It's a Wonderful Regency Christmas

by Edith Layton

  The viscount suddenly realized that it was far too long a time for him to wait to know what her circumstances were. He meant to find out what she was up to once and for all.

  “You can’t bring Pompey into a toy shop,” he said.

  “I know,” she said miserably.

  “And the shops will be closing soon in any case.”

  “I know,” she said, her eyes searching his.

  “So you might as well go home.”

  “True,” she said, “but you see, the thing is…the point is…”

  “That things at your home aren’t what you’d wish?” he asked softly. “And certainly not what you’d wish me to see?”

  She caught her breath. Then she nodded and looked down at the pavement as she sought all the well-rehearsed words she’d thought up in the middle of the night, things she’d meant to say to him if and when her secret was finally discovered. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but he’d obviously found out the truth about her circumstances.

  “But I’m a man of the world,” he went on gently, taking her hand in his. “I understand that reversals of fortune can make people do things they mightn’t otherwise do.”

  She looked up, hope springing into her eyes as they searched his.

  His smile was tender, his handclasp strong and warm, his gaze soft as his voice. “Please don’t take offense. I am, as I said, a worldly fellow. But your circumstances may be…difficult for a child to live with. I only worry that Alex might be exposed to things beyond his understanding if he stays with you. That would be a thing I couldn’t countenance. He has only seven years to his name, after all.”

  “Oh no!” she cried, and said in a rush, “I promise he’s in no way compromised, or in need, or unhappy or likely to be, no matter my present living accommodations. There’s enough for us, and there’s just the two of us, and as for me, I find him good company and think he feels the same about me. I promise my circumstances can in no way reflect on him. I wouldn’t have taken him in if it were so. That, I vow!”

  “Hush,” the viscount said, “don’t fret. I believe you. I’m glad we spoke of it though.” He cocked his head to the side and studied her. “You have no one with you but Alex and Pompey now?”

  She nodded sadly. “Yes. As I told you.”

  “Your position is unenviable.”

  She couldn’t answer. That was nothing but truth. “But I think I may have a solution,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. Could he help her achieve her dearest secret hope? He was after all a nobleman with money and influence. If he’d found out about her financial difficulties, maybe he also knew of a way she and her mother could recoup some of her father’s assets. When her father died everything had gone to the nearest male heir, but Laura always believed there had to have been something that wasn’t entailed. She’d been sure there were things their greedy cousin had taken that he’d no right to. She was convinced he’d done so because he’d known his distant cousin’s impoverished widow and daughter had no money or recourse to do anything about it.

  “A solution?” she breathed. “Really? Oh, that would be wonderful.”

  He looked down at her parted lips, so shapely, so near, and bent closer to her…until something bumped his leg, almost toppling him. He righted himself and looked down. Pompey looked up at him with a dark, searching gaze.

  “Done with the beasts already?” the viscount asked Alex.

  “Yes. They don’t look happy,” Alex said. “But the guards said they’d all get a treat for Christmas. The best one would be to free them.”

  “Lions in Pall Mall?” Laura asked. “A tiger in Parliament Square? I don’t think so, Alex, but I agree. No one can be happy in a cage or trapped in a life they’d never have chosen.”

  “That’s true, but this will never do!” the viscount exclaimed. “It’s too close to the holiday to be so sad. Let’s make plans for our Christmas treats. I’ll have your company on Christmas day, Alex, because it will be my turn to house you then. Maybe you can help me think up some wonderful surprises for you and for Miss Lockwood, because certainly we should all celebrate the holiday together. What do you think of that?”

  “Yes!” Alex said happily. “I think that would be good.”

  No, Laura thought, looking at the smiling gentleman. That would be better than good, because this attractive, clever gentleman is also the kindest man I’ve ever met.

  No, Sebastian thought, watching Laura’s glowing face, that would be beyond good, because good has nothing to do with it.

  He’d have his Christmas treat after all. It was hasty decision on his part, but he’d just disposed of one mistress on just as quick a whim. It had been the right decision too. How much time did a man need? His body had decided on Laura Lockwood long before he’d consciously brought the matter to mind. Now she’d as much as admitted his theory about her had been right. That wasn’t the only thing that was.

  He saw the way she looked at him. He knew the way she’d lived, how she had to live now. It was clear. He needed her. She needed him. He could hardly wait to get Miss Laura Lockwood alone to make his proposal and get matters under way.

  *

  But the viscount couldn’t get Miss Lockwood alone the next day, or during the days after. They did not have two seconds alone together, much less a chance for a serious talk. They’d gone to the park again and watched a cricket match until a thin sleet chased them to their separate houses, since a dog couldn’t go to a pastry shop, and a tavern wasn’t the proper place for a child, and Alex wouldn’t go anywhere without his dog.

  They went back to the park the next day and watched a Punch and Judy show until the snow coated them over and sent them back to their own homes again.

  They watched a game of rounders the following day, cheered for their favorite players, and ate hot chestnuts and drank hot soup that they bought from vendors and held in their gloved hands. But they went their separate ways when the sun sank low.

