Yuletide Happily Ever After II: An Original Regency Romance Collection

by Anna Bradley

  Oliver stared at her, speechless. For God’s sake, did they all think he’d taken Lady Serena as his mistress? How in the world could they ever think he’d choose—

  His gaze shot to Dinah, who was looking anywhere but at him.

  Ah, now it was starting to make sense. He should have guessed it at once. Dinah had told Penelope he’d made Lady Serena his mistress, Penelope had told Will, and now his entire family was in despair over his imminent ruin.

  This rankled as well, but he couldn’t really blame them. If they supposed he was bedding Lady Serena, it was no wonder Willian had insisted Oliver return to Cliff’s Edge. Lady Serena had ruined the health and fortunes of more than one gentleman, and now she had her claws into Erskine.

  “You must go to Cliff’s Edge, Oliver. I insist on it. I won’t leave here until you promise to go.”

  Dinah’s eyes flashed with temper, and Oliver stared at her, transfixed. Those dark blue eyes of hers…damnation. How could she expect him to do anything other than fall in love with her, with those eyes?

  But he didn’t say so. He couldn’t speak to her about love—not until she agreed to listen to him—and if she had her way, that would be never. She’d done a remarkably good job of avoiding him these past few weeks. How was he meant to win her heart if she refused to ever see him?

  Dinah was waiting, her foot tapping anxiously. “I’ll have your word on this, Oliver.”

  He stared at her, an idea taking shape in his mind. It wasn’t fair—not at all—but he’d happily tolerate a twinge or two of guilt if it meant winning the hand of his chosen lady. Whoever had said desperate times called for desperate measures had surely been in love.

  “Perhaps I could see fit to go.” Oliver tapped a finger against his lips, as if considering it. “That is, under certain conditions.”

  Dinah gave him a suspicious look. “What conditions?”

  Oliver met her gaze, his heart pounding. “I want you to come with me.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Go to Cliff’s Edge with you? You know I can’t, Oliver. I’ve got the pantomime at the Playhouse. Why, Silas will go mad if I leave on such short notice!”

  “Not if you tell him Lord and Lady Archer have summoned you to Essex.” Silas Bragg, the manager of the Pandemonium Playhouse would push Dinah out the door himself if he thought it would gain him Will and Penelope’s favor. “Every actress in the theater knows your part. He’ll find someone else to take it.”

  “But I can’t possibly…I didn’t intend…I’m not prepared for the trip.” Dinah paced from one end of the room to the other, her brow furrowed.

  “It would please Lady Archer if you came. I know she pleaded with you to join us at Cliff’s Edge for Christmas. Really, Miss Bishop, I don’t know how you can refuse her, given how anxious she is about Baby Angel.”

  Penelope and Will’s first child would arrive early in the new year. Until he or she was born, the child was affectionately referred to by all the family as Baby Angel.

  Dinah stopped in the middle of the room, a guilty flush rising in her cheeks.

  Oliver nearly gave in when he saw that flush, but this wasn’t the time to succumb to a fit of the vapors, for God’s sake. He braced himself with a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I see you don’t like it. Well, no matter. We’ll both remain in London, then. Just as well, really. Travel is such a bother.”

  I nearly have her…

  Oliver clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, as if didn’t matter one way or the other to him, but underneath his casual manner he was holding his breath. Dinah’s next words would seal his lonely fate or ensure his future happiness.

  Her happiness, as well. He was certain she loved him, even if she wasn’t. Until Dinah dared to trust love, Oliver would just have to trust in it enough for them both.

  He waited, a thousand lifetimes passing by as she made her decision. His hopes soared and then crashed with every fleeting expression on her face, until at last she heaved a deep sigh.

  “It never ceases to amaze me how you contrive to get your way every time. Very well, I’ll go. It’s only a day or two, in any case. What difference can a few days make?”

  Far more than you can ever imagine.

  Indeed, he was counting on it.

  Dinah left soon afterwards. A little while later Grim peered cautiously around the study door and let out a relieved breath when he saw she’d gone. “Will you go to Cliff’s Edge after all then, my lord?”

