Yuletide Happily Ever After II: An Original Regency Romance Collection

by Anna Bradley

Emma grasped both his hands in her own. “Thank you, Brother. I can’t believe you did all of this. We are going to have the most wonderful Christmas.”

  He leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. “It was all part of my gift to you.” He looked at Lady Markham and then finally at Rose. “And to you, ladies, to say thank you for all you have done for me and Emma.”

  When he straightened back up, Rose met his gaze, sadness no longer in her eyes. She still didn’t look particularly happy. He hoped he could soon change that.

  He returned his attention to Emma. “I did promise some of the servants another half day for their assistance last night. There will be a day next week we may have to fend for ourselves.”

  “It was worth it,” Emma replied and spread her arms wide. “The house looks so cheerful. I can’t wait for it to be full of our friends.”

  He took a seat on the end of a settee near his sister. Rose and her aunt were seated together on an adjoining sopha.

  Livingston padded into the room and wandered over to Rose for a pat. “Where were you last night?” she asked him.

  Thomas answered for the dog, “Livingston was helping me. Well, he helped by chewing up some of the ribbons.”

  They all had a chuckle over that. Lady Markham excused herself to go upstairs.

  “I have some letters I need to write,” Rose said and got to her feet. “You two should talk.”

  He wanted to say something to her, but it could wait.

  When Rose was gone, he asked Emma, “How are you today?”

  “Calmer. I had a lot of time to think last night. I do understand why you lied to me, Thomas. Please do not ever do so again.” She paused. “I am strong enough to manage what life sends my way.”

  He nodded. “You are, Emma. I should have known that. I will never lie to you again. I promise.”

  “Good.” She paused before asking, “Could you carry me to the sopha? I should like to sit as I used to.”

  “Of course,” he replied, his voice gruff. He understood. He stood and went forward to lift her and place her in a leaning position against the arm of the sopha, her legs curled to one side. “Are you all right? No pain?”

  “No pain,” she replied softly and spread her arms out on the sopha. “I feel very good today.”

  He sat in a chair near her. “Lady Rose advised me she wishes to return home the day after Christmas.”

  “Yes, she told me as well.” She nodded. “I wish she could stay. Can you think of a way to convince her to remain at Wickling Manor?”

  “Emma, we have both relied on Rose for too long. I plan to stay home a lot more from now on. If your friend comes here it should be for a visit not to take care of us. Umm... take care of you.” He had been relieved to see Rose didn’t seem as dispirited today as she did last evening. There was no guarantee the lady would welcome a declaration from him. He would wait until the moment presented itself.

  Emma leaned closer and watched him carefully as she asked, “Your nervousness around Rose makes me think you have finally admitted to yourself that you’re in love with her?”

  He had promised not to lie to her. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “It is obvious how you both feel whenever you’re in the same room together.” She paused before demanding, “Are you going to tell her?”

  “Yes.” He shook his head at her inquisitiveness. “All in good time.”

  His sister wrinkled her nose at him. “What are you waiting for?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Rose didn’t really have letters to write. After all, most of her family would be at Wickling Manor on the morrow. It would be wonderful to spend most of the day with her siblings and their spouses. Tomorrow was time enough to tell her brother Ambrose she would return home sooner than later. He would probably be relieved.

  “Sir Thomas may never come up to scratch,” her sister Lottie said to her several months ago when she visited from London. The family had assembled for a summer house party at Marcourt.

  “That isn’t why I go to Wickling Manor,” she’d replied quickly and quietly. The last thing she needed was for her brother to overhear the conversation.

  Lottie’s response was a look of disbelief.

  Her other sister Iris had been the closest of the family to Sir Thomas. At least before her marriage to Lord Chastain. When Lottie asked Iris’s opinion, Iris merely said, “It will take an extraordinary woman to win the heart of our Sir Thomas.”

  Rose agreed with both her sisters. Sir Thomas would never see her as a prospective bride. She would enjoy these last two days at the manor. When she returned to Marcourt Hall her new life, a life spent without pining after Thomas, would begin.

  “Will the white gown do for tomorrow?” Mary asked, interrupting her mistress’s thoughts.

  “Yes, thank you, Mary.” Rose was seated at a lovely rosewood writing desk, her notebook with her latest fox family story in front of her.

  Although she didn’t feel like writing, she would stay in her bedchamber for the moment. Thomas and Emma needed time alone to sort through family business.

  Dinner that evening was to be a light affair, the next day’s feast being the highlight of the week. Tomorrow morning, they would attend church in the nearby village of Braxton and return to the manor with her family. Emma had several parlor games planned. Abigail had suggested Buffy Gruffy and Thomas asked for Snapdragon which the ladies as a whole thought was far too dangerous. Rose was looking forward to the table that would be laden with sweets: gingerbread, marzipan and mince pies.

  “Mary, my plans have changed,” she said lightly without looking up from her notebook. “We will return to Marcourt the day after next. You will still have the day to yourself when we arrive home.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Mary replied softly.

  Rose looked at the maid. The girl chewed on her lip. Mary might have questions, but she could not ask them. Rose returned her gaze to the blank page in front of her, wishing one of her sisters was there to confide in.

