Five Golden Rings: A Christmas Collection

by Sophie Barnes

  “But Mr. Grenly—”

  “He has been most polite in his attentions toward you, for which one can only commend him. However, I would advise you not to encourage him any further until you’re quite certain that he’s the man you wish to marry. And don’t forget, once we attend the Yarlton Ball on Saturday, there will be other gentlemen vying for your attention—of that you may be certain. As agreeable as Grenly may be, I think you should give the other young gentlemen a chance as well. After all, you must consider that whomever you choose to marry, your decision will be permanent.”

  Leonora had left her friend’s company feeling much relieved. She felt certain that she’d managed to make Amy realize that she should not focus on Grenly alone and would hopefully soon be able to tell the Ring of Protectors that Lady Amy would be marrying a most eligible gentleman. To celebrate her accomplishment thus far, she decided to take a stroll through Hallidan’s town center and visit the milliner’s.

  So preoccupied was she with this fabulous turn of events that she failed to watch where she was going and almost got herself trampled by a couple of bays as they came trotting along Main Street, pulling a curricle that naturally, as luck would have it, belonged to none other than Lord Redfirn.

  “LADY LEONORA! ARE you quite all right?” He’d reined his horses to an immediate halt as soon as he’d realized that the woman about to cross the street had no intention of checking to see if she might be about to step in front of a moving vehicle.

  “I . . . erm . . . yes, thank you,” she grumbled, looking rather put out by their encounter with one another. She dropped a hasty curtsy and made as if to hurry on her way. “Forgive me, but I have an appointment that I must keep—good day, my lord.”

  Connor caught her by the arm before she managed to step away from him. “I would be more than happy to offer you a ride.” He saw no point in telling her that he’d actually been on his way to her estate—not when she was staring at him as if he had an ulterior motive in mind, which, of course, he did.

  “That is most kind of you,” she said. “But quite unnecessary.”

  Once again, she moved as if she planned to escape him, but for some peculiar reason, Connor refused to let her go. Instead, he tightened his hold on her arm and pulled her back. Her eyes widened with apparent outrage. “Unhand me!” Whatever temper she’d kept at bay the other evening was rapidly rising to the surface.

  “Lady Leonora,” he said in his most soothing tone, “I cannot as a gentleman ignore your safety, and considering that you were very nearly run down by a curricle, I should feel far more comfortable if you would please ride with me instead. Besides, it’s terribly cold today.” He nodded toward the seat of the carriage. “There’s a thick blanket up there.”

  “I . . . I . . .” He could see her struggling to find an appropriate comeback. “It was your curricle!”

  “All the same.” And then, before she could say or do anything further, he placed his hands upon her waist in one swift movement and lifted her up into the carriage.

  “You . . . I . . . Urgh!”

  Connor simply grinned. He’d missed sparring with her, he realized, but he’d been busy during the last couple of days and hadn’t managed to call on her as soon as he’d hoped.

  First, there had been Grenly to attend to. Connor had helped him select a meaningful present for Lady Amy—an antique collection of Plato’s work in five beautifully bound leather volumes. They had cost a small fortune, but when Grenly had mentioned Lady Amy’s interest in philosophy, Connor had immediately known that this was the sort of thing she would appreciate.

  Then there had been Wolfston to deal with. The old earl had appeared unexpectedly on Connor’s doorstep the day after, just as Connor was getting ready to head out with the sole purpose of paying a visit to Lady Leonora. Wolfston had demanded a detailed report of his son’s progress, and by the time he had left again, it had been too late in the day for Connor to make a social call without appearing either rude or desperate.

  So here he was now.

  “This is highly irregular,” Lady Leonora told him firmly, as he climbed up beside her and placed half the blanket across her lap. “Not to mention unacceptable in any number of ways. People will see us—without a chaperone. My lord, I insist that you hand me down this instant, or I shall be forced to take matters into my own hands and jump.”