  “Listening at the door again?” Oliver laughed when Grim flushed bright red. “Tomorrow morning, and you’re coming with us. Tell me, Grim. Do I look like a man about to embark on a courtship?”

  “A courtship, my lord?”

  “Yes, indeed. As soon as the coach door closes behind us, I intend to begin courting Miss Bishop.”

  “Courtship in a coach, my lord?” Grim looked doubtful. “That isn’t the usual sort of thing, is it?”

  Oliver grinned. “No, Grim, it isn’t. Not at all.”

  But Dinah Bishop wasn’t the usual sort of lady.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lord Oliver’s traveling coach

  Early morning, December 27th

  They weren’t even an hour into their journey before Dinah realized the depths of her folly in letting Oliver cajole her into this scheme.

  She turned from the window to study him. He was lounging on the seat across from her, one booted foot dangling across his knee and his arm thrown over the back of the carriage seat. His dark hair was charmingly disheveled, and his dimple flirted at the corner of his mouth with every twitch of his lips, as if it were playing a game of hide-and-seek.

  That blasted dimple. She’d always been wary of its potency, but never more so than now, when she was trapped alone in a coach with him.

  Best to avoid looking at him altogether—

  “If you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Bishop, you look as if you could use a little Christmas escapade.” Oliver’s dimples flashed in a sly smile, as if he’d read her mind and was determined to make her look at him.

  Dinah crossed her arms over her chest, nettled. “I don’t like Christmas escapades.” She didn’t care much for escapades at any time of year, escapades being, in her opinion tedious, bothersome things that led more often to disappointment than pleasure.

  In the worst cases, they led to disaster.

  Oliver waved this objection away. “Everyone likes a Christmas escapade, and in any case, you couldn’t send me off to Cliff’s Edge alone in my weakened state.”

  “How are you weakened? You look perfectly fit to me. Not a single festering wound or pistol ball embedded in you anywhere.” Oliver looked better than fit. So much better Dinah was obliged to tear her gaze away from the sight of his lean, muscled form.

  “Fit! What about my injuries?” He gestured to the cut above his eye. “It still bleeds now and then, you know. Really, how can you be so hard-hearted?”

  Dinah rolled her eyes. She wasn’t hard-hearted enough, otherwise she wouldn’t be in the coach with him at all. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “You are, indeed, and we’ll have a merry enough time together as long as you’re prepared to indulge my every whim.”

  “It’s only a day’s journey, my lord. I doubt we’ll have time to indulge them all.”

  “May I choose the ones we do indulge?” Oliver asked, his lips quirking in a lazy smile.

  Dinah’s gaze wandered to those hypnotic dimples again and a resigned sigh left her lips. If she wasn’t careful, she might well find herself indulging his every whim.

  Very well, then. It was back to not looking at him.

  She turned her face to the window and watched as Tottenham gave way to Palmer’s Green, and Palmer’s Green to Enfield. The sumptuous velvet seats cradled her exhausted limbs, and the monotonous swaying rocked her until her eyelids grew heavy and she leaned her head against the glass.

  “Yes, that’s it. You’ll feel much better after a rest.” Oliver’s voice was
low and soothing. There was a faint rustle, then he tucked something soft and warm around her shoulders. The last thing she remembered before she drifted off to sleep was gentle fingers brushing her hair back from her face.

  She woke from a peaceful doze much later, a startled cry on her lips. Her head was fuzzy with sleep, and it was some moments before she realized she’d been thrust into wakefulness with a hard jolt.

  She’d had a dream she was falling…

  Where was she? Not in her bed. It was far too warm and comfortable. Quiet, too, without the usual shouts and curses from the street below, and not even a hint of the dusty smell of damp and mildew that always assaulted her upon waking.

  Instead it smelled divine, like vanilla and cedar with a touch of citrus. Dinah’s nose twitched with pleasure as she inhaled the familiar scent. It was J Floris’s Malmaison—she’d know it anywhere, because it reminded her of—

  Oliver.

  Yes, of course. She remembered now. She’d gone to Mayfair yesterday morning to fetch Oliver, he’d come down looking as if he’d been trampled by a horse, and the next thing she knew, she’d agreed to go to Cliff’s Edge with him. They were in the coach on their way there now.

