His lips pressed together. “Do you remember the day we visited Old Bill’s grave?”
“Of course. That day my whole life changed.”
He looked down. “The secret I couldn’t tell you.”
“Yes. Because it belonged to someone else. I’m guessing Tristan?”
He nodded. “Two years ago, he almost died…because of me.”
All the air left her lungs. “What?” But she didn’t know if he even heard her.
“We were drunk, and I wanted to take a shorter route to our next engagement. Four men set upon us, and we fought, but I…I was knocked down. When I woke, Tristan was on the ground, bleeding. He’d been stabbed.”
Cassie knelt before him. “What are you saying?”
“He took on those men alone and saved me, but it almost cost him his life. We got to safety, and for two days, he didn’t wake. When he did, he swore me to secrecy.”
“This is what you’ve been keeping from me? From my family?”
He nodded, not meeting her eyes. “Every time I look at you, at your parents, it feels like I’m lying to you. I’m not the man you all think me to be. I was reckless and arrogant, and it nearly cost him his life.”
Cassie covered her face. Relieved and…irrationally angry. All this time. For two whole years, he’d lived with this burden all because…. She snorted with laughter.
“What the devil is there to laugh about?”
Cassie stood and wiped tears from her eyes. “Tristan is your Old Bill.”
“What?”
“The thing you fear. The burden you can’t get over, that no one else but you understands. I can imagine what it felt like to keep that to yourself all this time. I’m sorry he did that to you.”
He blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Tristan, he made you keep this secret, probably because he knew my father would lose his head—”
“He almost died!” Sidney said angrily. “If your father had seen what I’d seen—the paleness and coldness of his skin, the lifeless stare in his eyes—your father might have died. Your mother…she would have wept uncontrollably. And you—don’t you see? This is why I couldn’t tell you. Tristan knew we needed to spare the lot of you the unbearable pain I felt. The sheer guilt is enough—” He swallowed.
Her poor husband, so cool and reserved, stoic, logical. He cared so deeply for all of them. How heavy this secret must have been.
“You’re right,” Cassie said. “You protected us.”
“I—I…lied to you all. Over and over. How can you ever trust me?”
“You did it because one, Tristan asked you to and you are a steadfast friend. Two, because you knew the hurt it would cause us. But you didn’t think about the hurt it would cause you. But I will.” Cassie brushed her fingers though his hair.
“I won’t tell you to let it go, but I will say that you are strong enough to bear this burden, and I will help you. You are a good man, Sidney Anthem. And I’ve always known that. It’s one of the reasons I love you so very very much. Do you hear me?”
She tilted his chin up until his gaze met hers.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said. “I love you.”
“Yes, you do. You saved my brother. You were hurt that night too and could have easily been killed. Tristan loves you. He fought four men to save you both. Now you have to live the rest of your life as his brother. Some might say that is punishment enough for your sins.”
“Don’t tease,” he bid.
Cassie kissed him. “I can’t help it. But I am here for you when you feel overwhelmed by this, just like you were there for me. I promise I will listen when you need to talk about it. Talking about Old Bill with you made it better. There isn’t a way to fix or erase what happened, but just having someone else who knows is enough. It was for me.”
“I really helped you?”
“Sometimes I still dream of him, but my dreams are different. You gave me that. I’ll walk past his grave and see him running in the field. I’d like to think…he’s telling me he is well.”
“I don’t know if I can ever feel ambivalent about that night. That’s all right too. I’m not asking you to forget, but please forgive yourself. You are not those four men. You are not the villain in this story. Even wounded yourself, you were able to save him.”
“Untie my hands,” he said.
“Why?”
“I need to hold you.”
Cassie grinned and loosened the rope. “You could have gotten out of this if you really wanted to.”
“I know, but part of me needed to be forced to sit and speak to you about this. Just don’t tell Calvin.”
“I won’t, but I can’t speak for the twins.”
Sidney cursed. “I’ll never hear the end of this.”
He pulled Cassie into his lap, and they kissed, his arms coming around her, holding her tightly. Cassie hoped that he would find the same peace she did after confessing her fears. She prayed that her love would be enough to bury his guilt at last, so they could be free of his past and move forward together as one, as they were always meant to be.
Pounding on the stable door interrupted their kiss.
“Argh, ye be done yet?” Clara called. “Miss Grace says we can have hot chocolate if we go inside.”
Cassie and Sidney laughed as they broke the kiss.
Cassie smiled, her heart full. “I want two daughters just like them.”
He smiled. “Two daughters? What about sons?”
“We can have two of those too.”
“My house will never be quiet again.”
Cassie crawled off his lap. “Is that so terrible?”
“No. It sounds like heaven.”
About Dayna Quince
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A Scandal Before Christmas
by April Moran
For James
Always
Beneath a sprig of mistletoe
I found my love.
