Christmas Surprise (Regency Holiday Surprise Book 1)

by Kimberly Burke

  “I am certain that I can count on you to assist with the Yule decorations,” she announced to them all and motioned to a collection of baskets with ivy, holly, ribbon, pinecones, and other Yule decorations in them.

  “Of course, Aunt,” Cici said.

  “It would be our pleasure,” Lord Ashton agreed, though given Miss Brinley’s quick laugh, John doubted that Ashton was being sincere.

  The guests discussed who would do what rooms then broke into groups. Thankfully, he and Cici were on their own. John picked up a basket and took Cici’s hand. “Shall we?” he asked in an exaggeratedly prim tone.

  “I suppose we shall,” she mimicked.

  They both burst into laughter and walked to the dining room. Inside, he began to haphazardly lay the garlands of holly over every available surface.

  “Please, John, use a bit more artistic flair,” Cici scolded.

  He smiled, and she followed behind him, rearranging each pinecone, candle, and branch.

  He deliberately found the oddest ways and places to put things so that he could enjoy her frowns and looks of dismay.

  When they moved to the music room, he gave up even trying to help her. Instead, he sat at the piano and played a lively tune more likely to be heard in a tavern that in a posh drawing room.

  Cici stopped decorating and watched him. She laughed, which only encouraged him more.

  He loved the feel of her gaze on him and seeing her face light up with a smile. Her scent still lingered in the air around him, and he longed to have more of her. It was surprising that even though they had been apart for so long, he felt as connected to her as he had when they were young. He realized that he had not been bored in London, as he had first thought, but that he was empty, lonely. He needed something and knew that it was her. He had always needed her. He just had not remembered the feeling of being complete until he was with her again. And since he had, he knew he would never let her go.

  When she returned to Townsend Abbey, Georgianna disappeared into her room for a moment to catch her breath. But her smile faded the moment she entered and found her dear stepmama reading a book, waiting for her.

  Emily lowered the book. “I must speak with you, Georgianna.”

  Georgianna did not answer. She was well acquainted with Emily’s excitable nature, and though Georgianna did not care for her stepmama, she respected her for her papa’s sake.

  “Have you set your cap for John?” Emily demanded.

  Georgianna should have denied it, but something about Emily’s tone angered her. “If I have?”

  Emily stood and began to pace. “You must know that it is foolish to think the duke will allow his son to marry a vicar’s daughter.”

  Georgianna flinched, knowing that Emily was right. Her heart ached, not for herself but for Cici. “It will be hard, but it is not impossible.”

  “No, it is impossible. You don’t know how he is.” Emily continued to pace and wring her hands.

  “I met the duke when I was in London.” Georgianna lifted her chin, her lips a thin line. She would never forget meeting the Duke of Ainsley, John’s father. The man was charming on the outside, all smiles and compliments, but in his eyes, she saw nothing but cold, ruthlessness. She heard stories about what happened when someone crossed him or stood in his way. The Duke was highly active in politics and held much sway in Parliament and even with the Crown.

  Emily stopped pacing and swung to face her. “And?”

  “And I do not believe I am the one you need worry will wish to marry John.”

  “Cicely,” Emily hissed. “I should have known.” Her hands clenched into fists. “You must put her off.”

  “How?” She dared not tell Emily that she suspected there would be no putting Cici off.

  “Tell her the duke will disown John. She will remember that he has threatened to do it before.”

  “That was a bluff. John has his own money from his mother.”

  “But Cicely does not know that.”

  Georgianna frowned.

  Emily grabbed her upper arms. “You have met the duke. Do you think that kind, sweet Cicely stands a chance against that man? He has already buried four wives. Were it not for his love of opera singers, it would be more.”

  What Emily said was true. The Duke of Ainsley had buried four wives, three in his pursuit of a spare and one who was rumored to have drunk herself to death. He was known for getting what he wanted by any means necessary, and what he wanted was certainly not for his only son to wed a vicar’s daughter.

