The Christmas Visit: Comfort and JoyLove at First StepA Christmas Secret

by Moore, Margaret

  “You’re going to go out?” Gwen asked, glancing at the window, which was so frost-covered she couldn’t see outside.

  “I must. We’ll be careful, won’t we, William?”

  The boy nodded eagerly.

  “Good.” He rose from the table. “Get your coat and hat and gloves while I put on my coat.”

  Gwen stood up as William hurried to obey.

  “Do you need any help with those?” the earl said, nodding at the dishes.

  “No. I can manage,” Gwen said as she went to check Teddy. His forehead was still hot and his cheeks flushed.

  The earl came up behind her. “Any better?”

  “It’s early yet,” she said, trying to offer comfort to herself as well as to him.

  “I’m ready!” William cried.

  “Good,” the earl said, going to put on his greatcoat. “But we should be quiet in the house, or we’ll wake your brother and then Miss Davies will be cross with us.”

  After they went out, Gwen hurriedly cleaned up the table, leaving some soup warming in the pot for when Teddy woke up. Then she set about binding four smaller pieces of kindling into two braces to hold the blankets off Teddy’s leg, thinking that would help to ease the pain when he woke up.

  She was just finishing when the earl and William returned. She saw at once that the earl’s limp was worse, and that William, now full of soup and bread and fresh air, looked completely exhausted, as did the earl.

  “Why don’t the two of you lie down and rest?” she suggested as the earl brushed the snow off William’s coat and then his own.

  “I don’t want to lie down,” William petulantly replied. “The earl said he’d play checkers with me.”

  “And I will—after you’ve had a nap. You had a long night here with Teddy, and you worked hard helping Miss Davies and me.”

  “You need to rest, too, my lord,” Gwen said.

  He regarded her steadily. “So do you.”

  “I’m used to long nights tending patients. You’re not.”

  “I’m used to long rides, and you’re not. I’ll wake you the moment the lad stirs.”

  “I’ll sleep later,” she said, hands on hips. “For now, the two of you should lie down.”

  The earl gave her a disgruntled look, then addressed William. “I think she’s serious.”

  The little boy yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m not tired. I want to play checkers.”

  “Later,” the earl said. “Where’s your bed?”

  “In the loft,” he said, pointing.

  The earl frowned, and she suspected climbing a ladder was not something he was anxious to attempt, at least at present.

  Gwen walked past him to a curtained alcove. As she’d assumed, this was where Bill slept, for there was an iron bedstead and small washstand. “Since it’s just a nap, why don’t you both lie down here? That way, if I need help, you can come quickly.”

  William looked up at the earl. He looked down at William. “I don’t think Miss Davies is going to take no for an answer, do you?” the earl inquired.

  William yawned again and shook his head.

  The nobleman stepped closer to Gwen and whispered, “Only for a little while, and then you’re going to rest.”

  She didn’t want an argument, so she nodded as if she agreed.

  “My Da always sings to me before I go to sleep. Will you?” the little boy asked as the nobleman escorted him around the curtain. “I like ‘Deck the Halls.’ Because it’s Welsh and so am I.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve sung anything. Perhaps Miss Davies—”

  “But Da sings to me. Please. Just one.”

  The earl sighed heavily. “All right. Just one carol.”

  She heard the bed ropes creak a bit as William climbed up and lay down. “Sit here beside me,” he said.

  After a moment, she heard the ropes creak from a heavier person sitting on the bed. “I’ll stretch my leg out, if you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind. Now first ‘Deck the Halls,’ and then ‘All Through the Night.’ Those are my favorites.”

  “You said just one.”

  “But ‘All Through the Night’ is Welsh, too. You’re Welsh, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we should have both.”

  As Gwen bustled about preparing to wash the dishes and checking Teddy again, she wondered if the earl was going to acquiesce or refuse, although she wished he’d sing “All Through the Night.” She loved that song. When she’d been in the Crimea, several Welsh soldiers had sung it for her one Christmas Eve, reminding her of home. Even a poor orphan could have fond memories of Christmases when joy was an unexpected apple, or something warm to wear.