And stole from those lips
The beat of my heart.
Only to return it
A thousand times o’er.
A thousand wicked kisses
Just before Christmas
At the stroke of midnight.
Chapter 1
Just south of Stratford, England
December, 1840
Lady Lauren Georgianna Kendall considered returning to London as the coach trudged along.
But it had taken almost forty-eight hours to come this far, and she was close to her destination.
It was so cold. No, it was more than that. It was positively freezing, the wind cutting with such sharp bitterness, she wondered how anyone could stand it.
A loud snap of the reins reminded Lauren of the driver handling the coach in such foul weather. Sympathy flashed through her. She hoped his coat, and that of the horses, too, proved thick enough to withstand the biting wind.
Yesterday, it had taken only a few hours on the train to travel from London to the tiny town of Farringdon. The train’s passenger car was relatively luxurious, with emerald colored seats and brass lanterns. Lauren’s maid, Anne, sat with her while Ollie, Lord Kendall’s former manservant, traveled in a separate area along with other male servants. Anne practically bounced on the richly hued velvet, excited by her first train ride.
Debarking in Farringdon for the next leg of the trip, Lauren immediately hired this coach upon the train master’s recommendation. But the four-in-hand vehicle, jostling over the ruts and holes in the road, was certainl
y a reminder of more primitive travel. Snowdrifts impeded their progress, stretching the time it would normally take to reach Settleton Hall in Stratford. For the safety of the driver and the horses, they’d spent the previous night at a cozy inn along the way.
Turning back for London was not an option at this point. Viscount and Viscountess Settleton were expecting her, and besides, Mother would not allow her cousin’s invitation to be declined anyway. She insisted Lauren go, even if it meant going alone.
“I hope Lady Kendall is feeling better.” Anne snuggled under the carriage blanket, propping her boots beside Lauren’s on the tin can of coals keeping the coach’s interior on the edge of being warm. On the opposite seat, Ollie was fast asleep, wedged upright in the corner. The man would have ridden up top with the driver, but because he’d nearly frozen to death the day before, Lauren insisted he ride inside the coach today.
“Mrs. Townsend is taking excellent care of her,” Lauren replied. In fact, their housekeeper treated Lady Kendall as if she were the Queen herself.
Her mother was recuperating from a recent illness. She could not travel with the bitterly cold weather currently gripping England.
When Lauren said she would remain home and continue caring for her, Mother objected at once.
“No, you simply mustn’t miss it, Lauren,” her mother claimed in an almost panicked tone.
Lauren swallowed the lump of guilt rising in her throat. She’d spent a year mourning her father’s death. But when the opportunity presented itself, she readily escaped London. Did that make her a terrible daughter? The fact she was so eager to experience gaiety and laughter again? Even with her mother’s blessing, she wondered if she was doing the right thing.
Lauren’s jaw tightened. She could, and would, venture out into society. She was her own woman now, responsible for herself and her decisions. There was only one person to whom she would have answered, had matters progressed as planned.
Fisting the coach blanket in agitation, she told herself she would not think of “that day.”
But that was impossible.
The call had not been a pleasant one. Just a week following her father’s funeral, Lauren faced her betrothed. There, in the drawing room of her parents’ Mayfair home, she broke off her engagement with the man who had stolen her heart.
Even now, her heart clenched painfully at the memory.
“It’s good you decided to go to Stratford, milady. You deserve a chance to make merry,” Anne said, her teeth chattering. “Although I do wish it were warmer.”
“I do as well,” Lauren agreed softly, pulled from her memories. “We should be there soon, I think.”
It wasn’t much longer that a knock on the coach roof alerted them of their imminent arrival at their destination.
Ollie sat up with a start while Anne giggled.
“Have we arrived, milady?” He removed his spectacles, blinking like an owl at the two women.
“It appears we have.” Lauren adjusted her cloak, lifting the coach’s small window curtain to see the house come into view down a long, tree-lined drive. She pretended not to see the wink the servant gave her maid. She was well aware of the budding romance between the two of them and thought it quite sweet.
Accepting the coachman’s hand as she descended the coach steps, Lauren was immediately bundled within an oversized blanket of blue tartan. It must have been warmed by the fire, for it was toasty, smelling of chestnuts and cinnamon. She inhaled the scent with appreciation while tucking her hands within her ermine muff.
“Let’s get you out of this wind, my dear,” George, her cousin’s husband, stated cheerfully. The viscount pulled Lauren along, his larger form blocking the stronger winds as they hurried up the manor’s steps. Behind them, servants helped Anne and Ollie with the baggage.
Several guests were gathered in the large foyer, and in the midst of the merry confusion, Lauren was warmly embraced by her cousin, Penelope.
“My dear Lauren, it is wonderful to see you after so many months. We’ve been so worried for your arrival with the temperamental weather.” The viscountess squeezed Lauren tight then held her away so she could better look her over. “Still as lovely as ever, but you are too thin. No worries, though. We shall remedy that well enough over the next few weeks.”
