Let me be strong enough to survive the trip.
Chapter Three
Colin couldn’t believe his luck. Lucy had agreed to his scheme, not that she knew it was a scheme, but he grinned just the same.
He gave her bags to his driver, who stowed them with the rest, then he opened the shiny, black-painted door to the traveling coach. “No time like the present to set out.” When he offered his gloved hand to her and she slipped her equally gloved fingers into his, a mild tingle followed. Damnation. She felt the same as she always had, but as soon as he assisted her into the coach, she released him when she settled onto the squabbed bench next to Ellen. No doubt that brief transfer of something was only with him.
Don’t let her make you a nodcock again, Colin.
With the mental warning, he nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, William,” he called to his driver. After Colin swung himself inside the coach and sat on the bench across from the ladies, he gave them a grin. “Well, this will make the journey jollier.”
Ellen snorted. “You are not the jolly sort.” She put distance between herself and Lucy as if the other woman had fleas. “Who is this? Another one of your mistresses, since you cannot possibly spend time away from some woman’s bed?”
Heat shot up the back of Colin’s neck. Lucy gasped and regarded his daughter with a slightly opened jaw and rounded eyes. “You are entirely rude. Apologize at once, Ellen. This is Mrs. Ashbrook, an old... friend who happens to go to Lancaster Hall for the holiday. Her family lives on the property adjacent to Father’s.”
The girl narrowed her eyes, but she did the pretty and offered a sulky apology, which Lucy accepted with a curt nod. “Why is she here? I thought this trip was for the two of us. You promised to spend time with me.”
He ignored the emphasized words that only young adolescent ladies could attain. “The mail coach she was to ride in broke an axel, and since we share a prior association, she’s a widow, and we are all headed to the same destination, I offered to share our conveyance.” When the vehicle lurched into movement, he stifled a sigh. It was irrevocable now. They were underway. “Besides, Mrs. Ashbrook can serve as your companion for the journey, since you’ve run off every other genteel female I’ve hired for the post over the year.”
Both ladies protested the announcement.
“That was not discussed,” Lucy said as she straightened her spine. “I am not in want of a position.”
“I do not need a companion. I am not a child!” Ellen sent a pout in his direction.
At the last second, Colin stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “This is our situation now, so I expect the both of you to make the best of it.”
Both women glared at him. They resembled bookends, especially when they both crossed their arms at their chests.
The temperature inside the coach dropped a few degrees... and they had only been underway for thirty seconds. Hell, by the time they arrived in Derbyshire, he could expect to be frozen solid. At least it would keep him from being tossed onto the mercy of his family.
Of course, he’d lose the wager, but it wouldn’t matter if he was dead...
“I understand how this news might be upsetting. However, I’m of a mind that if we work together and look at the situation in a positive light, we will find the journey pleasant.” Colin ignored the seething hostility still emanating from the two. He assumed a negligent pose of reclining against the squabs and resting an ankle on a knee. Then he focused his attention on Lucy. “How have you kept yourself, Mrs. Ashbrook? It’s been an age since we last saw each other.” He stifled the urge to wince as a stab of pain speared through his chest.
“It’s been seventeen years,” Lucy reminded him in a voice stiff with annoyance, which brought his own simmering beneath the surface. What the deuce? She wasn’t the one wronged. The frost didn’t thaw from her gaze, but she did huff and unbent enough to settle her hands in her lap. “I’ve been well enough. Thank you for asking. And you, Viscount Hartsford? How have you been?”
The question, much like his grandmother had asked, gave him pause. He couldn’t very well say he was merely existing, so he uttered, “I have been living my life to the fullest.”
“How wonderful for you.” Sadness filled her ice-blue eyes and she looked at the window, pulling back the black velvet curtain to stare at the streets of Mayfair.
This defeated creature wasn’t the Lucy he used to know, and it took him aback. “Come, Mrs. Ashbrook. Is not Christmastide the season to treat your fellow man with compassion and empathy?” Did he want that from her after all these years? No, he did not. He wanted to make her hurt as she’d wounded him by marrying his best friend, a man he’d just learned had passed away before they’d had the chance to rectify the rift between them. Before he had the opportunity to apologize for being a bounder.
Damn you, Jacob. I thought there would be time...
“It is, of course. We are all a little nicer and more generous.” She regarded him once more, but her eyes had lost the luster they once had. “Does not everyone love Christmastide?”
“Indeed, they should.” Except, he did not. “I’m being kind by letting you share my journey. You’re welcome.” He winked and was rewarded with matching glares from the ladies.
“Without asking,” Ellen reminded him with a sniff. “If I was Mrs. Ashbrook, I’d be quite put out with your high-handedness.” She slid a glance to Lucy, who acknowledged the statement with a slight smile and the incline of her chin.
These two were a tough sell, but he refused to let their attitudes daunt him. “Sometimes life presents opportunities a man simply cannot overlook.” Like... revenge, for example.
His daughter rolled her eyes. “Opportunities for you to show even more people in England what a rakish arse you’ve become? If anyone has lost the spirit of Christmas, it’s you.”
