Regency Christmas (Holiday Collection)

by Jillian Eaton

  “Sarah, you are blushing,” Lily observed with great interest. “Why are you blushing?”

  “I… I feel quite flushed,” Sarah lied. Oh dear. How dreadfully embarrassing.

  “You do? Splendid!” Sliding her hands out of her fur muff and tucking it under one arm, Lily reached up to secure her hood more tightly around her dark curls. “I was afraid you were getting cold – you know how sensitive you can be – but if you are feeling warm, we can continue on to the park. I even brought a few crumpets along to feed the geese.” Reaching into the pocket of her cloak she procured three pastries and held one out to Sarah, who took it with a smile that felt more like a grimace, but if Lily noticed she made no sign. “Aunt Ingrid,” she called over her shoulder, “we are going to the park.”

  The woman trailing behind them temporarily lowered the book she was holding pressed to her nose and bobbed her head with a vague smile.

  “Cannot hear a word, poor dear,” Lily said. “But she’ll follow along.

  Like the rest of London the park was covered in white although there were fewer people here than on the streets. Small songbirds, their brightly colored fluff standing out in sharp contrast against the plain backdrop, hopped from tree to tree, twittering a merry song as they flitted about. Spying a bright red cardinal amidst the skeletal branches Sarah pointed it out to Lily, who smiled and threw a piece of crumpet.

  They had nearly reached the lake when, without warning, a narrow sleigh pulled by a wild eyed horse went flying past, so close that snow spewed out from beneath the blades, showering Sarah and Lily in a thick gray slush.

  “Why I never!” Lily cried, staring down at her ruined cloak in dismay.

  Of equal sentiment, Sarah threw back her hood and gasped as she felt a slow, slippery trickle of wet snow slide down her spine. The nerve of some people! Why, if she ever met the driver of the sleigh she would give him a piece of her—

  “Look, he is turning around. Sarah, take this.” Holding out her hand warmer, Lily gathered up her skirts and began to walk determinedly towards the horse and sleigh which had come to a halt less than ten yards away.

  Her eyes wide and her heart pounding, Sarah scurried after her friend, all thoughts of speaking her mind completely erased now that the opportunity had actually presented itself. She stopped short beside Lily, anxiously twisting the muff back and forth in her hands as they waited for the driver to dismount.

  He did so slowly, swinging one leg out the open door of the sleigh and then the other before easing down to the ground. Securing the reins, he removed his hat, unwound a green scarf from his neck, and pivoted to face them, an apologetic smile already laying claim to his sensual lips. “Ladies, I do apologize,” he said smoothly, lifting one dark eyebrow. “Forgive me?”

  Sarah felt her knees wobble. Thankfully Lily was right beside her and without missing a beat the brunette reached out to steady her friend. “Remain calm,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “And for heavens sakes whatever you do, do not faint. Lord Heathcliff,” she said loudly. “What an unexpected… surprise.”

  Devlin took a step closer to them, his smile growing distantly polite as his piercing blue eyes gave a cursory sweep of Sarah before focusing solely on Lily. “Have I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance? Surely not,” he continued, answering his own question before Lily could get a word in edgewise, “for how could I forget such a beautiful face as yours?”

  It did not escape either woman that Devlin spoke directly to Lily, ignoring Sarah as if she had simply ceased to exist (which was just fine with Sarah as she feared she was currently incapable of speaking a word) but Lily was not about to overlook the Viscount’s poor manners so easily.

  Lifting her chin, the violet eyed beauty said scathingly, “You danced with me this evening past, Lord Heathcliff. Had I realized you possessed such a forgetful memory, I would have no doubt chosen a different partner.”

  Visibly caught off guard, Devlin blinked once, twice, and cleared his throat. “I, uh, well then. Yes, yes now I remember. Lady… Dresher, if I am not mistaken?”

  “Kincaid,” Sarah squeaked out unexpectedly. “Her name is Lady Kincaid.”

