His Christmas Angel (A Regency Holiday Romance Book 8)

by Mathews, Marly

  His staff, both the outside and the inside staff had lined up outside to welcome them back to Evesham Hall. She studied a few of them. The housekeeper looked like she was the age of the Dowager Duchess, and so did the butler. By contrast, the footmen and the maids were young and sprightly looking.

  “Evesham Hall has nine hundred years of history to its name. I think there has been a house on this site since before William the Conqueror came. According to family legend, the first Deville who came over from Normandy, married a Saxon lady. Her father held the rank of Thane and he once held this land, and when William gifted it to my ancestor, he married the lady in an effort to ally their two houses, and bring peace to the valley. Apparently, their union didn’t exactly start out smoothly. She tried to kill him numerous times,” Clarence said wryly. “Eventually, their hatred turned to love, and they had a long and fruitful marriage, and together, they had twelve children.” He watched her shiver. “Come, let us guide you out of this weather.”

  “No…I want to stay and look at it a while longer, Clarence. I didn’t think it would enchant me quite as much as it has. I have the odd feeling of being here before,” she sighed heavily. “I think I was always meant to be here.”

  “The house is welcoming you home,” he said softly. “I have always felt as if it was a sanctuary of sorts.”

  “I don’t know how you have ever left this beautiful place, Clarence.”

  “To be honest, I haven’t spent much time here. Our family doesn’t usually retreat to this house. Although, Grandmamma comes here from time to time. Pop says that it captures our family motto perfectly.”

  “What is the Deville family motto?” she asked softly.

  “Vive bene, or live well,” he said softly.

  “I confess, your family does that well.”

  “They do, don’t they? Pop most of all. He certainly knows how to have a lot of fun,” he murmured. “We make merry better than any other family in the ton.”

  “Maybe too much fun from time to time,” she teased, good naturedly.

  Clarence grinned at her, and then, turned to regard the assembled servants. “I would like to introduce you all to your new countess, my wife, Ann, Countess of Evesham,” he said, holding her hand. She smiled at all of them. Some of the maids curtsied and some of the men bowed. He led her into the house, and she had little time to study her new surroundings, before he was leading her up the grand oak staircase that had carvings of a wide selection of fruits and vegetables and various animals on it—one of which looked like it was a badger, and another carving looked like a hedgehog, and one was a fish.

  He led her down the Long Gallery, and she stopped suddenly to look at some of the portraits. He grunted, as she pulled back on him, and stood impatiently by her side while she studied the portrait of one his ancestors that hailed from the time of William and Mary.

  He was a handsome devil. She supposed that all of the men in the Deville line were blessed with such looks. Instead of having Clarence’s dark wavy hair, this man had reddish brown hair and he looked as if he had a paler complexion than Clarence.

  The eyes—the eyes were familiar. They were shaped like Clarence’s, and looked to be the same colour.

  “One day our portraits will hang here,” Clarence mused.

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Or, they could hang somewhere else in the house. I wouldn’t want to think of my portrait being on such a grand display.” She still didn’t feel like a Deville. She knew she was—but she supposed she hadn’t been Clarence’s wife long enough. Perhaps the passing of time would grant her a different perspective.

  “You have plenty of time to study the rest of my ancient ancestors,” he whispered against her ear. She thrilled at his hot breath caressing her ear. Her headache had disappeared, and by the hungry look in Clarence’s eyes, he had thought of another way to occupy their time. She wanted a tour throughout the house, but by the way his eyes were dancing, she didn’t think he would give her the time, and as she dwelled upon it, his idea sounded like too much fun to miss.

  “You are incorrigible, Clarence.”

  “So I have been told, many, many times,” he said. “If you’re not quite up for the sort of fun I have in mind, we could always go and ring for something to eat.”

  “Why don’t we satisfy your other hunger first, and then…then, we can think about a light repast.”

