The Forbidden Valentine_Lady Eleanor Hawthorne_Regency Romance Novel

by Isabella Thorne

  ~.~

  David cleared his throat. “Here we are.” He held out the lantern for her to take, then using both hands, yanked the door open, using it plow back the snow that piled up in front of it. Once inside, the carriage house was dark. “Bring the light in here, will you?” he said without thought.

  The young woman followed him inside, and he could literally feel the warmth of her, and smell the subtle scent of her perfume. He suddenly realized how very improper this all was…if she was a lady…and of course she was…

  He was a fool. There was no help for it now except to hurry and gather what he might require to fix her sleigh. Why on earth had the lady not sent her driver out to find help?

  The walls of the carriage house were lined with shelves filled with all manner of tools and spare parts. Wood was stacked against the far wall, along with an extra carriage wheel and a gardening shovel. David picked out the tools he thought he would need and a length of wood to replace the broken stanchion, then nodded toward the door.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” she said. Her husky voice seemed intimate in the close quarters of the carriage house. He could see her breath cloud in the cold air before her; lit only by the lantern she held. “I do apologize, Lord Firthley I was short with you earlier,” she continued. “It has been a trying day and I know I am not in the best of manners. You could not be chided if you were to refuse to trudge through a snowstorm to help a crab of a woman.” She gave him a smile and to David it was as if the world brightened.

  “I would not leave a lady stranded,” he said sincerely. Despite her brusque behavior, there was no way he could leave a woman alone in this weather and sleep soundly that night; no gentleman could.

  “Anyone would be out of sorts, having their sleigh break down in this,” David said, with a bit more charity than he truly felt. She was uncommonly attractive, what he could see of her in her bundling, and he enjoyed the sound of her voice, and the exotic slant of her eyes, but it was deuced cold, and he had never attempted to repair a sleigh himself before, never mind in a foot of snow.

  David took to her left side on their march back to the main drive, blocking her small frame from the elements with his own as much as he could. He walked slowly knowing his long legs had made other ladies complain of his pace, but true dark was coming on quickly, and the setting sun was already hidden by snow clouds. The only light was from his lantern, which she held up in front of the two of them as they walked.

  “Oh, I do hope Arthur has not turned into an icicle by the time we reach him.” The lady worried aloud. She picked up her pace to reflect her anxiety, and he quickened his own stride accordingly.

  “Arthur?” he repeated.

  “Mister Arthur Junnip, my driver,” she explained. “He is not as young as he used to be, and the weather aggravates his rheumatism.”

  David was surprised. It was uncommonly kind to trudge through the snow to save the old man the walk. He had no experience with kind ladies.

  “We will have you on your way in no time; do not fret.” David looked up at the deep gray sky, obscured by the heavy cloud cover. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have brought a second lantern.

  “Why was there no answer at the house?” Eleanor asked, breathily. She turned her head to look at him from the corner of her eye with a hint of suspicion. “A grand manor house like that and no butler about, not even a footman to answer the door?”

  David, taken aback by the judgement in her tone, sniffed indignantly. “My parents are staying with friends in York for the week, and I am alone at the house. I told some of the staff to take the night to themselves, as I was hardly expecting any company.”

  She nodded, thoughtful. “You do not have any siblings?”

  “A young sister, but she is away with our parents.” David replied. Then, catching sight of movement down the road, added, “Is that the sleigh?”

  The woman, who had still not given her name, David noted with some irritation, lowered the lantern to peer farther into the distance. “Yes, it is.”

  She picked up speed, and he matched her stride. They reached the stranded conveyance less than a minute later. The driver, Arthur as she had called him, was sitting with the blanket pulled up to his chin.

  “I have found us some help,” she said to the old man, her face full of concern. “Are you half-frozen? I fear you shall take ill from all this.”

  Arthur stood up and set the blanket on the seat beside him. He was old and stooped, and David shared some of the woman’s worry for the old man’s health. But he hopped down nimbly enough, coming round to greet David.