  “I will try,” Georgianna agreed. What she did not say was that she felt it would be useless. Even if Emily’s plan worked in the immediate future, Cici and John would find their way back to one another. Georgianna felt the truth of it to her very core.

  Emily smiled at her. “Freshen up and join us downstairs. Let us see if we can get Cicely alone.”

  Her stepmama left, and Georgianna flopped on to her bed.

  Chapter 8

  It had been ages since Cicely had heard John play, and his skill had improved. His face shone with a genuine smile so rare that she cherished it all the more. While she made a second pass, adding red ribbon, candles, and other adornments, she listened to him. The joy of being together made her feel hopeful in a way she had not felt in years.

  Just as she finished tying the final bow upon a mistletoe and hanging it on a chandelier, Lord Ashton danced into the room with Miss Brinley. They circled the piano where John played, laughing as they went. The couple looked so ideal together, Cicely would not have been surprised to soon hear of an engagement.

  A few moments later, Lord Brinley joined them with Sophia on one arm and Amelia on the other. Amelia stared up at the viscount with wide eyes. Apparently, her sister found the viscount more impressive that his cousin, Lord Coulton, who followed them into the room. Lord Coulton promptly sank into a chair with a full glass of what appeared to be brandy.

  John crooked a finger at Amelia, who ran over and took his place at the pianoforte. Her skills were not as pleasant as John’s, but even Amelia knew a merry jig or two.

  Cicely’s heart sped as John crossed the room. He smiled at her so warmly that she forgot about anything else.

  He dipped into a courtly bow. “May I have the honor of this dance, fair maiden?” he asked in his prim tone.

  Cicely giggled and curtsied. “Of course.”

  She took his hand, and he pulled her into his arms. It felt so right. Fortunately, everyone else was having such a delightful time that no one seemed to notice how indecently close he held her. Cicely looked up at him, suddenly shy and uncertain despite all that they had shared. She could not help but to wonder where everything was headed and if she was simply placing herself in a position for greater heartache. But the fire that lit his gaze made all her fears and doubts slip away.

  He spun her in a circle, and she laughed. It was the kind of laugh that one felt through one’s whole being, as if it was the happiest moment ever, a moment one wished would never end.

  He continued to spin her around the room until she was out of breath. When they stopped, he looked up, and she followed his gaze to the mistletoe hanging on the chandelier.

  “John,” she admonished in a husky voice she barely recognized.

  “We should reap the benefits of your hard work, should we not?” His lips dipped to hers in a quick kiss that left her wanting more. Before she could say anything else, he grabbed her waist tight and spun her away.

  Miss Brinley must have seen them because in moments, she and Lord Ashton were spinning beneath the mistletoe themselves. Lord Ashton only pressed a kiss to Miss Brinley’s cheek, which based on her frown was not what she had wanted.

  The music and laughter quickly drew the rest of the household. Papa and Emily joined the fun. Even Aunt Mary and Uncle Arthur began to dance, though at a much more reserved and statelier pace. Lord Brinley partnered with Miss Pratt while the Misses Campbell watched, eagerly waiting their turns. Their imposing mother glared di
sapprovingly at Lord Coulton, who remained seated and drinking his brandy. A few other newcomers joined them. Some, Cicely recognized, such as Aunt Mary’s sister, the Dowager Viscountess Brinley, but others, she did not. Soon, even Georgie and Mr. Wright joined them in a dance.

  “I enjoy having you in my arms,” John whispered in her ear. “Perhaps we can sneak away after dinner again this evening.”

  “I doubt that Aunt Mary is going to allow me to retire early again this evening.”

  He sighed. “It is just as well, since you did promise to perform. I look forward to hearing it.” His devilish smile made her want to do anything he asked, but she knew from experience that that smile meant trouble.

  “I may play before you arrive, leaving you to only imagine it,” she teased.

  “I have a very good imagination.”

