Love and Christmas Wishes: Three Regency Romance Novellas

by Rose Pearson

  “There is no need, I am already dressed and ready to go down to the drawing room if Katie would come along,” Jane stated impatiently with a groan. “Besides, it is well known that it is not I who shall be seeking the gentlemen’s attention this evening.” A slight twitch of sadness caught her mouth as she looked away, reminding Sarah of how often Mrs. Brookes had told Jane in no uncertain terms, that she was rather plain and without any discernible beauty.

  With a curtsy, the maid stepped back, evidently finished with her work, as Katie exclaimed her satisfaction with the result in the mirror, “My hair is perfect! I will be afraid to move, lest I spoil it.”

  “You are in no danger of ruining it. I watched as it was pinned into place using every hairpin you possess. You could go riding without a hat and your hair will stay just as it is. Come on, I do not want to be late.”

  “I am never late to anything,” Katie stated as she reached for her gloves. With a glance towards Sarah, Katie was quick with a compliment, “How well you look in that dress. Is that one of mine from last season?”

  Katie, in her naïve way, meant to be kind. If anyone else said those exact words, Sarah would have been convinced that it was meant as a slight. But not Katie. Katie was young, sweet in nature and spoke without thinking most of the time. It was not in her temperament to be cruel. She stated the world how it was, even it did sometimes sound terribly insensitive.

  “Yes, this is your own dress from last season,” Sarah answered as she smiled at her cousin.

  It was no secret among the cousins that Jane and Katie often supplied Sarah with a wardrobe far superior to her plain and unassuming dresses. She could scarcely afford a new bonnet and if it were not for their kindness, Sarah would have been wearing her finest dress, a simple tailored gown that was a boring ivory hue without any hint of ribbons for trim or lace. Instead, she was wearing a vision of lavender that was trimmed with expensive ribbons and rosettes at the waist. The bottom was festooned by embroidered roses that matched the lavender silk blooms and ribbons in her blonde hair.

  “The color is becoming,” Katie said as she slid her gloves on her slender hands and past her wrists, “You should wear that color more often.”

  “Yes, she should. Let us go before mother comes searching for us,” warned Jane.

  With the reminder that Mrs. Brookes may appear at any moment, Sarah, Jane, and Katie made their way down a wide hall, lit by candles in wall sconces. From the corridor, they walked along a balcony that overlooked the great hall. Descending the grand staircase, Sarah tried not to gawk at the tapestries on display hanging from the walls. The great hall at Hatherley never ceased to impress her. A fire burned brightly in the cavernous fireplace that dominated the hall. The crest of the Baron Carmody hung prominently over the mantle adorned by scabbards and swords.

  From the base of the staircase, she followed her cousins into the drawing room where the wealth of the Grainger family was on display. The drawing room, like the rest of the house, was a testament to the longevity and immense prosperity of the Graingers. The room with its polished wood and gleaming brass and crystal was worthy of a Baron and his family. From the deeply hued crimson carpets underneath Sarah’s feet to the tufted and upholstered chairs and couches, the room set the mood of the house and the evening. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the impressive collection of oil paintings but she paid little attention to the art on the walls. She was far too busy searching the room for the one gentleman she wished she may never see again.

  Chapter Four

  In a sea of fashionable ladies, gentlemen dressed in dark coats and polished boots, Sarah was glad that Jane loaned her a dress that was stylish, even if it was last season’s color and design. There were nods of acknowledgment to the daughters of the vicar and looks of jealousy and interest aimed towards Katie, the comeliest woman in the room. Sarah did not see Mr. Grainger but she did her see her Aunt hurtling straight towards their little group as if she had been standing sentinel waiting for them to appear.

  “There’s my daughter, Katie, looking lovely as ever,” Mrs. Brookes spoke her approval of her youngest daughter as she spirited her away from Jane and Sarah without a word of greeting to either of them.

  Jane made a slight disgusted sound as she remarked, “Sarah, my dear, you never have to concern yourself with being dismissed as my companion. If it was not for you, I should be alone and have no one to talk to in a room filled with people.”

