The Joy of Christmas Present: Sweet Regency Romance (A Dickens of a Christmas Book 2)

by L G Rollins

  “But my father recommended this man, in particular.” It was a stretch of the truth. Still, she felt confident that Father would want her to seek out her last remaining family relative. Hopefully, her small lie wasn’t too much of a sin. “He is located in Dunwell, and we’ll likely never be so close again.”

  “Who would your father possibly have known in Dunwell? I thought most of his business was conducted in London.”

  Helena’s excuse was unraveling fast. “This man wasn’t his man of business. Only a man he’d heard of and heard good things about.”

  “It all sounds rather uncertain.” Emma looped her arm through Helena’s and began pulling her toward the bedchamber door. “It won’t signify, either way. You will be married soon, and your finances will be handled by your new husband.”

  Helena tried to keep her shoulders back as they made their way down the corridor. She could just tell Emma who this man of business was and of his relation to her. But she didn’t feel she could just now. It would awaken too many questions: why hadn’t the Shakerleys ever met or even heard of Uncle Scrooge before? If Helena’s grandfather had disowned his own son, why reach out to him at all? What proof did Helena have her Uncle wasn’t a scoundrel or worse?

  She very well couldn’t go seek him out on her own, so that only left her one option. The same one she’d already tried that had come up short. She would have to write him another letter. Who knew? perhaps if she wrote enough times, he’d finally respond.

  Helena hoped he would. But she didn’t have much faith.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fredrick strode down the stairs, tugging his gloves on tightly. He was rather looking forward to horseback riding today. Tomorrow, he would have been at Hedgewood Manor for two weeks, yet this was the first time in all that while that he’d had a chance to get out and ride.

  The plans had begun as something he, Topper, Lord Forbes, and Lord Ellis were all intent on doing together. But when Lady Emma had heard of the outing, she’d immediately rallied all the other young ladies and declared they, too, wished to ride. It was probably another attempt at pushing Miss Spencer toward either Topper or Lord Ellis. Or Lord Forbes? He had a hard time keeping up with all the machinations, but he was fairly certain Miss Spencer would never consider Lord Ellis after he had behaved so uncivilly during their chess game.

  He neared the bottom of the stairs just in time to catch sight of Miss Spencer hurrying to catch up with the house butler.

  “Sorry, miss,” the butler responded before she even had a chance to say anything. “No letters today.”

  Her shoulders fell. With a grim nod, she turned and began to walk off.

  Fredrick reached her in only a few strides. “Were you expecting a correspondence?”

  “No, but I was hoping all the same.”

  He offered her his arm and she rested her hand atop it. The heat he’d felt before came again, but he expected it this time—and ignored it. Certainly, he should ignore it.

  “Truth is, I wrote to my uncle.”

  Fredrick pulled to an abrupt stop. “Wait—you have an uncle?”

  She shushed him, glancing about the corridor, but it was empty, save them.

  Still, Fredrick obliged and lowered his voice. “I was told in no uncertain terms that you had no near relations left.”

  She, too, spoke softly. “Mr. Scrooge is my mother’s brother. Grandfather disowned him some years ago, a little after my mother passed. Apparently, my uncle and his father had a long and troublesome history. My mother helped ease things between them, or so I was led to believe. But after she was gone, things fell apart rather quickly. He’s had no connection with my family for as long as I can remember. He didn’t come to Grandfather’s funeral. He certainly was not present when my father passed.”

  “But now you’re wanting to mend things?” With no other family left, he could certainly see the pull.

  “As of right now, I just want to hear from him. I don’t believe him to be dead, but he might as well be for all the letters I’ve received back.”

  That had to hurt—to know your own uncle didn’t even care enough to write back even though he was your last remaining relative. That was a loneliness Fredrick could only imagine. He, at least, still had Mother and Christina and Eleanor and plenty of uncles and aunts and cousins besides.