  She knew from the way he looked at her that they were no longer talking about music. Her lips stayed closed, but her body reacted to his words as if she were unclothed before him. “You must stop. The others will notice. Aunt Mary is already suspicious.” She nodded to her aunt, who sat beside Lady Brinley on one of the sofas and watched them carefully. “And Georgie.” Her gaze quickly found her sister scowling at her.

  “And if they do?” he asked.

  I will be ruined, a sobering thought that made her stop. Fortunately, the music had stopped as well. She looked at the piano to see Amelia being replaced by Miss Brinley.

  Aunt Mary had a particularly pained expression on her face as Miss Brinley started to play a country dance.

  John took her in his arms, but she stopped him. “Please. I must rest.” She searched the room for another lady and saw Amelia sitting alone since Miss Coulton was dancing with Lord Ashton. “Please, dance with Amelia. She would enjoy it immensely.”

  John inclined his head and asked Amelia to dance while she took the seat Amelia had vacated. She smiled at the glow of joy on Amelia’s face as the dancers switched partners.

  “He is quite handsome, is he not?”

  “Hello, sister,” Cecily said without looking up at Georgie.

  “May I sit?” Georgie motioned to the empty spot on the gold sofa beside Cicely.

  Cicely moved her skirts to make room for Georgie.

  “John is a favorite in society and quite the catch. I wonder who will be fortunate enough to become his duchess.”

  Cicely stiffened.

  “Despite our conversation this morning, it will not be me, and I fear that it cannot be you either.”

  Cicely’s heart raced. “What do you mean?”

  “Neither of us has a chance with him, according to our dear stepmama.” Georgie took a deep breath and continued, “She made sure to inform me that someone of our station would never be considered a suitable bride for her darling cousin. Our lack of fortune and station is simply too great. John will undoubtedly marry a duke or earl’s daughter, someone closer to his own rank, and why shouldn’t he? He is titled and rich and simply perfect.”

  The silence hung between them for a moment, and Cicely’s gaze followed John around the room.

  “You and I would be lucky to nab the penniless Mr. Wright.” Georgie gazed at Mr. Wright. “We would have no money to speak of, but he is a fine figure of a man. Better than all of the old widowers who sniffed after me this season.” Georgie’s voice cracked, and she shuddered.

  “Georgie,” Cicely took her sister’s hand in hers, “you can marry anyone you would like. Mr. Wright or even a Duke’s son would be lucky to have you for a wife.”

  Georgie sniffled. “That’s what I thought as well. I went to London to marry a fortune and help Papa, but dear stepmama is right, as much as it pains me to admit. You do not understand because you have not been to London yet or seen how cruel society is to those they deem beneath them.”

  Surely, John would not care about such things, Cecily thought. He will be a duke someday, and the rules do not apply to dukes. But he is not a duke yet.

  Georgie continued, “We have no dowry but what Uncle can provide, and with five nieces to dower, I imagine the amount will be quite small. We have no titles and thus no real prospects beyond what our faces and figures can gain us. Were it not for John, I would never have received the invitations that I did.” Georgie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Nor the marriage proposals. Why do you think I refused them all?”

  Georgie paused and looked as if she would be ill. “They were old men wanting an heir or others hoping my connection to John would gain them a better social standing.”

  Cicely’s heart broke for the pain in Georgie’s voice.

  “Emily believes that The Duke of Ainsley will disown John if he were to marry without his approval. Having met the man, I must say you would be lucky if that is all he does. I cannot even begin to describe him to you.” Georgie squeezed her hand. “I do not say these things to hurt you, sister. I know that you love John—you always have. But it cannot be, and you must discourage him because we both know that John will not allow the duke to stop him.”

  Cicely’s eyes welled up with tears, and Georgie hugged her. Cicely wished she had never heard the words Georgie had said, but knowing they came from Emily only made her pain grow. It was true that the duke would never allow John to marry a vicar’s daughter. The duke had nearly disowned John years ago for refusing to leave Emily for school, and he would certainly do the same if John were to marry beneath him. Emily had saved him with regards to the school situation, negotiating with the duke to have William attend as well. John might have been willing to destroy his future, but he would not do the same to William’s as well.

