Davitt bowed over her hand, then bowed to the other ladies, shook hands briefly with Joe, and finally held out his hand to Emma.
Selim stood beside her, large and immovable.
It is Christmas. One should forgive. She laid her hand in Davitt’s.
“I can only apologize,” he said quietly. “What I did was unforgivable, and I know I have ruined any chance I ever stood with you. I have no excuse.”
“Never do it again,” she murmured. “To anyone. And I shall forgive you.”
A smile flickered on his face, and then he turned and strode back across the hall to the stairs.
“You are more charitable than I,” Selim growled.
She shrugged. “I have no room for anger today. Only joy.”
“I hope that will always be the case,” Selim said as they stepped outside into the cold.
She reached up, not caring who looked, and pressed a kiss on his startled lips. “Through thick and thin, I know it will be. Merry Christmas, my love.”
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mary Lancaster
The Husband Dilemma Series
How to Fool a Duke
Season of Scandal Series
Pursued by the Rake
Abandoned to the Prodigal
Married to the Rogue
Unmasked by her Lover
Imperial Season Series
Vienna Waltz
Vienna Woods
Vienna Dawn
Blackhaven Brides Series
The Wicked Baron
The Wicked Lady
The Wicked Rebel
The Wicked Husband
The Wicked Marquis
The Wicked Governess
The Wicked Spy
The Wicked Gypsy
The Wicked Wife
Wicked Christmas (A Novella)
The Wicked Waif
The Wicked Heir
The Wicked Captain
The Wicked Sister
Unmarriageable Series
The Deserted Heart
The Sinister Heart
The Vulgar Heart
The Broken Heart
The Weary Heart
The Secret Heart
Christmas Heart
The Lyon’s Den Connected World
Fed to the Lyon
Also from Mary Lancaster
Madeleine
About the Author
Mary Lancaster lives in Scotland with her husband, three mostly grown-up kids and a small, crazy dog.
Her first literary love was historical fiction, a genre which she relishes mixing up with romance and adventure in her own writing. Her most recent books are light, fun Regency romances written for Dragonblade Publishing: The Imperial Season series set at the Congress of Vienna; and the popular Blackhaven Brides series, which is set in a fashionable English spa town frequented by the great and the bad of Regency society.
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The Remembrance of Love
Meara Platt
Chapter One
London, England
December 1839
Lord Innes Buchan, son of the late Duke of Buchan, stared out the window of his study in the fashionable Belgravia townhouse he’d recently acquired, watching the young woman who stood beside the front gate of his home. “Holmes, who is that girl? Do you recognize her?”
“No, my lord. Shall I chase her away?”
The snow was falling harder now, but she seemed oblivious to it as it collected atop her dark hair. “To the contrary, invite her in.”
His butler’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you think it is wise?”
Innes laughed. “Probably not. But the girl is too well dressed to be a cutpurse or thief. Besides, there is something familiar about her.” However, he could not recall where he had seen her or if he had ever seen her before.
But he could not ignore that tug of recognition.
Perhaps he was merely going mad.
Why not invite her in? This particular Yuletide season had been bad for him. He’d never felt lonelier in his life. Not even the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth or the scent of freshly baked ginger cake and mint tea could rid him of the bone-piercing emptiness in his heart.
“One last thing before I fetch her, my lord. Mrs. Woods wanted to know whether you will be returning to Castle Easingwold after Christmas.”
“No, I will not.” Obviously, his fairly new staff was not familiar with the Buchan clan. “I am persona non grata there. The new duke would sooner invite an alley cat into his home than me.” Not that he cared, for he had never spent a pleasant Yuletide season with his family, even when his father, the only decent Buchan among the lot, was alive.
“I see, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “I shall return in a trice with the girl.”
“Don’t scare her, Holmes. I do not want her running off.” He was now intrigued, perhaps because he had nothing else on his mind and no one to see, since he was fairly new to London and had yet to develop a trusted circle of friends.
He would never be welcomed by his blood relations.
Along with his father’s passing went all hope of family unity or reconciliation with the older brothers who had always reviled and disdained him. The feeling had intensified after his father had bequeathed most of the unentailed properties to him and left him wealthier than the lot of them.
The entailed properties, which were also quite vast, had gone to his eldest brother along with the ducal title. His father had made generous provisions for the other brothers. But no amount of generosity would ever have been enough to satisfy that pack of jackals.
Not that Innes cared.
They now openly hated him, for they were only half-blood brothers, the offspring of an arranged marriage between the duke and his first wife.
Innes had been the only child from the duke’s second marriage, a love match, his father had always claimed. But his mother had died in childbirth, leaving him at the mercy of the duke’s bitter and jealous third wife.
He shook out of his dismal thoughts as Holmes returned. “My lord, the young lady in question is Miss Hyacinth Brayden. I have put her in the visitor’s parlor. Shall I show her into your study?”
