Love and Christmas Wishes: Three Regency Romance Novellas

by Rose Pearson

  Opening her eyes, she was glad that she was leaning against the door because she was startled by the presence of a gentleman. The man was leaning against the arm of a couch as he said, “Miss Powell, what a surprise.”

  How did she not see him when she came into the room? She recalled, her eyes were closed. How could she have seen anyone? But what was she to say?

  She decided to begin with a simple, “Good morning.”

  “Would you care for a cup of tea? Then perhaps you can tell me what has brought you to the library at this hour?”

  “A cup of tea? You have tea?” she asked as she was reminded that she was hungry and thirsty.

  “Yes, I do. The footmen were gracious to provide it at my request.”

  “I thank you for the offer of tea, but I must decline. I should be going. It’s not proper to be in a room alone with a gentleman without a chaperone.”

  “No one will mind that you are here with me. I trust that no one else is awake, except me and you. Come over here, sit by the fireside. You may sit across from me if you prefer. If you must know, my intentions are honorable,” he coaxed her towards a couch by the fireside. Pouring the tea, he added sugar and cream without asking how she preferred it. He handed the cup and saucer to her as he sat on the opposite couch. The tea in her hand was hot and soothing; he had prepared it to her liking. Drinking it, she felt the familiar warmth of the beverage as she swallowed it, the flavor a mixture of sweet and pungent. Holding the teacup in her hand, she mused, “You are remarkable. You prepared my tea precisely as I take it.”

  “I watched how you took your tea in the drawing room last night. It is not a trick. I am merely observant.”

  “Are you observant? What else have you observed about me this morning?”

  “I have observed a woman who has rushed into a library as if she was in need of a hiding place. That is all that I have observed,” he said.

  Sarah sighed, a long sigh as she made an attempt at levity, “I am disappointed in you, Mr. Langford. You and I were supposed to be honest, were we not?”

  “You must be referring to our pact? When it comes to delicate matters, I am permitted the use of polite deceit if it salvages your dignity. Would you not agree?”

  “Dignity? I hardly know what that word means anymore. I have acted foolishly in regard to someone.”

  “Your cousin, Henry, was not forthcoming with any details but I think I understand the reason. There is no shame if you held a person in your regard. That does not make you foolish.”

  “Why do I feel like I am naïve? You must think I am and so does everyone else.”

  “My opinion, given freely and honestly, is that what you feel is the sting of pride and nothing more.”

  Her emotions were tumultuous. She was unable to check the sudden alteration of her mood as she replied, indignantly, “You suggest that my pride is the sole cause of my shame?”

  “Yes, I do. If it were not for your pride, you would hardly recall the source of your indignation at all.”

  Sarah did not answer as she found her tea still warm. Sipping it, she studied her companion. He was as striking in his appearance as she recalled from the night before. Mr. Langford was handsome and fashionable in the way she imagined gentlemen from London ought to be. This morning, he donned a cravat in a crimson design that matched his waistcoat. His cravat, in such a dark color, was as unexpected as his presence in the library. The color and manner of tying the silk around his neck must have been the style in London, as Sarah could not recall seeing any man in the Cotswolds sporting such a dramatic hue around the stiff collar of his shirt. Aside from the walking cane carelessly left leaning against a side table, and his daring choice of crimson around his neck, he was dressed as any other gentleman, with the exception that he was the most attractive man she had ever seen. His coat and trousers were black, his shirt crisp white and pressed. He was a dashing figure and a man whom she found to be infuriating. But she remained in his company.

  “I should go. I have intruded upon your solitude for far too long,” she said as she was becoming all too aware that she was quickly forgetting her embarrassment regarding Mr. Grainger as she peered into the eyes of her companion.

  “My solitude? Have you not observed with your own eyes the size of this room? We could easily share this library with five other people and all would feel as if we had the room completely at our own singular disposal. It really is a magnificent library with an impressive collection of books, one of the finest, I wager, in this part of the country.”

  Grateful for the distraction of viewing the shelves, the cavernous vaulted ceiling and the rows of volumes, she replied, “I had not noticed, but it is impressive.”

