Christmas Spirits

by Charles, Jane

  “I’m going to send a message to my mother and tell her to ready the second coach and to meet us at the castle.”

  Mary worried her lush lip, then looked away. “I understand.”

  “Understand?”

  “If we keep travlin’, the quicker we’ll arrive and less chance of being stopped.”

  There was that, but the true reason was that he wished to be alone with her. In fact, if they were delayed into the next year, Ben would have no objection whatsoever.

  * * *

  Mary picked at her stew. When they first arrived, she’d been famished, but after Benjamin decided to avoid his family, her appetite disappeared.

  It was silly, of course. She barely knew the gentleman. They’d met just yesterday, but she was drawn to him. She’d never felt this comfortable with anyone in her life. Not even her late-husband.

  Ben had the warmest eyes and kindest smile. And he listened to her. He understood. Or at least tried to understand. Nobody had ever done that before. Her family only wished to hear about the pleasantness of her travels, as her mother referred to them. Yes, Mary saw a good deal of the Continent, but it wasn’t like she was on some grand tour that young gentlemen take.

  For the first time, in a really long time, she had begun to hope that a gentleman would want her, regardless of the scar.

  But Ben wished to avoid his family, which meant he had no desire to introduce her to them.

  The longer they were together, the more she wanted to be with him. It was silly, of course and she should have known that he would not want her. Not the way she wanted him. Her heart had closed after Toulouse. Not immediately, but over time, and she’d kept it firmly shut. Then Ben came along, and despite knowing better, she let it open just a crack.

  Then he secured a private dining chamber. She was grateful, of course, because she was painfully aware that people could not help but stare at her scar. If the sympathy in the patrons’ eyes at her widow’s weeds were any indication, then once they saw her face, it would be even worse. After the horror crossed their features, they’d turn away.

  Of course Ben wished to dine in private. He was a gentleman and didn’t wish for others to see the face of the woman he was accompanying. If there was one thing she learned while traveling with her husband, gentlemen had their pride and it ran deep. No gentleman wanted to be seen with a woman that looked like her.

  Mary bit into the buttered bread and slammed the door on her heart. Never again would she allow it to open. She would be happy that he was friendly and kind and that he made a delightful traveling companion, but she wouldn’t again fool herself into hoping there could ever be more.

  Chapter 10

  For as much as they talked in the carriage before they arrived at the coaching inn, Mary was unusually quiet. Not only that, she picked at her food.

  “Are you not hungry?”

  She smiled up at him, but it did not meet her eyes. “Not as much as I thought.”

  “I can order something else.” He set his spoon on the plate. “It isn’t the best meal I’ve ever tasted.”

  This time she did laugh. “It is delicious,” she assured him. “I’m simply not hungry.”

  He nodded and excused himself. Perhaps she was tired. She’d slept two nights on the side of a road, and he didn’t even know how many days she’d driven the wagon. By his estimation it could have been two. What Mary needed was a good night’s sleep in a real bed. Besides, as much as he wished to spend every moment with Mary, they all needed rest and he couldn’t ask his coachman or footman to drive through the night.

  Ben located the proprietor in the dining room. “I’d like two rooms for the night.”

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any.”

  Ben studied the room. It was crowded. Perhaps they’d have better luck at another one. Turning, he strode outside and located his coachman. “We’ll travel until we find another inn.”

  “We don’t need to stop.”

  The man had been driving all day, as had Gaylord. They both needed rest for the final part of their journey.

  “We’ll drive as late as you can drive, but we will stop.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  When he returned to the private dining room, Mary was standing, looking out a window.

  “The inn is full so we are going to continue on.”

  All she did was nod, then put on that blasted black hat and veil before she allowed Ben to escort her back to the coach. Unlike earlier, Mary made no conversation. In fact, she was unusually quiet, her focus intent on the passing scenery out the window.

  Had he upset her? Had someone said something? Was she simply tired? Maybe they should stop soon. He shouldn’t tax her.

  Conversation wasn’t really necessary. Not when he could simply watch her.

  What would his mother think of Mary? Surely she’d approve, and Mary seemed to have a temperament to get on with his mother. If she didn’t, then the dower house was perfectly suitable for the woman.

  A grin pulled at his lips. Yes, having his mother under another roof would be quite pleasant indeed.

  As the coach rumbled along, Mary’s eyes grew heavier and heavier. A few times her head dropped. She was fighting sleep as he had done the night before. Why? If she was tired, she could lay her head back and relax.

  Ben pulled the pocket watch from inside his coat and checked the time in the moonlight as the coach began to slow. It was nearing midnight and past the time they should have stopped. He didn’t wait for the door to be opened, but jumped down and hurried into the establishment. The taproom was full of men drinking and Ben found the proprietor within moments.

  “I’d like two rooms please.”

  “We have only one.”

  Well, he’d slept in the coach before. He could do so tonight. “I’ll like it.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  He returned to find Mary standing by the coach, hat in hand.

  “I’ve secured a room for you.”

  She turned, blinking at him. “What of you?”

  “They have only one. I’ll sleep in the coach.”