  Miss Spencer pressed her hand more firmly atop his arm. “Please don’t mention this to the Shakerleys. They know nothing of my uncle, not that he exists nor that I’ve written him.”

  He covered her hand with one of his own. “If that is your wish.” It felt strangely good to have her beside him. More still, once they entered the drawing room and she left his side to speak with his sisters, he felt her absence every bit as acutely.

  He wasn’t left long to dwell on the fact that he remained aware of Miss Spencer as she moved about the room, for Lady Emma bore down on him like a fox chasing a rabbit.

  “We have a problem,” she said, with no preamble. “Today’s ride was supposed to be a chance for Helena to spend time with Lord Forbes.”

  Lady Emma’s declaration brought a new emotion, one that Fredrick refused to analyze or label. “I happen to know Lord Forbes is quite looking forward to today’s ride.”

  “Yes, but so are your sisters and Miss Wynn. Now, Lord Forbes, I have learned, enjoys more of a rousing ride. Helena is an excellent horsewoman and will keep up without hesitation, I am confident.”

  Fredrick wasn’t surprised to learn Miss Spencer was excellent on a horse. It seemed to fit her fiery hair, not to mention her readiness to control her own future by reaching out to an estranged family member.

  “Neither Christina nor Eleanor will want more than a casual trot, so you needn’t worry where they are concerned. Besides, you could just tell them Miss Spencer wishes to speak with Lord Forbes.”

  Lady Emma shook her head and pursed her lips at what she clearly deemed an insensible suggestion. “I’m not worried about them. Even now they are busy speaking with Topper. The real problem is Miss Wynn. Do you know if she is a good horsewoman?”

  “I have never seen her ride, but I believe she is.”

  Lady Emma pulled a face. “She is monopolizing him even now.”

  Fredrick followed Lady Emma’s gaze. True enough, Miss Wynn was speaking quite animatedly to Lord Forbes and seemed unlikely to let him go any time soon.

  “You need to take care of her,” Lady Emma said.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Strike up a conversation. Distract her away from Lord Forbes. Flirt with her.”

  A lump inside Fredrick’s throat was steadily growing with each of Lady Emma’s suggestions. “I feel now might be a good time to point out that I don’t flirt with women I’m not interested in. I’m no cad.”

  “Pretend you’re one just for the afternoon. You owe Helena that much, at the very least.”

  His gaze jumped to Miss Spencer; she was laughing at something Christina had said. She looked lovely in her dark brown riding habit. The dark tone set off her hair in a most flattering way.

  “Very well.” He sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  This was not going to be the pleasant afternoon on horseback he’d been looking forward to. He strode over to Miss Wynn.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. Miss Wynn turned toward him, a bit of surprise showing in her eyes. Lord Forbes looked relieved. Fredrick wished he could somehow secretly communicate with the man. If he could, he’d say, “Run, while you have the chance.” Judging by Lord Forbes’s understated, yet understandable, expression, he’d take it, too.

  Fredrick turned toward Miss Wynn. “That is a very beautiful riding habit.”

  She twisted back and forth, sending her skirt twirling slightly. “Why thank you, Lord Chapman. How kind of you to notice.”

  The way she simpered and fluttered her lashes made him slightly sick. Fredrick shot Miss Spencer a glance, but she wasn’t looking his way and so didn’t see. If he could secretly communicate with her, he wou
ld have said, “This is for you. Trust me when I say, I’m not doing it for myself.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Such fine horses.” Eleanor giggled as she stroked one down its long nose.

  “Yes, they are,” Helena agreed. It was only the two of them in the stable, everyone else having already made their way back to the house. Their not-so-small outing had been enjoyable, though not for the reasons Emma had hoped.

