Wagering on Christmas

by Sandra Sookoo

  “I doubt that.” But what sort of man was he beneath that false veneer?

  They lapsed into silence for a handful of miles, and with each turn of the coach’s wheels, Lucy battled the urge to cry. She kept her lips pressed tightly together. Had she made him into what he’d become?

  “Jacob came to me before he asked for your hand.” His voice is rough and the raspy sound yanked her from the tortured musings.

  “Oh?” Shock moved through her chest. Her husband had never told her that.

  Colin gave a terse nod. “He asked my permission to marry you. Said he owed it to me, though you and I had been parted for some time. Tried to tap into our old friendship.”

  A gasp escaped her. “Did you give it?”

  “No.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “Jacob wasn’t the one for you.”

  Despite the shock that Jacob had kept such a secret from her, anger swept in, pouring over her in an engulfing hot wave. “That wasn’t your decision.” She laid her free hand in her lap, but it shook and she attempted to hide the tell by pleating her skirt. “I was nothing to you by that time. You had certainly shown me that by your actions.”

  “What the devil does that mean?”

  “You said you wouldn’t marry me until you’d made your fortune.” She hated that her voice shook with emotion, but at least she hadn’t burst into tears. “I had no choice but to move on. Jacob comforted me. He consistently reached out, wrote letters, called on me to make certain I was doing well. Things naturally progressed between us.”

  No wonder Jacob had never seen Colin after he and she had wed. He’d been angry or embarrassed. Perhaps defeated. She’d always wondered, but Jacob had preferred to remember the happy memories.

  Colin’s eyes flashed blue fire. Tension crackled between them. “You turned me down, Lucy, then married him. Didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me.”

  “How could I? You were gone.” Tears sprang into her eyes. She rapidly blinked them away, for she refused to cry. “Due to your insane plans that you insisted upon, that would have delayed our wedding.” She moistened her lips. “You were obsessed with money. I was lost beneath that urge. Jacob wanted me above the wealth.”

  He shifted restlessly on his bench. “I wanted to make a fortune, this is true, for I refused to rely on my father or ask him for a farthing. I wanted to make a comfortable life that was worthy of you.” Honesty reflected in his eyes, and he quickly transferred his gaze out the window. “I wanted to give you everything you should have had in life.”

  I never knew that. What was left of her heart concerning him, broke. “Why didn’t you tell me that? A simple explanation at the time would have gone a long way.”

  “Would it have changed your mind? There was more at play between us than finances.” When she didn’t answer, he kept his focus on the window and remained silent.

  Beside her, Ellen shifted her position but didn’t wake. Lucy stroked the girl’s hair, as much to calm herself as it was for Ellen.

  “Oh, Colin. If you had simply told me everything.” Those dratted tears welled up again. “I wanted the man you were before...”

  He scoffed, bitterness solid in that utterance. “Penniless, without direction, spoiled?”

  “No.” Lucy shook her head. “You were those things, of course, but you were also content, optimistic, joyful, loving, a dreamer.” That man was who had won her heart. “Your eyes used to sparkle as if you knew Christmas every day.”

  “It was a long time ago. We cannot change what happened.” He caught her gaze again. A trace of hopelessness clouded his gaze. “Christmas of the past is gone as well. It’s only for the innocent, the young.”

  “We would have been happy together,” she whispered as she battled back the tears.

  “Perhaps, but we would have been poor. I couldn’t risk it, and such a life wasn’t fitting for the son of a duke.” He lowered his voice. “I refused to fail and listen to my father’s lectures, couldn’t bear to see his smugness for the son he thought wouldn’t succeed without his influence. He expected me to come crawling back to ask for assistance.”

  That was something else she’d not known of him. His pride and hers had worked in tandem to drive them apart. We’re both guilty. Unable to hold them back any longer, she let the tears fall to her cheeks. Though she was mortified to show such emotion in front of him, she managed to force out, “I guess we’ll never know what could have been.” Then she took refuge by rooting through her reticule for her handkerchief, hard to do using one hand. Where the devil had it gotten off to?