  “Not for long, cousin. Is not Miss Grainger to be with you this evening?”

  “Miss Grainger? No, indeed not. She is to reside in London for the festive season, I believe, now that she is Lady Harrows.” A small sigh escaped Jane as she thought of her dear friend, whom she very clearly missed.

  “I am sorry for her absence. I know she is a very dear friend,” Sarah answered as her eyes locked on the gentleman who made her think about running away to hide. Gasping, she reached for Jane’s arm to steady herself, “Oh Jane, there he is.”

  Mr. Grainger was standing not far from his sister. He was dressed in the deep red regimentals that made his ginger hair nearly golden in the candlelight. In a flash of memories from the Summer, Sarah recalled his stories of the continent, of the war as they strolled along the garden paths of the vicarage and here at Hatherley. He never revealed anything truly shocking, but he made the battles glorious and the sacrifices of the men valiant. She enjoyed his company, not because he was the son of a Baron but because his dark eyes sparkled when he spoke to her. Her stomach knotted at the sight of him, but she remained upright. Her cousin studied her, seeing her mortification as clearly as if she was speaking about it aloud.

  “Sarah. He is not a villain, you will see that in time.”

  “I know he is not a terrible person. You should see the fine room I have been given. The housekeeper nearly had a fit when she escorted me to it. She told me it was at his request that I should be treated above my station.”

  “I presumed he would try to make amends for causing you any embarrassment, and he has. I wager you a sovereign your room is far superior to my own.”

  “How silly of you, you know I am not in possession of a sovereign I can wager. Did you manage the tower room, so that you may play an archer?”

  “Not this time and I am sorely disappointed,” Jane’s voice trailed away as she was surprised by a gentleman who had surreptitiously snuck behind her.

  “Do not scream. It is not proper in a drawing room,” the young man said as he made a show of covering Jane’s eyes.

  The young man shared the same shade of brown hair and the same hazel eyes as Jane; he was taller than her but not by much. He acted as though he was at home in his own drawing room rather than at the stately home of a Baron. Sarah was grateful for the distraction of her cousin, Henry, who had arrived at Hatherley in time for dinner.

  “Henry, I would recognize your antics anywhere,” Jane said as she greeted her eldest brother.

  “You both recall that you are standing in the middle of Hatherley, in the company of the Baron,” Sarah reminded her cousins as she nervously looked around the room.

  “Let them have their fun. What is the harm?” a gentleman said from the other side of Jane.

  Sarah did not know how he appeared without her notice. In the crowded drawing room, perhaps she was distracted by Henry’s lack of decorum. Studying the man who cheerfully chastised her, she did not recognize him, nor was she sure she wanted to be introduced. He was forward, speaking to her as if he knew her. She narrowed her eyes as she stated, “Do I know you, sir?”

  “I doubt it, but I feel I already know who you are. You must be Henry’s younger sister, Miss Brookes.”

  Jane hid a smile. Henry laughed as he said, “No, Charles, this is my cousin, Miss Powell. You recall I told you she may be joining us at Hatherley. She and my sister are quite similar in appearance but there the similarity ends.”

  “Your cousin, and not your sister? You said she was fair of hair and appearance
. I am certain this is a mistake often made by gentlemen such as myself,” the man said as his gaze never left Sarah.

  She had never beheld anyone as bold and daring as this man. Sarah wanted to reach out, to strike the look of confidence from his face but she could not. Whoever he was, this gentleman with his lack of decorum and his arrogance obviously was acquainted with her cousin, Henry. He was handsome, his dark blonde hair cut into fashionable waves around his face, his jacket, and waistcoat made of an expensive material that shone in the light. His starched white cravat looked as sumptuous as his jacket. His boots were polished and fitted his muscular legs well. He was a fine figure of a man, but it was his icy blue eyes that were his best feature. In Sarah’s opinion, his eyes matched the winter weather outside as they sparkled when he looked at her.

