Once Upon a Christmas Knight

by Barbara Devlin

  “Excellent.” Hogart slapped his thighs. “Then we need only discuss your fee.”

  “Wait a minute.” Percy chortled. “Sir, given the sad state of your affairs, I cannot, in good conscience, accept payment. As I am aware of your precarious position, to take remuneration would be not only unethical but also the height of negligence.”

  “But you will, on principle, as I would not incur another debt.” Hogart lifted his chin. “And although I cannot afford to pay you for your services, I can offer something far more valuable than money, of which, after our conversation, I am convinced you are most deserving.”

  Curious, Percy asked, “And that would be—what?”

  “My daughter Margaret.”

  ~

  The shadows posed a threat to those afraid of the dark, because danger often lurked in those unlit spaces. Or did it? To the timid soul, for which the glare of the spotlight presented an even greater menace, the murky places offered refuge from unwanted attention.

  It was in what some characterized as gloom that Margaret Clare Hortence Hogart found peace and the strength to be herself. To stretch her wings and fly. Forever condemned to a life as the lesser twin to her more demonstrative sister, Miranda, Margaret actually enjoyed the quieter existence. But Miranda’s wedding to Sir Archibald Kleinfeld left a glaring absence in the Hogart home, which mama expected Margaret to fill, thus the balance shifted in a none too pleasing direction, as she preferred it when people ignored her.

  “My dear, have Eleanor pack your blue gown, for Christmastide, as it compliments your eyes.” Mama rested fists on hips. “And bring your green riding habit, in the event some handsome swain invites you to tour the countryside.”

  “Mama, I expect that neither Lord Ravenwood nor Lord Ernest posit potential husband material, given both are happily married. Do you reference another eligible Howe?”

  “What about Mr. Percival Howe, Lord Ravenwood’s cousin?” Something in mama’s demeanor struck Margaret as odd. Of course, for mama, odd was not uncommon. “You know, he is a man of wealth and privilege, despite the nasty affair involving his mother, but we must never be quick to judge him, given Henrietta designs your new wardrobe.”

  “Yes, Mama.” So mama wanted Margaret to marry Percival Howe. Well, she expected his interest would wane once he got a look at her. “Shall I bring my kidskin gloves and boots?”

  “Indeed, as I anticipate we will forage for evergreens, and you must look your best.” Mama waged a finger. “And bring a scarf, as I would not have you catch a cold. There is nothing so unattractive as a runny nose.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Just as Margaret walked to the armoire, papa strolled in from the sitting room. “Father.” With two skips, she faced him, and he welcomed her with open arms. “How did your meeting go?”

  “I am pleased to announce it was a smashing success.” Papa kissed her forehead. “Now, come and sit, as I have news that affects you, and I hope you are as happy about it as I am.”

  “How intriguing, Papa.” As he perched in a chair, she plopped on her bed. “What revelations have you to share?”

  “Oh, do tell, John.” Mama clapped twice. “Do not keep us in suspense. What did Mr. Howe say? Is he amenable to your proposition?”

  Caught in the middle, Margaret glanced at her mother and then her father.

  “All right, Beryl.” Papa huffed a breath. “Well, we enjoyed a rather lengthy, vast deal more than convivial discussion about life and what he wants for his future—”

  “And?” Mama bounced. “What did he say?”

  “Will you let me speak?” Papa gave mama his signature look, which could silence the most stalwart of men. Mama merely giggled. “Mr. Howe graciously consented to a match with Margaret.”

  The room seemed to pitch violently.

  Squealing with unmasked delight, mama leaped at papa, framed his face, and kissed his cheek, as Margaret spiraled to the depths of despair.

  While she knew it would happen, sooner or later, she had hoped for later, because she had yet to form an opinion on marriage and a potential spouse. Yet, her concerns never factored into the decision, because she mattered not in the grand scheme.

  For a woman of means and society, her course was set the moment she entered the world as an innocent babe burdened with the least desirable sex. Unlike male children, she did not constitute a person, according to English law. Indeed, she was but property, chattel to be owned and traded, for the delectation of men. Henceforth, her fate was determined for her, with everything leading toward a particular goal: production of an heir.