  The minutes ticked by in an agonizing fashion and finally, he handed her his handkerchief of pristine ivory lawn. “Here.” He pressed the square into her hand and curled her fingers around the fabric. “You never could find yours when you needed it,” he said, all traces of annoyance and anger gone. Only regret pooled in his eyes, gone the moment she looked closer.

  “I still cannot. I’m forever losing them,” she laughed as she dabbed at her tears. BayRum and cloves with a hint of citrus clung to the square, and that made the poignancy of the moment that much greater. How many times had she put her nose to his neck just above his cravat to revel in that same smell?

  “I apologize for making you cry, Lucy,” he said quietly. Honesty rang in his voice, but his eyes were sad. “It wasn’t well done of me. I’d wanted to hurt you as you’d hurt me. It was a stupid gambit, and it won’t happen again. You have my word, for what’s it’s worth.”

  “It’s all right.” Yet surprise twisted in her chest at the admission. “These last few days have been trying and I am on edge.” Once she’d gotten control of her emotions, she met his gaze. Crying had been somewhat cathartic. No longer would her feelings rip her apart. The truths revealed brought her closer to calm as well. “What is the true purpose of this trip, Colin? Why are you really going home?”

  He heaved a sigh that sounded as if it had come from his toes. “I merely wish to see my family, rub along well enough without causing animosity, and hope they leave me in peace more often than not.” His voice was raw and ragged. Perhaps he needed an outlet for his emotions, too.

  “Father?” Ellen moved into an upright position and looked with sleepy eyes between them. “You are speaking of going home, to Lancaster Hall?”

  “Yes.” Colin nodded.

  She yawned. “You’re a liar. You hope to arrive home in time to win Grandpapa’s wager.”

  “What?” Lucy bounced her gaze from him to the girl. Annoyance gripped her and dried the remainder of her tears. Had she wasted time crying over him? “Was that the real reason for our early flight this morning?” How foolish could she be to fall for his explanations?

  “No, truly.” He extended a hand to her, but when she narrowed her eyes, he let it drop to his lap. “We left early this morning for the exact reason I told you.” Was that panic lining his expression? Why?

  Ellen’s laughter trilled through the coach’s interior, a horrible contrast to the mood therein. “You look ready to cry, Father. Have I said something wrong?”

  “I never cry, child.” Colin’s glower was back in place as he settled more comfortably on his bench, his arms crossed at his chest.

  “You do so!” The girl argued. “Sometimes at night I hear you sobbing.”

  “It’s none of your concern,” he said and a warning growled through the response. Colin met Lucy’s gaze. His was as haunted as Ellen had claimed the day before. When Lucy attempted to question him, he held up a hand. “Don’t. It is not a subject I wish to discuss.”

  Why was the topic of him giving into an excess of emotion so distasteful to him? Lucy exchanged a glance with Ellen, who shrugged.

  “I’m hungry, Father. Could we please stop for luncheon soon?” Ellen sighed. “And I require exercise. Sitting in this coach is wearing on my nerves.”

  “I’ll allow a stop in an hour.” Then Colin closed his eyes and rested his head against the squabs. “Will this trip never end? Truly, this has become hell.”


  Lucy once more dabbed at her eyes to collect residual moisture. She breathed in his familiar scent and flutters once more erupted in her belly. What has happened to you, Colin? Why wouldn’t he talk candidly to her? Had she made the wrong decision all those years ago when she’d refused his suit? She rested her gaze upon him with a frown. If she had, it couldn’t be helped. As she’d told him before, their lives were no longer intertwined. What was done was done. After the Christmas house party, he’d go home to London and she’d remain in Derbyshire.

  The fact caused her heart to beat ever quicker, not from excitement but in alarm. It was so final. How could she expect to live knowing she’d probably never have the opportunity to see him again?

  Chapter Eight

  Restlessness still held Colin in its grip after luncheon. The rain continued to fall, and grumbles of muddy roads had circulated through the common taproom of the inn they’d stopped at for a meal.

  We should have pushed on despite Ellen’s growling stomach.

  Since they had not, he’d availed himself of a couple of drinks, ignoring the disappointed and frustrated looks the females in his traveling party had cast him as they’d eaten. He couldn’t help it. God, he wanted nothing more than to forget, to fall into a haze, awakening from it only after he’d reached the dreaded destination of Lancaster Hall. Once those snifters of brandy had been consumed, he’d berated himself for picking the fight with Lucy in the coach.

