An Improper Christmas

by Amy Rose Bennett

  Of course, Lily had heard this story countless times, whenever she’d done anything to irritate her aunt and uncle, and long ago, she’d concluded it was a lot of nonsense used to keep her in her place of ‘poor relative’. Besides, her godmother, Winifred, the Marchioness of Solsbury would never have let such a terrible thing happen. And her father, whilst it was true he’d only been a reverend, he’d been respected within the small Somerset village and parish they’d lived in. She certainly wasn’t ashamed of her parentage or background.

  And thanks to Lady Solsbury—or Aunt Winnie as Lily called her—her dowry wasn’t that small. In fact, it was quite sizeable.

  Then it struck Lily: had Humphrey only agreed to marry her because she had a considerable dowry, and not because he loved her? She’d been led to believe he was exceedingly wealthy with an acumen for property investment.

  A stab of bitterness pierced her already wounded heart. Perhaps he just wanted her dowry so he could invest it in one of his schemes ...

  Before she had time to further think on the matter, Aunt Harriet spoke again. “Lily, I forbid you to do anything rash. I won’t have a scandal erupting during Lord and Lady Faringdon’s house party just because you got upset with Lord Hardwick for wanting to sew his wild oats. It’s what most men do, even after marriage. You must forgive him and move on.”

  She crossed the room swiftly as though she couldn’t wait to leave, then turned around at the door, her back ramrod straight, her frown fierce. “When I see you in the morning, before the Christmas Day church service, I expect you to be the epitome of poise, with fresh eyes, color in your cheeks, and an amiable smile. And you will be at Lord Hardwick’s side. Do I make myself clear?”

  Somehow Lily unlocked her clenched teeth and dredged up a response that could pass as civil. “Perfectly.”

  When the door closed behind her aunt, she flopped back on the bed and hugged the pillow tight.

  One thing was abundantly clear to her now: her engagement was over. She’d rather spend the rest of her days an old maid in penury than marry a faithless snake like Humphrey Barcroft. And scandal be damned, she wasn’t going to remain at Horwood House playing the part of devoted fiancée.

  Come morning, she’d be gone.

  Chapter 2

  Horwood House, Oxfordshire

  Christmas Day, 1819

  Joshua Sheridan, Lord Nash, stomped his half-frozen feet and held his gloved yet still cold hands out to the brazier in Horwood’s dimly lit, arctic-like stables. He supposed it was a lot to expect stable hands to be preparing his carriage with any degree of efficiency at five o’clock on such a freezing cold Christmas morning. But dash it all, he just wanted to go home to Chiltern Abbey—home to his own fireside and his own bed for some much longed for peace and quiet. Even though he’d only arrived two days ago, the sooner he was on the road, the better.

  He watched a young stable lad attempt to stifle a wide yawn as he led the second pair of matched grays out of the stalls so that they could be strapped into the traces. Joshua turned his head away to conceal a yawn too. Yet again, he had not slept well. Which would have been quite fine with him if he’d spent half the night engaged in bed sport.

  But he hadn’t.

  Not a single female guest at the Faringdons’ Yuletide house party had snagged his attention. Well, that wasn’t quite true—no one had roused his interest except the utterly delectable, fair as a Christmas angel, Lily Godwin. A chit who was virtually straight out of the schoolroom and not his usual fare at all. To make matters worse, he also suspected she might have been friends with his younger sister, Horatia, at one point.

  He shivered and it had nothing to do with the icy wind blasting through the stable’s open door. Virginal debutantes, he could think of nothing worse.

  At any rate, Miss Godwin was engaged to Hardwick and to her credit, seemed quite devoted to the baron considering she’d hastily refused a harmless kiss beneath the mistletoe.

  Unlike Lady Crawford. Earlier in the evening, she’d tried to corner him for a tryst but there was something about the hard gleam in that woman’s eyes that had given him pause. And then of course, he didn’t fancy dealing with her husband if he found out what his wife had been up to.

  Dueling with an irate spouse on Christmas Day was not his idea of a good time.

