A Hero for Christmas

by Jo Ann Brown

  His face remained somber. “No, Cat, I am not teasing you. I think you look beautiful.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, his fingers lingering lightly against her cheek. “I always think you look beautiful.”

  Overmastered by the undisguised honesty in his eyes, Cat glanced away.

  “And the great hall looks wonderful, too,” he said when she did not reply. “I can see why you wanted the mermaid tears.”

  She walked with him to one of the tables where she had scattered the sea glass between where each guest would sit. “You helped make it possible, Jonathan.”

  “It was your idea. I am astounded you found all these mermaid tears in such a short time.”

  “For the past few months, rain or snow or sunshine, I’ve looked. Sometimes Vera helped me, and I was so glad when you offered to come along, too. It was great fun, wasn’t it?”

  “Everything is more fun when it is with you, Cat.”

  Warmth spread through her at his words, but she tried to ignore it. That was impossible.

  Did he realize how his words unsettled her? Maybe that was why he continued past the table and gazed at the rafters. When he reached the section that had not yet been decorated, he turned and smiled.

  “If you need more greens, I will be glad to drive you to the wood to collect them.” His grin broadened. “You need not fear for your life. I am quite skilled in the box. After all, I drove often on the Continent.”

  “You did? I thought you were an officer.”

  “I was, but when some of the drivers got sick, I ended up taking the reins on a ration wagon. We learned to do whatever was necessary, no matter what rank we held.” He chuckled. “Sort of like when you bring the village children here to stir the fruit. Everyone here pitched in to help.”

  Cat swallowed her gasp when she saw her sketchbook on a table just past where he stood. She edged around him, talking about how the rest of the greenery would look. She picked up the book.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  She closed it to keep the drawings hidden. “Just some notes I made for the staff, so they knew what I wanted where.”

  “Clearly they followed your directions well.” He continued along the tables.

  Cat wanted to call him back, so she could show him the sketches she had made. Certainly he would not laugh or look annoyed as other men had. He had believed she could learn to handle the paperwork for these events, and then he had taken the time to teach her. If he had patience with her cousin’s inability to make a decision, surely he would have the same with her art.

  But the moment had passed, and she stuck the book in a pocket beneath her apron. She strolled through the great hall with him and pointed out some of her favorite ways the greenery had been draped over the windows and across the rafters.

  “This is remarkable,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Elegant and grand, yet charming.”

  “I am sure I will see sights even grander when I get to London.”

  “Maybe grander, but none as heartfelt.”

  Again she was delighted with his praise. “I hope Sophia and Charles will like it, too.”

  “They will.”

  “There are still more greens to be hung, but everything else is ready.”

  He pointed toward the corner to the right of the entry. “Certainly over there. It looks rather bare.” He walked to the corner beneath where the rafter had yet to be trimmed.

  “I planned to hang a kissing bough here,” she said as she followed him. “Don’t you think this would be a good location for the kissing bough? Close enough to the tables to give anyone an easy excuse to stop here, but still in the shadows, so if someone wishes to steal a kiss, it will be convenient.”

  “Someone else must have thought so, too.” He cupped her face gently in his strong hands as he whispered, “Look up, Cat.”

  She did. Overhead, concealed until now by the thick shadows, was the round ball of holly and ivy and mistletoe. When he whispered her name, she lowered her gaze to lose herself in his. Along her cheeks, his hands opened as if he cupped a gentle flower. She let the glow of his eyes draw her even closer.

  His arm slid around her waist, and his mouth began to descend toward hers. In that moment, time seemed to halt. She was aware of everything. The buttons on his waistcoat pressing against her. The faint mat of whiskers on his cheek. The wool of his coat’s sleeve beneath her fingers as her hands rose toward his shoulders. His breath on her face in the moment before his mouth found hers.

  His lips were gentle, offering the chance to respond. She did. She put her heart into the kiss, needing for him to understand what she did not dare to say. Not yet. Not when she feared if she spoke, the wondrous moment would end.

  Too soon, he raised his head and smiled at her. “And to follow tradition, I should now say ‘Happy Christmas, Cat,’ right?”

  Was that all he intended the amazing kiss to be? Just a buss as any gentleman might give her beneath the kissing bough? An ache stripped away her happiness. She had thought the kiss was special for him, too. It was just another jest.

  Somehow she managed to choke out, “The same to you, Jonathan.” She wanted to give him an excuse that would make her leaving appear natural, but the words would not come. Whirling, she rushed out of the great hall. She had no idea what expression he wore as she fled, because she did not look back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You look lovely.” Cat embraced her sister, then stepped aside so Mother could pick a thread off Sophia’s sleeve.

  Her sister was a diamond of the first water, a gem without equal. Charles’s love had persuaded Sophia to be proud of her height, and, with her golden hair swept up with pearl combs in a Grecian style, a few curls framing her face, she could have been one of the female caryatids Lord Elgin had brought from Athens.

  “Even lovelier than any other day.” Mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief edged with the same Brussels point lace as Sophia’s gown.

  “Mme. Dupont outdid herself.” Sophia turned in front of the cheval glass.