  Oh, Lord Chapman had been a sport and kept Miss Wynn occupied the entire time. Furthermore, Emma, Christina, and Eleanor had all carefully, yet purposefully, allowed Helena time to speak with each of the other three gentlemen. At one point, when Christina found herself the center of much attention, she’d gone so far as to fake exhaustion and excuse herself early. Though, Topper had gone with her to see her safely back to the house. It had left them a party of three ladies and only two gentlemen—not counting Lord Chapman or Miss Wynn, as they stayed a little apart and near the back—yet Helena had not had one moment alone.

  Her old friend and her two new friends were certainly rallying about her and seeing to it that she had every opportunity to make a match.

  Nonetheless, none of that was what had made the evening ride so enjoyable.

  No, best of all had been the feel of fresh air against her cheeks, seeing the clear blue sky stretching out over her head, and the feel of the warm beast beneath her, bearing her up. She’d always adored horseback riding but had had so little time for it these past few years. It had been most enjoyable to ride once more. She’d also enjoyed catching bits of conversation from behind her. Apparently, Lord Chapman had truly tried to be a good conversationalist with Miss Wynn, but she hardly let him get a word in edgewise and insisted he agree with her the few times he tried stating his own opinion.

  Helena had tried hard not to laugh at his clearly uncomfortable predicament. It was terribly uncharitable of her to do so, especially since he was only in that spot in an effort to help her.

  “Did you ride much growing up?” Eleanor asked.

  “Oh, yes. All summer long. Especially those years when my father traveled to London on business,” she added with a smile. “My favorite mount was a light brown gelding named Butterscotch.” How she’d loved that horse.

  Eleanor’s hand, still stroking a horse’s nose, slowed. “I’ve always had a secret desire to marry a man with ever so many horses.”

  “You ride exceptionally well,” Helena said. It was yet one more small difference between the twins. She would have to tell Lord Chapman; she felt she was finally getting the hang of telling the two apart.

  “Thank you.” Eleanor’s smile was far more shy than any Helena had ever seen the young woman give.

  “I am in earnest. You are excellent on horseback. I think you should keep your eyes open for a man with many horses. Maybe even a gentleman who runs a stud farm?”

  “Oh, no,” Eleanor said in a rush. “I don’t know about that. I am certain mama expects both Christina and I to marry titled gentlemen.”

  “So long as he can provide comfortably for you and you are happy, then I am certain she can have nothing against such a match.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes, I sincerely do.” Though Helena hadn’t had many conversations with Lady Chapman, she was getting to know her three children quite well. Certainly they would not be the kind, considerate individuals they all were without an equally warmhearted mother.

  Helena’s heart hurt with a small tinge of regret and longing. She herself had grown up without a mother at all, warmhearted or otherwise. What would her own mother say if she could see the woman Helena had become? Would she be pleased with her attempts to secure a safe future? Would she be upset she hadn’t managed to do so before now?

  Eleanor’s arms wrapped around Helena, drawing her back into the present.

  “I’m so glad we’re friends,” Eleanor said.

  Helena returned the hug. “As am I.”

  Eleanor drew back, but her smile remained. “I think I’m going to lie down for a bit before dinner. Being out too long in the cold always makes me so tired.”

  Helena could relate. There was something about being outside in winter that could undoubtedly drain a person of their strength. “You go ahead. I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer.”

  Eleanor said she understood and hurried off, leaving Helena to the silence and the horses.

  Did she truly understand? Helena watched her friend go. She barely understood herself. Helena was tired, like Eleanor, but more from the strain of always having to smile and be pleasing than from their ride. Since when had being upbeat become a strain? Helena had always prided herself on her optimistic outlook on life. But things had changed when her father passed. Now the constant need to appear cheerful was as much a drain on her strength as the bitterest of cold winds.

  How she wished for a place, a moment to simply sit down, cry, and release the weight she was forever carrying.

  The time in the library with Lord Chapman came to mind. Truth was, except for Emma, Helena had not allowed herself to cry in front of anyone, not even during her father’s funeral. That time with Lord Chapman had been nice. Too bad there was a very good chance it would never happen again.