  If Joshua were honest with himself, his attempts at flirtation had only been half-hearted of late. Deep down, he was tired of all the meaningless encounters both in and out of the bedroom. It probably had something to do with the fact he’d spent an entire year playing chaperon to Horatia in the quest to find her a husband. And in the process, he’d had to constantly dodge all the matchmaking mamas and their voracious, title-seeking daughters too.

  In London, during the Season proper, he’d attended endless balls, soirées, musicales, and dinner engagements with Horatia. During the summer, he’d taken her to a series of house parties including one at Hartfield Hall. That event had been most disconcerting as the master of Hartfield, his good friend and hardened rake, Sir Nicholas Barsby, had been unaccountably mooning over the governess, and but a month later, he’d married the young woman.

  And then during the autumn, he’d endured another round of parties in London until Horatia had at long last accepted a proposal from the Earl of Lovell. Thank God. He loved his sister, but she could be a handful, and he wished Lord Lovell well.

  Yes, after the year he’d had, he needed a roaring fire, a good book, and a decanter of cognac at his elbow.

  Good God, you’re only eight-and-twenty yet you sound like an old man, Joshua Sheridan. If you’re not careful, you’ll soon be pathetically pining for a wife too.

  The sound of a light, female voice drew Joshua’s attention to the doorway. Squinting through the gloom, he caught a glimpse of a slender young woman with bright copper hair who was issuing directions to one of the grooms. His eyebrows shot up when he recognized who it was—the delicious Miss Godwin.

  His interest stirred.

  Abandoning the brazier, he approached her and flashed his rake’s smile. “Miss Godwin. Fancy meeting you here.” He ran his appreciative gaze over her well-proportioned frame: her peacock blue riding habit was perfectly cut, and a totally impractical but nonetheless pretty little hat adorned with black feathers and snowflakes was perched at a jaunty angle atop her head. Indeed, it was a miracle the hat had stayed on as she’d crossed from the house to the stables. “It’s a bit early for a ride isn’t it? And a bit cold.”

  As if the weather were listening to him, a wild flurry of snow gusted in, catching Miss Godwin’s skirts.

  Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. “I could say the same to you, Lord Nash,” she replied coolly.

  “I’m not going for a ride, I’m leaving.” He nodded towards his carriage, which looked to be ready.

  “Oh.” Her mist-gray eyes strayed to the polished black conveyance just beyond the door. “I’m leaving too.”

  On horseback? In this weather? On Christmas morning? The chit would freeze to death within an hour. Aside from that, something was clearly wrong. Joshua could see it in the girl’s expression; there were smudges of fatigue beneath her fine eyes and she seemed ... on edge. She was also carrying a small black leather satchel over one shoulder. Now that was odd. Had she had a lover’s tiff with Hardwick?

  He cocked an eyebrow. “If you don’t mind my asking, where are you headed?”

  She studied him for a moment as if trying to decide whether she could trust him with the truth. “I don’t wish to sound rude, but it’s not really any of your business, my lord.”

  “True, but if you have some distance to cover, I’d suggest you do so in a carriage. Riding through pitch darkness in a snowstorm is probably not the safest or most comfortable way to travel.”

  Something was wrong. Miss Godwin worried at her lower lip with her perfect white teeth as she studied the swirling inky blackness outside of the stables.

  “I’m going south-east. To London.” she sai
d after a minute. “I was hoping to hire a post-chaise at the coaching inn at Banbury ...”

  She trailed off and it was then Joshua realized that Miss Godwin’s eyes were bright with tears. Definitely a lover’s tiff.

  Joshua bit back a sigh. He was not used to playing the role of chivalrous knight. And it was not his habit to get involved in other people’s affairs. But Miss Godwin looked so despondent. And fragile. And too damnably pretty. There was no way on earth he could let her ride the five miles to Banbury. “You couldn’t take a carriage?”

  She shook her head and her jaunty little hat slipped, the black feather drooping sadly. “No. I came with my guardians, Lord and Lady Dunmere. My uncle and aunt. They would be none too happy if I absconded with their coach.”