  He wasn’t entirely sure that she wouldn’t follow through with her threat, so he said the only thing he imagined might stop her. “And risk breaking an ankle? Where will Lady Amy be if you’re unable to remain by her side throughout all of the holiday celebrations?”

  He saw her wince and knew what she was thinking without having to ask: either unmarried, or worse—married to Grenly. Allowing himself to smile just a little with the satisfaction of having gotten his way, he whipped the horses into motion.

  Continuing down Main Street, Connor turned to Lady Leonora after a moment’s silence. “Where am I to take you, my lady?”

  She must have been woolgathering, for she turned to him quite suddenly as if he’d startled her. “I . . . that is . . . I um—”

  Connor grinned. “You have no prior engagements, do you, my lady?” He could practically hear her grinding her teeth together in irritation. “Whyever would you wish to be rid of my company? I can be quite charming, you know.” And just to annoy her a bit more, he waggled his eyebrows.

  “Really? Because after seeing you last, I was left with the distinct impression that you intended to call on me, yet I’ve seen not as much as your shadow since then. Indeed, I daresay that if I hadn’t happened upon you just now by chance, you would have carried on avoiding me indefinitely.” She turned a pair of flashing brown eyes on him. “You, sir, have made your intentions quite clear indeed.”

  An uneasy twinge of something most unsettling filled Connor’s chest at that moment. Until then, he’d had no thoughts of intentions at all, and yet she gave him no choice but to examine them now. She was clearly vexed, but he’d somehow come to expect that from her—after all, he’d known her rather briefly, and in that short time he’d purposefully “tripped her up” on more than one occasion. She was right to feel miffed.

  Be that as it may, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might be offended by his lack of attention toward her—he’d rather imagined she would have been relieved when he failed to appear at her front door. Clearly, this was not the case, which could only indicate that she’d been thinking of him far more than she was ever likely to admit. The most terrifying thing of all was that Connor had been thinking of her too. Repeatedly.

  “I did send you chocolates,” he said, feeling some absurd need to defend himself. The woman had painted a most unsavory picture of him, and considering how busy he’d been and that he wasn’t her beau, he rather thought she was being a bit harsh. He’d even had to ask Penningham who she was and where she lived. How humiliating to discover that she was the Lady Leonora—of Rosedale Park. He ought to have at least suspected as much—especially given the fact that she’d told him she’d been absent from society for some time. Her facial expression had indicated that she’d probably suffered a loss, and he hadn’t even bothered to offer his condolences. Yes, he’d apologized, but in light of the fact that the woman had lost her mother, he still felt like a complete ass. He’d have to make it up to her somehow.

  She let out a deep breath beside him. “Yes. Thank you. They were delicious.”

  Turning the horses toward the park, Connor suddenly said, “I love strawberry tarts.” He’d no idea why he’d said it, and for a moment he felt a bit daft, but then he just shrugged and turned his head toward her with a grin. “Do you like sweets, Lady Leonora?”

  At first, she just sat there with the same stony expression she’d managed to paste on her face the minute she’d seen him coming toward her. But then something startling happened—she began to transform. Little by little, a light pink flush rose to her cheeks, while her lips curled upward with a bit of mischief. “I adore the
m, my lord.” Her gaze swept sideways for a moment before returning to his. “Mama always insisted that I’m only allowed one per week. She was very firm about it—so much so that even after her passing, Cook still adheres to this rule though I do sometimes send my maid to fetch me a little something extra from one of the tea shops.”

  “Surely your father must be able to convince your cook to prepare more sweets for you.” He immediately regretted his words, for the look of anguish that filled Lady Leonora’s eyes was so raw and honest that he was suddenly overcome with a need to protect her.

  “My father embarked for the East Indies shortly after Mama passed. He was eager to get away from everything that might remind him of her.”

  Including you.

  She didn’t say it, but Connor could see it in her eyes. “I’m so terribly sorry,” he said, finally seizing the chance to say the right thing. “It must be very difficult for you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, turning her head with the pretense of looking at some of the shops they were passing.