  Her desk was positioned in front of one of the windows in the bedchamber. She was surprised to see a travelling coach turn down the long drive. Once the coach pulled into the forecourt Rose stood up and went to the other window in the room that overlooked the front of the house so she could look down and see who would alight from the carriage.

  A footman handed a woman with a wide-brimmed hat out of the coach. The woman looked up for a moment as if aware she was being watched. Despite only a brief look at the face of the former occupant of the carriage, Rose was afraid she recognized the lady from her painting in the gallery.

  “Oh no,” she whispered with a groan. “It seems Lady Childs is no longer in Paris.”

  * * * * *

  He exited the drawing room with Emma’s blessing, determined to speak with Lady Rose. Thomas could only hope she wasn’t angry with him and would consent to an open door conversation in his study. He would begin by apologizing to her for anything he could think of. If the conversation went well, perhaps he would tell her of his feelings for her.

  “Thomas.” He flinched at the sugary tones of the high-pitched voice. “Come and greet your mother.”

  Despite his wishing he was caught in a nightmare, his mother stood before him, looking fresh, her clothing unwrinkled. She couldn’t have travelled far that day.

  Lady Beatrice Childs removed the large feathered hat from her head and held it out, ostensibly waiting for any available servant to take it. His mother had never been one to acknowledge their domestic help or thank them for their efforts.

  “Hello, Mother.” He stepped forward and the lady held out a gloved hand. He took it and kissed it briefly as if they were on the Continent. Her expensive tuberose perfume drifted to him. “Perhaps you would like to follow me to my study. We can talk in private there.”

  “Nonsense,” she replied with a tinkling laugh although her hazel eyes were as hard as flint. “I must see to my poor daughter. Where is Emma?”

  He glanced down the corrid
or toward the drawing room before he caught himself.

  “In the drawing room, is she?” The petite bundle of energy that was his mother stepped quickly past him and hurried down the corridor.

  There was nothing for it. He strode after her and entered the room to see his mother rush forward to where Emma was seated on the sopha. She leaned in to hug her daughter.

  “My little girl!”

  Emma’s eyes were wide, her face stricken. She held out her hands to ward off their mother’s embrace. “Madam! Please do not touch me. Why are you here?”

  “It’s Christmas, darling.” Their mother straightened and stepped backward, a too bright smile on her face. “I came to see my children.”

  Emma’s expression became closed, her eyes watchful. He was glad to see she wasn’t moved to tears. He would remain silent unless his sister needed his support.

  “Why did you really come here? Are you out of funds?” Emma raised her chin, her tone scathing.

  “How could you ask me such a thing, my dear? I merely wanted to see you on Christmas Eve.” She took a seat in the chair he had recently vacated. Her movements slow and measured, rearranging her skirts as if she had all the time in the world to settle herself.

  “Thomas said the roads were nearly impassable,” Emma replied. “You couldn’t have recently travelled all the way from Paris or London.”

  He’d wondered the same thing.

  She shrugged. “I was at an estate nearby.”

  The nerve of the woman knew no bounds. To be so close by and only call at the manor now. He supposed Emma was right and their mother was out of funds.

  “Then you may return there,” Emma replied, her voice brittle. “There is nothing for you here.”

  There was a long silence. He saw a muscle twitch in his mother’s cheek. “I cannot return.”

  No explanation was forthcoming. He imagined Emma was thinking some of the same thoughts as himself. Had their mother been with a lover and been thrown out? Was she at Wickling Manor simply because she had nowhere else to go?

  “The dower house is unoccupied,” he said into a long tense silence. “I can have it readied for you within the hour. You may reside there until you make other plans.”

  His mother grimaced. “I think we can do better than that, Thomas.” She smiled, a wicked twist of her lips that held no joy. “We don’t want to upset Emma.”

  “I know everything, Mother.” Emma shook her head and sighed. “None of it matters anymore.”

  The poise with which Emma said the words took him aback. She looked well in control of her emotions.

  A commotion at the doorway heralded the arrival of Lady Markham, Lady Rose and Livingston.

  “Oh dear, it is Lady Childs,” Lady Markham said to Rose in an arch voice as she entered the room.

  “Lady Markham,” his mother said regally as she inclined her head. She didn’t acknowledge Rose, but frowned at the presence of a dog in the room.

  “Lady Childs,” Lady Markham replied, her eyes and voice cold.

  “Does not my Emma look lovely? Her dark hair is curly like someone else I once knew. And the shape of her nose. Quite a remarkable resemblance.” His mother’s eyes had narrowed on the face of the other lady, her expression one of triumph.

  Lady Markham’s jaw hardened.

  “As your son stated, I think you would be most comfortable in the dower house,” the lady replied. “Should you wish to return to France you may want to behave in a civilized fashion. I have many friends on the Continent.”

  His mother looked about the room. “This is my home.”

  He shook his head. “It is no longer your home. I plan to be married very soon. You may choose to reside in the dower house or leave the estate.”

  “Married?” His mother laughed. “Once I tell the world how your father really died no proper lady would marry you.”

  “I would.” Rose stepped forward to stand beside him. She looked up at him, her eyes roaming over his face. “I would be honored to be his wife.”

