His Christmas Pleasure

by Cathy Maxwell

  “But as to that Spaniard,” her mother continued. “I don’t have a good feeling about him.”

  Of everything Abby had heard women say about the barón, suspicion was not part of it.

  “Why does he make you feel that way?”

  Her mother gave a little shrug. “I was at the theater the night he declared his love for Lady Wright. It was not that long ago. And her rejection was very public.”

  Now she had Abby’s interest. He had been in love before, and just recently?

  Funny that with all her talk of Freddie, he’d not mentioned it. “Who is Lady Wright?”

  “Another married woman. The barón seems to make a habit of chasing married women.” Disapproval colored her voice.

  “Or is it that they chase him?” Abby said in his defense.

  “Does it matter? A woman married to another man is not fair game. I know there are those who ignore their vows—”

  “Usually in arranged matches,” Abby had to point out.

  Her mother ignored her comment. “I would not want my daughter to be caught up with a fickle man. He’s handsome, Abby, I’ll give you that. Those dark looks and his silver eyes make even me a bit dizzy when I look at him. But handsome is as handsome does. There were those who said your father was not handsome, but he’s been a wonderful husband, and when I look at him, even at the age we are, there is no man more attractive to me.”

  “I haven’t met a man like Father,” Abby confessed. “He would fight dragons for you.”

  Her mother smiled. “He would, wouldn’t he? Just like St. George.”

  “Yes … but I doubt if Lord Villier would bother to show up by my bedside as I birthed his fourteenth child.”

  The smile vanished from her mother’s face. “I said I’d speak to your father, and I will.”

  Abby crossed the room and gave her mother a hug. It was an impulsive action, spurred by no small measure of guilt. “I know you will, Mother. Thank you.”

  She pulled away, but her mother grabbed hold and hugged her closer. “Please trust us,” she whispered.

  And Abby wanted to. In fact, her mother’s plea sat heavy on her shoulders the rest of the day … until dinner.

  Her father was in good spirits. “Abby, Lord Villier likes you. He likes you very much.”

  Abby sent a glance in her mother’s direction.

  Her mother didn’t meet her eye. She knew then that her mother had talked to her father and his answer was to continue his support of Lord Villier. Consequently the dinner conversation contained many references to his lordship.

  As Abby pushed her food around her plate, she realized that her father’s stubbornness was a gift. She was free of any doubts she harbored about running away. She could make her own choices. Her grandmother’s money had seen to that.

  But she was deliberately flouting his authority and thwarting his plans, and he was not a man who took such insult lightly, even from his daughter. Still, carrying such a secret without telling anyone was unbearable—almost impossible. Sooner or later, her absence would be noticed. She needed someone in the household to help hide the fact that she was gone, for she had no doubt her father would chase her down. Abby didn’t know how fast the barón planned to travel, but she assumed they could be a good three days on the road. The more time she could buy them, the better.

  Her mother would not support her, and she didn’t know if she dared trust a servant. They would be given the sack if their help was discovered.

  Finally, after a fitful night during which she slept little, Abby decided she must carry out her plan all by herself. In the hour before dawn, not wanting to cause her parents unneeded anguish, she wrote a letter letting them know she had eloped with the barón and begging their forgiveness.

  However, she stressed that she would not marry Lord Villier. She’d chosen instead to “seek her Fate.” She liked the sound of the word the barón had used so often in persuading her. She finished by saying she loved and respected her parents and hoped they would accept the barón into their family. She then hid the letter in the top drawer of her dressing table to be discovered once they found her missing and started searching for her.

  Midmorning, a message arrived from the barón. He regretted that he needed to change their meeting from one until two that afternoon. Abby studied his handwriting. Freddie’s writing was indecipherable. The barón’s was clear, strong, direct. Much like the man himself. A wave of apprehension tightened in her stomach. She didn’t know this man, and yet she was entrusting him with her future. There would be no turning back once she left the library with him.