  Once again, he found himself thinking of something to say in order to steer the conversation back to a lighter mood. As it happened, he was saved from the task by the lady herself. “I’ve no idea what to do about Lady Amy, my lord. Perhaps you might offer some advice?”

  “Lady Amy?” he asked, feigning ignorance. Whatever would Lady Leonora think if she knew that he’d deliberately set out to distract her while Grenly furthered his relationship with her friend? She’d probably be livid.

  “You recall the tall, blond-haired woman I was with the other evening? The one whom Mr. Grenly has decided to set his sights on?”

  “I vaguely remember . . .”

  “Well however pudding-headed Mr. Grenly might be, he’s certainly mastered the art of courting. Lady Amy has not only received the exact same books she’s been fawning over at the bookshop, but this morning the most thoughtful poem arrived.”

  Connor tried not to smile too much. It had taken him less than half an hour to write that poem for Grenly. “Perhaps you’ve underestimated him,” he suggested, as they trotted past the entrance to Hallidan’s park. “The man might not be as bad as you think.” He didn’t need to look at her to know that she was probably frowning.

  “If you ask me, he must be getting some sort of assistance or guidance from somebody. I only wish I could figure out from whom, so I could confront the individual. It’s false advertising and highly immoral.” She sighed. “You must think me a complete highbrow, for which I cannot blame you. I know I’m being particularly critical of Mr. Grenly, but Lady Amy is my friend—it’s very important to me that she make the right decision.” There was a note of desperation to her voice that Connor could not dismiss. He groaned inwardly. Was that guilt rearing its ugly head? Surely not.

  “All I want is for her to be happy,” Lady Leonora continued. “And while Mr. Grenly may be attentive and thoughtful, he lacks both charm and elegance, not to mention that he seems a bit too eager for my liking. I mean, one book should have sufficed, but he sent her five—five!”

  “I erm . . .” Connor knew that buying five books had been a bit over the top, but he’d wanted to make certain that Lady Amy would be thoroughly impressed. “From what I understand, Lady Amy is quite well-read. If you ask me, Mr. Grenly’s gesture seems rather considerate.”

  Lady Leonora turned to him, wide-eyed and openmouthed. “Are you defending him?”

  “No!” That came out a bit more forceful than he’d intended. Connor took a deep breath. “Not in the least. I merely think it wise, not to mention polite, to give everyone a fair chance.”

  “You think me judgmental and rude,” she muttered—her gaze seemingly fixed on some distant point upon the horizon.

  Would it ever be possible to say the correct thing to this woman, Connor wondered. With no intention of chastising her, he’d certainly done a good job. It was yet another moment in desperate need for a change of topic. “I think I know precisely where to take you,” he said as he guided the curricle down another street. He shot her a cheeky grin. “With a penchant for sweets, I’m certain a visit to Mrs. Potter’s will be just the thing to make your encounter with me a little less regrettable.”

  Judging from the warmth that seeped into her eyes and the dimples that suddenly dotted each cheek, he’d been absolutely correct. It wasn’t a moment he was likely ever to forget, for the happiness that radiated from her at his suggestion not only made him realize that she was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen (even if she wasn’t blond with blue eyes). It very nearly took his breath away.

  Chapter Six

  “MY DEAR LEONORA—IT seems like an age since I last saw you,” the Duchess of Arbergail exclaimed as she came hurrying toward Leonora and Amy, who had just begun their ascent toward the theatre’s balcony to locate their seats.

  “Duchess,” Leonora murmured, half managing a curtsy as she stood there partly turned with each foot on a different step. Amy fared no better, it seemed, and for one horrifying moment it appeared as though she might take a tumble. Thankfully, she found her balance. Leonora breathed a sigh of relief. “I didn’t realize you planned to remain in Hallidan for the holidays—you usually journey to Brenton, isn’t that so?”

