A Hero for Christmas

by Jo Ann Brown

  “Poor Meriweather,” he said. “He cannot make up his mind whom to invite, so he invited everyone.”

  Cat’s shoulders eased from their rigid line. “I didn’t think of it that way. Oh, dear! What a muddle this has become! To say something to him would be cruel, so I will endeavor to make the adjustments without bothering him.” She sighed. “I hope he will not regret avoiding that decision when the rest of our guests start to arrive, and we don’t have enough room for everyone.” She glanced toward the window. “Although if it keeps snowing like this, I wonder who will come.”

  “You sound hopeful.”

  Catherine smiled at his jesting tone. “I didn’t intend it that way. I want everything to be perfect for Sophia and Charles.”

  He chuckled. “Would you like some advice I received from a very wise man?”

  “I can use all the advice I can get.” She sat on the chair and tilted her head back to look up at him.

  Sitting in the chair that faced hers, Jonathan said, “A very wise man told me that nothing goes smoothly, but if the other party never sees the mistake, because you have remedied it, then the mistake never happened. At least in the other’s mind.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Mr. Lippincott, the man I read the law with.” He leaned toward her, putting his hands on his thighs, so her nose and his were an inch apart. His voice dropped to a rumbling whisper. “He gave me that counsel when I first began to work on my own. I was so afraid of making an error, I could do nothing. Once I took his words to heart, I found it much simpler.”

  “That is good advice.” Her voice was uneven as she slanted away from him. “I will try to remember it, but I just want everything to be perfect.”

  He was astonished. He could not imagine any of his six siblings going to such lengths to help someone else. They had been derisive both when he had decided to study law and when he had bought his commission to serve in the army. That he had come home as a hero had silenced them somewhat.

  If they knew the truth...

  He pushed that thought aside and affixed a smile on his lips again. “Good, and never forget that, if the burden becomes too much to bear, you need not shoulder everything alone.”

  “I know. The household staff—”

  He shook his head. “I was speaking of handing the problem over to God. With His help, there is nothing you cannot accomplish.”

  Cat looked down at her hands in her lap. They were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white.

  What had he said to distress her so? He waited for her to answer or to look at him. An icy chill flowed through him. Maybe he should offer to leave so someone else might use his rooms. When he said as much, she shook her head.

  “No, don’t even suggest that.” She raised her eyes, and he was almost staggered by the pain within them. Had he caused it? He prayed not. “I know Charles and Sophia would be hurt if you departed before their wedding,” she said.

  “All right. I won’t say that again, but, for what it is worth, I will be glad to do what I can to help you deal with these complications. If I could organize a company of soldiers, I daresay I should be able to help organize a party.”

  “Two, actually.”

  He chuckled. “Of course, I may make a complete muddle of any task you give me.”

  “You would do a fine job, but I cannot ask you. You are our guest.”

  “Northbridge and your cousin are closer to me than my brothers, so I don’t consider myself a guest. More like family.” He almost gagged on the word. He thanked God that Northbridge and Meriweather were not like his real family.

  He had to own that one of the reasons he did not want to leave Meriweather Hall now was that his family might decide to come from London to spend Christmas with him in Norwich. Within hours of their arrival, someone would get into a brangle with someone else, and any chance of a pleasant Christmas would be lost...as it had been since his boyhood, when his father and his mother had decided to live separate lives.

  “In that case,” Cat said, her smile returning, “I am sure I will be able to find so much for you to do that you shall regret your generous offer. You must promise me that, if at any time you grow tired of the planning, you will let me know straightaway.”

  “I shall, but I am glad to help with the ball and the wedding and the holiday planning.”

  “And the upcoming London Season.”

  His stomach tried to tie itself into a knot. “The Season? Are you planning to go to London for that as well as the opening of Parliament?”

  “Yes. Cousin Edmund is arranging for a house for us, and Sophia and Charles will join us there. I hear one can go from one event to the next for weeks. It sounds quite exhausting. And the preparations?” She shook her head. “Hannibal got his elephants through the Alps with less trouble, but Sophia and Cousin Edmund assure me that all of it is necessary.”

  Jonathan stopped listening as he recalled his younger sibling, the baby sister of the family, Gwendolyn, and her dearest friend, Augusta Williams, saying much the same thing before their first Season. He and Gwendolyn were the youngest children in their family with a gap of almost a decade between them and their other siblings. Growing up, they had been as thick as peas in their pods. She had introduced him to Augusta, and their duo became a trio. And, as he grew from boy to man, Jonathan had lost his heart to pretty blonde Augusta.

  Then the two young women had been fired off into the Polite World in London. Two warmhearted, sweet young girls had altered before his eyes into a pair of coquettes who were happy only when they had several men dangling after them. His sister had married a viscount with plump pockets, pretending she would have chosen him even if he did not have a farthing. Jonathan might have believed that if he had not overheard her bragging to their older sisters about how her husband was buying her a house on Berkeley Square where she could host the best gatherings in London.

  And Augusta... No, he would not think about the woman who had broken his heart in the weeks before he had bought his commission and headed for the Continent—with the intention of showing her that she was wrong to dismiss him as no longer worthy of her time or interest.