  Her eyes darted around the room, to the shelves filled with books, thousands of them set perfectly straight in neat rows along dark wood shelves that lined the walls. As a woman who adored a good novel, she was sincere and dismayed in her confession that she had not noticed the collection. She had been too tempted to stare at Mr. Langford, or more accurately, into his icy blue eyes.

  “That is better, is it not? To speak of subjects that we both enjoy such as books?”

  His ability to understand her, to know her was astounding, but she did not admit to it as she assumed a dismissive air, “You profess to know more about me than I have disclosed. I was engaging in polite conversation while I finished my tea.”

  He smiled as he spoke to her, his voice pleasant as he inquired, “Are we back to polite conversation again, Miss Powell? What of our pact?”

  “Was our pact not a divertissement for the drawing room?”

  “I should like it to be for the remainder of the party. You did give me your word,” he said warmly, his voice comforting to her as his smile.

  “Thank you for the tea, but I must take my leave,” she replied.

  “Are you rushing away just as you have arrived?”

  “I must, my cousins will be awake soon.”

  Sarah wanted to stay, but she knew her reputation would be harmed if she did. Proper ladies did not sit alone in rooms with gentlemen. It was not done by ladies, and it was certainly not done by their companions. Regrettably, she had to think of her good name as she left the library. Wishing she could have stayed, she slowly made her way back to her room.

  Chapter Eight

  “Sarah, is it not exciting? The Baron has arranged for us to take the sleighs on a tour of the countryside? How delightful! We shall wear our furs. There is to be mulled wine and refreshments for after, does that not sound wonderful?” Katie said with exuberance.

  “It is a ride in a sleigh. You have been before,” Jane replied as she accidentally stabbed herself with her embroidery needle, “Ouch! Why can I never get a stitch done without hurting myself?”

  The Brookes sisters, accompanied by Miss Powell, were seated in the drawing room in the late morning. Jane attended to her embroidery as Katie absentmindedly played with a deck of cards. Sarah held a book in her hand, a novel she had packed in her trunk before leaving the vicarage. The book was one of her favorites, an adventure set in the Scottish Highlands. Yet, this morning, her book did not distract her. She was nearly somnolent from the breakfast. The food was delicious but filling and now she fought the urge to fall asleep.

  “Jane, do not be cynical. A sleigh ride is a perfectly wonderful pastime for a Christmas party,” Sarah replied, siding with Katie. She considered the possibility that she may find herself with Mr. Langford at her side. The thought that she may see him again so soon after their interlude in the library brought an instantaneous smile to her face and a burst of energy.

  “Sarah agrees with me. A sleigh ride along the hills is an ideal way to take in the air and enjoy the views of the estate here at Hatherley.”

  “It’s a perfectly good way to catch our deaths of cold, outside in the chill and damp,” Jane warned.

  “Jane, when have you ever wished not to go outside? How many afternoons have you spent walking about your own gardens and lanes?”
teased Sarah.

  “I may enjoy walking and it is true that I enjoy pursuits in the clean country air, but winter is dangerous, especially to Katie’s delicate constitution. If she becomes ill from the exertion of the sleigh ride, I should never forgive myself,” Jane answered.

  “You sound like an older sister,” Sarah said.

  “I am her older sister, but I suppose I cannot object if we all promise to dress warmly,” she conceded.

  “I will, I give you my word. I will dress as warmly as you wish. Come, Jane, you shall see that it will be quite fun. All the gentlemen are going, I heard Mr. Grainger say so, even his brother, the heir, is attending and you know how very somber he can be!”

  Jane laughed, her eyes alight with amusement. “He is going? I did not imagine he would enjoy such a spirited exercise. Very well, I shall go if you insist.”

  An hour later, Sarah stood in the great hall with the other ladies and gentlemen who were joining the sleigh ride. There was no one in attendance who was married or much older than her twenty and three years. The planned outing in the sleighs appealed only to the younger guests. Being unaccompanied by the older members of the party added to the merriment and the possibility of romance.

