Winter Wishes: A Regency Christmas Anthology

by Cheryl Bolen

  He could manage without his trusted man for a few weeks, more if necessary. While he was away at war, he'd learned to live without many luxuries, but a strong cup of tea in the morning was an indulgence he refused to give up.

  He rang for a footman and set himself to the task of dressing, his thoughts once again preoccupied with Lady Ambrosia. His beautiful nemesis had caught him by surprise in the pasture yesterday. With her cheeks pinked by the cold, she had been the picture of vitality. Her laughter had carried to him over the hill, her merriment warming his bones and restoring his good humor. Her own mood had soured, however, when she recognized him.

  Not wishing to upset her more than necessary or intrude on her time with Orion, Phillip had excused himself as soon as he could without appearing rude to her younger brother. Lord Hugh was an enthusiastic lad, full of curiosity. Phillip imagined Lady Ambrosia’s brother could get up to mischief easily enough, which elicited feelings of fondness in Phillip for the boy. He had been much the same when he was young.

  He was finished dressing and growing restless when a knock came at the door.

  “Enter,” he called.

  A gangly footman no older than fifteen slowly opened the door and hesitated in the threshold. “You rang, sir?”

  “I did, yes.” Phillip refrained from chastising the youngster for his tardiness. He wasn’t a soldier under Phillip’s command, and he was unexpectedly pleased the lad would likely never know the hardships of such a life. “A dish of tea, if you will, before I take my leave, young man.”

  The footman’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbed. “Erm... I would do your bidding, Major, ‘cept—” Red bloomed in his cheeks, and he cleared his throat before correcting himself. “Except Lady Seabrook has requested your presence in the breakfast room. I am not to withdraw from the bedchamber until you accept, sir.”

  “I see.”

  Tightness traveled from Phillip’s jaw to his temple as he ground his teeth. Lady Seabrook was the most trying woman he had ever met. He suspected the marchioness desired his company even less than he did hers, but he couldn’t decline the invitation without offending his host and hostess, and he wanted to get on his way without stirring up trouble.

  “Lead the way, lad.”

  "It’s Charlie."

  "Pardon?"

  "Er, Charlie.” The footman nervously tugged on a lock of blond hair. He needed a haircut. “It is my name."

  "Yes, well, Charlie, I require directions to the breakfast room."

  The boy smiled and stood up straighter. "Yes, sir. This way, please."

  As Phillip followed the servant to the breakfast room, he mentally prepared for an ambush. Would Lady Seabrook offer him one of her brother’s hounds again? Perhaps two? The marchioness didn’t understand that a hundred dogs could never replace Orion.

  Phillip loved his dog. No other would do. Orion had become his hope and solace during a chaotic war that had claimed too many of his friends. The prospect of reuniting with his dog had given him the will to survive.

  When Phillip and the footman reached the breakfast room, he took a cleansing breath, schooled his expression, and entered. Lady Ambrosia froze in the act of taking a bite from her bread. A speck of butter dotted her top lip.

  Her mother turned in her chair to face him. “Major Rowland, how good of you to join us at last. Regretfully, Lord Seabrook is occupied with an urgent matter. He would have been here to greet you otherwise.”

  Her chatter was like the chirp of crickets in summer. He was vaguely aware the marchioness spoke, but her voice faded into the background. Lady Ambrosia and the speck of butter had ensnared him. Warily, she held his gaze and returned the bread to its plate without taking a bite. When she swept her tongue across her lips to lick away the butter, he almost moaned aloud.

  “Does he speak?” someone to his left murmured.

  Phillip blinked, bringing the occupants seated around the table into focus. He’d made Lady Laurel’s acquaintance already and assumed the two younger girls were also Lady Ambrosia's sisters. They looked very much like Lady Laurel—dark hair, expressive eyes, and regal bearing. The Seabrook girls were all lovely in their own rights, but Lady Ambrosia was like an exotic bird in their midst. He had a hell of a time not staring at her.

  She cleared her throat. “Mr. Perkins is having his breakfast in the kitchen. Perhaps you should return later.” She added under her breath, “Or not at all.”