  They walked and talked, and the days sped by. They attended a special holiday children’s performance of the ballet one afternoon, but had to part immediately after, because Laura and Alex had to walk Pompey. And then it would be Alex’s bedtime.

  As he walked home that evening, the viscount realized they never met any of his acquaintances. He supposed that was because they always went places meant for children, and all his friends who had children had left town for the holidays. He didn’t see any women he knew, highborn or low-. He supposed that was because they never spent time with their children. It made him pensive.

  He couldn’t invite Laura to the theater or a restaurant by herself. Or rather, he did, but she never accepted. She didn’t mind spending time with him and Alex without a proper chaperon, but shied at seeing him alone, day or evening, and refused to leave Alex, saying he was only her responsibility for a little while, and she would watch over him for every moment of that time.

  Sebastian couldn’t go to her house, because he wasn’t invited. And he never had single females visit him in his own home at night. Having a proper young woman there would signal his desire to marry her. Having an improper one… Well, it just wasn’t done.

  Still, Laura saw the viscount, and he saw her, and they enjoyed each other’s company more each day. They spoke about any number of things, and laughed about even more. They watched each other, and each hoped to see more of the other, albeit in very different ways.

  Then Alex got a letter from his mama. So did Laura, both letters having been forwarded to them by Maria’s man-at-law.

  They sat near the windows of their attic rooms late that snowy afternoon, reading their letter. Alex finished first, and folded his letter neatly. “Mama says she hopes to see me in the spring,” he said somberly.

  Laura finished rereading her letter. “Yes. She tells me the same thing. She misses you very much.”

  Alex shrugged.

  Laura felt both bad and better for having read her letter. Maria had never been so forthcoming, and she’d exp
lained many things. She’d thanked her old friend for taking her son for Christmas, and then added that she was lonely and discontented, although not so much as she’d been when her husband had been alive. Still, she’d confessed, none of the diversions she’d sought had healed her from the experience of having a husband who had always preferred warfare to his wife’s company, and foreign adventure to the adventure of raising a family.

  Maria also wrote that she was lonely and felt guilty, and that nothing had worked out as she’d planned. She hoped Laura would understand, because all she’d done had been done out of a desire for friendship and love, and she really hadn’t changed that much since they’d been girls.

  Laura understood too well. How could she blame her old friend for lusting after adventure and pleasure, when she herself did the same, if only in vain? She hadn’t known what desire was until she’d met the Viscount Falconer. She’d met few eligible men, and none like him. But since she had she could think of little else but his face, his form, and his touch, even though she knew she’d never find pleasure in anything but looking at him and hearing his rich deep voice. And though nothing could or would come of it, now she found herself less puritanical, less judgmental, and, most of all, less content with her lot.

  Because it simply wasn’t enough to have his friendship, not once she’d realized she’d never know his embrace, or hear him whisper love words to her. And even if she could be content with mere friendship, that was also impossible. The bridge between their worlds existed only now, in these last few days before Christmas, because only now did a small boy bring them together.

  So certainly she understood her unhappy friend Maria. But there was no need to make Alex unhappy too.

  “So!” Laura said with a show of brightness. “There’s cause for celebration. Your mama will be home along with the violets in the spring. Then, she says, she wants you to live at home with her. Seven is, after all, very young to be away at school.”

  Alex’s smile was uncertain. He lowered his eyes. Pompey roused himself from sleep and waddled over to the boy. Alex petted the dog and said nothing.

  “Aren’t you glad?” Laura asked.

  Alex raised his eyes to her. “S’pose it will be good, though I don’t much know my mama. And it will be nice to be home. But, see, thing is”—he hesitated—“well, the thing is that I don’t know what to do about Pompey until then.”

  “Oh,” Laura said. She was surprised he actually admitted that he hadn’t had the dog with him at school.

  “So, thing is,” Alex went on resolutely, “I wondered if you could keep him for me until then. I mean, until Mama comes home.”

  Laura looked at the two pairs of eyes watching her: one blue and filled with sadness and hope, the other pair brown and filled with even more.

  “Oh, my,” she sighed. “I’d like to, I want to, but Alex, I don’t have a home of my own. I don’t really live here; I’m just renting these rooms for the holidays. My mama lives up in the Lake District, and I must work to pay for her lodgings. I’m a governess, usually, that is, when it’s not Christmastime. I haven’t room, or permission, to keep so much as an ant of my own when I’m working. Which I’ll be doing when the holiday is over.”

  The boy’s expression broke her heart, because it looked as tragic as Pompey’s great sad drooping eyes did.

  “My landlady loved Pompey,” she said. “Why not ask her?”

  “She won’t want to give him back,” Alex said simply.

  Laura fell still. That was entirely possible.

  “But what about the viscount?” she asked on a sudden inspiration. “I’m sure he has enough room to house that elephant we saw at the Tower! Why not ask him?”

  “I lied to him,” Alex said simply.

  “Well, yes. You did, to be sure. But sometimes if a lie is told to help another person…or animal,” she corrected herself, “it’s not quite so reprehensible. He’s a kind man, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  Boy and dog looked at her curiously. The boy spoke. “Will you ask him, for me?”

