Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  by S. Cinders

  Prologue

  Rakesburg, England

  1817

  In the small hamlet of Rakesburg, amongst the gorgeous rolling hills, one could find the sprawling family seat of the illustrious Collingsworth family, Starcrest. In that stately manner, which showed no less than thirty-six windows on the front side, resided forty-two servants and one Lady Anne.

  An only child, Anne suffered the loss of her mother at an early age. Her father, Lord Rawlings, Earl of Rakesburg, was an absent landlord and a forgetful father. During her formative years, Anne was left to wander the opulent hallways of Starcrest with only herself as a playmate.

  It wasn’t that Anne felt herself too far above the village children. In truth she would have loved to have had a playmate besides her old nurse, Eliza. Sadly, the Earl hadn’t wanted his daughter to mingle with the lower classes, so Anne watched all the play from the sidelines—alone.

  “Would you like me to take down your hair, miss?”

  Anne glanced up to see Mary, her new maid, peering at her anxiously from the doorway. A part of Anne hated that Eliza’s familiar face was not staring back at her. It certainly wasn’t Mary’s fault that she was expected to fill the shoes of a beloved servant. However, Eliza would have known instinctively that something was wrong. Eliza would have teased her out of her doldrums. It really didn’t matter now because Eliza was no longer at Starcrest.

  Straightening her shoulders, Anne shook her head faintly. “No, thank you, Mary. I won’t be needing you for the rest of the night.”

  “Would you like me to turn your bedcovers down?” Mary asked hesitantly.

  Anne looked around her newly decorated room as if to see what the maid was speaking about. But the only thing that Anne saw were the sour faces of the village gossips from earlier that afternoon as they spitefully nattered on about her at the milliner's shop.

  Mrs. Green, a large woman who had a tendency to spit when talking, was blurting out, “Olivia, you know as well as I do that Lady Anne puts on airs. Why, look at how she’s retreated to Starcrest like a kicked puppy. For lack of a better phrase, Lady Anne experienced a failure to launch. It’s an embarrassment to the entire county.”

  As the two ladies tittered away, Anne had felt her heart hardening against the old biddies. Mrs. Tabitha Green and Mrs. Olivia Tolhurst were merely bullies in bonnets, Eliza would say. Instead of entering the shop, as Anne had intended, she had promptly returned to her carriage.

  After all, Anne had thought bitterly, it’s common knowledge amongst the crème de la crème of London that young ladies of a certain ilk must be lovely and agreeable in all things. One never addressed the unsavory things that happened all around them. One had to pretend such things didn’t exist.

  Once home, Anne had shut herself inside of her room, refusing dinner. The two women’s words mingled with all of the others over the years until it had brought Anne to the reflective state she now sat in.

  Anne stewed over the fact that there were many suitors who argued as to her agreeability. More than one gentleman had pointed out the importance of a lady’s submission in all things to the far superior male race.

  Damned by her own gender as too high in the instep, and damned by her suitors as a bluestocking, Anne was tired of being measured by others and coming up short. During her splash amongst the Ton, Anne seemed to do everything wrong. It was whispered that if she didn’t curb her wild ways that she would be branded as an ape leader, a spinster, and quite possibly even a vulgar woman.

  Anne, being a rather intelligent creature, failed to see the value behind this logic. She knew what inappropriate behavior consisted of, and she hadn’t done anything wrong. The only thing Anne had been guilty of was not bending to the will of others. Anne longed for the days when she only had to answer to Eliza. Her old nurse had never tried to change who Anne was.

  Mary cleared her throat, drawing Anne’s attention back. “I have added another log to the fire. Are you certain you don’t want anything from the kitchen?”

  The thought of eating turned Anne’s stomach. Shaking her head, she replied, “No, thank you, Mary. Get some rest.”

  Anne could see the hesitation on her maid’s face. But true to form, Mary nodded and left Anne alone in her bedchamber. Mary was a new maid, having only served Anne for a short while. Her previous nurse, Eliza, had been by her charge’s side ever since Anne had made her entrance into this world.