  “Light? I think I will have worked up quite an appetite by then, and I shall be ready for dinner.”

  He swept her up into his arms, and she laughed. Her laughter echoing through the halls, and carried her toward their bedchamber. “Today I will be the conquering hero, and you can be the Saxon lady that I ravish. I only ask that you don’t try to shove a dagger through my heart while I sleep.”

  “Oh, Clarence,” she said, delight flooding through her. With a wicked grin, he kicked shut their bedchamber door.

  Evesham Hall was a romantic paradise on Earth, and Clarence was her hero.

  *****

  They had been in residence at Evesham Hall almost a fortnight. Today was Christmas Eve, and Clarence hoped they would have more snow to bless the day. The snow that had blanketed the ground during their arrival, had melted away, and he missed it. He had heard his housekeeper muttering that her bones were creaking and that it was as sure sign there was a storm coming. She was hardly—if ever wrong.

  He stood preparing to commence a fencing bout with Tiny. He was amazed at how accomplished they were with the blade without having any formal training aside from what they learned during battle—and what Gideon had taught them. “I could always send a missive to my old Fencing Master and ask him to come out here to finish your training. Not that I really think you need it. The two of you are quite skilled with the blade, and fencing against you has been quite a good bit of exercise. Even if you lack some of the finer skills. You are pretty good at one of the essential skills. Your blade work is tops, but your footwork and your tactics need improvement. I suppose your rough and ready tactics served you well during the Wars…but the objective isn’t to kill your opponent in these domestic surroundings. It’s merely to land a few good hits—hits that will allow your opponent to live to fight another day.”

  “Ah, no. We don’t need no blasted Fencing Master. We will stick with you, mate. We wouldn’t know what to do with a fancy man like that,” Tiny scoffed. “We all carried swords, and used them in battle. Some of us were more skilled than others, with the ruddy things. That was on our cap badge. An angel with her wings spread wide, carrying a sword, and our motto was, Deo duce, ferro comitante, With God as my leader and my sword as my companion. The Colonel gave us all a fob to put on our watch that depicted our blessed angel carrying her sword.”

  “Aye that he did. Most of what we learned, we learned in the heat of battle. Do you remember Colonel Elliot saying that it was down to using the iron now, whenever we had exhausted our supplies? And, of course, there were times when anything else was just too damn noisy, and would have given away our approach.” Tiny nodded his head, as Gil continued his war story. “I still remember the first battle I fought where we were running low on supplies, and waiting for relief. Our gunpowder was all but depleted, and what stores we had…the weather had gotten to. It looked pretty grim, and men were falling around me. I had never seen such death before…so much misery. I had to use my hands, and my sword to stay alive that day. I wasn’t used to fighting like that before. I taught myself a lot that day, and learned that no matter how bleak things looked—there was always hope. I didn’t know how to move as gracefully with my sword, like the other officers did. I must have looked quite rough and ready fighting with it, and I found that going up against enemy officers, they had the advantage. I had to use my wits, and figure out a way around their superior skill. I still remember the first officer I killed that way. He looked so shocked when I gained the upper hand and gave him a killing blow. His last words to me in French, were, you English dog, you killed me, and now I die. He was a rather drama
tic fellow, but those words continue to haunt me—even to this day.”

  “Ah, yes, they were frogs and we were dogs,” Tiny sighed. “You handled yourself quite well with it, Gil. All said, I’d rather be a dog than a frog any day of the week,” Tiny declared. “I remember when you took that frog down, although I was too far away to hear what his parting words to you were. That little preening bastard’s nose was so high in the air, I was surprised he didn’t fall backwards on his own. You had to make him fall that way. Meanwhile, Freddie and I were busy terrifying the enemy. Freddie was fighting with his axe in one hand and his sword in the other. While I had my sword and my dirk to aid me. It was a good thing too. The Colonel insisted we all carry them after he saw how the Scottish members of the Angels of Death relied on them. At least we had the best swords, knives, dirks and daggers that money could buy thanks to him.”