  “Well, Margaret, what say you?” Papa set aside mama and pinned Margaret with his inquisitive stare. “Is this not reason to celebrate? Daresay you have outdone your sister, as Howe has four thousand a year and a sizeable estate.”

  “Why does he wish to marry me?” she blurted. “I mean, he does not know me, Papa. And while I know of him, I cannot claim an acquaintance.”

  “My dear, it makes no difference, as Mr. Howe is obviously interested in you.” Mama shook her fists and danced a jig. “And I thought we would never secure you a husband, as you lack Miranda’s beauty and personality.”

  “Now, now, Mrs. Hogart.” Papa tsked. “We were not all blessed with such benefits, but Margaret is learned and well-spoken, and I wager Mr. Howe values such traits, thus he will make an excellent master.”

  Master.

  The word inspired naught but severe nausea.

  “Of course, Father.” While calm on the outside, inside Margaret screamed, but it was not the criticism that bothered her, because they were only being honest. She had no allusions about herself, and no one was knocking down her door to propose, so she supposed she should be grateful, yet she wanted to cry. “Will Mr. Howe partake of the celebrations at Whitstone?”

  “Yes.” Papa nodded and then flinched, when mama emitted a shrill screech of unmasked joy. “Mrs. Hogart, control yourself.”

  “But I am too excited.” Humming a tune, Mama waltzed with an invisible partner. “Oh, what fortune smiles upon us, Mr. Hogart, as we shall have both daughters wed, and now we can take that trip to the Continent, which you promised just after our nuptials.”

  “Mrs. Hogart, we have a ceremony to plan, and you must ensure Margaret is prepared for the duties she will assume as Mr. Howe’s wife.” With that, papa snapped his fingers. “By the by, how goes the new wardrobe you commissioned?”

  “Mrs. Howe labors, as we speak, on unique designs, which should set Margaret apart, during The Season, not that she needs such advantages, now.” Mama gazed at her reflection in the long mirror and preened. “And I ordered something for myself, yet it seems pointless, in light of Margaret’s forthcoming engagement. Did Mr. Howe fix a date?”

  As her parents discussed the details of her future with the casual regard one might give the weather, Margaret studied the canopy of her bed, as the walls seemed close in from all sides.

  Ensconced in the relative safety of her own home, she had never felt more alone, and she longed for the simpler times, when she had nothing more to worry about than the color of dress she would wear. But those days were gone.

  From her pocket, she retrieved a cherished keepsake, the embroidered and lace-edged handkerchief given to her by her mysterious hero, at the Netherton’s masque. In the years since that fateful meeting, she imagined her enigmatic savior would ride, atop a requisite white stallion, to her rescue. Yes, it was a child’s fantasy, yet she clung to the hope that he would deliver her from an uncertain union.

  “Well, I should confer with my valet, as we prepare for our journey to Derbyshire, and then I shall partake of a brandy, at White’s, to celebrate this auspicious development.” Papa stood. “Mrs. Hogart, I suggest you commence the education of our daughter on the duties she must perform, as she must behave in a manner that reflects her estimable breeding, else she will bring shame upon her family, and we cannot have that, after all my hard work to secure the match.”

  “Yes, indeed, Mr. Ho
gart.” Mama giggled. “Fret not, as I guarantee she will do as she is told, else she will break her mother’s heart.” She waved. “Now, run along to your club, and leave us to our delicate business.”

  Poor mama remained rooted in the roll to which society confined her, and while she often uttered biting remarks, she possessed nary a spiteful bone in her body. She merely lacked common sense.

  “Come, Mama.” Resolved to humor her mother, Margaret patted the spot beside her. “Instruct me in the wifely ways, as Miranda refused to divulge the particulars of your discussion with her, on the eve of her wedding to Sir Kleinfeld, and I am infinitely curious.”

  “Oh, that?” Shifting her weight, mama tittered. “Well, there is naught to it, really, and I submit it is much ado about nothing. As I cautioned Miranda, the best course of action, when it comes to the connubial bed, and what goes on between the sheets, is to close your eyes, recline, and think of something cheery. Indeed, I often sang Thomas Moore’s ‘The Meeting of the Waters’ in my head, as your father did his business, and it helped ease the shock, the first few times.”