  Heat stung Anne’s nose as she thought about Eliza’s passing during the previous year. It had been difficult enough facing the Ton after five failed seasons. Her father had been furious with her inability to choose one of the gentlemen that had arduously pursued her. But Anne hadn’t felt a single connection with any of them. She had tried, she honestly had.

  In Anne’s first season she was marked as fast when she raced Lord Farnsworth in Hyde Park and won. Her father had been livid. In her second season, Anne had fallen into a heated argument with Mr. Pomphrey about the true reason behind Lady Morgan’s sudden departure from London the previous year. It all seemed so stupid now, but at the time she had been incensed at the blatant lies that Mr. Pomphrey had been spouting about her friend.

  Her father had called her into the parlor and said in strict tones that she was being far too free with her tongue. He went over a litany of sins, many of which Anne hadn’t even been aware of committing. Lord Rawlings told her under no terms should she ever give her opinion. Nor should she discuss politics over breakfast, ask a man to dance, or correct a man, no matter how wrong that she might feel he may be.

  When Anne was finally finished receiving that stern dressing down, she was fairly seething with anger. During her first season Anne turned down no less than five eligible offers for her hand in marriage. Her father tightened his screws, trying to get Anne to bend to his will.

  Perhaps if he had actually taken the time to get to know his daughter, Lord Rawlings would have known what a mistake that had been banding about town the exorbitant sum he’d set aside as her dowry. The tabbies of the Ton were in awe that the lady had managed to bring five suitors up to task with her bold ways. The fact that these gentlemen were mostly impoverished fortune hunters didn’t signify.

  They were horrified the second year when Anne promptly turned down three additional suitors. One gentleman even reported that she had been known to drop such vulgar terms as “hornswoggle,” “perdition,” and even a “balderdash” a time or two.

  Year after year, Anne shunned the eligible bachelors of the Ton. After each suitor was turned away, Anne’s relationship with her father grew increasingly brittle until it reached its breaking point.

  That’s when Anne received word that her precious Eliza had fallen ill. Anne dropped everything and raced back to the countryside. She arrived in Rakesburg in the middle of the night; once the carriage had stopped at Starcrest, Anne raced straight to Eliza’s side. She had two days with her beloved nurse before Eliza returned to God and Anne was left alone in the world.

  In the days that followed, Anne refused her father’s summons back to London. While she had been working on thwarting her father, Eliza had been slipping away from her. Anne vowed to never fall into that trap again. When the next season came along, Anne wasn’t a part of it.

  Anne shook her head, trying to dispel the memories. With unsteady hands, she reached up and began to take the pins out of her hair. Long golden strands that were neither curly nor straight began to fall down her back. Taking her mother’s silver brush, Anne began to comb through her thick hair.

  Pleased with her reflection, Anne shook her head at the absurdity of the women in the village. All Mrs. Green and Mrs. Tolhurst could see was her age of six-and-twenty. They considered her firmly on the shelf. Perhaps marriage and babies weren’t for Anne. As much as she had always wished for a family, she wasn’t about to tie herself to someone just to achieve that goal.

  If she had heard it once, she’d heard it a thousand times. The matrons said that such a beau
ty shouldn’t have been wasted in the country. They said that Lord Rawlings should have sent her away to a finishing school. Others insisted that a proper governess would have squelched out the bold tendencies that so shocked one and all.

  However, most people got it wrong. For all her faults, Anne was as kind as she was beautiful. Although it’s said that beauty can overcome many obstacles, it clearly had met its match in the eminently stubborn Anne.

  Anne supposed that she had figured her father had washed his hands of her. Perhaps that is why she had been so surprised when she had received his latest missive. Picking up the parchment, she began to read.

  My Daughter,

  I have arranged for you to visit your godmother, Lady Genevieve. She is getting on in years and has asked if you might be available to come and stay. I know you will be a comfort to her.