Colin gasped. The heat of embarrassment renewed itself up the back of his neck. She was too bold and well on her way to becoming an unmanageable hoyden. Had he let her grow up without discipline for too long? He eyed her warily. Perhaps he had, and if something didn’t happen soon, society would reject her before she’d ever had her first Come Out.
Now it was time to take his daughter in hand and raise her the rest of the way as he should have done all along. For he didn’t wish her to become like him. But how? If he were honest with himself, his daughter terrified him.
Before he could take her to task, Mrs. Ashbrook turned to the girl, her expression a mix of disappointment and shock. “Miss Rowley, that is no way to speak to your elders, let alone your father.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what he was,” the girl groused.
Lucy shot him an appraising glance, and he quelled the urge to squirm beneath her scrutiny. “Whatever he is or is not, he is your father and he demands your respect.” Her tone brooked no argument.
“He does not.” Ellen pouted. “Did you know he kept a mistress when Mother was alive?” she said in lieu of an apology.
“I... I beg your pardon?” Lucy’s jaw gaped slightly open, and Colin tugged on his suddenly too-tight cravat. When Ellen didn’t repeat the hideous charge, the widow’s lips tugged downward in a frown. “Regardless, this is not a subject for a young lady. It seems your education has been rather lax.”
“Father doesn’t care a jot what becomes of me. I’m left to my own devices when not at school.” The girl turned her face to her window, effectively dismissing them both. “If you don’t wish to hear what I have to say, I shall sleep. No one can bother me then.”
Lucy glanced at Colin. He shrugged. What was there to say? She could see the evidence of his horrible parenting with her own eyes.
An hour went by in tension-filled silence. His daughter did indeed sleep while Lucy alternately gazed out the window or read a book she’d pulled from the slim bag she’d brought aboard with her.
Finally, he couldn’t stand the quiet, the wondering about this woman who’d parted ways with him that long-ago day. What did she
think about his life now, at how far off course he’d gone? He softly cleared his throat. “As you’ve seen, I have failed as a parent. This weighs on my mind.”
The widow stuck a finger in her book and then closed it and laid the volume in her lap. She regarded him with those ice-blue eyes that held no affection for him or their history. “I wouldn’t say you failed, my lord. Disappointed your daughter, perhaps. Disappointed yourself, most definitely.” A crease marred the smooth skin of her ivory forehead. “As you have with everyone in your life.” One of her delicate eyebrows arched. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Damnation, but she was quite direct. He shifted in his seat, deciding not to answer the question. “You were not always so outspoken, Lucy.” As he gazed at her, he couldn’t help but admire this new version of the girl he’d once loved. So full of experience that had given her curves the navy traveling cloak and lighter blue day dress couldn’t quite hide. She now had wisdom in her eyes that spoke of grief and loss. Was he one of the things she mourned?
A flicker of something briefly lit those eyes, but faded so quickly it could have been but a trick of the light. “People change, viscount.”
Or in my case, they do not. If she wished to draw prickles about her, so be it. “You made use of my name before.” It irked him that she wouldn’t, and that annoyed perhaps more than her refusal to let him bait her.
“That was years ago.” She kept her voice low. “Now we are strangers.”
It was her opinion, and of course the reason he’d sought her out when the mail coach broke down, to make her remember, draw her close and then reject her when she needed him most. “We don’t need to be.” What would it take to defrost her?
A slight huff of breath came from her, and when he assumed she wouldn’t respond, she said, “I rather think we do. From all accounts, if rumors are true, you haven’t changed from the young man you were that long-ago Christmas.”
Ah, so now she’d decided to play his game? Very well. How interesting that her recollection was colored differently than his. “When you crushed me?”
She uttered an unladylike snort. “That assumes you cared. I set you free to find your own path, the one you wished to forge regardless of what I wanted.”
Is that what she thought? Those plans he’d had would have benefited them both, and had been most lucrative. He glowered instead of striving to explain, for what good would it do? “I did care.”
“Not enough to come after me, to fight for me—for us.” She waved a hand as if that would dismiss a veritable lifetime of hurt between them. As if he no longer mattered.
Perhaps he didn’t, for hadn’t he moved on with his life, found other things to fill the void Lucy had left?
He kept his anger at the forefront, so vulnerability couldn’t sneak in. How the hell was he to know she’d wanted him to come after her? “You made it clear there was no us when you refused me.” Oh, how his heart had been wrenched and shredded. He hadn’t been able to accept that it had been the end between them, so once the Christmas holidays were over, he’d sent her a letter asking once more for her hand.
Not only had she refused him in writing, she’d sent his letter back with hers, telling him to look inside at the man he was, the one he wished to be, and if he changed, she would reconsider.
That was the last communication there had been between them, for he’d remained in high dudgeon for quite some time.
She gawked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “Because I left the party that night early and without giving my promise?”
Her inability to see her part in the farce worked to further annoy him. Bitterness filled his chest and he let it rage. “No, because you married my best friend less than two years later.”
Pregnant silence brewed between them for long moments, broken only by the clip clop of the horses’ hooves and the crunch of gravel beneath the wheels. They’d left London proper before Lucy spoke again.