  Mr. Langford stood with Henry, his laugh and good cheer apparent as he chatted with Jane. Katie was busily teasing Mr. Grainger. The other guests stood around the fireside, pairing up as they prepared to go for a ride in the bucolic countryside resplendent in the snow. As soon as everyone was assembled, Mr. Grainger announced that it was time to board the sleighs. Sarah was wondering where she would sit and with whom as she felt the presence of Mr. Langford at her side. Jane, she noticed, was sitting with a gentleman she knew to be Viscount Halifax, although he did not appear to be aware of her presence.

  With a sly smile, he approached her, leaning in close to speak to her so that she alone could hear him, “Tell me I am not too late. I hope that you have not accepted anyone else’s invitation for the ride out in the countryside?”

  Her pulse raced at the nearness of him, at the possibility that he was fixing his attention on her when there were other young ladies in the party. Sarah whispered, “I am sure there are others who would require a companion before I, Mr. Langford. Perhaps my cousin, Jane?”

  Shaking his head, Mr. Langford smiled. “I prefer the company of another guest and I believe your cousin is very good friends with Mr. Grainger, the younger.”

  He stood close to her. She looked up at him and for a moment she was lost in the words he said, the magnitude of what he meant barely comprehensible to her. Searching for some hint that he was flirting, she remembered their pact as she asked, “Whose company do you prefer?”

  “We both know the answer to that, do we not?”

  She wanted to ask him what he meant, to answer her clearly so she understood him, but the sleighs were waiting. Mr. Grainger was impatient to escort his guests to them. Mr. Langford held Sarah’s hand as he helped her into the second sleigh, sliding in beside her. Under the blankets, she was no longer at a safe and demure distance from him. He was beside her, his clean scent intoxicating. She was aware that she had never been this close to a gentleman before, as she slipped her gloved hands into the fur muff.

  Mr. Langford whispered, “Are you quite warm? May I offer you my coat?”

  “I am warm, thank you,” she answered.

  The sleighs were soon rushing along the lane. The swishing of the snow under the runners made a soft sound as they glided along the wintry landscape. Merriment and happy sounds of laughing accompanied the sleighs on their journey, but Sarah barely noticed the other guests or their conversations. She scarcely observed the pastoral December landscape of the white hillsides and the ice-covered trees twinkling in the gray winter’s light. Neither did she notice a sky that threatened snow. She was suddenly riveted by the nearness of her companion, wishing for the ride to never end.

  “You are not enjoying the views as we pass them. They are spectacular,” he teased as his ice blue eyes gleamed.

  She wanted to compliment him, to say that his eyes were the same shade as the snow-covered drifts, as the ice on the ponds and the sky overhead but she was temporarily speechless. She tried to remember what he asked her. With a jolt, she recalled in an instant as she answered, “The estate is beautiful this time of year.”

  “What season do you prefer, the summer or the winter?”

  Her cousin, Jane, described the Christmas season as possessing magic. Sarah wondered if maybe it did as she answered, “I do not recall the estate in summer as magical as it is at Christmas. Perhaps it is only the holiday season that makes it appear so?”

  “It is more than the magic of the holiday. It is winter, the warmth of the firesides, mulled wine and tea to welcome you, no matter how cold you may be. Conversation which lasts for an evening, a good book to content you as you while away the hours. What could be more romantic?” he said to her with a sparkle in his wintry blue eyes.

  “I can think of nothing better. When you describe winter, it possesses the warmth of a dear friend, the charm of the best of holidays. It brings out the kindness in each of us. How handsome it is with its white coat!”

  Sarah felt warm despite the chill of the air around her. Oh, that Mr. Langford would speak plainly but she understood he could not or would not for a reason he did not choose to explain. She rather enjoyed his metaphors, curious if she was understanding him correctly. Was he was telling her in a subtle way that he was a good choice for a companion, or perhaps he meant something more? She understood that he could hardly speak of it in the company of others in the sleigh as she enjoyed listening to him describe the season, or himself in such a way.

  “Lean close to me while we enjoy the scene before us. I will keep you warm and safe,” he said.