  Immediately she felt two sets of eyes upon her, and her cheeks burned a bright red in response. Oh no. She had done it. She had actually spoken to Devlin. No, not simply spoken to him… Corrected him! Oh, this was all wrong. All terribly, terribly wrong. “I mean,” she gasped, staring blindly at a spot in the snow a good foot to the right of where Devlin was standing, “her n-name could e-easily be mistaken for Lady Dresher as they do sound quite s-similar.”

  “They do not sound at all alike,” the viscount said dryly, taking both women by surprise, “and it was impossibly rude of me not to remember. Please, Lady Kincaid. Accept my sincerest apology.”

  Beside her, Sarah felt Lily relax. “Oh, very well. I suppose it must be difficult placing names with the faces of all the women you have danced with. Although,” she said, holding up one finger, “I shall accept your apology on only one condition.”

  “Which is?” Devlin asked.

  “You take my dearest friend for a ride in your sleigh.”

  Sarah felt her knees buckle. Of all the outlandish, inappropriate, ridiculous—

  “Certainly,” Devlin agreed. “If,” he continued, flashing a dimple as he smiled while Sarah tried desperately not to swoon, “you accompany us as well.”

  “I am frightened of horses,” Lily said, blinking innocently. “But Sarah just adores them, do you not Sarah?”

  It was a lie. It was Lily who loved horses, not Sarah. Sarah was terrified of them ever since she had taken a particularly nasty spill from a stubborn mare some years before. She opened her mouth to say exactly that and received a quick jab in the side courtesy of Lily’s elbow. “I… I love horses,” she said weakly. “They… They are m-marvelous creatures.”

  Devlin look at her a little oddly, but Lily beamed. “There, you see? They are, after all, her favorite animal and she is quite the accomplished equestrian. Why, I have never seen a better rider.”

  A glimmer of interest surfaced in Devlin’s eyes. For the first time he looked at Sarah directly and the full force of that piercing gaze was enough to have her swaying on her feet. “Do you hunt?” he asked.

  “Do I w-what?”

  “Hunt,” he repeated. “On horseback. Do you hunt?”

  “Oh, she goes hunting all the time,” Lily interceded, giving Sarah’s arm a tight squeeze through her cloak. “It is her favorite thing to do. Right, dearest?”

  Sarah blinked. What was Lily saying? She could not focus when Devlin was looking at her as if she were the only woman within a hundred miles. He grinned, showing both dimples this time, and she stopped breathing. “Yes,” she said dazedly. “It is my most favorite thing.”

  “Excellent,” the viscount declared. “I have never met a woman who enjoyed that particular activity before. Perhaps you can tell me about your last outing while I take you around the park. When should I call on you?”

  Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but Lily beat her to it. “Why waste time?” she chirped, waving a hand in the air. “The weather can be so finicky. Go now, while there is enough snow on the ground. Go,” she repeated, giving Sarah a little push forward, “and have a wonderful time. You can bring her to Twinings when you are finished.”

  Twinings, a small tea shop on the outskirts of the park, was a favorite winter destination for those seeking a temporary respite from the cold.

  “Lily I cannot,” Sarah hissed, looking desperately back over her shoulder. The very idea of being in the close confines of the sleigh alone with Devlin thrilled her even as it terrified her. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined speaking to him, let alone being near enough to touch! What would she do? What would she say? It was too daunting a task to even comprehend. Not knowing what to do or where to turn she remained frozen in place, her gaze flicking helplessly from Devlin to Lily and back again.

  “You are such
a dear for remembering to return my muff,” Lily said loudly. Grabbing Sarah’s hand she pulled her in close under the guise of having her hand warmer returned. “Now you listen to me,” she whispered fiercely. “This is your chance, Sarah! This is your wish come true.”

  Sarah blanched. “I do not think—”

  “When will an opportunity like this ever arise again? You and Lord Heathcliff.” Her eyes fairly gleamed. “Alone in a sleigh with nothing but a shared blanket to keep you warm. Now go on, before I remember I have a great affinity for horses and love to fox hunt.”