  And of course, when they gathered an hour later for lunch, everything was good with her family. Almost too good.

  Pleased that he’d done his best for his daughter, her father was in excellent spirits. Over the luncheon table he said, “Abigail, you haven’t been shopping lately. You and your mother should go out and enjoy yourselves. Go to the Royal Academy, see what exhibitions are there, and do a spot of spending on yourselves.”

  “That sounds entertaining, doesn’t it?” her mother said with an enthusiasm that touched Abby’s heart. “The weather is lovely for shopping. It’s been so damp.”

  And how to beg off?

  Abby decided to do so with a good pout. “I’m sorry,” she said, affecting a wounded sensibility. “I don’t feel up to shopping.” She made herself sound deliberately ill-tempered.

  Her tone had the desired effect. Her parents immediately assumed her manner was because of Lord Villier. Her father became decidedly grumpy, and her mother’s manner grew distressed.

  Abby felt a terrible person to behave this way. And she knew her running away would not make them happier.

  But what recourse did she have?

  The air for the rest of the meal was chilly.

  After lunch, Abby escaped to her room. Her maid Tabitha was not there, which gave Abby the freedom to prepare for her elopement. She couldn’t very well dance out the front door with a valise.

  Instead, she dressed herself in several layers. First, she hurriedly put on her night dress, then a day dress, and then her largest walking dress. She didn’t bother with petticoats. With so many clothes on, they were unnecessary.

  She tucked a change of small clothing and stockings into the bottom of an embroidered bag she often used to carry books when visiting the circulating library. As an afterthought, she scooped up her jewelry. She would return someday, but it was best to take what she could now.

  Her father had been generous to her and had given her some very fine rings and necklaces, including a perfectly matched pearl necklace in its own pouch that he claimed had cost a king’s ransom. One of Abby’s favorite pieces was a garnet brooch that had belonged to her grandmother, the one who had bequeathed her the money. She was just pinning the brooch to her walking dress, deciding to wear it for luck, when Tabitha entered the room carrying folded, clean laundry.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Abby. I didn’t anticipate you being here.”

  “I won’t be long,” Abby said. Tabitha was relatively new to the household. Abby’s previous maid, Mary, had been with her for six years until she’d left their service to marry a butcher. Many a time Mary had served as lookout when Abby had met Freddie at the circulating library. Mary had also carried notes between Abby and Freddie.

  Tabitha was Mary’s cousin, but Abby had not confided in her, and she didn’t think it wise to start doing so now. In fact, the less Tabitha knew about the elopement, the safer her position in the household would be after Abby was gone.

  Still, Abby needed an escort to go out this afternoon. To not ask for one would invite suspicion. “Tabitha, I’m going out in half an hour. Please be ready to accompany me.”

  “Yes, Miss Abby,” she answered. She set the laundry on the dresser and tucked the clothes neatly in the drawers where they belonged. When she finished, she made things right on the dresser and, in the course of things, moved Abby’s bag for carrying books.

  While she
pretended to be working at her desk on some correspondence, Abby watched Tabitha out of the corner of her eye. She wondered if the maid had noticed the bit of weight in the bag when there should not have been any.

  And she was not pleased when Tabitha walked over to the dressing table and started to clear it by putting the hairbrush into the same drawer where the letter was—

  “That will be all,” Abby said, hoping to divert the maid’s attention before she noticed the envelope.

  Tabitha glanced up in surprise at the abrupt dismissal. “Yes, miss,” she said, shutting the drawer and bobbing a curtsey. She hurried toward the door.

  “I’ll meet you in the front hall,” Abby said, feeling guilty and wanting to soften her brusqueness.

  “Yes, miss,” Tabitha said dutifully, bobbing another curtsey and leaving the room.

  Abby released her breath in exasperation. Her nerves would be on edge until she and the barón were on the road. After this elopement, she vowed to never again involve herself in anything scandalous—especially if it had an impact on those she loved.