  “Of course. Tomorrow. We’re promised to meet him at the lake in the park. He said he’ll take you skating. The snow will have stopped by then. Even if it doesn’t, we can dress up warmly. Won’t that be fun?”

  “S’pose,” Alex said, and buried his face in Pornpey’s neck.

  “I’ll ask,” Laura said seriously. “I promise. We’ll find a good place for Pompey until your mama comes home. I promise you that too.”

  But she wondered what she’d do if the viscount couldn’t take the dog because of previous commitments, or whatnot. She knew very little about his private life. He never spoke about his plans for the future either, nor did she expect him to. What was she to him, after all? To be fair, she’d never been entirely candid with him either. They seemed to have made a silent agreement. They both lived from day to day in an artificial bubble of Christmas cheer for Alex’s sake, and never discussed what they planned for the new year.

  She looked at Alex, who had his arms wrapped around Pompey. The dog watched her with dignified sorrow.

  Whatever the viscount’s answer, Laura vowed then and there that she’d pay for Pompey’s upkeep and boarding if she had to. She’d put away money for Alex’s holiday and had saved a considerable bit of it since she’d met the viscount, because he insisted on buying their treats and hackney-cab rides. If she did pay for the dog’s board, she’d have nothing left for herself. But then, she thought with newfound wisdom and sorrow, there was never too high a price to pay for love, was there?

  *

  The lake wasn’t entirely frozen. Signs had been posted to that effect, and anyone could see that only the center was thick white ice, while the rest of the lake was translucent, with only a thin glaze over the dark water at the banks.

  “It’s like my heart,” the viscount said dramatically, putting his hand on his chest, “cold on the outside, but warmth beneath.”

  Alex grinned. Laura laughed out loud.

  “So I’m afraid we can’t skate today,” the viscount continued. “Still, we can give Pompey some exercise.” He eyed the dog. Pompey looked the size of a small pony, although he supposed most of it could be an illusion, because the dog’s fur was so thick. “Lud!” he exclaimed. “What are you feeding him? I swear he’s twice the size he was when we went to Astley’s.”

  Pompey wagged his great plume of a tail.

  “Doesn’t he look grand?” Alex asked nervously. “And he’s trained to live in a house, truly he is! He never makes a mistake. And he barks if anyone comes near the house, but not too loud or too long. Truly, sir, he’s the best of puppies.”

  “Puppy?” the viscount asked. “I daresay he would be, if he were a puppy. How long have you had him?”

  “Not long enough!” Alex said quickly. “But it’s just that puppies grow fast. I don’t think he’ll grow any bigger, truly I don’t, sir.”

  The viscount raised an eyebrow. “He needs some exercise, whatever size he’s going to be.” He bent, picked up a stick, and threw it. “Fetch!” he called.

  Pompey went bounding after the stick, Alex at his heels.

  “Why is he praising the dog so much?” the viscount asked Laura, as they slowly paced along the border of the lake, following the boy and the dog. “What’s he done wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “The dog is, as he said, a remarkably amiable creature. But Alex admitted he can’t take him back to school with him, and asked me to ask you if you could house him until his mother comes home. Oh! That’s the best news,” she said excitedly. “We both received letters from Maria yesterday. She’s coming home in the spring, and she’s resolved to turn over a new leaf.”

  The viscount sneered. “Like Pompey vowing to give a lecture, I’m afraid.”

  Laura drew herself up, her expression suddenly chill. “No, it’s not. Maria had reasons to act as she did. She wrote and told me.”

  “Did she?” he drawled, his voice dripping ice. “Interesting. I, howeve
r, saw how she behaved. She flirted shamelessly, even when poor Harry was alive and by her side.”

  “Was he?” Laura answered as coldly. “Interesting, indeed. I had heard that he was seldom by her side. He was far more often with his comrades in the army, whether he was at war or not. Or if not, then he was off hunting or riding, more comfortable with his friends than he ever was with his wife. She flirted to get a man’s attention, I’m sure. But she says, and I believe, that that man was her husband.”

  The viscount’s head went up higher than his stiff white neckcloth could account for. He looked down his nose at her. “I can see that you would like to believe that,” he finally said.

  “And I,” Laura said, equally haughtily, “can easily see how you would like to believe that your friend was a model husband.”

  They stared at each other for a moment.

  She saw a tall, imposing, imperious gentleman of fashion, breathtakingly attractive and equally imposing. His clothing was as impeccable as his breeding, and she knew he was proud of both. He said he’d found a solution for her difficulties. He’d obviously forgotten the entire matter. She wondered how she could ever for a moment have believed he could understand her.

  He saw her curls peeking out from under her unfashionable bonnet, and wished he could give her a finer one, to suit her charming face. He wanted to buy her gowns to show off her deliciously curved form. He wanted even more to take them off that deliciously curved form. Her speaking eyes looked into his, her lips were soft and appealing. He saw a lovely, desirable, proud young woman, and wondered why he was arguing with her.

  “Come,” he said suddenly, his expression easing. “Let’s not fight about what neither of us can ever really know.”

  Laura sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Instead, let’s think of where we can board Pompey for Alex, until Maria comes home in the spring.”