  “Are you coming or not?” Devlin queried. He had returned to see to his horse and was scratching the large gray on the side of the neck. “Lady Kincaid, if you have changed your mind and would like to accompany us…” he ventured in an undeniably hopeful tone.

  “No, no.” Lily spun to face him, muff in hand, and smiled brilliantly. “I see some of my friend’s right over there,” she claimed, pointing to the left where a trio of heavily cloaked women and one man were walking. “I will see you at Twinings! Come along, Aunt Ingrid.” And she was off without so much as a backwards glance, leaving Sarah completely and utterly alone.

  She watched, incapable of saying a word, as Devlin moved to the side of the sleigh and held open the door. When he looked up at her expectantly she swallowed hard and walked jerkily towards him, feeling as though her limbs were being controlled by strings.

  “Thank you,” she managed to croak when he helped her up onto the small leather bench seat and laid a thick fur blanket across her lap.

  “Will that keep you warm enough?” he asked, glancing sideways at her after he had climbed in from the opposite side and gathered up the reins.

  Sarah managed a slight nod. “Yes, this will do quite n-nicely.”

  “Hold on tight,” Devlin suggested, and with a snap of the whip they were off.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Of all the different scenarios Sarah had imagined in her head when she dreamed of meeting Devlin, racing in an open sleigh had never been one of them.

  Now she knew why.

  Despite Lily’s prediction to the contrary, there was nothing romantic about huddling under a fur blanket while slowly freezing to death. Within moments she could no longer feel her toes or her fingers, and her teeth were chattering so badly she feared she would bite her tongue in half.

  Sarah supposed the scenery would have been nice to look at, except they were moving so fast that the snow covered pine trees and rolling hills had been reduced to little more than a mixed blur of green and white. It was making her quite dizzy, if she were to be perfectly honest, and after the second lap around the park she simply shut her eyes and prayed for it all to be over.

  “You can look now. We have stopped.” There was a husky note of laughter in Devlin’s voice, and when Sarah tentatively opened her eyes she saw he was grinning at her, his blue eyes filled with amusement. “You do not like horses, do you?” he asked, and in the face of such a blunt question without Lily to lie for her, Sarah was forced to shake her head.

  “No,” she admitted softly, looking down at her lap. “I am rather afraid of them.”

  They had stopped in the middle of a small clearing. The snow around them was untouched, indicating they were the first to venture to this particular spot since it had snowed the night before. In the distance Sarah could hear the raised voices of children and guessed they were somewhere close to the small skating pond where she had taken many a tumble as a little girl with skates that were too big and hand-me-down skirts that were too long.

  She peeked at Devlin, hoping he would not be angry with her for fibbing. The Viscount certainly did not appear angry. If anything he looked more handsome than ever with his cheeks flushed red from the cold and his hair blown back by the wind. Without warning he turned his head to the side and caught her studying him. Their gazes held for one breathless moment, before Devlin smiled slowly and nodded down to the fur blanket Sarah had wrapped tightly around her legs.

  “Do you mind?” he asked.

  “N-no.”

  She felt his knee bump against her knee as he unfolded the blanket followed by the hard length of his thigh pressing against her thigh. Despite the cold air she could feel her face burning and she feigned interest in a tall pine tree so she had an excuse to turn her face aside, not wanting Devlin to see the effect his nearness had on her body. She heard him sigh, long and low, before he clucked to the horse and they started moving once again, this time at a much more leisurely pace.

  “Why would you choose to go for a sleigh ride if you do not like horses?” he asked.

  Beside him Sarah stiffened and began to anxiously thread her fingers through the long hairs on the blanket as she thought desperately of what Lily would say. “I… I… That is, you… Well, I do not quite…”

  “I take it you do not fox hunt either,” he said, turning to face her and raising one brow.

  Feeling utterly miserable, Sarah shook her head.

  “You are quite honest when you are not in the company of Lady Kincaid,” he observed with a grin, and despite her nervousness Sarah found herself offering the shyest of smiles. “And you look quite pretty when you do that,” he added, his gaze dropping to her lips. His expression turned quizzical, as if his own words had caught him by surprise, before he shrugged and urged his horse into a trot with a cluck of his tongue.