  “Now, now.” The marchioness covered her daughter’s hand where it rested on the table between them. “I have invited the major to break his fast with us.”

  “Whatever for?” Lady Ambrosia winced the moment she blurted the question. She extracted her hand from beneath her mother’s and lowered her gaze to the floor. If she could disappear without anyone taking notice, Phillip suspected she would dive under the table.

  A small smile slipped past his defenses. How refreshing it was to encounter a woman with so little skill at hiding her emotions.

  Her mother’s expression was less easy to read. “Major Rowland must be made to feel welcome. After all, it appears the major will remain at Everly Manor for an extended time as our guest.”

  “Actually,” Phillip said, “I will take my leave within the hour.”

  The marchioness cocked her head. “Will you?”

  “You may rely on it, my lady.”

  Lady Seabrook’s face puckered as she spooned jam onto a piece of bread. “I cannot say I approve of your recklessness, sir. Did you look out your bedchamber window this morning?”

  “A little snow doesn’t concern a solider. I expect the weather will improve further south.”

  Lady Ambrosia stole a peek at him with her head still slightly lowered. “Papa said you are traveling home to Alfriston?”

  “That is correct. I’m not expected to report to Hounslow for a few weeks.”

  “Do take a seat, Major Rowland.” The marchioness impatiently gestured toward the empty chair closest to Lady Ambrosia. “It is impolite to force one to strain one’s neck while conversing.”

  Phillip bit his tongue and offered what he hoped passed for a smile. Was the woman trying to goad him? Force him to cause a scene for her entertainment? If so, he would be a disappointment. Phillip had never been one to become overly excited or throw tantrums, even before his training as an officer had taught him to remain calm and strategize when faced with a foe.

  He turned to speak with Charlie the footman. “Have the butler send word to my driver to prepare for departure.”

  “Yes, sir.” The lad ducked his head and hurried from the room.

  Phillip sat in the chair as the marchioness wished and directed his attention toward Lady Ambrosia. An older footman placed a full plate on the table in front of him.

  “I should take this moment to offer my sincere gratitude to you for taking care of Ori—” Phillip stopped himself. There was no harm in allowing her to call the dog whatever she liked, and he didn’t wish to part with her thinking him cantankerous. “Mr. Perkins looked very well yesterday. Do you take him for walks frequently?”

  “Every day.” She pursed her cupid bow lips, apparently displeased by his inquiry. “A dog requires regular activity, Major Rowland. I do hope you will have time to continue the practice once you resume your duties. Mr. Perkins is prone to mischief if he is not exercised.”

  Her concern and love for the dog elicited a flicker of guilt in Phillip. No doubt, she would feel the loss keenly once the spaniel was gone.

  “I assure you," he said, "your Mr. Perkins will have little opportunity to misbehave since he will accompany me to the training field daily.”

  She fiddled with the bread on her plate, not meeting his eyes. “And if you are sent abroad? Who will keep watch over him?”

  “Not my brother or his servants." A hint of steel crept into his voice. Irresponsible prats. “I wonder, Lady Ambrosia, would it be an imposition if I called on you to care for Mr. Perkins in my absence?”

  His suggestion seemed to disar
m her as much as it surprised him. She met his gaze at last and graced him with a smile that reached inside his chest and accelerated his heartbeat. It was fortunate that he was leaving within the hour, or he might find himself fawning over the lady and making a fool of himself.

  As he had learned at supper last night, Lady Ambrosia already had a suitor, one that met with her parents’ approval. Her mother made certain Phillip knew Sir Edmund Throckmorton had been chosen for her daughter and a betrothal was imminent. Therefore, she’d warned Phillip to guard his heart. He’d deemed the woman mad and politely taken his leave, but perhaps the marchioness was more adept at recognizing his weaknesses than he was.

  “I would be delighted to have Mr. Perkins return to my care,” Lady Ambrosia said then frowned. “Oh, dear. I don’t wish to see you sent to war, sir. That was not my meaning.”