  “I canna have ye doin’ so. Ye’re an earl. I’ll sleep in the coach. The cushions are quite comfortable.

  Unable to stop himself, he grasped her arms. “Mary, you are no longer following the drum, or driving whisky across the country. You are a lady, and you will sleep in the bed.”

  Her blue eyes blinked up at him and her mouth dropped open. It was all he could do not to lean in and kiss her, but he was afraid of where that would lead. Once he kissed Mary, he knew he’d never be able to stop, then he’d take her upstairs and they’d be alone in a room with a bed.

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped back. “Gaylord, follow me with Mrs. Soares’ portmanteau.”

  The footman lifted it from the back of the coach while Mary secured her hat. He was beginning to hate that bonnet.

  They’d been given the first room at the top of the stairs, and Ben escorted her inside. Gaylord left the case just inside the door and disappeared.

  “I shall see you in the morning.” He bowed, quit the room and shut the door behind him.

  His heart beat heavy in his chest and his feet felt like dead weights as he trudged down the stairs. At the bottom, he stopped and glanced into the taproom. Perhaps more ale before he retired for the night. He would sleep better, but what if Mary needed him? No, he needed to remain sober for her.

  He glanced around to the men sitting at the tables and bar. The hair stood up on the back of his neck as two men talked quietly and nodded up the stairs. If he left, they’d know Mary was up there alone. Of course she locked the door. Or he assumed she had even if he hadn’t told her too. Mary was a smart woman.

  But it wasn’t as if those locks were any real deterrent.

  If he were sleeping in the carriage and someone tried to get into her room, he wouldn’t even be able to hear her scream.

  He couldn’t leave her alone in a strange inn that had a taproom of men
deep in their cups.

  Turning, he strode back up the stairs and knocked on her door. Mary opened it a moment later, holding a dressing robe against her.

  “I’m sleeping on the floor.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “What?”

  “I won’t leave you unprotected. I’m sleeping on the floor.”

  She laughed and opened the door further. “I can protect myself.” She gestured to the pistol sitting on the small table not far from the bed.

  “I’d feel better if you weren’t alone.”

  “Very well, but ye aren’t sleepin’ on the floor.”

  If she was going to make an idiotic suggestion that she would, he’d take her to task.

  “We can share the bed, just like we slept last night.”

  If he didn’t know she was a widow, he’d think Mary to be the most innocent and naive girl to walk this Earth.

  “I cannot share a bed with you. It’s wrong.”

  “No more wrong than last night.” She walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers on one side. “Besides, I’m not worried that ye’d wish for…” she trailed off, her cheeks turning pink. “I’m safe with you.” Then she grinned. “And my pistol is within reach.”

  * * *

  His only objection was to the priority of the situation, which she well understood. Benjamin was a gentleman and didn’t wish to upset her sensibilities. But it was ridiculous that he’d sleep on the floor. It had been even worse that he was going to sleep in the coach. At least he had sense to change his mind about that.

  Of course she felt safe with him. It wasn’t as if he was going to try and seduce her. He wasn’t like that. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time any man had attempted to even steal a kiss.

  Besides, she wanted to sleep with him. She’d forgotten the warmth and closeness of someone else in the bed. She’d slept so deeply last night. Deeper than she had since before the first battle she’d witnessed. And she’d forgotten how much she missed being touched. Waking up in his arms had been pure heaven. Though she’d slept with her husband, he never held her, always slept away from her. In fact, he rarely touched her except on those occasions he wished her to fulfill her wifely duties. But beyond that, he wasn’t an affectionate man.

  Benjamin was different. His wife, whoever he married, would be the luckiest woman alive. Though he hadn’t shown Mary affection, it was there in the small things. Even tonight, he’d placed a hand at the small of her back. The heat of his palm warmed her all the way to her spine. And he’d hold his wife while she slept, making her feel secure, as Mary had felt last night.

  She slipped into the bed, keeping the wrapper tight around her body. She did wear a nightrail beneath, but Mary didn’t wish to make Benjamin feel uncomfortable by wearing too little clothing.

  He shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat and removed the cravat that had long ago lost any of its starch, before removing his boots and crawling in beside her.

  Mary turned the lamp down and rolled onto her side, away from Ben. A smile pulled at her lips. It wasn’t much, but he was in bed beside her. She felt safe again.

  Tears stung her eyes. If only it could be like this always.

  Chapter 11

  That was the longest and the shortest night of his life. Ben woke more times than he could count, always with his arms around Mary, holding her close, wishing they could be closer. Of course, she was a lady and he had no right to take liberties, and as uncomfortable as it left him physically, he pulled away and returned to his own side of the bed. Eventually he’d fall asleep again, only to wake, with his arms wrapped around her. And so it continued until the dawn streaked the sky.

  Not once did she wake, for which he was grateful, but he’d never met anyone who could sleep so soundly. The pistol rested within her reach so he should be thankful she had or things would not have ended well for him.

  Quickly and quietly so as not to disturb Mary, Ben pulled himself from the bed and dressed for the day.