  Then the Earl of Cwm Rhyss started to sing the merry “Deck the Halls.” What a fine baritone voice he had—one that would stand out even in Wales. He was immediately joined by William’s wavering soprano.

  When that was finished, he began “All Through the Night,” singing it as gently and soft as a lullaby. William started singing with him, but in a very short time, his voice drifted off, leaving the earl singing alone. He got quieter and quieter, too, until the last line seemed more a sigh than singing.

  She tiptoed around the curtain to see if her suspicions were correct. They were. The earl was sitting on top of the covers, leaning against the simple headboard, his eyes closed, his chest moving slowly as he slept. William lay under the covers beside him, nestled by his side.

  Relaxed, the earl’s stern features softened and he looked very much like the handsome young man in the portrait.

  With those looks and that magnificent body, he must have been irresistible to women then. He was irresistible now, and not just for his looks or his form. He had a kind and generous heart, too, and if people could see him with William, they’d know—as she did—that much of his gruff exterior was just that: an exterior, designed to send people away before they could hurt him with their revulsion.

  If other women could see him now, they’d want to creep up beside him and brush that dangling lock of hair from his brow, and perhaps press their lips to his forehead. Just as she did.

  She chided herself for a fool as she backed away and let the curtain fall. Even scarred, he was a wealthy nobleman, and she was a pauper’s daughter who ran an orphanage. To even imagine anything else was silly and foolish and…

  Irresistible.

  The shuffling sound startled her. Turning, she beheld the Earl of Cwm Rhyss coming drowsily around the curtain. He’d slept for nearly four hours, she guessed, during which Teddy had shifted and cried out once or twice, keeping her alert.

  The earl glanced at the window. “Still snowing?”

  “Worse than ever.”

  She sighed, then rubbed the back of her neck. It hadn’t been as terrible a vigil as she’d ever had, but given that she hadn’t slept the night before—

  She froze when she felt the earl’s strong hands on her shoulders. Before she could move or speak, he started to knead the tension from her aching back and neck.

  She should protest or make him stop, except that it felt so very good….

  “How’s the boy?” the earl asked, his deep voice low and soft.

  “Still feverish,” she admitted.

  “Will he need more laudanum?”

  “He may.”

  “Use as much as necessary. I have no need of it.”

  “It doesn’t ease your pain?” she asked, afraid his injuries were more severe than she’d assumed.

  “It’s supposed to help keep…to help me sleep, but it doesn’t.”

  She made a guess based on experience. “You have bad dreams?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not unexpected, after what happened to you.”

  “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since my accident.” His hands paused a moment, then continued. “Although I slept like a lump of rock just now.”

  She tried to ignore the warmth and slight pressure of his han
ds on her. “I’d hate to think helping the boys and me did you harm.”

  “You didn’t. In fact, Miss Davies, I’d say that, in your own unique and inimitable way, you’ve done me a lot of good.”

  He stopped kneading and she had a moment’s genuine regret, until she felt him pull a pin from her hair.

  “What are you doing?” she cried softly, putting her hand to her head to hold her hair in place.

  “That knot looks so tight, it can’t be comfortable,” he said as he pulled out two more pins on the other side.

  She slapped her other hand there. “Stop! It’ll fall down.”

  “That’s the general idea. You have beautiful hair, Miss Davies.”

  “I have very ordinary hair,” she snapped, rising and turning to face him, her anger hiding her very real dismay.

  She used to dream of having hair as golden as ripe wheat, or dark as a raven’s wing, like his, but hers was brown as a mouse’s fur, and no flattery was going to make it anything but ordinary.

  No flattery, no kind, softly spoken words were ever going to make her anything but ordinary.