  “You wish me to sing, as I perform my conjugal duty? Will that not distract me in an important moment?” Margaret blinked, as it sounded so absurd. “And what of my part to play? How am I to please my future husband? What will he expect of me?”

  “Daresay he will advise you, as your father counseled me, once we formed an attachment, and everything worked as it should, as I anticipate it will for you.” Mama tapped a finger to her cheek. “And whatever you do, do not scream, and do not fight, as you will only embarrass yourself. No doubt, the first glimpse of his defining anatomy will startle you, but that marks you as an innocent, and I recommend a gasp of surprise to embolden his manliness.”

  “So, I should sing and gasp.” Margaret nodded and committed the advice to memory. “But what of the physical act? What goes where, Mama?”

  “Ah, that is where it gets tricky, and it is somewhat difficult to describe, as I wager every man is different, in that respect, yet it all goes in the same place.” Mama narrowed her gaze and compressed her lips. Then she leaned near and whispered, “In the customary arrangement, he will rest atop you, his male protrusion goes in that space between your legs, and it will hurt, initially. Later, if he is an attentive lover, you will grow to enjoy what he does, and you may take pleasure in the deed, but it is his satisfaction that is paramount, and you must never forget that.”

  “I will remember, Mama.” Of course, that was easier said than done, because Margaret still knew little of her marital responsibilities, aside from the usual functions of a chatelaine, which paled in comparison to the wedding night task. “And I shall endeavor to make you proud.”

  “I know you will not let me down.” With that, mama slapped her thighs. “Well then, we have dispensed with the necessary conversation, and I feel so much better. Now, let us return our attention to your wardrobe, as that concerns me most. Stand before me, as I would make a thorough inspection.”

  “All right.” Yet, Margaret was anything but all right, as she obeyed her mother’s request. “I do wish to look my best.”

  “I believe we should start with a new hairstyle, as your severe chignon does little to emphasize your bone structure, which I believe you inherited from me.” Mama wrinkled her nose and then came alert. “I have just the answer, and I shall dispatch a footman to fetch Monsieur Andre, posthaste.”

  “Oh?” Swallowing hard, Margaret stared at her reflection in the long mirror. “What is the urgency?”

  “My dear, the situation is most pressing, as you are a bride-to-be and not long for the altar.” Mama pushed from the mattress, strolled to Margaret, and wiped a stray tear from her eyes. “We depart for Derbyshire, in the morning.”

  once upon a christmas knight

  chapter two

  Derbyshire

  Looming in the foyer at Whitstone, Percival studied his reflection in the hall mirror, checked his appearance, and smoothed his signature Howe blond hair. Pacing, he clasped and unclasped his hands, as the footmen assisted the Hogarts, as they descended their traveling coach.

  “Percy, stop fidgeting.” Henrietta, his lifelong friend and Ernest’s wife, halted him and adjusted his cravat. “Margaret will adore you.”

  “How can you be so sure, when I am a stranger to her?” Of course, that was not entirely true, because he bestowed upon Miss Hogart her first kiss—only she did not know it was him. “What if she does not like me?”

  “I dare her to resist you.” Hen giggled and patted his cheek, until Ernest grabbed her from behind and kissed her neck. “Oh—my lord, stop it, as you startled me.”

  “Ah, my little bird, but you are too tempting in your unique creation, so I am not to blame if I cannot resist you.” Ernest sobered. “How do you feel? Are you tired? Shall I carry you upstairs?”

  “Will you quit worrying, because I am fine?” In play, she swatted at her husband. “Now, behave, and let us greet my guests, else I shall be vexed with you.”

  “Mrs. Howe, what a treat.” Beryl Hogart doffed her pelisse and turban, which she handed to the butler. “And I cannot thank you enough for Miranda’s wedding gown, as she remains the talk of the ton, excepting your own remarkable nuptials.” She rested her palm to Henrietta’s increasing belly. “Permit me to congratulate you on the impending addition to your family, and I have a gift for your little one, however prematurely, owing to my affection for you and Lord Ernest.”