  Would Cat be beguiled by the illusions and rich rewards of the ton as his sister and Augusta had been? As his whole family had been? He should warn Cat, but as he raised his gaze to her animated face, he wondered if he would be wasting his breath. He had to try. For her sake. She had treated him with kindness, both on his previous visit and now.

  He started to speak but halted at the clump of boots. Later, he promised himself. Later he would try to warn her about the way the Beau Monde could change a person. But would she heed him? Neither Augusta nor Gwendolyn had, and his heart still ached from the loss.

  Jonathan stood and smiled when Edmund Herriott, now properly addressed as Lord Meriweather, walked past the door, paused, then came in. Jonathan’s smile faded when he saw the dark gray circles under his shorter friend’s eyes and the lines that had not been gouged into his face the last time Jonathan had visited. Was Meriweather’s mantle of responsibilities as the new baron too much for him?

  Then Meriweather grinned, and the anxiety vanished. He shook himself like a wet dog. Snow flew in every direction, and he pushed his tawny hair from his eyes as he came forward, his hand outstretched.

  “Bradby! I see that you changed your mind and have come to join in the excitement. I thought if I offered you the right bait, you would bite.”

  Jonathan did not let his smile waver when Cat’s eyes widened. Did she think that her cousin had used her as the bait to entice him to North Yorkshire? Or was she struggling to hold back her vexation with her cousin’s impetuous act of sending out his own invitations to everyone he knew?

  “Dashed cold out there,” Meriweather continued as the two men shook hands, and Jonathan guessed he had not noticed his cousin�
��s reaction. “But at least it has stopped snowing.” He shrugged off his greatcoat, sending more flakes tumbling to the floor. “I left the carriage at Sir Nigel’s. Once the roads have cleared, he will send it over with one of his grooms. I wanted to get back as soon as possible.” With a laugh, he added, “You know how Sir Nigel can go on and on about absolutely nothing, especially when it comes to his paintings.”

  Jonathan grimaced. He had met the baronet only once, but that had been more than enough. Sir Nigel styled himself a great artist and displayed his work as if some great Renaissance painter had created it. The truth was the art lacked any semblance of skill that Jonathan could perceive.

  He put the baronet out of his mind when Cat stood and asked them to excuse her. She fired a quick glance in his direction, and he guessed she did not want him to say anything to her cousin about the invitations Meriweather had sent. Whether she wanted to speak to her cousin privately, or she realized that there was nothing that could be changed at this point, he would acquiesce. He gave her a nod, wondering if she saw it as she hurried out of the room.

  Meriweather took one look at the pile of letters on the desk and motioned for Jonathan to follow him from the room. He mumbled something about the room was better fit for ladies than the two of them.

  Once they were a ways down the corridor, Meriweather said, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of my cousin, but this time Sir Nigel did not prattle about his paintings.”

  “Because you discussed the smugglers?” During his previous visit, the smugglers in Sanctuary Bay had trespassed on Meriweather Hall lands, and he knew Meriweather was as determined to put a halt to them as his predecessor had been. It appeared that Meriweather’s efforts had been as futile as those of the previous baron.

  “We did talk about the smugglers. Some.” He shuddered. “But his real interest was talking about his great-niece. I think he said her name is Lillian. He seems to believe that she would be very eager to marry a baron who lives close to her great-uncle.”

  In spite of his efforts not to, Jonathan laughed. “Some woman is always expecting you to marry her. First, the elder Miss Meriweather, whom everyone assumed you would marry after you inherited the title from her father.”

  “Not everyone, because Northbridge won her heart.”

  “True. However, there is now this unknown great-niece who has decided you would be a good husband. You have become, it would appear, quite the irresistible man.”

  “’Tis no joking matter.”

  “Quite to the contrary,” Jonathan said. “It is highly amusing when you are the focus of the matchmaking.”

  “When I decide to marry, it will be my decision. No one else’s.”

  “Not even the young lady’s?”

  Meriweather let loose a loud laugh. “Ah, Bradby, I have missed you and your bizarre sense of humor. Come in here.”

  He went into a chamber across from the dining room. The aroma of coffee wafted around them, but Jonathan paid it no mind as he looked at the center of the room.

  An elegant billiards table claimed most of the space. The oak had been carved with the Meriweather family’s crest, and additional images from the moors and the sea. A cast iron rack holding the cues was set in one corner. The balls were scattered across the table’s top.

  “I don’t remember this from my other visit,” Jonathan said.

  “It was delivered last month.” Meriweather draped his coat over a chair by the hearth.

  “When did you decide to order it?” He was careful not to put emphasis on decide because he did not want to upset his friend, but he could not imagine how Meriweather had chosen to order a billiards table when he could not make any decision.

  With a sheepish smile, Meriweather said, “Actually it was ordered by my predecessor. No one knew about it until the table arrived. The craftsmen were very slow workers, but they did a fine job, don’t you think?”

  Jonathan ran his hand along the smooth edge of the table. “I agree. Excellent work.” Looking across it to his friend, he asked, “So don’t you think it is time you tell me why you were so insistent that I come to Meriweather Hall?”