  “Oh, aye. You and Freddie had a collection of blades by the time we were done fighting the Frogs. You two were walking bloody armouries.”

  “Aye, and you my little powder monkey, were never short on things that went boom. Well, until we ran out of gunpowder,” he said, chuckling ruefully. “I remember the look on the Colonel’s face after he realized that you had your own personal cache of the bloody things. Ah, but you had to deal with things I didn’t have to. That’s why I made certain I was never raised out of the ranks. Your life came with far too many headaches.”

  “You have to admit, Felix, most of the enemy officers we met in combat thought they were better than me,” Lucky said. “They were all of a certain class, and looked rather severely upon me.”

  “Aye. Something we had to deal with on a daily basis,” Tiny sighed heavily.

  “You two should get into position,” Clarence suggested.

  Lucky looked warily at Clarence. “I want to switch places with you, mate.”

  “You need to spar with Tiny at some point,” Clarence sighed impatiently.

  “The last time we did this, and Tiny thought he was losing the bout, he dropped his blade and punched me in the face.”

  “Well I scored a hit, didn’t I?” Tiny said, grinning madly.

  “It was a dirty trick, and you know it, Tiny. You struck an officer.”

  “We are not in the Army anymore, Lucky, mate, and you can only be lucky for so long.” Felix was still grinning from ear to ear. He was bloody well pleased with himself.

  Clarence laughed. “You didn’t win the bout, Tiny. Gil had you. His footwork and posture is much better than yours. So you will have to look sharp, and improve yourself. You need to attempt to improve your clumsy manners, and put that big hulking body of yours to good use. I know you can be more than just a big mouthed blockhead.”

  Tiny’s grin faded away, and now he looked quite glum. “If you weren’t such a good mate, I would give you a black eye for that insult. Calling me big mouthed. How could you? You have some kind of bollocks, you do. I don’t mind being called a blockhead—but being called big mouthed, well, that’s just cruel, Clarence. It’s wounded me terribly.”

  “I do apologize, Felix. I shall keep to only calling you a blockhead or an arsehole from now one,” Clarence quipped.

  “Ta,” Tiny said.

  “You have to take the criticism, if you are going to succeed, Felix,” Lucky quipped. Now he was the one that wore the ear to ear grin.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I don’t need to know how to fight with these blasted things. We are not supposed to duel anyway, it being outlawed and all that. And it would only be for fun. Oh, aye. Pugilism is more my sport. I work better with a more direct approach anyway.”

  “That is one way of putting it,” Lucky said wryly. “You don’t want to stop learning. You think it too much fun, Felix, and you know it, and we have found that almost every lord in the ton knows how to fence properly. Not the way we used to do it when we were at war. You want to be equal with them, don’t you? And just think…the next time we meet up with Freddie, you and he could go at it, and you might emerge victorious.”

  “Hmm…now that is some kind of motivation. No matter what we do, we will never be equal with them that have been born into this life, Gil,” Tiny sighed.

  “Well, we can try to put ourselves on the same level. We need to learn how to be gentlemen-like. We need to refine ourselves a bit. We…well, we are a bit rough and ready, aren’t we?”

  “And what is wrong with that?” Felix asked.

  “There is nothing wrong with it but it might scare away any ladies we want to court.”

  “The two of you are more gentlemen-like than some of the lords I know, and I count Ann’s father among that lot.”

  “Indeed,” Lucky said. “Come on, Tiny, don’t be a killjoy. Let us go for another bout with Clarence playing referee. I should be the one wanting to quit with the way you go about things. You need to take control of that hot temper of yours. It’s going to get you into a whole mess of trouble someday.”

  “Tiny, try to keep your fists to yourself, eh?” Clarence asked.

  “Fine,” Tiny said, sighing.