  Stepping carefully to avoid soiling her boots, Helena made her way toward the door. Just as she reached the last stall, the horse inside stretched its nose out toward her.

  “Well, good afternoon to you, too,” she said. She paused. He was the exact same color Butterscotch had been. Her heart ached anew. Reaching out, she petted the horse down his nose. “Perhaps you and I should take a ride together sometime.”

  The horse flipped his main and snorted.

  Helena laughed. “Lively, aren’t you. What’s your name? I’ll bet it’s something blithe.”

  “His name is Starfire.”

  The unexpected voice made Helena whirl around. Lord Ellis stood, shoulder leaning against one of the posts between the stalls. His dark greatcoat was almost exactly the same color as his jacket. So much so that, though the greatcoat was open, she could hardly tell where one ended and the other began.

  “Did you forget something?” Helena asked, glancing about her. She’d seen him return to the house with everyone else. Still, what would he have left behind that he couldn’t have sent a manservant back for?

  He stood and walked directly up to her, closer than he’d ever stood before. Helena leaned back slightly at his nearness.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say forgot, precisely.” He was smiling, but it wasn’t friendly.

  Tingles of warning pricked against her skin. Helena took a step back. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

  “Well, when I saw that twin return without you and realized you were here alone . . .” He reached out, taking hold of her elbow firmly, and pulled her toward him. “I must say, with all the talk I’ve heard about you, it does make a man curious.” He leaned down, bringing his face closer to her.

  Helena pushed away, stumbling out of his grasp. Frantic, she looked about. What could she use if he pursued her? There was no chance she could scream and be heard by anyone in the house, and no stablehands were nearby.

  Lord Ellis only laughed. “I was afraid of that.” Though his lips were still turned up, his eyes were dark and his expression haughty. “London rumors can prove disappointingly inaccurate.” With a shrug, he sauntered toward the door.

  He appeared to be leaving—oh, please let him be leaving. Helena’s gaze stayed anchored on his as he paused before moving outside.

  “However,” he said, his back toward her, “should you find yourself in need of entertainment beyond that provided by a simple Christmas house party, know that I, for one, am willing to explore other options with you.”

  Helena shuddered as he moved out of sight. She reached for a stable door, leaning her full weight against it. She felt hot and then almost immediately cold all over.

  Her situation in London had turned most distressing by the time the season h
ad ended but never had such a thing as this happened to her. She’d been so hopeful Hedgewood Manor would help her move past the scandal of last summer, not dredge it up in even worse ways.

  Helena pulled herself upright. She needed to get back to the house. She couldn’t stand staying out here alone any longer.

  Alone.

  Like she so frequently was. Like she always was.

  Her legs felt unsteady, but she made her way back to the house, regardless. Blessedly, she didn’t see Lord Ellis. How would she face him tonight at dinner? Helena moved inside the house, shut the door, and leaned back against it. She couldn’t think about that right now.

  All she wanted was to not be alone.

  Why had she stayed behind in the stable when Eleanor left? She should have simply returned with her friend, then Lord Ellis would not have . . .

  She shuddered once more. At least he hadn’t actually forced himself upon her. The moment she’d pushed away, he’d released her and left. Helena made her way out to the corridor, glancing about as she walked. Where was Emma? Or Eleanor?

  She heard female voices around the corner and hurried that way. But instead of Emma or Eleanor or Christina, it was Lady Shakerley and Lady Chapman. They walked slowly down the wide corridor, looking at the many portraits lining the wall.

  Helena approached and, as both women turned her way, pulled on a smile.

  “Oh, Helena, dear,” Lady Chapman said. “How was your ride?”

  She didn’t dare speak for fear that her trembling would become obvious, so she only nodded.

  “Are you all right?” Lady Shakerley asked.

  The question brought tears to her eyes. Helena glanced down, willing her nerves to calm.

  An arm stretched around her shoulders and Lady Shakerley pulled her in. “It’s been a rather long Christmas so far, hasn’t it?”