  He shook his head. “You have remarkable hair. When it’s loose about your face like that, it makes all the difference in the world. And when your green eyes flash with that indomitable spirit of yours, you could rival the finest beauty in London.”

  “Now I know you’re lying, although I have no idea why you think you have to flatter me,” she said, trying not to let him see how much he’d upset her.

  “I’m merely telling you what I honestly think. I don’t have any ulterior motives. I conclude, Miss Davies, you don’t get many compliments about your hair or your looks.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You should.”

  She flushed hotly and told herself to pay no heed to him. “May I have my pins, please?”

  His lips curved up in a smile as he held out the pins in his upturned palm. “Come and get them.”

  “Oh, of all the silly—”

  She reached for them, and he curled his hand around hers, then brought it to his lips for a kiss. “I think you’re very attractive, Miss Davies.”

  She should pull her hand away. This should be an unwelcome familiarity. Who could say what he might do next, or what she might do? The most outrageous ideas were churning through her mind.

  Yet she couldn’t move, until a weak voice came from the cot by the hearth. “Is it Christmas? Did I miss it?”

  More flustered than she’d ever been—even during the worst of the Crimea—and trying not to show it, Gwen quickly wound her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck and stuck the pins in to hold it as she hurried over to Teddy.

  She could tell by his eyes and his voice that the laudanum was still in effect, although not much, to judge by the pain etched in his features.

  “It’s not Christmas yet,” she assured him. “You haven’t missed it.”

  Teddy struggled to sit up. “Where’s Da?”

  “You must stay still,” Gwen urged, gently pushing him down. “Your father can’t get here yet. It’s still snowing very hard. I promise I’ll wake you when he comes and until then, you should try to sleep.”

  Teddy’s gaze floated around the room, before coming to rest on the earl. “He’s still here,” he murmured as Gwen hurried to prepare another dose. “I thought maybe I’d dreamed him.”

  “He’s been most helpful,” she replied.

  “I remember the stick he gave me to bite on.”

  “You didn’t really need it. You were very brave,” the earl said, coming to stand beside the cot. “I’m sure you impressed the pretty Miss Davies with your courage.”

  She flushed and told herself he was only trying to amuse Teddy. His words did bring a weak smile to Teddy’s pale lips before his eyelids fluttered closed.

  As for what he’d said before, he couldn’t seriously find her attractive. Perhaps he was merely trying to amuse himself, since they were almost alone.

  Gwen tried not to think about that and was very glad when the earl went to the hearth and added more wood to the fire.

  She also tried not to notice how he moved, or the way his jacket stretched across his broad shoulders before he straightened. “I’ll go see to the horses before William wakes up. His heart’s in the right place, but I’m used to tending to Warlord by myself. And Warlord isn’t used to an inquisitive little fellow, either.”

  She nodded, relieved that he was leaving.

  After giving Teddy a bit more laudanum, she sat by his side until she was sure he was asleep, then she went back to the hearth to add more water to the simmering soup.

  Focusing on something other than the earl, she considered the food situation. It didn’t look like there’d be enough soup for the four of them later.

  The earl returned, softly stamping his boots to rid them of the snow clinging to them as he took off his coat and hat and hung them back up to the pegs.

  “Now that I’ve had my rest, and your patient’s sleeping again, you should lie down,” he said to her. “I’ll keep watch over Teddy and fetch you if anything changes.”

  Although Gwen felt bone weary, Teddy was her responsibility. “I can’t. He might require my help. And I shouldn’t sleep until the fever’s broken.”

  “If he gets worse and you’re exhausted, you won’t be much good.”

  “William will be waking soon,” she replied. “He’ll be hungry, and Teddy needs to eat, too. I should have more than the soup.”

  She ran her hand over her forehead and tried to think of something she could cook. “Stew, perhaps. Or maybe I could use that ham hanging from the ceiling.”

  “I think you need to sleep before you swoon from sheer exhaustion. You lie down and I’ll make something.”

  “You can’t cook.”

