
He handed Brie the letter. “Not at all.” He relaxed beside her and put an arm around the back of the couch, his fingers brushing the back of her neck briefly as he did so. Brie tried to ignore the electric excitement that his touch created and focused on the letter.
“My dearest Adele,
I wish I could write to you of happy things. Things that would brighten your eyes and win a smile, but here there is only darkness and the creeping fog of war. It chokes the lives out of the men around me. Many of us sleep upright in the trenches, our hands clasping photos of our wives and sweethearts. I don’t know which is worse, the shells or the yellow gas that drifts into our holes.
I hate that I’m even writing to you of such things. I fear though if I do not write them down, they will be trapped inside me forever. I miss you and I miss Merryvale. The snow here is gray, from the ash of distant fires.
I hope that when you think of me, you will keep me with you in your heart so that I may be there beside you for Christmas. I long for Cook’s pudding, the caroling, the hot wassail drinks, and the sight of a tall spruce tree in the salon glinting with tinsel. I wish I could see the blanket of pure white on the grounds and the hounds bounding through it.
That is my Christmas wish. To come home to you.
Yours always,
Robert.”
Brie stared at the yellowed letter with the words scrawled in faded ink, more brown now than black.
“What happened to them?” She turned to see Alec was staring into the distance, his gaze unfocused.
“Robert never made it home. An officer who served with him wrote Adele a letter telling her how he’d gone over the top a few days after that letter was written. He died trying to save his fellow soldiers who were trapped in barbed wire. The Germans had left them alive to lure others to their rescue. He didn’t know it was a trap until it was too late.” Alec finally looked at her, his gaze completely focused. “His son was born a few months later. He never even knew Adele had been pregnant with their child.”
“The way he spoke of Christmas here at Merryvale, the natural magic of it, and his hopes and dreams was beautiful. I would like to include that in the book, if your mother a
grees.” Brie wanted to clutch the heartbreaking letter to her chest but instead she carefully folded it back up and returned the letter inside the card.
“He was an artist,” Alec mused. “I imagine he drew this because there were no cards on the front line.” He brushed his thumb over the ink sketch of the holly leaves, the detail seemed even more powerful once Brie knew where it had come from.
“Why don’t we talk like that anymore?” she asked Alec as she carefully put the cards back into the box.
“Like what?”
“Like the world is beautiful, like nature and other people still matter. Everyone I know is obsessed with social media, with the latest app on their phones, or with reality TV. And then you think of people like Robert who were dying a world away from their home and the only thing that mattered to them was the people and places they loved. It breaks my heart.”
Brie couldn’t bring herself to say it, but that was what she dreamed of when she’d married Preston: a life full of a love that would defy the ages. She wanted to be loved like that, but it had only been an illusion. Maybe that was why she couldn’t trust herself to love, because the type of love she believed in didn’t exist anymore.
British Black Sheep: A Cocky Hero Club Series Novel Page 8