  “I recognize you. You’re Lady Rose. The little girl who used to run after my son.” When Rose switched her gaze to his mother she added, “Oh my dear, Thomas doesn’t love you. Although that may be for the best. My husband was absolutely besotted with me. It was very tiresome.”

  There were gasps from Emma and Rose. He balled his hands into fists and took a few breaths.

  “I do love Rose,” he said, his voice ringing out in the silent room.

  She couldn’t believe her ears. Even if he’d merely said it to thwart his mother, she would tell him how she felt. “Thomas, I love you too. I always have.”

  He smiled down at her. “It just took me some time to catch up.”

  “This is all very interesting,” his mother said in a bored voice. “Would someone ring for a servant? I should like to be in the dower house before nightfall.”

  “I will see to it,” he replied. “Come with me, Mother.”

  His tone brooked no argument. He decided if she didn’t do as she was asked, he would lift her bodily and carry her from the room.

  Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face as his mother merely said, “Very well.”

  “Excuse me,” he said to the other women in the drawing room. Rose and Lady Markham still stood near the doorway.

  His mother said nothing at all as she exited the room behind him. Not even a word of goodbye for her daughter.

  When they reached the entry hall, he instructed a footman to alert the housekeeper that there would be a resident in the dower house. The servant nodded and hurried to do as asked.

  “Follow me,” he said to his mother and continued on his way. She followed, remaining silent.

  When they were both in the study, he shut the door and sat behind his desk. He didn’t wait for his mother to be seated, offered her no refreshment. Instead of taking a seat, his mother walked to the liquor tray on a low table in the room and poured herself a glass of claret. She drank it down in one swallow before setting the glass on the tray and taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  “You may reside in the dower house as long as you wish,” he said. “After you leave my house you are not to return to Wickling Manor. You are not welcome here. Do I make myself clear?”

  “And what if I don’t agree?” she narrowed her eyes on his face, her teeth clenched.

  “I will tell the world how my father really died. Revive the old gossip about your lovers.” He paused. “No one will want you in their home. You will be an outcast in society. Your notoriety would follow you wherever you go.”

  “I think you just might be serious,” she replied with a frown.

  He nodded. “Test me.”

  The past didn’t matter. He would let it control him no longer. If the truth were known, the scandal of suicide would take generations to cleanse. So be it. Lady Markham had stood by him, her family would as well. And Rose loved him. Loved him despite it all.

  He smiled. “You can’t hurt us anymore. Emma and I are happy. We don’t need you. I have a wonderful life ahead of me.”

  She made no reply, just stared at him in stony silence.

  He stood up. “Goodbye, Mother. Someone will collect you when the dower house is ready. I wish you all the best, but I don’t think I should like to see you ever again.”

  Without waiting for a response, he strode from the room. His future with Rose was waiting for him and he was ready for it to begin.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Rose told herself she’d purged all finer feelings for Sir Thomas the day she’d been rejected by him when she was twelve years old. Lord Peake was just as handsome she reasoned, as was her dance instructor. It was easy to make her family think she was enamored of any man other than Sir Thomas Childs.

  Until Emma’s accident. The first few weeks she could do little but sit with her friend and comfort her. Once Emma got rid of her nurse and came to terms with her disability, Rose found time to speak more with Sir Thomas, even comfort
him to some extent.

  By the time he left for London for business the first time after the accident, she’d given up telling herself she was no longer in love with the baronet. Her sisters had guessed the truth and now she knew Emma had as well.

  And now Thomas said he loved her. Had he meant it or was it merely said to irritate his mother? Rose knew Sir Thomas Childs was an honorable man. If he said he loved her, he meant it.

  “Thank goodness!” Aunt Abigail took a seat on the edge of the settee Emma was seated on. She looked at the young woman beside her. “I wasn’t sure he would ever tell her.”

  “He did take his time,” Emma replied with a giggle.

  Abigail leaned close to Emma and whispered, “I imagine your brother will return any moment. Should we give them some privacy, Miss Emma?”

  “That is a splendid idea, Lady Markham,” Emma replied. “Rose, please fetch a footman for me.”

  Shaking her head at the two women who were happy to talk about her and around her, Emma did as she was asked.

  “Bailey, please help me into my chair,” Emma said to the servant who followed Rose back into the room. When she was seated, she waved him off. “I think Lady Markham is more than able to push me to my rooms.”

  “I would love to,” her aunt said. “Why don’t you show me some of your work. You know, Lady Cairs tells me you are a very talented artist.”

  And then they were both gone with nary a word to her. It appeared the two women had become fast friends. Rose plunked down on a blue trimmed mahogany settee and a moment later Thomas entered the room.

  “You’re alone,” he said, looking about him.

  “Aunt Abigail and your sister thought we needed to talk,” she said shyly. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Would she ever not blush in his presence?

  He walked to the hearth and stood looking at the flames. “It really is a wonderful Christmas fire.”

  “It is.”

  “My mother is not to come to the house again. Ever.” He put a hand on the mantle and let out a long sigh. He must allay any fears Rose might have about his mother before he spoke of a life together.