  “That is not necessary, and I was honored to dress Miranda on her special day.” Henrietta kissed Mrs. Hogart on the cheek and turned to welcome Mr. Hogart. “I am so happy you could join us for our first holiday celebration in our new home.”

  “We were most appreciative of the invitation.” Mr. Hogart peered at Percy and initiated the predetermined ruse. “Mr. Howe, we are so glad to see you again.” He stepped aside. “May I present my daughter Margaret.”

  That was Percy’s time to shine, yet he fumbled for an elegant response.

  “Miss Hogart, it is a pleasure, although I have seen you in the ton’s ballrooms, and I have long considered you one of society’s brightest flowers.” Bloody hell, he was trying too hard. Nervous, he shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Must confess it is my hope we might become better acquainted, prior to our wedding, as we share the Christmastide traditions.”

  “You are too kind, Mr. Howe.” She curtseyed. “I am surprised you noticed me, given we danced but once, at the Netherton’s masque, years ago.”

  “Margaret Clare Hortence, apologize, this instant.” Mr. Hogart bared his teeth. “How dare you speak to Mr. Howe with such insolence.”

  “It is all right, John.” Percy evoked first names, to emphasize the friendship between their two families, underscore their intimate connection, and alleviate the tension. “Miss Hogart is correct in her assertion, as I have not partnered her with regularity, but it was not because of a lack of interest.” In that moment, she met his stare, and in her blue eyes he spied so much pain. “It was because I ignorantly presumed she would deny this beggar the privilege of her estimable company. I humbly apologize, Miss Hogart, as I meant no offense.”

  “It is I who should apologize, if I portrayed myself in such a manner as to deter much appreciated attendance from one as accomplished as you, Mr. Howe.” Just as she had that night at the Netherton’s masque, she responded to the smallest compliment, and he vowed to extend several more, before the holiday ended. “Given we are to be married, all my dances are perforce yours, but I should grant them to you, exclusively, were the circumstances otherwise.”

  “Well said, Miss Hogart.” He snapped his fingers. “And such a prize is deserved of another, which I shall gift you, tomorrow night, as I brought something expressly for you.”

  “You did?” She all but bounced with excitement, as she glowed. “What an amazing coincidence, because I brought something for you, too.”

  “Then we are of like minds, Miss Hogart.” As he bowed, he brought h
er hand to his lips, pressed a chaste kiss to the backs of her knuckles, and smiled, as she could not possibly know the truth of that statement. “Now, I imagine you must be tired after your journey, and if you wish to get settled in your accommodation and rest, I shall take a drink with your father.”

  “Of course.” She nodded.

  “Poor thing, it is dreadful outside.” To the butler, Henrietta said, “Please, show Mrs. Hogart and Miss Hogart to their rooms, and have the cook prepare tea and shortbread, and deliver a tray to each guest.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Howe.” The servant bowed. “Mrs. Hogart and Miss Hogart, if you will follow me.”

  “And on that note, I believe my exceedingly charming bride and mother-to-be should take her ease.” Ernest wrapped an arm about Henrietta’s waist and pulled her to his side. “Come along, darling.”

  “What about Barrington, Florence, and the children?” Henrietta pouted, and Percy almost felt sorry for his cousin, as she wrapped Ernest about her little finger. “Would you have me shirk my duties as your chatelaine?”

  “No, because Barrington should not arrive until tomorrow morning.” Ernest’s demeanor took a decidedly decadent turn, and Percy averted his gaze. “I would have you tend your duties as my wife, as they take priority.”

  “Uh—what say we have that brandy by the fire, John?” Percy gave Mr. Hogart a pat on the back, and together they strolled down the hall to Ernest’s study.

  In silence, Percy shut the door and then walked to the side table, where he lifted a crystal decanter and filled to glasses.

  “What have you learned of Ratking?” Hogart unbuttoned his coat and sat. “Have you discovered what became of the money?”

  “Not yet, but my man identified at least eleven other investors, all facing similar circumstances, although they refuse to come forward.” At the window, Percy studied the grey sky, as snow dusted the ground in a white blanket. “However, the pattern remains the same. They entrusted the whole of their estates into Ratking’s care, they received naught but verbal assurances to the health of their holdings, and they recently discovered they linger on the brink of insolvency.”