  As Georgie hugged her, Cicely realized it was closest she had felt to her sister since the day their mother had died, when they had cried in each other’s arms.

  Cicely sniffled again. “I am going to retire until dinner. I have some matters to consider.” Her voice shook. She stood and left the room as fast as propriety would allow.

  Chapter 9

  Waiting for dinner, John attempted to speak with Cici. She had disappeared from the music room and kept to her rooms until dinner. Even then, he could never catch her on her own, as Georgianna or Emily was always with her. He tried to hold back as they proceeded into dinner, thinking that he could pull her aside to find out what happened and why she was looking at him so sadly.

  But Lady Townsend took his arm. “You shall be my dinner companion this evening, Lord St. Ives.” It was not a question but a statement. He had learned in his time there that Lady Townsend did not follow the same social rules as one would find in London, such as entering by order of precedence.

  “It would be my honor.” He held out his arm. “You look most ravishing this evening, Lady Townsend. That shade of blue suits you.”

  Lady Townsend harrumphed. “Do not make me regret choosing you, Lord St. Ives.”

  He laughed, and the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, though she clearly tried her best to remain emotionless.

  “I would never wish to do that,” he replied vehemently, hand to his chest in supplication.

  Before the first course was even served, Lady Townsend had learned of his parentage, his estates, and his income. Fortunately, she had turned her attention to Sir Basil Cunningham, an older gentleman with a bald head and a face like a sea captain. The two talked of old times, leaving John free to stare at Cici.

  She looked beautiful with her black hair piled on top of her head. Lush, thick curls cascaded down her back, revealing her kissable neck and ears. He shifted in his chair.

  “Is the soup not to your liking, Lord St. Ives?” Lady Townsend asked.

  He picked up his spoon and tasted the white soup. “It is delicious.”

  “The very best,” Sir Cunningham agreed, drawing Lady Townsend’s attention.

  John returned to admiring Cici and how her rose-colored dress made her face glow. The lace trim on her gown drew one’s eye to her bosom in a most appealing and disruptive manner. If it were only his interest that it drew, he would have been
pleased, but Mr. Wright sat beside her and could not keep his gaze from Cici’s chest.

  Worse, seated on her left was Mr. Bellamy, a well-known rake who appeared in the scandal sheets almost daily.

  “I see that you have noticed Mr. Bellamy,” Lady Townsend said.

  John did not look at her. “I am surprised he is here. I heard he earned his fortune selling goods to the colonies during the war.”

  Lady Townsend pursed her lips. “I cannot speak to that, as I do not know what his business is, only that he did us a great service and brought us some news of Lord Townsend’s dear brother,” she explained without sharing what that news was.

  “I hope that it is not bad news.”

  “News is always bad to some and good to others. Is that not the way of society?” Her wise eyes met his.

  Does she know that Emily told me about the death of Townsend’s heir?

  Her face gave nothing away. “For you, this news will be of no import.”

  “How can you be certain?” He searched her stoic face for a hint of deeper meaning.

  “Even the daughter of a baron or in this case, the heir to a barony, could not hope to catch the interest of a duke.”

  “Miss Ward seemed to do quite well for herself this season,” he replied.

  She pursed her lips. “Being the friend of a duke can gain a young lady much reputation, but that is far from marrying one herself. I am the daughter of an earl, Lord St. Ives. I caused a significant scandal when I wed so far below my station.”

  “Yet you seem happy.” His gaze shifted back to Cici. Lord Bellamy was talking to her, and whatever he was saying seemed to fascinate her, which angered John. He wanted to go throttle the bounder.

  “I was fortunate that my father allowed me to marry for love. That is not the way of most fathers,” Lady Townsend added.

  John paused. His father would not be happy if he were to wed Cici. The man had done everything in his power to keep John in London these past eight years—perhaps the duke had known that John was in love with Cici. He always had been, though he had not realized it himself until recently. Could my father be so cunning? The thought rocked him to the core. The more he considered it, the more certain he became.