  She wasn’t sure how he’d talked her into it, but then Oliver was very, very good at coaxing. He could wheedle the feathers from a bird, the cream from a cat—

  “Shall I return you to your seat, or would you prefer to remain where you are?” A husky voice rumbled nearby, and soft breath tickled her ear. “You’re quite welcome to stay.”

  Stay? Yes, perhaps she would. She quite liked it here. Something warm and solid was wrapped around her, and her cheek was resting on a pillow of fresh linen. She tilted her head back and saw a white cravat tied neatly under a strong, angular jaw shaded with a faint trace of bristly black hair.

  Black hair? What—

  Dinah’s eyes snapped wide open, the last vestiges of sleep evaporating. She wasn’t just in the coach with Oliver—she was on his lap—and her cheek wasn’t resting on a pillow—it was resting on his chest.

  Dinah leapt free of his arms as if her skirts had caught fire. She shot him a baleful look once she was safely on her side of the carriage, but Oliver only gave her an innocent grin. “I beg your pardon. We had a bit of a jolt. I was obliged to catch you before you tumbled off your seat.”

  “I see. Were you obliged to wrap your arms around me, too?”

  “I thought you might be cold. You were shivering,” Oliver replied, looking affronted.

  Dinah pinched her lips together. For a gentleman who was so frequently up to mischief, he certainly managed to look incredulous when he was accused of it. “Why have we stopped?”

  She peered out her window. It was later than she’d expected—well into the afternoon already, and a light snow was drifting down from the sky.

  “The coachman was obliged to stop for a rather stubborn herd of cows who insisted upon taking up the whole of the passable bit of the road.”

  Dinah frowned. “I don’t see any cows.”

  “Well, no. Not anymore. They’ve gone on their way, but Rundell & Bridge aren’t fond of cows, and they don’t care for this coachman. They’re refusing to go.” Oliver’s head coachman had been given leave to visit his family for the holidays, so they had a hired coachman on the box.

  “Rundell and Bridge? You named your horses after the London jewelers?”

  “Yes, because they’re as perfect as a matched set of pearls. Now the cows have cleared off, I daresay we’ll be on our way as soon as the horses are over their fit of temper.”

  Dinah glanced out the window again. They should be near Chelmsford by now, but the road didn’t look familiar. “Where are we? I don’t recognize this road.”

  “We’re in Plumstead.” Oliver grinned with delight, as if Plumstead were the only place in the world anyone would care to be on a snowy afternoon in December.

  “Plumstead? Cliff’s Edge is in Essex, Oliver. What are we doing in Kent?”

  “Alistair Rutherford lives in Kent,” Oliver said, as if this explained everything.

  Dinah stared at him. “I’m pleased for Alistair Rutherford, but what are we doing here?”

  Oliver sighed, as if she were being very troublesome. “Rutherford’s Scottish, you see—from Bowmore. He fetched a cask of whisky for me last time he was there, and I’ve come to collect it.”

  “You couldn’t secure a cask of whisky in London?”

  “Not Rutherford’s whisky, and his is the best. It’s a Christmas gift for Christopher. Do you think he’ll like it?”

  Lord Christopher had a bit of a wild streak, just like his two elder brothers. Lord Christopher with a cask of whisky at his disposal was sure to lead to a debacle. “I think he’ll be delighted with it. Whether Lord Archer will think it’s as delightful is less certain.”

  “I’ve arranged for gifts for everyone.” Oliver stretched his long legs out in front of him and leaned back against the squabs with a comfortable grunt, the tips of his boots brushing her hems.

  Dinah jerked her skirts back.

  Christmas gifts sounded innocent enough. Too innocent. “What are you up to, Oliver?”

  “Me? Why, not a thing. I just have a stop or two on our way to Cliff’s Edge to fetch a few gifts. That doesn’t sound too wicked, does it? I even have a gift for you, Miss Bishop.”

  Dinah stiffened. It had been years since she’d received a gift for Christmas. She never expected any, and it was best to keep it that way. “I don’t want any gifts.”

  “Nonsense. Everyone wants gifts for Christmas. I wouldn’t dream of appearing at Cliff’s Edge empty-handed.” He gave her a reproachful look. “There’s no need to look so put-upon. Plumstead isn’t so very far out of our way.”