  “I see ...” Blast it to hell. There was only one other option. Drawing a deep breath, Joshua spoke again. “My home, Chiltern Abbey, is in that direction too. South-east. Can I offer you a ride in my carriage, Miss Godwin?”

  A small furrow appeared between her delicately drawn brows; brows that were surprisingly dark given her fair complexion and copper-red hair. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

  “Riding alone through a snowstorm at five o’clock in the morning is not appropriate either, Miss Godwin.”

  The young woman’s cheeks turned bright red and her eyes flashed with indignation. “Lord Nash, I really don’t think you can tell me what to do,” she bristled.

  “Of course, but as a gentleman it would be remiss of me not to offer you assistance.” He cocked an eyebrow and offered his most charming smile. “So, Miss Godwin, will you share my carriage with me? Or not? The choice is entirely yours.”

  * * *

  Lily studied Lord Nash, torn between her desire to ride in a warm, luxurious carriage—she’d just seen the viscount’s footmen place hot bricks and bundles of warm blankets and furs inside the elegantly appointed interior—and her desire to behave as a young lady should. Which meant she ought to brave the elements in the name of propriety. In her heart and mind, she was no longer engaged to Humphrey—indeed she’d left him a letter telling him as much—so that wasn’t the issue.

  No, the issue was, she was a young, single woman and Lord Nash was one of the ton’s most disreputable rakehells. And she’d be sharing a carriage with him for goodness knows how long.

  Alone.

  Did she really wish to face the prospect of completely ruining her reputation if anyone found out?

  You’re more or less ruined already, Lily. Remember what you did with Humphrey ...

  Her cheeks flamed at the memory.

  Aware that Lord Nash was waiting—and the howling wind outside was growing stronger by the minute—she made up her mind. “Very well, my lord. I accept your kind offer. But only because it would be imprudent of me to ride unaccompanied in such inclement conditions.”

  Lord Nash bowed. “You are as wise as you are lovely,” he remarked and Lily cast him what she hoped was a reproving look.

  “And you are as suave as you are handsome, my lord.” And not to be trusted. The man’s wickedly charming smiles made her heart trip in the most disconcerting way. In a way that Humphrey’s never had. Goodness, she was treading on dangerous ground.

  “I shall take that as a compliment.” Lord Nash glanced at the leather satchel Lily had packed to take with her—it contained little more than two pairs of stockings, a fresh chemise, some guineas for the journey, and her hairbrush. “Can one of my footmen take your satchel for you?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’d like to keep it with me.”

  “Of course.” Lord Nash offered her his arm. “Shall we then, Miss Godwin?”

  She slipped her gloved hand through the crook of his arm, lifted the train of her habit, and took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  He expertly handed her into the carriage and as he took his seat opposite her, he flashed her a wide smile. “I’ve been remiss in not wishing you a Happy Christmas, Miss Godwin.”

  The door shut against the wickedly cold morning and the carriage rolled off. Lily turned her gaze back to Lord Nash. It wasn’t a happy Christmas for her at all but she could at least pretend. She summoned a smile. “Thank you. And I wish you a Merry Christmas too.”

  He inclined his head and his smile softened. “If there’s anything else I can do for you, Miss Godwin, to make this journey comfortable, or indeed make your day a little brighter, be sure to let me know.”

  “Your kindness is greatly appreciated.” Lily pulled a wool blanket across her lap and draped a soft fur throw about her shoulders. She leaned back, resting her head against the squabs at the exact moment Lord Nash did the same. His long muscular legs encased in form-fitting buff breeches and top boots, stretched across the short space between the bench seats and when his foot nudged hers beneath the blanket, she blushed.

  Had that simple movement been an accident or by design? She stole a glance at the viscount from beneath her lashes but he seemed intent on studying the darkness beyond his window; or so she thought until she realized the lamps inside the carriage interior had turned the windowpanes into mirrors and he was actually studying her. As her eyes met his in the reflection, he winked at her. Her cheeks grew hotter and she whipped her gaze to his face.