Innes turned sharply, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Hyacinth?” That was a name he had not heard in a long time. “Yes, show her in here.”
No wonder she seemed familiar. He hadn’t seen her in years. Did she still have those big, violet eyes? Well, he supposed the color of one’s eyes did not change.
His heart beat a little faster in expectation, although it really was absurd. She must have been all of five years old the last time he’d set eyes on her.
Holmes announced her and then remained hovering uncertainly in the doorway.
Innes quickly realized the reason for his hesitation. Hyacinth was a young lady, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age by now, and he was an unmarried man.
She smiled at his butler, handing him her coat, muff, and scarf. “No need to send in a maid to chaperone. I won’t be staying long.” She turned to Innes to show him a box in her hands. “I only came to give you these.”
“Have a seat, Miss Brayden. Do stay and share some tea and cakes with me. You must be cold. Your hair still has a light dusting of snow on it.”
He did not know what possessed him to reach out and lightly run his knuckles over her hair, the litt
le of it that peeked out from under the hat she had not bothered to take off. Too bad, for he was curious to see more of her dark, vibrant curls. “I’ll escort you home in my carriage afterward. Do your parents still reside on Chipping Way?”
“Yes, still at Number One,” she said, her smile easily brightening the room. “Uncle John and Aunt Sophie are still at Number Three. Even Lady Dayne is still at Number Five. She’s quite infirm now, but as lovely and kind as ever. You ought to come by some time. My parents would be delighted to see you.”
He felt bad about not staying in closer contact with Romulus and Violet. In truth, Romulus Brayden had been like a second father to him. Violet had certainly been more of a mother to him than the manipulative witch his father had married. “Perhaps I will.”
Hyacinth frowned. “No, don’t put us off. There is no perhaps about it. Come to supper tomorrow evening.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Is that a direct order? You always were a bossy bit of goods.”
She took his teasing with good nature. “Chide me as you wish, but we shall all be quite shattered if you do not accept.”
“Do you speak for your parents as well? Perhaps you ought to seek their permission before you make plans for them.”
“Perhaps you ought to stop telling me what to do.” She cast him an impertinent smile, reminding him how saucy she’d been even as a little girl. “My lord, I do not remember you ever being quite this stodgy. Indeed, you are far too young to be behaving like an old goat. My parents have always adored you. Why would you doubt they would love to see you?”
He felt a momentary pang of regret. “I haven’t kept in touch with them.”
“And you believe they are offended?” She rolled her eyes, another impertinent gesture that ought to have irritated him, but her eyes were too beautiful, and so was she. “Did you learn nothing about them in the years you were with us?”
He threw his hands up and laughingly shook his head. “Fine, I am properly admonished. And call me Innes. After all, I used to give you rides on my back around your house. You took exceptional delight in tugging on my hair.”
“Then you must call me Hyacinth. I used to pull on your ears, not your hair. Don’t you recall? A tug to the right ear to steer you to the right, or a tug on your left ear to steer you left. Sometimes I would tug on both at the same time just to confound you.”
Her smile left him breathless. “Very well, Hyacinth. Have a seat, and I shall pour you some tea.”
“You haven’t asked me what’s in the box I brought you.”
He waited for her to sit on one of the plump chairs beside the hearth, and then he took the one beside her. “What’s in the box, Hyacinth?” he asked, casually resting an arm on his thigh as he leaned toward her.
“It requires a bit of an explanation. Do you remember the Christmas when I was five years old? You must have been about fourteen or fifteen at the time.”
“I remember. We had decorated your house with mistletoe, boughs of holly, and cheerful red ribbons on Christmas eve. But I was unexpectedly summoned away and had to miss Christmas day.”
She nodded. “You never got your presents. We never saw you after that. I cried for days when I learned you’d been taken away from us. Well, that’s all in the past. We are in the present now. This is the gift I had wanted to give you back then. You were meant to open it on Christmas morning. What happened, Innes? Why did you never visit our home again?”
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “My family. Petty jealousies. You know I was sent away.”
“But you could have come back to us once you were older and independent. Oh, I know you remained in the Royal Navy and were often on assignment at sea. But not always. Why did you never stop by to see us?”
He was surprised by the sadness in her voice. “Too many years had passed by the time I was able, Hyacinth. I was no longer that young, hopeful boy.”
“We would have welcomed you even if you appeared bedraggled on our doorstep twenty years from now.”
“I know.” He poured her a cup of tea and set a slice of ginger cake on a plate for her. “My dropping out of sight had nothing to do with your family. I wasn’t good company then. I’m not very good company now.”
She took a sip of her tea and set the cup back down while peering at him with determination. “We shall have to change that.”
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Aren’t you being a bit presumptuous?”
“Yes.” She gave a melodic laugh. “You forget, my mother was a Farthingale. So, I am part well-intentioned, meddlesome pest, and the Brayden part of me is bold and determined.”