“I had to go on with my life, Colin,” she said in a quiet voice. “You accepted your freedom readily enough. Went to London and sowed wild oats, which meant what we’d shared wasn’t strong enough to pass the test of time. It was good we found that out before we’d wed.”
“Wild oats until I married around the same time.”
“That was our fate.” She shrugged as his jaw worked to form a smart reply. “When Jacob came home from the war, wounded, he and I spent time together during his convalescence. We talked, took long walks through the Derbyshire countryside, remembering our childhood, exchanging hopes and dreams.”
“Except the parts where I made an appearance.” This time the cynicism leeched into his voice.
She ignored his rejoinder. “It was inevitable we fell in love. I... I was ready for that part of my life to begin.”
Without me. Why had she not been eager to set up housekeeping with him? His chest ached, or more specifically, his heart pained him. Suddenly, he didn’t want to talk anymore, or even goad her. It made him remember too much, and regrets crept in bringing guilt with them. “I never forgave Jacob the trespass,” he admitted in a whisper, but didn’t look at her. He couldn’t.
“He knew that, but always hoped you would,” she replied in a matching low tone. “He loved you like a brother and took it hard when you abandoned him—us.”
How the devil could he go on being friends with them knowing that she preferred Jacob over him, wanted his best friend in her arms, in her bed, when she’d thrown those same feelings away she’d previously held for him?
Colin rubbed at his chest above his heart in an effort to relieve the never-ending ache. He wished the conversation would end, yet he needed to hear everything about her life. “Did you... ah... have children?” The words were forced from a tight throat.
“Yes.” The word was propelled into the air on a barely-there whisper, as if she was loath to admit such a thing. “Two. A boy, Simon who is fifteen, and a girl, Beatrice, who is thirteen. They are my life now.”
What sort of a mother was she, and did the children resemble her? At one time he’d thought he and she would have a passel of little ones, stair steps of each other, with her slight almond-shaped eyes and his impish grin. “They don’t travel with you.”
“No. They went ahead a few days with Lydia, for they insisted on bringing the cat, and I had business in Town to finish before I made the trip.”
Ellen stirred in her sleep. She gave off what sounded like a laugh. Perhaps she dreamed of happier things than were currently discussed.
Lucy smiled at her before giving her attention back to him. “It’s a good life.”
“So it seems,” he replied with a frown. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to immolate my daughter.” He closed his eyes, but he knew sleep wouldn’t come, not while Lucy was so close.
And so not his. What a horrible idea it had been to render traveling assistance to her.
Chapter Four
Later that afternoon
Colin hadn’t spoken to either of his companions since that opening conversation. As the hours had trudged by, he’d feigned sleep, spending the time instead contemplating Lucy’s words.
Had he truly not changed since those long-ago days when he’d believed in the charm and the magic of Christmas? He’d grown and matured, of course. That part of life was inevitable, but had his attitude about the holiday changed?
Perhaps. Did it matter? He was who he was. If the prudish widow still didn’t like that, it wasn’t a concern of his. Plenty of women delighted in the sort of man he’d become. He certainly had no problems convincing them to warm his bed. Yet, as he frowned out the window at the passing countryside, bare and ready for winter in the late afternoon light, he couldn’t help but continue his thoughts. Bed sport was everything wonderful, yet there was something to be said for companionship, of having a woman nearby for conversation and to simply share experiences, to look across the breakfast table and give a smile because she was his for more than a fleeting affair.
At one time, he’d as
sumed he’d have that with Lucy. So many Christmastide days were spent contemplating their future, looking forward to being adults and having lives of their own, of setting their own traditions for celebrating the holiday—of love. Colin stirred on his bench as restlessness descended upon him. Bah. Love. That emotion had the power to betray, to make things seem different than they truly were.
When that dream had died, and he’d married his wife a year later, he once more assumed he’d have the companionship he sorely desired. After a fashion he did, but what he’d had in common with Adelaide hadn’t carried past the bedchamber. They’d both made efforts over the course of their union; none had stuck, for when a relationship had begun out of obligation, there had been no time for growth.
And when it had ended over something born of desperation, well...
He glowered out the window. Even his thoughts provided no refuge. Of course, it didn’t help that his head pounded like the devil’s own drums on the march, but there was no hope for it.
“Why are you full of thunderclouds, Father?” The sound of Ellen’s voice, as well as her question, cut into his musings and scattered those maudlin bits.
Colin cringed and jerked his head in her direction, which only made the ache intensify. Damn the handful of drinks he’d indulged in after lunch while waiting for the ladies to refresh themselves to resume the journey. But brandy made him—at least temporarily—forget the man he’d turned into.
“Why should I smile on this endless trip?” he finally responded, and when he glanced at Lucy, who sat demurely reading her novel, he almost asked for her help in finding what he’d forgotten about himself, but he quelled the urge. There was nothing left between them except heartache. He bounced his attention back to his daughter. “I despise traveling.”
Ellen snorted. “It is only the first day, and while travel might be inconvenient, it takes us to exciting destinations. Just think of all the adventure waiting for us.” It was said with all of the innocent naiveté and spirit that only fifteen could bring.
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 83