Lauren grinned, gratified that marriage apparently agreed with Penelope. Her cousin’s face still glowed as it had after her wedding to the earl just two years before.
“I see you still like to meddle,” Lauren teased.
“Guilty, I’m afraid.” A spark of something lit Penelope’s soft blue eyes. “I hope you forgive me for it, too.”
“How can I not? Thank you for inviting me for Christmas. I’m so sorry Mother could not accompany me.”
“I do hope she is feeling better. I’m sure the past few months have been very difficult.”
Lauren nodded as the chatter around them ebbed and flowed. Her cousin must have invited nearly two dozen people to spend the holidays at Settleton. It was a lively mix of people. Some she knew, a few she did not.
Hopefully, the scandal created when she broke off her engagement the year before had died down. Every now and then, Lauren accepted a kiss on the cheek or a handshake of greeting while continuing her conversation with Penelope. The atmosphere of acceptance was reassuring. She thought she might face more censure, even among this tight-knit group of people her cousin considered friends and family, but it appeared that was not the case at all.
“Mother is much improved. Not well enough for travel, of course, but she would not be dissuaded from my attending the festivities,” Lauren replied.
Penelope, who at twenty-five was older than Lauren by two years, tilted her head just as George wrapped an arm around her waist.
“So, Lauren, you haven’t decided to return to London?” he inquired with a raised brow.
Penelope looked vaguely distressed as Lauren laughed. Whipping the tartan blanket and her heavy traveling cloak from her shoulders, she handed the items off to a servant. “I’ve only arrived, Lord Settleton! You won’t get rid of me so easily, I’m afraid.”
Penelope bit her lip as the noise in the foyer abruptly ground to a halt. “Lauren, my dearest, there is something I must tell—”
It suddenly felt as though the tension in the room spiked by several degrees. An immediate shiver coursed through Lauren’s body.
She knew who stood behind her. Knew he was the reason for the familiar tingle on the back of her neck, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. For six months, he’d held claim over her, commanded her thoughts, and hijacked her breaths. When she ended things between them, his strong reaction, his anger and bewilderment, had both confused and saddened her. Many nights were wasted wondering if she’d made the right decision, just as many were spent convincing herself she had until, at last, her heart was insulated from feeling anything at all.
And now, it was happening again.
Lauren rotated, coming face to face with Theodore Samuel Hawthorne, the new Earl of Hawthorne.
Her former fiancé bowed at the waist; his eyes fixed on her as though starved for the very sight of her face. It was disturbing to realize she could not tear her gaze away from him, either.
“Hello, Lauren.”
Chapter 2
“How ever did you talk your way into an invitation?” Lauren hissed once the library door clicked shut behind them.
Within a matter of moments, Theodore had immediately steered Lauren away from the crowd, ushering her into the first available room that offered a bit of privacy. People watched them go, whispering behind upraised hands while George and Penelope cheerfully invited everyone back to the drawing room.
Now, the earl regarded her calmly, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes roamed her body with such languid heat Lauren felt it like a physical touch.
“Perhaps you should ask your cousin what she’s about. I did not pursue this, although I won’t say I’m sorry we’re both here. You’ve refused to s
ee me, Lauren. For twelve very long months. Did you think I would forget you and move on? Because I haven’t, and I won’t.”
“You are no longer my betrothed, Hawthorne! That sordid arrangement dissolved upon my father’s death,” Lauren bit out.
She remembered that day well. The day the old Earl of Hawthorne died and the discovery she’d been purchased as a bride for his son in exchange for a title came to light. She’d been heartbroken. And furious.
Theodore had known all along. When confronted, he flushed a guilty shade of red and said their marriage would take place as planned. He assured her the details of the contract didn’t matter.
But it did matter, and while her father was alive, Lauren was bound to the arrangement.
It was only three months after the old earl was buried that her own father passed unexpectedly. Lord Kendall’s untimely death released Lauren. While relieved to be free, she nevertheless experienced moments of deep despair. She convinced herself it was because she grieved for her father, and not because she missed Theodore.
Now she knew that was wrong. She’d missed Theodore dreadfully. Somehow, after all these months apart, the earl had grown far more handsome. Even if there was a hardness about him now, a roughness enhanced by the dark scruff shading his jaw and a wicked gleam in his eye.
Taking over his own father’s bankrupt estates could not have been easy. Especially when the influx of wealth her inheritance would have provided vanished with the dissolution of their engagement.
“My father was wrong to promise me to you, and it was wrong of your father to accept that promise in exchange for money,” Lauren said when she regained control of her emotions. “My mother told me you’ve recovered your fortunes in recent months. I am glad for it and relieved you no longer have need of my inheritance.”
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 106