“Ah, an unbeatable combination,” he replied with good humor. “You get away with it because you are pretty, and no man would be so cruel as to toss you out on your ear.”
She took another sip of her tea. “You haven’t asked me about the gift.”
“Right. What’s in the box?” He held out his hand for it, but she suddenly drew it behind her back.
“You know, I think I will keep you guessing. When you come to supper tomorrow evening, I shall give it to you, and we shall open it together.”
Odd, he hadn’t cracked a smile in years. Within minutes, Hyacinth had him doing nothing but that. Smiling. Grinning. Laughing. “I could simply grab it from you now and be done with it.”
She wasn’t in the least daunted. “I could still box your ears.”
He laughed again. “Finish your ginger cake, you impertinent girl. I’ll escort you home. And that’s another thing, what are you doing here on your own?”
She blushed. “It was wicked of me. My parents think I am out shopping with a friend. Well, I was. But my friend dropped me off in front of your home.”
“And then left you stranded here?” He frowned, genuinely concerned. “What if I weren’t at home? Or refused to let you in?”
“I wasn’t traipsing around London on my own. And I hardly think Belgravia is a den of iniquity. Lady Withnall resides around the corner from you. I would have gone to her and asked if her driver could take me home.”
“Blessed saints, is that little snoop still alive? How old is she now, one hundred and fifty?”
“At least that,” she said merrily, “and still wreaking havoc on everyone with secrets to hide. Do you have any secrets to hide, Innes?”
He shrugged. “One would have to care what others thought in order to have them be proper secrets.”
She nodded. “I suppose.”
“Have you got secrets, Hyacinth?”
She was brightening the room once again with her smile. “Ugh! No. Unless you count this visit, which I suppose could ruin me if anyone found out I’d been sitting here alone with you.”
“Your secret is safe with me. I have no wish to be descended upon by either the Brayden men or the Farthingale ladies and hauled before a minister. Have you finished your tea? I’ll take you home now.”
“Yes, thank you.” She rose and watched him as he crossed to the bell-pull to summon Holmes. “It is nice to see you again, Innes,” she said softly, sending a surge of regret through his bones. “You look very well.”
“So do you. I suppose everyone tells you that you resemble your mother. You have her dark hair and striking violet eyes.”
“Yes, I’m told that quite often. However, I inherited my father’s singing voice, which means I sing like a bullfrog. My mother still has the voice of an angel.”
He nodded. “I remember the first time I heard her sing. It was at an important charity event held at the Royal Society. She truly has the voice of an angel. That night, she ended the recital with a hauntingly beautiful song of the sea. Something about a sailor in love with a selkie. One could feel the waves gently lapping the shore and see the beautiful selkie on the rocks. I could breathe in the salty, sea air. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house by the time the song ended. The sailors in the audience, including your father, were openly sobbing.”
She hung upon his every word, her express
ion one of utter fascination. “My father? Weeping like an infant? How wonderful! I’m going to tease him about it at supper tomorrow.”
“Oh, no. Don’t you dare. He will toss me out of your house and blame me for giving you this bit of fodder for your cannons.”
“Then you will come for supper? I’m so glad. And will you also join us for Christmas eve?”
“Hold on there, Hyacinth. Why don’t we take it one invitation at a time? You may decide I am boorish company after all and regret ever finding me.”
“Never, Innes.” She placed a hand lightly on his arm. “I shall never regret seeing you again.”
The girl took his breath away. He was grinning again, unable to hide his idiotically besotted look even when Holmes marched in with her cloak, scarf, and muff. “Miss Hyacinth, if I may say, you are a gentle summer breeze in this cold house.”
She graced him with an angel’s smile. “Thank you, Holmes.”
The man, who was in serious need of proper butler training, broke into a jovial smile.
Really? Would she next invite Holmes to supper as well? Innes resolved to give his butler a serious talking to. He was supposed to be aloof and always wearing a stoic expression, not behaving like a proud, matchmaking mama. “Holmes, order my carriage brought around.”
“Yes, my lord. At once.”
Hyacinth watched him scuttle off. “What a pleasant man.”
“He’s just my butler and not a very good one at that,” he muttered, assisting Hyacinth with her cloak and scarf.
Holmes had Innes’s cloak and gloves at the ready by the front door as he strode out of the house.
“You’ve bought yourself a beautiful residence,” she said, stopping a moment to look back at the structure. “But it does need warming up. You are in desperate need of holly boughs and mistletoe. This will be my next project.”
“Do you not think you ought to seek my permission before wreaking havoc on my home?”
Her eyes were filled with mirth. “Absolutely not. You’d only forbid it. And I am making it more welcoming, not damaging anything. I’m glad I imposed on you today. I think I would not have been able to get near you by the end of the week.”
O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales Page 22