  Tomorrow was the ball and even though he never thought it possible that he could retrieve the whisky and return on time, he just might. Not that he cared one way of the other if Danby got his Christmas spirits. But he did care about attending the ball. It hadn’t interested him before, but now that he’d met Mary…He could not wait to see her in a ball gown and out of that horrifying black ensemble. He wouldn’t mind twirling her about the floor in a waltz, either.

  He glanced over to the bed. She lay curled on her side, a smile on her lips, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she dreamed of.

  Mary was a lady who should be gracing ballrooms in the finest gowns money could buy, with jewels dangling from her ears and around her neck. Not dressing as a man, driving a wagon across the country or on a battlefield.

  Maybe she’d never gotten the opportunity.

  Not that it mattered. She would be his tomorrow night, if only for one night, and he would dance with her and they’d drink champagne. And maybe, just maybe, she’d grant him her heart and they’d never need to part again.

  Once she was his, he’d never need to roll away from her again, but would have the honor of holding her through the night.

  Mary rolled onto her back and blinked her eyes open.

  “Ye’re awake.” She sat up quickly. “I’ll hurry so that we can be on our way.”

  Ben chuckled. “Take your time. I’ll see to a meal and have the coach readied.”

  Mary was down in the taproom when he returned from outside and he was surprised to find her standing and waiting. He hadn’t been gone all that long—he’d fully expected to wait. He’d traveled with his mother and sisters and usually “shortly” meant at least an hour.

  As she had the night before, Mary ate little but she was more at ease, it seemed. Perhaps she’d just needed a good night’s sleep.

  Once the coach was on the way, he settled back in his seat and waited. Finally, she removed that horrible hat and veil.

  “That’s better.”

  “What?”

  “I cannot see you through that veil.”

  “It’s what most people prefer.”

  What did she mean by that? Mary often had strange notions, such as driving wagons and sharing beds or sleeping in coaches, so he decided not to question her further. Instead, he turned his mind to the ball, which sparked another wayward thought. “You were not at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball.”

  “Nay, I was not.” She chuckled, then blinked at him. “How would ye ken?”

  “Because I was.”

  * * *

  Only two and a half years ago, in another country, few miles separated them. “There were many people, I understand. Even if I had attended, I doubt we would’ve met.”

  “No. I would have remembered you.”

  He was staring into her eyes, but they both knew why he would have remembered her. “Why were ye there? Were ye a soldier?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I was visiting my younger brother who was assigned to the Duke of Richmond’s reserve force to help protect Brussels if Napoleon made it that far.”

  She nodded.

  “He was reassigned there after Napoleon was sent to Elba. At the time I left London, I was aware Boney had escaped to France. I just had no idea that my visit was probably at the most inopportune time.

  This time she smiled. “How could ye have kenned the ball would be held on the eve of the battle to bring him to an end?”

  “Why weren’t you there?” he asked.

  Mary looked into his eyes. He wasn’t teasing or being cruel. He really didn’t understand. “Somewhere between Toulouse and Brussels I lost my trunk containing all of my ball gowns.” She shrugged. “I had absolutely nothin’ to wear.”

  He didn’t return her smile. “Did your husband attend?”

  “Of course.” Her husband wasn’t about to miss the event for the world. “He was a major, it was required.”

  “And he allowed you to remain back at camp?” Benjamin was shaking his head as if he
didn’t understand, or approve.

  “I dinna wish to go,” Mary insisted.

  “Why? It was a grand ball. What lady wouldn’t wish to attend one given by Her Grace?”

  He truly didn’t understand and it warmed her heart. Benjamin was too kind by half. “I simply dinna wish to.”

  “Do you avoid all balls or was it just this one in particular.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not exactly on guest lists, Benjamin. I live in Falkirk on a barley farm.”

  “You are still a lady.”

  He said the words so softly that her heart nearly ached. Yes, she was a lady in that her brother was a marquess but that didn’t mean she should attend the same functions as Lachlan and his wife. Or even be in public for that matter. It was easier to just be on her own. She may have forgotten that lesson, but this trip had reminded her. She’d be alone forever, and it only hurt to wish for things she could not have. Once she returned home, she’d forget about Benjamin, how he made her feel, how it felt to sleep in his arms.

  “Were ye able to visit with yer brother long?” Mary wished to take the words back as soon as she spoke them. What if he’d been killed?

  “For three days. It was good to spend time with Nathaniel again.”

  The name tickled through her brain. Was it possible? The two had the same kind eyes. “Nathaniel Storm?” she said slowly. “Nate Storm?” She grinned. It was a name very familiar and held only fond memories.

  “Yes!” Benjamin leaned forward. “You knew my brother?”

  “Aye. He saved my life.”

  Benjamin chuckled.

  “No, honestly. It was Nate who carried me from the battlefield and delivered me to the surgeon in Toulouse.”

  The smile fell from Benjamin’s face. “He never said anything to me.”

  Mary laughed. “Why would he? I’m sure it was an inconsequential incident to him.” Though it meant the world to her. She was unconscious, bleeding and any number of things could have happened had he not rescued her. “How is he?”