  Even though the day was gray, the white silk of her gown shimmered and rippled as if a faint zephyr played along it. Above the hem, two rows of vandyking were edged with lace that matched what had been sewn along the modest décolletage. Unblemished white gloves waited on her dressing table, but she would not don them until she reached the church. The day was so cold that she must wear heavier gloves on the way to the village.

  Cat’s own gown was pink and with less decoration, but Mme. Dupont had paid attention to every detail. With her hair held back with a single pink ribbon, she would not have been out of place at a Town soiree.

  Unwanted tears seeped into her eyes as she thought of London. Once she did as she and Roland had pledged, what then? She had always assumed she would come back to Meriweather Hall, but nothing awaited her here. She had no idea what she wanted any longer.

  “Catherine?” asked her mother with enough impatience that Cat knew Mother had called more than once.

  Sophia laughed. “She might answer more quickly if you call her Cat.”

  “Cat?” Lady Meriweather laughed. “I thought you hated that name.”

  Sophia gave Cat a playful grin. “She did until Mr. Bradby began using it, and now everyone calls her Cat.”

  “I am glad.” Her mother gave her a quick hug. “I always thought it was the perfect name for you because you are as inquisitive as a kitten and look at the world in a different way than the rest of us. I remember when you were young, and you gave me a picture you had drawn. It was a scene I had viewed every day since I had married your father, but you caught the light in a unique way and made it seem new.”

  “You still remember that?” asked Cat, astonished. She had not shared her sketches with her mother in several years.

  “Memories
are pouring down on me like a rainstorm.” Her mother shook herself and smiled. “Weddings tend to do that, especially for the mother of the bride.”

  The door burst open, and Gemma and Michael rushed in followed by Alice, the nursery maid. Gemma was dressed in a miniature copy of Sophia’s gown, and Michael wore a black coat and breeches that were already speckled with whatever he had been drinking. Alice reached out to slow them, but they both eluded her grip.

  Cat grabbed Gemma, and Lady Meriweather kept Michael from giving Sophia a big hug and getting what was on his clothes onto her gown. Both children protested until Lady Meriweather asked them to ride to the church with her.

  “And Sophia will go with Cat,” her mother finished with a glance at Sophia who nodded gratefully.

  “What about Papa?” asked Gemma, her auburn curls bouncing on her shoulders with her excitement.

  “Papa will go with the gentlemen.” Sophia bent to smile at the children who, Cat knew, were already her own in her heart. “The groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding ceremony. You will make sure of that, won’t you?”

  Michael puffed out his thin chest. “I will!”

  Gemma quickly echoed his words.

  “You look grand,” Sophia said, then smiled at Alice. “I appreciate you keeping them busy and clean.”

  “I did my best, Miss Meriweather.” The nursery maid grinned.

  Sophia gave her a quick hug. Cat and her sister had grown up with Alice when her own mother oversaw the nursery during their childhoods. The bond remained strong.

  When Cat answered a knock on the door, Ogden announced the carriages were waiting to take them to the church. He stepped back as Sophia gave both her mother and sister big hugs. The faint smile he wore was so unusual that Cat could not resist winking at him. He winked back, and she laughed.

  “What is it?” Sophia asked as she drew her pelisse over her gown and then helped the children into their wraps.

  “Just happy.” She would not embarrass their butler by revealing that he had shown a side of himself she seldom saw. Yet his delight with the wedding was a sign that the whole staff would do their best for the events over the next few days. Not that Cat expected anything less.

  While she donned her own pelisse and bright pink bonnet, Cat hid her sketchbook in a pocket she had Mme. Dupont add to her coat. That would allow her to smuggle her sketchbook into the British Museum when she went to London. Today, she wanted to sketch the moment when her sister took her vows with Charles. She would work on it and give the final picture to them for their first anniversary.

  She took Gemma by the hand. They followed Sophia and their mother—who had a secure hold on Michael—down the stairs. Sophia dabbed away happy tears at the sight of the whole household staff lined up in the entry hall to see her off to her new life as Lady Charles Northbridge. Each bowed or curtseyed as Sophia walked past, and tears brightened the cheeks of more than one of the women.

  Sophia paused in the doorway and said to the staff, “Thank you.”

  Her simple words conveyed what a long speech could not have. It was “Goodbye” and “Thank you” and “I will miss you” compressed into two words. She nodded to the footmen holding the door, then stepped through. When she returned, she would be a countess, and her home would be a grand estate far to the south.

  Cat heard sniffling behind her as she hurried Gemma out before the little girl asked the questions displayed in her wide eyes.

  The cold air struck Cat like a vicious blow. Even with her heavy pelisse, the frigid breeze found every possible way to sneak beneath the long fur-lined coat. Almost instantly her eyes began to water, and she blinked rapidly so her lashes did not freeze to her face.

  “Brr,” she said. “Maybe you should have waited until spring to wed.”

  Sophia smiled. “Why don’t you suggest that to Charles? He wanted to have the banns read as soon as he asked me to marry him. I did convince him to wait until now so Mother could be here, but I doubt anything short of Napoleon escaping exile again and invading England would persuade him to postpone the wedding any longer.”