  “What are you about, Lord Nash? If you have invited me into your carriage with the sole purpose of attempting to seduce me—”

  The viscount sat up straighter. His brow had knitted into a slight frown. “I can assure you Miss Godwin, that is not my intention. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m afraid I didn’t sleep much last night and well, I was hoping to rest along the way.” His expression softened into a smile. “I’m sorry for bumping you.”

  Lily inclined her head politely. “Thank you. Your apology is accepted,” she replied. Perhaps he spoke the truth. She was bone-tired as well and a more than little jumpy. The problem was, Lord Nash was entirely too handsome and flirting seemed as natural to him as breathing. No doubt he was a man used to turning women around his little finger.

  And she could see why. Already she could feel her resistance melting beneath his warm smile. The perpetual twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes was most distracting as well. She must be careful. On her guard throughout their journey. Which prompted her to ask a question. “You mentioned you are traveling to your residence, Chiltern Abbey, my lord. If you don’t mind me asking, how far away is that exactly?”

  His mouth twitched. “Ah, you wish to know how long your confinement with me will last. It’s fifty miles, give or take a mile. However, the snowstorm is likely to slow our journey, especially if the roads are cut. All going well, I imagine we will reach our destination by mid-afternoon. Early evening at the latest.”

  Our destination? Lily frowned at him. “I trust there is a suitable coaching inn close to Chiltern Abbey as I’m eager to reach my destination. I have coin to hire a post-chaise to take me to London.”

  “There is. But it would be remiss of me to let you travel the forty remaining miles to London in a hired conveyance. Once we reach Chiltern, I am quite happy to lend you another of my carriages—an unmarked one of course—so as not to raise any eyebrows once you reach wherever it is you are going. And a maidservant to travel with you, if you wish.”

  Heavens, she hadn’t expected such an offer. Perhaps she’d misjudged the man. “That ... that is most generous of you, my lord. And greatly appreciated. Thank you.”

  He tilted his head and smiled. “You are very welcome, Miss Godwin. Now, if you don’t mind”—he settled back into his corner and stretched out his athletic legs again—“I’m going to see if I can sleep awhile.”

  “No, I don’t mind.” Lily rather thought she might like a nap as well. She turned her attention to the window. It was still pitch black outside and the wind buffeted the carriage and whistled through a small gap in the frame. Lord Nash had been right. She couldn’t have ridden in this weather.

  She removed her hat, placed it on the seat beside
her where her satchel lay, then snuggled into the blankets and furs. Her heart might be bruised and aching, her future uncertain, but for now, at least she was warm.

  Chapter 3

  Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire

  As Lord Nash had predicted, the going was slow. Even though the wind lessened to the south-east of Banbury, the heavy snowfall was steady throughout the cold drear morning. Lily alternately dozed and watched the passing snow-blanketed countryside through the whirling flurries. And Lord Nash seemed content to do the same. She couldn’t fault his behavior—he was the epitome of a perfect gentleman.

  They’d been traveling for what seemed like endless hours—with only a few short stops to rest the horses—when the carriage rolled into the yard of the Red Lion, a coaching inn just outside of Aylesbury. Lord Nash hired a private room and Lily—pretending she was the viscount’s sister, Horatia—joined him for luncheon.

  Lily, whilst not exactly friends with Lord Nash’s sister, had encountered her numerous times during the Season when they’d both been looking to make suitable matches. Lily was taller than Horatia, and red-headed rather than fair. If anyone knew Lord Nash and his sister, she would never pass for Horatia, but there wasn’t much she could do about the situation.

  As luck would have it, they encountered no one of their acquaintance and lunch was a pleasant, relaxed affair. Far more pleasant than Lily had anticipated. Lord Nash was congenial and charming company as he chatted to her about his estate and some of the latest on-dits about Town; his quips and ready smile made her blush with pleasure on more than one occasion during the meal. He certainly took her mind off how her uncle and aunt would be reacting to her desertion. And Humphrey.