  “Where are my manners. I humbly apologize,” Henry said as he bowed and then said with a broad smile on his face, “Jane, my dear cousin Sarah Powell, permit me to introduce you to my peer. This gentleman is Mr. Charles Langford of London.”

  Jane acted appalled as she replied to Henry before turning her attention to his companion, “This is the Mr. Langford who I have read about in your letters? Does the Baron know you have invited your mischievous cohort to his Christmas ball? Your exploits, sir, are enviable although I daresay I am surprised to see you in the flesh. I assumed Henry created you as a fictional character.”

  “Mischievous? Fictional? Henry, what have you been writing to your sisters? I was counting on making a good impression,” Mr. Langford said with mock indignation.

  “Oh Mr. Langford, I feel that I know you already. If I were to tell you what my brother has written about you, you would know that I feel that there are no formalities left between us,” replied Jane flippantly.

  “Jane!” Sarah gulped in shock.

  “It is true,” Jane said.

  Mr. Langford did not appear to be insulted by Jane’s sudden familiarity with him, a breach of manners Sarah could not understand as he inquired, “If you know me so well, Miss Brookes, I wonder if you might tell me if we shall be seated together at dinner. I know so few people here at Hatherley as Henry has been delinquent in his duties to introduce me around the room.”

  “Charles, we have just arrived but judging by the number of peers of the realm and titled personages here, I would have to recommend you treat my cousin Sarah with utmost respect as I think you two may be seated together. It is not my responsibility to be hostess and to pair you by rank, but that is my estimation of the situation.”

  “My brother is correct, Mr. Langford. You will be undoubtedly seated by our cousin Sarah.”

  “Miss Powell, was it?” Mr. Langford asked as his gaze fell on Sarah once more.

  “Yes, Mr. Langford. I am addressed as Miss Powell.”

  “If your cousins know anything about how to properly pair a couple at dinner, we may be together for the remainder of the evening.”

  “How delightful,” Sarah said as she realized that she was likely the lowest ranking woman in the room.

  Unmarried, she was the daughter of a lieutenant. To that, she also added that she born without a title and she was a former governess to her list, as if she was planning the seating chart. There could be no doubt that she would be seated last. She wondered what Henry knew about his companion that allowed for the same assumption about him? From Mr. Langford’s attire, she assumed he was in possession of wealth to purchase fashionable clothing. If he attended the university with Henry, he must have the funds required for an education. Clearly, he was not as poor as she, but he was lacking in rank, in a way she was not aware. Lady Carmody breezily came to speak to the gentlemen as she prepared her guests to make their entrance into the dining room. Under Henry and Jane’s gentle faces and watchful eyes, Sarah was paired with Mr. Langford. It was a fate she privately lamented as he smiled at her in a way that reminded her of the five Reardon boys, all naughty and terrible.

  Chapter Five

  How Sarah survived dinner that evening was beyond her comprehension. As a woman of no consequence, as she often described herself, she was accustomed to being paired at dinners with an assortment of odd characters. There was a parade of unwitty gentlemen, young men barely able to hold a conversation, or merchants and a variety of second sons of baronets, knights of the realms and so on. On occasion, she was paired with the steward, Mr. Putnam, at dinner when the Brookes entertained in Cheltham. Rarely had she found the company of any of her former dinner companions except the steward to be worthy of comment, until this evening.

  She did not know the exploits alluded to by Jane in her bold proclamation of familiarity with a gentleman she had just met, but Sarah observed Mr. Langford’s manners for herself. She found them to be a mixture of perfect and less than ideal. He seemed at ease with the vast array of cutlery at the formal dinner, yet he chose to ignore the woman seated on the other side of him. She doubted the slight was noticed by the woman, who was wealthy and married to a man who owned a vast amount of land in Surrey. The woman preferred to loudly gossip with a companion seated on the other side of the table, an accomplishment considering the immense candelabra and three-tiered display of dried fruit which blocked their rude and terribly impolite conversation.