  “He will find a way to trip me or something dirty like that,” Lucky said. “He can be quite cunning, if he puts his mind to it. Clarence, you are the instructor, you should be the one taking his hits. Not me.”

  “Maybe we should pass on this today,” Clarence mused. “We could take a break from it altogether until after Twelfth Night.”

  “I will behave myself, so help me, I will,” Tiny vowed. “I won’t do anything that I am not supposed to do. If I lose a bout…I lose. It’s not as if this is life or death. Because we all know how that would turn out. Besides, you’re my mate, Lucky. I shouldn’t be drawing your cork. I mean it’s not the end of the world, if I don’t land a hit, is it?”

  “That’s the spirit…well then, let us begin,” Clarence said.

  Tiny and Lucky nodded at him, and then saluted each other, and then turned to salute Clarence.

  “Time for some fun, eh?” Tiny quipped.

  *****

  Ann woke slowly, and had her breakfast in bed.

  Clarence had left her earlier and after he had departed, she had fallen back asleep. She liked the way that life went by slowly in the Country. She ruled her life now, and did whatever she pleased.

  Life at Evesham Hall was idyllic, and she had almost put everything that happened in London behind her. Every so often, her thoughts strayed to her father, and she worried about her mother. She shouldn’t have left her behind in London. She could have come with them to the Country—there was plenty of room in the sprawling manor house, and she didn’t think that Clarence would have minded. One could go for days without seeing another person in Evesham Hall, if they were so inclined.

  Her maid was dressing her hair for the day, and she wore a white muslin dress, with a floral design of coloured wools on the hem. The floral embroidery was red and green, and had a bit of a festive feel to it. She put on a simple garnet cross with it, and pleased with her reflection in her dressing table mirror, she smiled as her maid put the finishing touches on her hair. She didn’t regret bringing Hopkins with her. Having someone familiar around her had eased her worries in dealing with the staff at Evesham Hall. Hopkins brought her news about the servants. She had found out from her that the housekeeper, Mrs. Brown, had been in service here for forty years, as had the butler, and every so often, she regaled the staff with stories of Clarence’s father during his youth.

  “Oh, you look lovely, my lady,” Hopkins said.

  “The Earl said we would be decorating the house today,” Ann said. “I am quite looking forward to it.”

  “Aye, every year on Christmas Eve from what the other servants tell me, they bring in the greenery and they decorate the house, and celebrate. Lord Evesham allows them to have a nice little Christmastide, even if he stays in London. Oh, the feast the Cook makes up for them, why the way they described it made my mouth water. Mrs. Brown says that he is most generous, as was his father before him. He didn’t change much in the
way things were run once he came of age, and took on his responsibilities running everything. It sounds as if they know how to make merry here, and get into the festive spirit. It will be jollier than Christmas ever was with Lord Broadway.”

  “Of course it will be. Lord Evesham is a much better man than my father could have ever hoped to be.” She went to open her bedchamber door, suddenly feeling the urge to search for her husband, and instead, came face to face with a footman. He carried a tray heaped with missives. She took them off the tray. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He left, and she sorted through the missives, while walking back into her bedchamber. One was from Ginny, another was from her old friend, Lady Epiphany Blessing. She dropped all of them when her eyes descended on one written in an unfamiliar hand.

  Intrigued, and feeling a little wary, she sat down at her escritoire, and broke the seal on the missive.

  “Do you need me any longer, my lady?” Hopkins asked.

  “No, no,” she muttered. “You may go.” She didn’t lift her eyes off the missive to watch Hopkins leave, and distantly heard the door click shut.

  As soon as she started to read the missive, she wished she had never set eyes upon it.

  Lady Evesham,

  I am coming for you. I am coming to make you a merry widow. I always get what is mine. Prepare yourself, for you are about to lose the last man willing to protect you, and then you shall be mine. Mine to do with what I please. You shall learn your place with me. I shall beat that willful spirit of yours out of you, and you shall enjoy every single lash.