  The furrowing of her brow was adorable, her concern sweet. His fingers itched to reach out to smooth away her worries, which was his signal to go. He pushed away from the table, prepared to thank the marchioness for her hospitality when Lord Seabrook trod into the room. His cheeks were red and his hair windblown as if he'd been out for a morning ride.

  "Good morning, Major Rowland," he said. "My butler informs me that you wish to take your leave."

  Phillip inclined his head, acknowledging Lord Seabrook's greeting. "I intend to join my family for Christmas, my lord, before my regiment needs me."

  "Huh." Lord Seabrook sat across from his wife at the round table and placed a napkin across his lap. "Was your father aware of your plans?"

  "Yes, of course. He sent the carriage to London to carry me here." A sense of foreboding stirred in Phillip's belly. "Why do you ask?"

  "That is peculiar then." Lord Seabrook grinned when the footman placed a plate in front of him. He leaned forward to inhale the apple pastry and sat up slowly with a happy sigh. "Cinnamon. How divine. I believe Mrs. Shiers has outdone herself again."

  "You must limit yourself to one," his wife said.

  "You worry too much, Lady Seabrook. Two pastries for breakfast never hurt a man."

  While the couple negotiated, Phillip bounced his leg and waited for an opportunity to ask Lord Seabrook what he found peculiar. The marquess and marchioness settled on a compromise, one and a half pastries.

  "My lord, what—?"

  Lord Seabrook interrupted. "According to the stable master, your father's travel coach continued to East Sussex yesterday. The driver and coachmen took refreshment in the kitchens before setting off again. I assumed you had changed your mind about staying."

  Phillip gaped, waiting for the marquess to crack a smile and admit he was joking. When he dug into his meal with the gusto of a man who’d just engaged in vigorous exercise, Phillip realized Lord Seabrook was serious.

  “How? Wh—?” He shook his head to clear his thinking. “I must speak with the stable master. There has been a mistake.”

  “Suit yourself,” Lord Seabrook said with a shrug. “Although I can attest to an empty stable yard. We would be in a pickle if we needed to travel. I sent my driver and coachmen to retrieve our daughter and her husband yesterday. They have been on holiday at his family’s estate, but they must be home for Christmas.”

  “Mercedes’s husband is the parish parson.” Lady Seabrook’s thin eyebrows rose toward her hairline as if expecting a response.

  "His parents must be very proud.” Phillip's answer seemed to satisfy her; she smiled and returned to eating her breakfast. Lady Ambrosia snorted softly, her eyes bright with amusement. Again, Phillip was captivated. What was it about this woman that enthralled him so?

  "Perhaps the stable master misunderstood,” he said, “and my father's men are lodging in the village. May I borrow a horse to ride to the inn, my lord?”

  Lord Seabrook shrugged again. “You are our guest. The stables are at your disposal.”

  "You must eat first," the marchioness said. "Wastefulness is not an honorable trait."

  Phillip agreed and dutifully cleaned his plate before taking his leave. Unfortunately, the ride into the village proved as fruitless as it was miserably cold. His father's men and coach were nowhere to be found. Worse, the owner of the coaching inn told him all the carriages for hire were carrying passengers elsewhere, and the post coach wasn't expected for another week. Phillip discarded the option of traveling by horseback. He had Orion to consider.

  Phillip resigned himself to remaining at Everly Manor as Lord and Lady Seabrook's guest, at least for now. And God’s blood, the prospect pleased him.

  Chapter 5

  Ammie had been given a reprieve, and she intended to use the next few days to her advantage. An army camp was no place for a cherished pet. Surely, Major Rowland was not too stubborn to deny the truth.

  What if Mr. Perkins became caught beneath horse’s hooves, or one of the soldiers accidentally shot him? The risks far outnumbered any benefits the dog would receive from the vigorous exercise he was likely to get from military life. He belonged with Ammie where he would be kept safe and receive the pampering to which he had become accustomed.

  She really had spoiled the spaniel and made him soft. Perhaps over the next few days, Major Rowland would see that Mr. Perkins was no longer the dog he’d left behind. The major was unlikely to reach that conclusion, however, without a bit of help, which was the reason she was lurking outside her father's study. She required an ally, and her father was her best candidate.