  I don’t mean this as a suggestion, Anne. The servants will deliver you to your godmother and there you will stay for at least a fortnight. Don’t think of this as a punishment. Think of this as an opportunity.

  I know you think I am an unfeeling sort of father, and I suppose in some ways I am. But I loved your mother, and I only wanted you to have the kind of love that we once shared. Since you have made it clear that you have no intention of marrying. I have decided to stop pressuring you toward marriage.

  Lady Genevieve is a long-time spinster who lives a full and happy life. She is precisely the sort of woman that I always wished you would become.

  Don’t poker up. I know you will see this as an affront, but that isn’t my intention. Anne, whether or not you believe it, I only wish to see you happy.

  Yours in health,

  Father

  Considering that Anne had only received a half-dozen missives from her father in the last ten years, she understood the importance of this one. Tapping the parchment absentmindedly, Anne tried to remember what she could of Lady Genevieve. The woman had been bent with age when Anne was a child. But if Anne was correct, Lady Gen was also spicy and fiery, with a twinkling eye and a sharp tongue.

  Whatever could her father be up to? For the first time in ages, Anne’s interest was sparked. In a moment of impulse, Anne resolved to go to Lady Gen’s. It was high time she stopped moping over her dear Eliza and had an adventure.

  Calling for Mary, Anne instructed the trembling maid to begin packing her things. They were headed to Brighton.

  Chapter 1

  Brighton, England

  Christmas, 1820

  Anne was late—again. This in and of itself was not an unusual occurrence. Her godmother, Lady Genevieve, had teased her about it so many times that Anne had vowed to curb herself of the ugly habit. Having just left Lady Genevieve's carriage at noon, precisely one hour earlier, outside of the Brighton Pavilion, Anne had promised Lady Gen that she would return promptly at one.

  However, once inside the lending library, Anne had been swept away in the pages of exotic locales and dangerous adventures. When she happened to glance up and see the time, Anne knew she would need to make a run for it.

  Her maid, Mary, had grown quite used to Lady Anne’s shenanigans and didn’t even attempt to keep up with the sprightly young woman when she dashed away. Anne felt the stinging cold on her cheeks and knew that the breeze was yanking the pins out of her hair. However, none of that mattered when she had her goal in sight. Anne didn’t want to give Lady Genevieve any further reason to her tease about her lack of timeliness.

  Quickly glancing back-and-forth before darting out into the busy street, Anne made a final push to get to her destination. A rare smile peeked out upon Anne’s face. The older woman would be quite surprised to see her operating in a timely fashion for once. Ignoring the slushy puddles and slick patches of ice, Anne leapt over the last curb just as a high-perched curricle came round the corner at breakneck speed.

  A small body crashed into Anne, sending her hurtling. They both went down with a thud. Snow and ice crunched under her body as her head connected with the cobblestones on the street.

  Shaken to the core and having the stuffing taken out of her, Anne took a moment to catch her breath. For the briefest of moments Anne fought the blackness that threatened to overtake her. Bile rose in her throat as her stomach threatened to revolt. Anne refused to pass out; as the blackness tried to descend, she fought it heartily.

  If there was anything to be said about Anne, it would not be that she put on missish airs. However, the lack of air in her lungs was a trifle disconcerting. The person who knocked her down quickly scrambled off her. Anne turned her head to see a boy staring back at her.

  His pallor was entirely white when he yelled over her shoulder. “Dear heaven above, I have killed her. Brant! Get over here!”

  The anguish was so raw that Anne wanted at once to assure him that she would indeed recover—when the world stopped spinning, of course. She opened her mouth to speak when another young man, an exact replica of the first down to the shock of black hair and dark gray eyes, came into view.

  He frowned a little. “Oh, Henry, she is not dead, you ninnyhammer, only knocked up. Give her a moment to collect herself. Uncle Ian is going to name an estate after you, Twin. What a heroic rescue!”

  If at all possible, the one called Henry, paled further. “We don’t have to tell him, Brant.”

  Brant shook his head. “It won’t work, Henry. Half the city will know about it in less than half an hour. Did you have to save her right in front of the Royal Pavilion? Blast, it’s starting to snow.”