  “I told you in the letter I sent. I could use your advice on certain matters to do with the estate and with my construction business.”

  “And that could not wait until after Christmastide?”

  His friend’s smile became a guilty one. “You have caught me out. You and Northbridge and I have been through so much together. I did not think we should abandon him on his way to the altar.”

  “You sound as if he is about to meet the hangman.” He leaned against the billiards table. “I am surprised he didn’t marry your cousin Sophia before he left for his estate.”

  “Sophia wished for her mother to be out of mourning, so she could attend the ceremony. Then there are all the plans the ladies like in order for everything to be as complicated as possible. Catherine is so focused on the events that the slightest problem or change can send her up to the boughs.”

  Jonathan bit his tongue to keep from saying that Meriweather was one of the reasons Cat was stressed. Rather, he said, “I am sure the wedding and the ball will be successes. I have offered to do my bit to help Miss Cat—Catherine.”

  “You are a braver man than I am, Bradby.” He slapped him on the back. “But we knew that already, didn’t we?”

  Here it was. His chance to tell the truth. His chance to clear his conscience.

  Again, as he had done too often, he hesitated. He should tell Meriweather the truth straightaway.

  Unless...

  He began to smile and nodded as his friend suggested a game of billiards. Going to the rack, he lifted out a cue. The solution was so simple that he was unsure why he had not considered it before.

  He would never have to reveal the truth if he proved to everyone—and himself—that he deserved the title of hero. He hefted the cue and smiled.

  After all, how hard could it be to become a true hero?

  Chapter Two

  The eaves outside Catherine’s bedroom windows dripped in a steady rhythm two days after the snow had stopped, and Mr. Bradby had returned to Meriweather Hall. The sun glittered on snow that had fallen from the trees and bushes. Puddles were forming on the garden paths, and she guessed by late afternoon that most of the snow would have melted.

  She looked down at her shoes and then paused. Between the sloppy snow and the sand along the shore, she risked ruining anything she wore on her feet. She needed footwear that would not work as sponges, so she reached into her cupboard and pulled out a pair of old boots.

  She pulled them on, and thereafter she went to the closest window and opened it. Cold air swept her breath away. She hastily shut the window. She had not realized it was so chilly. The dripping eaves had suggested it was much warmer.

  She pushed away from the window. No matter. She would go ahead with her plans to visit the beach below the village farther north along Sanctuary Bay. If her bosom-bow, Vera, did not want to leave her cozy fire and join her, then Catherine would go on her own.

  Buttoning on a heavy pelisse and wrapping a scarf around her neck, while taking care not to knock off her wool bonnet, she then grabbed a pair of thick gloves from her dressing table. She smiled when she opened the door and saw a small pail waiting by her door. Ogden had remembered that she liked to search the beach after a powerful storm.

  Catherine swung the wooden bucket by its handle as she walked down the stairs. She half-expected the puppy to bound up the stairs as he did each time she came down. Glancing into the large parlor, she saw the huge black-and-white pup lying in front of the hearth. He looked up, wagged his tail a couple of times and then went back to sleep. That was a relief because she did not want the pup along today.

  She heard the rattle of harnesses and wheels, and smiled again, knowing the carr
iage she had requested to be ready this morning would be waiting for her. If only the plans for the wedding and the Christmas Eve ball would go as smoothly...

  No! She was going to have positive thoughts today. If she found what she sought on the shore, then that would be one task she could cross off her list.

  Foggin was waiting by the door and opened it for her when she approached. She urged him to shut it quickly, because he already looked half-frozen.

  The closed carriage was waiting in front of her, and she rushed toward it. Before she reached it, she heard her name called. She looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Bradby coming around the corner of the house. He was bundled up as much as she was, and she recognized him because of his height and his red hair which peeked around a scarf that was the brightest orange she had ever seen.

  “I did not expect to see you outside on this blustery day,” he said when he was close enough, so he did not have to shout.

  She was startled to have him address her. Since Cousin Edmund’s return, Mr. Bradby had spoken less than a dozen words to her. She had caught a glimpse of him turning in the opposite direction when their paths through Meriweather Hall were about to intersect. He and her cousin had not dined with the Meriweather women for the past evenings, offering polite excuses. When she came down for breakfast, if Mr. Bradby was at the table, he hurried to finish and left after saying a cheery “Good morning.” She had tried to guess what she had done to vex him, but nothing came to mind.

  “Where are you bound?” she asked in lieu of a direct response.

  He drew down his scarf so his face was visible. He gave her a smile that seemed to make the wind a smidgen less biting. “Just out to get some fresh air. I thought I might walk along the shore.”

  “Vera Fenwick and I are going to the beach. I want to pick up some mermaid tears.”

  “What?” His smile was replaced by puzzlement.

  “That is what we call broken pieces of glass that wash up on the shore. The edges have been smoothed, so it reflects the light in a pretty way.” She caught her bonnet before the wind could pluck it off her head and quickly retied it under her chin. “The best time to find them is the first low tide after a storm. That is in about an hour or so. Would you like to join Vera and me?”