  She chose a book from the stack waiting to be read on her bedside table. Even now that she and Freddie didn’t have clandestine meetings, she was a frequent visitor to the Duke Street Circulating Library. She slipped the book into her bag and donned her coat and its matching hat, a pretty confection made of green and cream velvet bands that should keep her ears warm for traveling. She also threw on a a wool scarf and her heaviest gloves. She gave herself a good look over in the mirror.

  Her body appeared bulky, but the coat could be used as an excuse if anyone noticed. Probably no one would, especially if she moved quickly and with purpose.

  Abby looked around at her room and felt a pang of remorse that she was leaving—yet part of her was alive with excitement.

  A footman knocked on the door to inform her the carriage she’d ordered earlier through Harrison was waiting outside the front door. As she came down the stairs, Abby looked about for her mother. She would have liked to have spoken to her one last time before she left, but Catherine was nowhere to be seen.

  Tabitha was still a bit standoffish. Abby chalked it up to her own kindness. She rarely raised her voice with the servants and Tabitha had probably taken offense. Sometimes servants could be extremely sensitive.

  The maid sat next to Abby in the coach, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes downcast.

  Abby didn’t care. She was deep in thought as well. Now that Freddie was promised to her cousin, there was no hope for them. Like a heroine in a tragic novel, she would go to Northumberland with the barón and put Freddie from her life forever. She was making a sacrifice for all concerned—Freddie, Corinne, her family, and herself.

  The vision made her feel noble and less guilty about leaving her parents.

  The coach rolled to a halt. A footman opened the door to help Abby out. She reached for her embroidered bag just as Tabitha took it.

  Their eyes met. The maid’s slid away. “I’m sorry, miss. Did you wish for me to carry it?”

  “I wish for you to wait for me here,” Abby said, suddenly distrustful, though she didn’t know why. The maid was only being helpful, and yet something didn’t seem quite right.

  Or it could have been Abby’s own fears and doubts. She forced a smile. “I’m just returning this book and should be out as soon as I choose another.” She took hold of the bag and climbed out of the coach. After telling the coachman to return for her in a half hour, she went into the library, the bell over the door jangling to announce her entrance.

  The Duke Street Circulating Library boasted not one but two bow front windows overlooking the street. Inside, counters were placed in front of the book-lined walls. Clerks bustled back and forth behind the counters, fetching books for patrons to peruse and possibly check out.

  As a rich man’s daughter, Abby could buy any book she wished, but her father’s nature was frugal, as was her own, and books were expensive. She’d grown up taking trips with her mother to this circulating library, and it felt like a second home.

  Of course, once she and Freddie had started meeting here, the circulating library had come to have a much deeper meaning.

  She was well known to the clerks. Although they were busy with other patrons, they looked up and gave her a smile, nodding a greeting.

  Abby placed the book she wished to return in its proper place, noticing that her coach had not left yet to circle the square until she was ready for it. Tabitha was boldly staring out the coach window at the library, and the footman still stood on the walk. They both appeared very concerned.

  When Tabitha caught sight of Abby staring back at her through one of the bow front windows, she quickly ducked back into the coach’s interior. The footman climbed up into the box beside the coachman, but the coach did not move.

  Abby’s sense that something was not right grew stronger.

  The barón was standing toward the back of the library, reading a periodical he had open on the counter. He stood out. He was taller than most and, on top of his good looks, had a commanding presence.

  He was dressed in a many-caped, gray greatcoat and wore a sporting man’s spurs on his boots. It was the fashion, but Abby knew he was prepared for travel.

  Raising his head in her direction, he gave a small nod toward the back door. That was how he wanted them to leave.

  She smiled that she understood and started to make her way toward him, walking along the counter as she pretended to search for a particular book.

  A clerk began following her. “Is there something I may take down for you, Miss Montross?” he asked eagerly.

  The front doorbell jangled as she answered, “I’m just looking—”

  “Why, Miss Montross,” Freddie Sherwin’s voice said.