  Anne would have been amused by the pair if she felt better. As it was, she stared at the twins from her sprawled position on the ground. “Well, heroes of mine, I suppose I ought to thank you. Might one of you give me a hand up?”

  The twins swung their gazes back to her before jumping into action.

  “Right, sorry, miss. I had started to think about my Uncle Ian and quite forgot that we had left you down there.”

  Henry scowled when his brother cuffed him on the back of the head.

  Brant shook his head. “I am terribly sorry for my brother’s lack of manners, ma'am.”

  “Oi! You didn’t do anything to help her up either. I saved her!” Henry groused.

  Brant shook his head at his twin and extended an arm down to Anne. “How terrible to be knocked off your feet. Are you feeling just wretched? Please allow me to help you. My name is Mr. Brant Stanford, and this is my brother, Henry Stanford.”

  Anne allowed the boy to help her stand. Besides a rather incessant ache in her hip and side and a pounding headache, she was remarkably unhurt. If only her head would stop pounding, she could make sense of the situation.

  “Thank you, Mr. Stanford and Mr. Stanford. I am Lady Anne Collingsworth.”

  “Lady Anne?” Henry looked positively forlorn. “Do you suppose that we could just keep this little incident to ourselves?”

  Anne’s lips almost betrayed her, but she waited until she could speak in a steady tone.

  “Well, Mr. Stanford, you did save my life. That driver was speeding along at an unbearably fast clip, especially with pedestrians present. Are you being bashful, or is something else afoot?”

  The twins looked around and saw that there was a crowd forming around the trio.

  Anne laid a hand on Henry’s arm. “I won’t tell anyone if you do not wish it. But what you did just then, Henry you saved me. I must thank you.”

  Henry’s cheeks turned the brightest shade of pink. “You’re welcome, miss. It wasn't anything, I assure you. It’s only that Uncle Ian will have my head for disobeying him. I’m not supposed to be anywhere near here. I suppose the chances of you meeting him are small, though. Say, are you feeling quite the thing?”

  Anne nodded and immediately felt the worse for it. The boys, seeing the color fade from her cheeks, immediately became nervous.

  “Doesn’t look well, does she, Twin?” Brant observed.

  Anne would have laughed if she felt better. “Gentlemen, let this be a lesson to you for when you’re ol
der. Never tell a woman that she doesn’t look well. She’s likely to retaliate.”

  Brant shook his head in disgust. “We don’t talk to many ladies if we can help it, miss. Our mother said that someday we will change our minds, but the chances aren’t likely of that happening.”

  “What about Millie?” Henry exclaimed. “She’s not that bad.”

  Brant shrugged. “I suppose we have to include Millie, but she’s not really a lady, she is a cousin. Come on now, let’s see if we can get you off the street.”

  Brant moved to Anne’s side.

  Anne took his arm, hating when the world started tipping this way and that.

  “We need to find Uncle Ian,” Brant instructed Henry.

  “He’s going to be upset that we didn’t stay at the inn like we were supposed to. What’s he going to think about our adventures this morning?”

  A whiskey-smooth male voice answered, one much different from the youthful exuberance that Anne had come to associate with the twins. “That is a fine question indeed. What is Uncle Ian to think?”

  Lady Anne and the twins turned their heads.

  The twins' looks were a mixture of dread and relief. Anne supposed that they must have some faith in the man if Brant had thought to go to him in a time of need. She peered up at the individual. The arresting sight that met her gaze had her floundering for a moment. He had much the same coloring of the boys. Only this was no youth.

  Tall and lean, with steel-gray eyes and a square jaw, the boy’s uncle cut an imposing figure. He was rigged out with the finest of linens. His pants were cut in the severe style, flattering a shapely calf and long muscular thigh. There was no padding or flummery to his costume, his colors were muted, and the only adornments he wore were a signet ring and an ox pin in his cravat.

  “Have these two whelps been harassing you, Madam?”