  “Not this year, my dear,” the duchess said with some regret to her voice. “Unfortunately, my dear brother wasn’t feeling quite up to a houseful of guests this year, so my husband has invited his sister and her children to spend Christmas with us instead.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear it,” Leonora said. “I hope he’ll be all right—your brother that is.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing too serious—a rather persistent case of influenza.” The duchess looked sideways only briefly before returning her gaze to Leonora. “Unfortunately, we have all ventured out this evening, so there is no more space in our box, or I would invite both of you to join us. I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s quite all right,” Leonora said. She then offered the duchess a secretive smile. “I believe we’re well seated in the very middle of the first balcony.”

  The duchess nodded with complete understanding. This was a tactical maneuver on Leonora’s part with the express intention of getting noticed by one and all.

  “Then I shall wish you a very enjoyable evening indeed, ladies.” The Duchess of Arbergail nodded politely toward each of them in turn before taking her leave and vanishing into the crowd.

  Continuing upward, Leonora and Amy were just arriving at the top of the stairs when another voice could be heard, calling Leonora’s name. Contrary to the duchess’s, however, this one was deep and masculine, having the immediate effect of sending shivers across Leonora’s skin. Her stomach tightened as she turned her head, only to find herself catching her breath. She’d forgotten how elegant Lord Redfirn looked in his black evening attire, for although he’d paid her several visits over the course of the past few weeks, she hadn’t seen him at a formal event since the evening when they’d first met.

  “What a pleasant surprise,” his lordship was now saying as he turned his attention on Amy first and, much to Leonora’s pleasant surprise, reached for her hand and placed a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. There was no denying the blush that rose to Amy’s cheeks. Straightening, Redfirn then turned his gaze on Leonora, and said, “Please tell me you’ll join me in my private box.”

  This wasn’t at all what Leonora had been planning, but it was also an offer that was very hard to refuse. As it was, she was growing increasingly certain that if she didn’t sit down soon, her legs, which had long since been turned to jelly, would in all likelihood give out beneath her and send her tumbling. Besides, she reasoned, it might work in Amy’s favor if they were seen socializing with Lord Redfirn rather than with Grenly. “Thank you, my lord. That is indeed most generous of you,” she said. “We would be happy to accept.”

  “Splendid!” Redfirn smiled at both of them, and if Leonora wasn’t completely wrong, it did seem as though he added an extra bit of
warmth to the smile he offered her.

  How had she managed to fall in love with such speedy efficiency? Dear Lord, she’d never been so besotted in her life. Accepting one of the arms he now offered to each of them, Leonora sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t guess what was in her heart. If he so much as suspected . . . In light of their relationship thus far, he could only think her a silly little nitwit.

  “Here we are,” Redfirn stated as soon as they’d entered his private box. Taking Amy by the arm, he led her forward to a centrally located seat with a perfect view of the stage. Leonora couldn’t help but be impressed. He’d clearly realized the purpose behind taking Amy to the theatre this evening and had decided to help Leonora showcase her friend to the best of his abilities. Favoring him with a pleasant smile, she silently mouthed the words, “Thank you,” as he turned back to face her.

  With a slight nod, he acknowledged her appreciation and returned to her side, saying, “If you would please take the seat next to her, Lady Leonora, then I shall —”

  “Forgive me for intruding, Lord Redfirn, but I saw you from across the way and was wondering if I might perhaps be allowed a brief word with Lady Amy?” It was Grenly who’d made an unexpected appearance.

  What an unfortunate turn of events.

  Leonora turned to Redfirn, who looked as though he was struggling to find an expression that would suit this new situation the best. The result was a bit of a grimace. “Mr. Grenly, was it?” Grenly managed a curt nod while his eyes remained on Lady Amy, who had turned an equally longing gaze on him. Leonora opened her mouth to say something—anything at all—that would serve to send the eager viscount on his merry way, but Redfirn beat her to it, saying, “Well, we’ve certainly plenty of room. Won’t you join us?”