  Abby turned. Freddie was in the doorway, and he wasn’t alone.

  “Cousin!” Corinne said happily and started walking toward her. “We saw your coach pulling away and feared you were gone.” She was a vision in blue velvet that played up her fair complexion and blonde hair. Freddie appeared positively dashing beside her.

  But Abby had to concede that he was not as good-looking as the barón.

  It was an odd notion. She’d never thought that way about Freddie before. He’d always been the most important man in the room to her … but now he belonged to someone else.

  Perhaps her feelings were changing because soon she would belong to someone else.

  “Freddie assured me that often you had the coach drive around the square rather than wait for you,” Corinne continued happily. “I say, I like the green of your bonnet with your hair. Very fetching.”

  “Thank you,” Abby murmured. “And congratulations on your betrothal.”

  “See? I told you there were no hard feelings,” Freddie said to Corinne, not bothering to lower his voice. It carried through the library. “Abby’s not that way. She wants what is best for us.”

  Abby felt her temper sizzle. Freddie talked about her to Corinne? What a complete bounder!

  “Is that true, dear?” her cousin asked, but Abby couldn’t answer—because she suddenly had a new worry.

  Through the glass windows, she recognized the man about to walk in: her father.

  And he was moving with a purpose she knew too well.

  She’d been found out. She didn’t know how … but this did explain Tabitha’s unusual behavior. The maid must have noticed the note, and now Abby’s father was about to grab her by the ear and take her home.

  If she wanted her freedom, if she didn’t want to be the next Lady Villier, or to spend the rest of her life at family functions pretending Freddie was nothing more than a distant relative, she had only one choice.

  She turned to the barón and shouted, “Run!”

  Chapter Eight

  Andres was annoyed. Here he was, ready to elope, and she was dawdling, jabbering with the buffoon, her Freddie, the man who wouldn’t speak for her.

  But when she shouted for them to run and came at h
im as if the building had been on fire, Andres proved his annoyance didn’t interfere with his reflexes. If Abby Montross said “Run,” he already knew enough of her character to believe her.

  He’d paid a clerk to let them use the building’s back entrance. He now reached for the door leading to the back storage room and opened it. Abby didn’t pause but charged right through it, tossing over her shoulder the chilling words, “My father.”

  That’s all she had to say.

  The bell over the front door jangled and Banker Montross marched into the circulating library like a fighter entering the ring. “Where’s my daughter?” he shouted before catching sight of Andres, who was already shutting the door behind himself.

  Andres looked for a lock. There was none, so he scanned the back storage room, with its row of desks and chairs, for something he could use to block the door. Abby had reached the back entrance. She held the door open, urging him to hurry.

  A clerk making entries in a ledger was sitting at the desk closest to Andres. His desk was piled high with books. With one swift motion, Andres grabbed the heavy wooden desk and dragged it in front of the door, startling the poor clerk while papers, ledgers, and ink bottles went flying.

  “I say,” the man yelped, but Andres wasn’t offering explanations. He ran to Abby even as a body rammed against the door. The desk rocked, but held.

  However, it wouldn’t hold for much longer, especially if the clerk helped from this side.

  Out on the back step, Andres grabbed Abby’s arm. “This way.”

  The alley was narrow with just enough space for a cart to pass. Andres had left his phaeton, a light sporting vehicle made for fast travel, at the alley’s exit on Oxford Street. Men proved their mastery of the whip on such a vehicle. It lacked a coach’s security, but the truth was, Andres could drive his phaeton heeled on two wheels if he had to. Negotiating London traffic would be a challenge but not a problem, and the time they would save making their escape would be a godsend.

  Abby tripped on her skirts even as her father burst through the alley door shouting her name.

  Andres could see the lad holding his horses. He swept Abby up in his arms, throwing her unceremoniously over his shoulder, and raced the last few steps to his vehicle, almost knocking over two women who had the misfortune of crossing the alley at that moment.