  “Do not worry over me, Milady.” He said, held out his hand to David, and they shook. “Thank you for your assistance, son; it is too big a job for one man alone, and even if I could have managed it, I have no tools with me. Here is the crack. We hit a stone and the wood gave out. I suspect it was weakened from an earlier impact, but there is no knowing, now.”

  David knelt down beside Arthur, and the lady held the lantern to light the broken plank of wood. It was split, but not so badly that it could not be reinforced rather than replaced. David breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I can have this repaired in half an hour or so, if you wouldn’t mind giving me hand,” said David to Arthur.

  Arthur nodded and rubbed his gloved hands together to warm them. “Sure, enough,” he said with a nod.

  David set his tools beside him in the snow. The woman placed the lantern beneath the sleigh, angled to give the most light onto the split wood; then went to stand with the horse. David could hear her speaking softly to the beast as she brushed the snow from the animal’s mane.

  “We shall just get the snow off of you, shan’t we, Mouse, my boy. There’s a good fellow.”

  Her voice was soothing, like the sound of distant waves or the settling of snow on a winters’ night. David forcibly turned his attention back to the job at hand. Arthur was a fine help, knowing just what to do without being asked, and they had the cracked wood reinforced sooner than David had anticipated. Still, he was frozen to the bone and stiff as a corpse when he stood, and could only imagine how the old man felt.

  Arthur had frost embedded in his mustache, which cracked and fell off when he smiled at David. “Thank you again for your help. Lord knows how long we would have been trapped out here in this weather without you.”

  “All is well then?” The woman called from the front of the sleigh, where she had now buried both hands in the horse’s shaggy mane to keep them warm. “Mother will be desperate by the time we are home, if she has not sent out a search party already. And Father, oh heavens, he shall be cross.”

  “I will have you home quick as I can, Lady Eleanor,” said Arthur. He stuck out his hand to shake David’s. Like his lady, the driver had mistaken David for a servant at the manor, rather than the heir. He shook the man’s hand, biting back a sigh. Perhaps he should retire his worn great coat.

  Lady Eleanor. So that was her name, or part of it anyway. David tucked that puzzle to the back of his mind for the moment.

  “How far do you have yet to travel?”

  “Not far,” the lady answered enigmatically.

  “Perhaps you would like to return to the manor and refresh yourself with a warm drink before you are on your way? I know your horse could use a break from standing stiff here in the snow, and I am but a short distance.”

  As soon as the words were spoken David could not fathom why he had proposed such a thing. He had been quite looking forward to an evening of solitude with the house to himself, a glass of brandy and a book. Perhaps it was the sound of her voice, or the way she treated her horse, Mouse, she had called him. He did not know of any lady who knew the name of their carriage horse. They may know their hunters, but not a carriage horse. Still, he was not sure what possessed him to invite her in for a drink, but it was too late to take the invitation back now, even if he wanted to, and he found he did not.

  Arthur sputtered, but it was Lady Eleanor who
spoke first. “That would be lovely, so long as you do not mind me thawing out upon your carpet. I fear I may now be ice clean through, the puddle could be tremendous.” She grinned at him, and suddenly the winter did not seem so cold.

  “Lady Eleanor, do you think we should delay any longer, with your Lady Mother anxious at home?” Arthur said in an undertone to her. David turned away, politely pretending not to overhear. Whatever they decided, he hoped they would just make it fast. Now that the sleigh was fixed he did not wish to stand out in the cold.

  “It is practically on our way,” Lady Eleanor replied. “And Mouse is shivering. If we push him now he may hurt himself.” She gave the gelding an affectionate pat, and the horse nuzzled her with a friendly motion. Still she did not shove his big head away, she only laughed at the gelding’s antics.