  “And you would be as averse to the delay.”

  “I would.” Sophia’s smile softened. “I am eager to hear Gemma and Michael call me Mama and to hear Charles call me his wife.”

  Cat kissed her sister’s cheek. “You deserve every happiness.”

  “And I want you to be as happy.”

  “I have adventures ahead of me when I go to London with Cousin Edmund.” She tried to put enthusiasm into her words. “You will come to London to see us, won’t you?”

  “Of course. Do you think I will allow my little sister to be fired off without being there?”

  Lady Meriweather came to collect Gemma and took both children to the carriage in front of the house. She made sure each was sitting before she allowed the footman to hand her into the carriage. A snap of the whip and the carriage headed toward the gate.

  A second carriage pulled up, and Cat smiled when Sophia took her hand. For her sister, there was nothing she wanted more than to marry Charles, but that did not mean she was impervious to nerves. Sophia’s fingers trembled as they waited for the footman to step forward to open the carriage door.

  “All ready?” called Jonathan.

  Cat’s breath caught as he stepped down from the box and bowed. For once, his clothing was understated, and the black coat and waistcoat he wore beneath his greatcoat were the perfect foil for his ruddy hair that was topped by his tall beaver hat. She could not help but wonder if that staid waistcoat was the one Mme. Dupont had made for his costume for the Christmas Eve ball. As he walked toward them, his boots were polished to a sheen that would have been eye-searing if the sun had been out.

  “Ladies, your chariot awaits.” He bowed again and opened the door.

  Sophia placed her hand on his, and he gracefully handed her into the carriage. She drew her skirt and the thick pelisse in and away from the door, so Cat would not step on them when she climbed in.

  Jonathan held up his hand again and bowed as if he were a footman. “Miss Catherine? May I assist you, too?”

  “Yes.” That single word was alive with the breathless anticipation of touching him again, even though their leather gloves would be between them. She bit her lower lip. The leather was not the only thing separating them. That she loved him, and he considered her no more than a friend, divided them.

  “Let’s hurry, Cat,” he said, still holding out his hand. “The sooner we get started, the less snow I’ll have on me by the time we get to the church.”

  “On you? Aren’t you riding in the carriage with us?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly. I am driving you.”

  “What? Where is our coachman?”

  “Randolph is so sick with an ague that he cannot rise from bed.” He smiled. “I arranged with Mrs. Porter for some soup to be delivered out to the stables.”

  “Thank you, Jonathan,” Sophia said from inside the carriage. “Kip can drive, if you wish.”

  He shook his head. “He is driving Lady Meriweather and the children, and your soon-to-be husband and Meriweather have my carriage. Don’t worry, ladies. I do have a bit of experience with the reins, you know.”

  “Army wagons, as I recall,” Cat said with a grin in spite of herself.

  “I must own that my cargo today is a bit more precious than cans of wormy rations.”

  Cat laughed. “Such a compliment, Mr. Bradby.”

  “I believe in giving credit where it’s due, Miss Catherine.” He offered his hand again.

  Before she put her hand on his, snow covered his palm. It was falling even faster. He gave her a grim smile as he handed her in and closed the door behind her.

  His expression told her all she needed to know. He believed the storm was going to strengt
hen. She looked at the sky. Clouds hung low over the sea, and the wind came in frequent gusts that rocked the carriage.

  When the carriage began to move toward the gate, Cat put her feet close to the heated stones that had been wrapped and placed in a metal box on the floor between the seats. She loosened the curtains over the smaller windows on her side and let them fall. She lashed them to the lower part of the window.

  Sophia did the same with the other small windows. “I know it is silly to leave the ones open on the doors, but I want to watch our journey to the church.”

  “That isn’t silly.” Cat patted her sister’s arm and smiled. “You should savor every minute of this day.”

  “I never thought I would find a man who wanted to marry a duchess of limbs like me.”

  “Now that is silly. You are tall, but there is nothing awkward about you.” She leaned back against the leather seat. “And isn’t it perfect that the man who wants to marry you is the one you want to marry?”

  “You know what would make it more perfect?” She wrapped her arms around herself, but smiled broadly. “If you and Mr. Bradby would plan a wedding, too.”

  Cat longed to agree. It would be easy to fall in love with Jonathan, but, even if she would not allow herself to make the same mistake again, he refused to let anyone too near. She was no closer to discerning the secret he kept from everyone. The secret of what had changed him during the battle when he had saved Charles’s life.

  “Let’s talk about your wedding today,” she said to curb her sister’s conversation in that direction. “You picked the best weather for it.”

  Sophia gave her a faint smile as she looked out at the thickly falling snow. “Charles is sure to remind me that we could have married in the fall.”

  “Who would have guessed it would snow like this before Christmas? The weather has been odd all year.”

  “Is it snowing harder?” She leaned forward to peer out the window. “I hope Jonathan can see through the snow.”

  Cat laughed as she shifted her feet even closer to the heat box. “You are an anxious bride, Sophia!”