  Without hesitating, Sarah did as he suggested leaning closer to him, resisting the impulse to put her head on his shoulder and close her eyes.

  Whispering, his lips near her cheek he said, “It’s snowing, can you see it there on the hillside? Soon we will feel it but until then we can watch it, appreciate it together.”

  From the vantage point on the top of the hill, a valley stretched out below. The gently rolling hills were veiled in white, and a creek bubbled its way through the landscape. Fields and forest were covered in snow as more snow fell. In the beauty of the moment, the sleighing party became quiet, matching the world all around them as laughter gave way to hushed whispers. As the snow fell, Sarah enjoyed the power, the simple grace the gently falling snow had on the party. Everyone in the sleighs was mesmerized by its beauty. It was a scene of a simple majesty. The grey sky, the snowflakes drifting slowly, languorously across the lane, creating a place as magical as any fairy realm. Sarah dared to enjoy the moment, glancing at her companion. He seemed to be transfixed by the scene that filled his view and by her, or so she thought, as his icy wintry blue eyes held her in his gaze whenever she looked at him.

  In this landscape of greys, blues and soft filtered light, Sarah did not feel the cold chill of the north wind. Nor did she notice the snow as anything other than a white background framing the handsome face of a man who made her feel exhilarated just by his masculine presence. There was something about Mr. Langford, something so strong but yet, he was good-natured in temperament, his tenderness to her unexpected. She could not recall feeling impressed by any other gentlemen as she was by him and in such a short period of time. If she did not know herself better, she would presume that she was in danger of allowing herself to be intoxicated by the season, by this man who seemed ideally suited as the companion of her dreams.

  When she gazed at him, she could feel her resolve slipping, despite her attempts to restrain her increasing regard for Mr. Langford. Oh, that she should have remained at Cheltham, where she was in no danger of notice by any man, especially one as stylish and dashing as the one at her side. Catching herself as her careful study of him was becoming blatant staring, she quickly turned away but not before he caught her
eye. As she blushed, she was certain she saw a glimmer of a smile on his face. Finding his confidence alluring and infuriating, she tried to spend the remainder of the ride reflecting on the beauty of the snow-covered lane, dressed in drifts, but she could not. All she could think of was Mr. Langford and how dangerously charming he was and how she was beginning to feel the effects of that charm every time he smiled.

  Chapter Nine

  After the sleigh ride, Sarah did not see Mr. Langford for the remainder of the afternoon. Henry claimed him for billiards and the card table, and Sarah could hardly voice a complaint. She did have her cousin to thank for bringing Mr. Langford, did she not? She spent the rest of the day with her cousins, both of whom were twittering away about the outing and the arrival of a group of newly recruited officers from Mr. Grainger’s militia. These young men who were delighted by the invitation to Hatherley were posted in nearby Abbeford Hill, the bustling market town of the region. Their inclusion to the party was a welcome one to the young women who seemed to be able to talk about little else that afternoon.

  Katie and Jane were forced to endure an afternoon where conversation lingered only on the new gentlemen who had joined them. One lady in particular, a Miss Hawthorn, talked incessantly about them, evidently delighted in comparing the young officers in all manner of difference. Speaking boldly about their handsome faces, she wagered who possessed superior qualities of masculine prowess and skill. Miss Hawthorn spoke without care for consequence and even shockingly to Sarah, as she whispered her opinions of the officers, contrasting their figures as if they were horses at a country fair. All the officers were deemed very fine in the regiment’s red. The gentlemen, whose names slipped from Sarah’s mind seemed like good men, young, vivacious and boisterous in their energy in the way of officers who have not yet seen war. They would make a fine complement to the card games and other divertissements of the party. As pleased as she was for her cousins’ sake that there was the presence of unmarried officers available for harmless flirtation and holiday games in the drawing room, she was disturbed by a possibility which occurred her with a suddenness. With the addition of so many new gentlemen to the party, she hoped that the arrangement at dinner would be unaltered. She did not wish to dine beside anyone else but Mr. Langford. A thought that came to mind so swiftly, so suddenly that she was unable to suppress it. What did it mean that she thought only of Mr. Langford?