  The driver did not argue further. “As you wish, Milady” he said and climbed up into the seat and took up the reins, leaving David to help the lady up. She shifted over in a smooth motion then grabbed the blanket and held it so he could share it with her.

  He hesitated.

  “Afraid what I have is catching?” she teased, and her grin shone white and wicked in the night.

  “You have not yet even told me so much as your name, and yet you are mocking me about decorum?” he said.

  “I have my reasons,” she replied mysteriously.

  David climbed up and edged himself against the side of the sleigh. Lady Eleanor tucked the blanket over both of them.

  “I know you are Lady Eleanor, but Lady Eleanor what? Do you truly refuse to give me your surname?”

  She grinned at him and her eyes sparkled. David thought she must be playing a game. He wondered if she was perhaps some child he had known as a lad. He did not think so. He would have remembered her face.

  “You must be local,” he surmised. “As you said it was not far from here to your home, but I am sure I have never met you, so you can hardly be a neighbor.”

  “Are you so sure?” She asked.

  There was a long pause. Her chin was lifted, emphasizing the delicate line of her jaw bone, and the pale skin that peeked out above the fur of her scarf. Two bright swaths of red stood out upon her cheeks due to the cold. Her eyes, slightly slanted and exotic, were filled with amusement. No, he was sure. He would not have forgotten such an unusual beauty.

  “I am sure,” he said.

  “I am Lady Eleanor Hawthorne.” She bit off the last word and her eyes blazed a challenge at him. She kept her gloved hands firmly within in her muff, so he had no embarrassment over whether he would take her hand or not. Instead he watched her expression, half in defiance, half in humor. He did not look away from her gaze, though he felt like a fool for not guessing the answer to her identity earlier.

  The only sound was the crunching of Mouse’s hooves as they broke through the snow, and the quiet snick of the runners edging a path.

  “Hawthorne,” he said, finally. The word was foreign in his mouth. Speaking it in his home was the way to kill a conversation, begin a fight, or clear a room, depending on the mood of the listeners. “That is why you did not tell me when I asked. Did you fear I would not come to aid you if I knew your family name?”

  She huffed out a sharp laugh. “Well, would you have done?”

  He thought it over. Would he? David did not have any personal qualms with the Hawthorne family. It was easy to respect his own family’s wishes and avoid them, better that than causing a knockdown quarrel. David usually went out of his way to avoid a quarrel of any kind, but he did not even know what the feud was about, a matter that had irritated him since childhood. He prided himself on his intelligence, and did not like being in the dark about anything.

  “I believe I would have still come to your aid,” said David.

  “You believe,” she said, flatly, and turned away from him in an unmistakable gesture. “Perhaps we should go straight home, Arthur, but do let us drop off our Good Samaritan on our way.”

  Was that an intentional twist on her words or was he just imagining spite in her voice? He found himself wanting to repair what had been lost between them, to bring a smile back to her face. He wanted to see those violet eyes sparkle again.

  “No, I know I would have. Hawthorne or no, I would have helped you. I was simply caught off guard by the news of your name.” David glanced up as the sleigh began to turn. They were pulling up the drive to his manor now, and he only had a moment to convince her to stay. “Please, do come inside and have a warm drink,” he said. “I would not be able to rest thinking I sent you off to catch your death, and surely you would not deny your driver a moment to warm himself.”

  Her face was illuminated as they passed a lantern lining the path, and then shadowed a moment later as the sleigh moved on. David leaned closer, prepared to implore her again.

  “Very well, but only for a moment. I really should be getting home, and I do not want my parents to discover I was inside Firthley Manor. They might not let me back inside our house; tainted by the enemy.” Lady Eleanor turned to him, her eyes widening to find him so close, and he hurriedly looked away. A flush spread from his ears, and he was grateful she could not see the telltale redness beneath his hat.

  ~.~

  Chapter Two

  When Arthur stopped the sleigh in front of the house, Lord Firthley hopped down from the conveyance and extended his hand to assist her.