  Papa’s study door was cracked open a sliver, allowing her a view of him at his desk. His head was bent over a sheet of paper lying on the surface; his spectacles sat low on his nose. She took a deep breath to calm the flutters in her belly and knocked.

  "Enter," her father called.

  When she pushed the door open, his eyes flared. "Ammie, what a surprise."

  "Papa, may I speak with you a moment?"

  "Eh, yes. Of course, please come inside." He sat up straight and placed the paper in the desk drawer. "Correspondence," he muttered.

  Ammie closed the door. She didn't want Mama hearing about her private audience with her father. Otherwise, Ammie wouldn't know a moment's peace until she revealed every detail of their conversation, including her father's reactions. Ammie had never had the misfortune of being interrogated in a courtroom, but she imagined the experience was as equally terrifying as being called before her mother.

  Papa motioned to the ornate needlepoint chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

  Since she didn't know how long they might have before they were discovered, she launched into the business at hand. "I believe I can persuade Major Rowland to leave Mr. Perkins in my care."

  "Oh?" The corners of Papa's mouth twitched as if he was struggling not to laugh. Perhaps he found her optimism naive, amusing.

  She pressed her lips together to contain the impetuous words rising at the back of her throat. When she gained control of her tongue, she scooted to the edge of the chair. "Please, hear me out, Papa. At breakfast, Major Rowland asked if I would watch over Mr. Perkins if the major is called to duty, which leads me to believe he is not as intractable as he seemed yesterday. If I am allowed to speak with him, I may be able to convince him that it is in the dog’s best interests to remain with me. Major Rowland may call whenever he likes.”

  Her father tilted his head to the side and drummed his fingers on the desk. "You would make an empty promise to a man who has dedicated his life to serving England?”

  “No, sir. I am sincere about welcoming him. I might have misjudged him initially, but as you’ve pointed out, he is a war hero. Surely, there is some good in him.” Grudgingly, she admitted he would probably have many good qualities if she allowed herself to get to know him. She could find no fault in how he’d interacted with Mr. Perkins or her brother yesterday.

  “Your husband might feel differently about welcoming a strange man into his home,” Papa said. “You have not forgotten the purpose of the house party, have you? Your mother is eager to see you and your sister betrothe
d by Christmas.”

  “Oh.” His reminder was a bucket of cold water dousing the fire in her belly. In the excitement of Major Rowland’s arrival and fear of losing Mr. Perkins, she’d not given husband hunting much thought. She lifted her chin. “My husband will love Mr. Perkins as much as I do. Otherwise, I will not choose him. He will understand why it is necessary to open his doors to the major.”

  Her father shook his head. “You think it is easy to bend a man to your will. I blame your mother. She believes she has me wrapped around her finger.”

  Ammie’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

  He laughed. “Yes, it is true. She does, but only because I am mad for her. If you can make a love match like we did, I expect you will have better success at persuading your husband to see everything your way. I understand from your mother that you favor Sir Edmund.”

  Ammie shrugged. “We haven’t spent enough time together for me to form an opinion. He is handsome and kind enough, but I would need to see how Mr. Perkins likes him first.”

  “I advise you to see to it then. Christmas is a week away.” Papa reclined in his leather chair and formed a steeple with his hands. "If you believe you can change Rowland's mind, I will arrange another meeting with him. Allow me to consult with your mother. It might be difficult to find a time that doesn’t interfere with her hostess duties."

  "Yes, but perhaps..." Ammie caught her bottom lip between her teeth and struggled to find the right words. She didn't want to appear disrespectful or ungrateful.

  "You may speak freely," Papa said. When she remained silent, he smiled ruefully. "I think I understand. Your mother can be trying at times, and you would prefer not to involve her."

  "Or you, Papa," Ammie blurted.

  Her father started.

  She rushed to explain. "I believe my chances will be improved if Major Rowland doesn't feel he is being ambushed. I wish to approach him alone. Perhaps if he sees me with Mr. Perkins again, he will realize I truly have the dog's best interest at heart. I would like to invite him to accompany me on a walk."