  Silently cursing the blush that refused to leave her cheeks, Sarah ducked her head and looked out over the edge of the sleigh. Twenty-three years of age, she thought with a frustrated groan, and she still acted like a brand new debutante complete with a red face and the most ridiculous of stammers.

  It was little wonder Devlin had never so much as looked at her before now, and she had little doubt that once they reached Twinings he would ever have reason to speak to her again. Hopeless, she told herself. You are absolutely hopeless.

  “I do not even know your name,” Devlin said suddenly, raising his voice to be heard above the sliding of the sleigh’s rails against the snow and the merry jingle of the horse’s harness. They had completed their circle of the park and were drawing closer to Twinings with every prancing step.

  “Does it matter?” she muttered.

  A frown turned his mouth down at the corners. “What was that?”

  Taking a deep breath, Sarah twisted in the seat to face him. If this was to be the last time they were in each other’s company – which she was quite certain it would be – then it was high time she grew some steel in her spine and stopped behaving like a cowardly child. “I asked does it matter? My name,” she clarified when he continued to look bemused. “You have already proven you do not have a great affinity for remembering a woman’s name. Why then should I bother to waste my time telling you mine? You shall forget it the moment I step foot from the sleigh, or perhaps even before then.” Her shoulders lifted and fell beneath her cloak in a small shrug. “Who is to say?”

  Oh, she had done it now! What had gotten into her? Immediately Sarah felt contrite for being so uncharacteristically rude, and she half expected Devlin to bring the sleigh to a screeching halt and demand she walk to the tea shop. When he said nothing she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it back and forth until she could not take the silence any longer. “I do apologize. I do not know what came over—”

  “Stop,” Devlin demanded, switching the reins over to his left hand so he could raise his right, the palm facing towards her. His fingers were long and lean, the tips of them calloused. Absently Sarah wondered what he did to have the hands of a common laborer, for it was well known amidst the Ton that he had no reason to work. His wealth was old and quite well established, more so now than ever before since his father had passed and he inherited the late Viscount’s title. It was little wonder that women were constantly throwing themselves at him, although as far as Sarah was concerned he could have been a pauper.

  Money mattered little to her and while she considered herself quite fortunate to be born in
to the upper class she did not allow her breeding to define her as so many other members of the peerage did. Were Devlin a duke or a farmer she was confident her feelings for him would remain unchanged… not that it mattered much now.

  “Stop doing what?” she asked in confusion. “Stop apologizing?” Her gaze fell to her lap. “I truly am sorry, I usually never—”

  “No. Stop doing that… with your lip,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “It is quite… distracting.” He scowled, as if he did not want to find it distracting, and was annoyed that he did.

  She blinked. “I did not realize I was doing anything—”

  “There! There, you are doing it again.”

  Flustered by the sudden anger in his voice, Sarah covered her mouth with her hand as though by doing so she could keep the wrong words in and let only the right ones out. Speaking between her fingers she said, “I think it would be best if you brought me to Twinings now.”

  Devlin’s jaw clenched. “I think that would be best as well,” he agreed tersely. Taking the reins in both hands he slapped them against the gray’s rump. The horse arched its neck and sprang into a trot with such force that Sarah flew back in the seat and her arms flew out, one striking the door of the sleigh rather painfully while the other landed in Devlin’s lap.

  “Oh,” she gasped, frozen in shock as she saw the very intimate place her hand was now resting. “I… I did not mean… I am so sorry I… I…” Her voice trailed away as Devlin once again transferred the reins to his left hand and used the right to close his fingers around her wrist.

  “Your pulse is pounding,” he observed, tracing the pad of his thumb under the edge of her glove and down across the delicate veins on the inside of her wrist. “And you cannot stop stuttering. Do I make you nervous?”

  “Nervous?” Sarah repeated. Their eyes caught, plain brown against deep pools of blue, and she swallowed convulsively. “N-n-no.”