  “We will just stay for just one drink, Arthur, while Mouse is seen to. You do have someone here to care for Mouse, I hope?” Eleanor looked up at the door, eyebrows raised. “Or did you send the stable master away as well as the butler?”

  “Of course there is someone in the stables.” The young lord replied. “Mister Junnip, if you take the sleigh around the back, my man Frederic will be out to help you with Mouse. Then come along inside when that is handled, and I will see you fortified.” Firthley kicked snow off the first step, and held out his hand to Eleanor. She set hers lightly in his palm.

  They took the steps with care. The storm and dropping temperatures left them more treacherous than before; snow covering a dangerous layer of ice. Eleanor’s fine leather boots repeated their earlier trick, slipping out from under her, and her hand grasped his frantically. Lord Firthley braced himself and caught her wind-milling free arm. For a moment, she thought they would both go down, but he was bigger than her by half, and he held steady until she got her feet solidly beneath her. They were quite close, pressed together in the space provided by the narrow stair. Slowly, he released her.

  “Thank you, my lord. I do not think my pride would have survived another tumble down these steps. It maybe the Firthley house itself is rising up against the presence of a Hawthorne in the very environs.” Eleanor smiled at Arthur, who sat in the sleigh with a horrified look on his face. “We will be just fine; do not frown so, Arthur. Come now, my lord, before he decides this is a terrible idea and insists upon escorting me home post haste.”

  Lord Firthley held the front door open for her, and they stepped inside the warm house with mutual sighs of pleasure. The corridor was dark, lit only with a single sconce in the hall beyond. There being no servant to do the usual duties, he took her coat and mittens, hat and scarf, and shucked off his own outer coat without the aid of a footman. He brought the wrappings along to the parlor where a fire still flickered, though it threatened to go out without urgent attention. Lord Firthley laid her things along the back of a sofa near the fire.

  “Here, please have a seat and I will find a servant to bring us a hot drink,” he said.

  He hesitated, looking at the fire and then at Eleanor. There was a moment where the two of them stood looking at one another, with only the sound of the dying fire popping. Eleanor realized that they were very alone, but he had said he would find a servant. He apparently did not release all of the maidservants this evening, but still she wondered if coming in for a warm drink was a good idea after all, and a shiver ran through her as she looked up at him. He was perhaps the most handsome man s
he had ever seen. Tall, with a trim form previously hidden by the ill-fitting over coat he had worn.

  “You are cold,” he observed.

  Of course she was cold, she thought. She had just spent the last three quarters of an hour standing in the snow. She wanted to make some smart retort, only her gaze found his deep brown eyes as they caught the light of the dying fire and she could not seem to speak.

  ~.~

  After a moment, David cleared his throat. “I suppose I should bring that back to life before I go.” He gestured towards the fire, and then moved quickly, as if he had been burned by her very nearness.

  David grabbed two of the biggest logs from the cradle on the hearth and tossed them effortlessly on top of the embers. Sparks erupted, and the little flame guttered. Thinking he was too abrupt, David picked up one of the iron tools. Prodding at the logs, he rearranged them so the flame could edge around the wood, and the fire sprang back to life. “There we are. I will have you warm in no time,” he said, and then he turned back to her to see her face aflame with a blush.

  He cleared his throat as if to speak again, but she interrupted.

  “Go on then, I can manage this,” she said, nearly snatching the poker from his hands.

  David, who had not seen Lady Eleanor Hawthorne in anything but the concealing layers of her winter wrappings, stared as the firelight fell upon her. Her figure could make a man weep. She wore a velvet pelisse belted just below her ribs, emphasizing a trim waist and the expansive curve of her hips. The shape of the pelisse promised a plentiful bosom beneath. She was, though small of stature, more than ample. He tore his eyes away, only to find her watching him with a bewildered expression.

  “Is there something wrong with my dress?” She plucked at the ermine trim of the pelisse.