  To her astonishment, Mr. Langford chose to speak only to her as he regaled her with harmless anecdotes. When he was not entertaining her with stories from his days at the university or his time in London, he asked her about her life as they enjoyed a delicious beef course. To say that she was not in the habit of speaking about herself was completely true, she thought to herself. In society, a woman like her was not often asked to supply any details about her life, her opinions or much else. She considered it her duty to nod on occasion, talk at length about the weather and other similar dull subjects and never once offer her own views on any topic unless it was safe to do so. Mr. Langford did not observe this convention as he pointedly asked her questions that seemed intrusive and rude. Except she found that she wanted to answer them.

  By the last course, she had decided that it was best to politely answer his queries and voice her approval at his stories. She was guest of the Baron Carmody and his family. Mr. Langford was also a guest of her cousin, Henry, and therefore treated like one of the family by the Baron who considered the Vicar’s children to be as welcomed at his home as his own. As she resigned herself to playing the role of polite dinner companion, she was shocked to discover how many times she was laughing and not from politeness. Mr. Langford had an uncanny way of being charming. It was more than his charm that she found to be dangerous, it was the nearness of him beside her at the table that made her all too aware that he was easily the most handsome man in the room.

  At the end of dinner, the gentlemen, as per custom, lingered in the dining room to enjoy brandy. The ladies of the party, Sarah included, returned to the drawing room. Jane and Katie were embroiled in a lively discussion with Lady Carmody regarding the number of feathers the ladies of the party were wearing in their hair and tucked into silk turbans. In Sarah’s observation, Jane was less interested in feathers and more interested in allowing her gaze to linger on the other guests, quietly observing them. Sarah drifted from the conversation to find a book haphazardly abandoned on a table by the fireside. With all the other women occupied, she picked the book up, sat down away from their company and opened it as if she was reading it. As she stared blankly at the pages, she thought of Mr. Langford.

  Swearing to remain polite but unmoved by Mr. Langford, she could not stop thinking of his blue eyes and the way he looked at her when he spoke to her. His gaze was kind as if he wished to know her as more than her rank or status.

  Her reverie was suddenly brought to an end by the familiar figure of the man she knew well. Quietly closing the book, she faced him with a smile she didn’t feel, wishing that she could plead with him to forget about last summer. That was never going to happen, so she smiled faintly as he bowed to her.

  “Are you not speaking to me?” he said gently
as he sat on the tufted ottoman in front of her.

  “It is you who have not spoken to me. You are the son of the host. It is your responsibility to receive all of your guests including me,” she observed.

  “I know, forgive me. I have heard from your cousin Jane that you do not wish to speak with me, is that true?”

  Sarah felt her cheeks redden from embarrassment, as she remarked, “Jane! What was she thinking for saying so. It is not that I do not wish to speak to you, it is that I...” Sarah did not know how to finish that statement. Did she tell him the truth, that she wished to never see him again as long as she was nursing her bruised pride?

  “I think I understand what you are not telling me. Miss Powell, allow me to apologize for my behavior last summer. It was regrettable.”

  “Your behavior? It is I who was mistaken. There is no need to apologize,” she answered.

  How foolish he must think of her and how naïve she felt months later. She did not wish to say anything else about it, as she changed the subject, “I have not thanked you properly for the use of the room. It is a palace compared to my old room here at Hatherley.”

  “I’m glad Mrs. Dunbar prepared it for you. In my time in the army, I have rarely encountered generals as tough as her. She looked unhappy, according to Mother, when she was told you were staying in the red and blue room.”

  “The red and blue room? My room has a name? Now I know I am living above my station, as Mrs. Dunbar reminded me.”

  “You cannot take anything she says to heart. She runs this house like it was her own. I sometimes wonder if it is. If you will excuse me, my mother is beckoning to me,” he said as he turned to leave.

  Sarah looked in the direction of the Lady Carmody. Sarah wondered briefly after last summer, that she was permitted to attend the ball at Hatherley at all as the lady appeared to be concerned that her son was in her company. Mr. Grainger had made it perfectly clear that he could not wed a ladies’ companion during the summer. From the troubled look that briefly flitted across Lady Carmody’s face, Sarah had no doubt that his mother was of the same opinion.