  “It’s south of London, Oliver. Cliff’s Edge is north.” It was more than an hour out of their way, and another hour to get back on the road toward Chelmsford.

  Oliver shrugged, as if two hours was too insignificant to warrant a second thought. “I can’t imagine why you’re making such a fuss. We’ll be back on the road and on our way to Cliff’s Edge soon enough.”

  It couldn’t be soon enough for Dinah. For reasons she didn’t care to examine, it made her nervous to be alone in the coach with him. He was too…too…enticing, not to mention devious. If she’d known her nap would lead to a detour to Kent, she never would have—

  Dinah jerked upright in her seat and fixed Oliver with an accusing glare. “No wonder you were so anxious for me to fall asleep! You lured me into a nap so you could whisk us off to Plumstead without my having a chance to protest!”

  Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Lured? My, you are suspicious, aren’t you? It was nothing so nefarious as that. You were fatigued, so I encouraged you to rest. That’s all.”

  Dinah subsided against the cushioned seat with a huff. “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t drag me all the way to Scotland to fetch Lord Christopher’s whisky.”

  “Scotland? Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going south, but only as far as Sittingbourne.”

  “Sittingbourne? That’ll take ages!” Dinah hadn’t meant to let out quite such a screech, but before she could apologize the horses leapt forward with a start, and just like that they were moving again.

  Oliver beamed at her. “Well done, Miss Bishop! I didn’t realize you were capable of such a shriek. We’ll have to remember that the next time Rundell and Bridge refuse to move.”

  Next time? Dear God, how often did it happen? Between Oliver and his high-strung horses, a simple journey from London to Essex was turning into a days’ long scamper across the English countryside.

  She was as foolish as every other lady in London, letting Oliver Angel cajole her into this as if she were a bird-witted debutante. She let out another huff, but the dark emotion swelling in her breast didn’t feel like anger.

  It felt like fear.

  There were times when she thought Oliver could talk her into anything.

  *****

&nbs
p; If Oliver had realized a shriek would get the horses moving again, he would have mentioned Sittingbourne an hour ago. If Rundell and Bridge had gotten over their snit sooner, there might still be a chance they’d reach Cliff’s Edge tonight.

  As it was, it didn’t look promising.

  Oliver glanced out the window and a grimace twisted his lips. Darkness would fall soon, and there was the smell of more snow in the air.

  A brief stop in Plumstead had seemed safe enough. If an English gentleman wanted fine Scottish whisky, he went to see Alistair Rutherford. It was as simple as that.

  But what had seemed simple at the outset was turning more complicated by the moment. Alistair Rutherford was a kindly fellow, the sort who’d insist on their staying the night if the weather proved uncooperative, but Oliver would have to find some way to explain Dinah’s presence in his carriage.

  He’d be damned if she was mistaken for his mistress. Dinah might not think of herself as a lady, but Oliver did. He wouldn’t have her insulted, but an unmarried lady traveling alone in a coach with a man who, despite having given up his profligate ways, was still regarded in some circles as a Tainted Angel? No, that wouldn’t do. Oliver was going to have to conjure up a chaperone for her, but chaperones, alas, were scarce on the ground in Plumstead.

  There was only one thing for it, but it was going to be a tricky bit of business.

  When they reached Rutherford Hall, he handed Dinah down from the carriage and motioned to Grim to follow them. He rapped smartly on the door, and after a brief delay Rutherford himself appeared. When he saw Oliver, a smile spread over his face. “Well, Angel! How do you do?”

  Rutherford was holding a little girl by the hand. She was six or seven years old, with wide brown eyes fixed curiously on the visitors. One of Rutherford’s many grandchildren, no doubt. He’d been married for thirty years to a pink-cheeked, white-haired lady who’d borne him eight children. Those eight children had gone on to give their proud parents twelve grandchildren.

  Twelve, and counting.

  “Come in, come in. You’ll catch a chill standing there.” Rutherford waved them inside. A half-dozen laughing imps were running about the entryway, there was a scent of spiced apples in the air, and fresh greenery was piled on every surface. Rutherford Hall was, in short, the essence of holiday cheer.