  He raised a brow. “How do you know what I’m capable of, Miss Davies?”

  She started to sigh with exasperation and wound up yawning prodigiously. “You’re an earl.”

  “I’m an earl who doesn’t spend all his time in his study writing a book. Sometimes I go to the kitchen and watch Mrs. Jones. I believe I can manage the rudimentaries, at least.”

  The earl grabbed her hands and started to tug her toward the curtain. “I told you, I won’t have a martyr’s death on my hands.”

  She planted her feet and tried to tug her hands from his strong grasp. “You’re not in command here, you know, my lord. This isn’t your manor house.”

  “But it is my property. Bill Mervyn is one of my tenants. Now stop arguing—or do I have to pick you up and carry you to bed?”

  What a host of images that brought to her mind! “Take your hands off me, if you please.”

  He tugged her closer, and when he looked into her eyes, she saw an expression that made her breathing quicken and her heart race. “Maybe I don’t please,” he whispered, bringing her clasped hands to his lips. “There was a time you’d have been the envy of a ballroom full of giggling, foolish girls, Miss Davies, because the Earl of Cwm Rhyss was holding you this way.” He slowly leaned closer. “And if the Earl of Cwm Rhyss kissed you…”

  “Are you dancing?” a little voice piped up. “Has my Da come?”

  William was standing by the curtain.

  With a nervous smile, Gwen swiftly moved away from the earl. “No, laddie, your Da hasn’t come yet because it’s still snowing. The earl was just, um…”

  “Trying to get Miss Davies to have a nap. Now go along, Miss Davies, and leave me to make William some tea and toast, to start.”

  She still wasn’t quite willing to relinquish her responsibility. “But Teddy—”

  “If Teddy wakes or I see the slightest change in the boy, I’ll fetch you at once. You must sleep, Miss Davies, or your judgment will surely be impaired.”

  If she was entertaining the notion that a nobleman could be truly attracted to her, if she was envisioning a life by his side, her judgment was already impaired. “You promise to wake me at the first sign of change?”
>
  He put his hand over his heart and bowed as elegantly as if they were in Buckingham Palace. “My dear Miss Davies, you have the word of the Earl of Cwm Rhyss.”

  Chapter Five

  Gwen awoke to the sounds of quiet voices talking, one soft and deep, one high pitched and excited—the earl and William, and she was in a Bill Mervyn’s cottage, tending to the injured Teddy.

  Wondering how long she’d slept, she glanced at the small window near the bed. It was too dark to tell the time of day, or if it was still snowing.

  Whatever time it was, she’d napped too long. She quickly got to her feet and hurried around the curtained partition, to discover the reclusive Earl of Cwm Rhyss wearing a patched apron, flour on his cheek, stirring something in a big bowl. William was beside him at the table, seated on the top, his legs dangling over the side. Something cooking in the iron pot over the fire was sending the most delicious smell wafting through the cottage.

  “Good evening, Miss Davies,” the earl said quietly. “I trust you slept well.”

  She had, especially considering the circumstances, but her first concern was for her patient. “How’s Teddy?” she asked as she crossed the room to the cot by the hearth.

  “Still fast asleep, as you can see.” The earl frowned. “I would have called you otherwise.”

  She hadn’t meant that for a criticism, but she said nothing. Keeping her distance, as much as possible under the circumstances, was her best weapon against foolish flights of fancy concerning a handsome, virile nobleman.

  Noting that Teddy’s breathing seemed easier and his cheeks were less flushed, she placed her hand on his forehead.

  It wasn’t burning hot.

  Holding her breath, she leaned closed and kissed his brow to confirm the prognosis of her hand. “Oh, thank God,” she murmured fervently.

  She straightened and regarded her companions with relief and happiness. “The fever’s broken.”

  The earl smiled. She smiled. William grinned, then crowed, “Teddy’s all better!”

  He immediately clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “I’m supposed to whisper,” he said, the words muffled behind his hand.