  He’d wanted her to feel guilty for her part in their failed relationship, but all he’d done was made her cry. He never could abide her tears; they crushed him, made him feel helpless, and more than that, his protective instincts toward her grew stronger than before. Now, he couldn’t fix the new ills he’d caused, for he was indeed all that she’d said, and then some.

  Perhaps I’m too broken a man to be of any good to anyone.

  Why should he care? She obviously didn’t. Colin hardened his heart against the woman who’d plunged his life into a spiral of darkness even as he sent his gaze across the private dining room where she sat with Ellen in front of a cheerful fire, their heads together as they gaily chatted. Gah, but he wished he could ride or walk outside, but with the cold rain, exercise and time alone was impossible.

  There was no escape from the tension-filled silence.

  Without recourse and on the verge of running from the inn into the rain just to keep his sanity, Colin began to pace at the opposite end of the private dining room. The ladies ignored him. They continued to talk in low tones, and each trill of laughter Lucy made pierced his chest like shards of glass. Why couldn’t she act so carefree and happy in his company?

  I’ve mucked up everything.

  Perhaps it was time to make inroads into righting some of the wrongs he’d been responsible for. “Lucy, will you please join me for a moment? We need to talk.” His chest remained tight, especially when she rose and crossed to him, her ice-blue eyes hard and cold.

  “What else can you possibly want from me now?” Though she kept her tone low, there was no mistaking the annoyance.

  He wanted... everything, but that was outside the realm of possibility. Instead, Colin waved her into a comfortable leather wingback chair that matched the ones by the fireplace. “I need to explain a few things that have come up in the course of our travels that could be construed as... objectionable.”

  Lucy uttered an unladylike snort. “Which would be what—everything?”

  “Please, hear me out.” But his lips twitched with the urge to smile. When had she become so tart-mouthed? As a young lady, she’d been everything proper, and though she’d followed him about, willfully plunging herself into potential scandal with him, she’d never given him back talk. This new version of Lucy intrigued him in a way the schoolgirl never had. He met her gaze. “I must do this.”

  When she sat in the indicated chair and looked at him with an expression of expectation, a queer sort of thrill played up his spine. She used to peer at him like that years ago, usually right before he kissed her. “I’m waiting, Colin.”

  Oh, God. Did she remember that she’d once said that to him, that night they’d stood beneath the mistletoe? He nodded, but he paced in front of her chair with his hands clasped behind his back. Where to begin after seventeen years apart and countless rumors? Finally, he sighed. Perhaps the most pressing would be best. “About what Ellen said before...”

  “There is no explanation necessary.” She waved a hand in dismissal and then rested both in her lap, but her eyes were still cold. “You used this trip to your advantage. It’s damning evidence that you haven’t changed.”

  “I’m not certain it’s a bad thing.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “What did your father promise to prompt your flight home?”

  Heat crept up the back of his neck. “A racehorse as well as an estate in Surrey.” When said aloud, it sounded vulgar faced with what the holiday should mean.

  “I see.” Disappointment clouded her eyes before she dropped her gaze to her lap. “You are going home, not for the love of your family or Christmas, but for material things.” Her lips pulled into a frown, and he couldn’t help but stare at her mouth, remembering what those lips had felt against his. “You haven’t learned anything at all.”

  “On the contrary, I’ve learned way too much about myself since we’ve been apart,” he countered.

  Lucy raised her gaze and met his. Interest replaced the disappointment. “Go on.”

  For the first time since the trip to Derbyshire began, they were conversing as if they sat in his father’s parlor, like civilized people. The last thing he wished to do was disturb this tentative peace, but he wanted—needed—to confess certain truths to her in an effort to have her see him in a better light. No longer did he want her to think him a rake or a bounder. He craved her acceptance, her understanding, wanted to see her smile again with her eyes, but cold terror slid through his veins. It was quite a sizable hole he’d dug for himself over the years.

  Not knowing what else to do, Colin threw himself into the chair beside hers. He dropped his voice to a whisper, and with a glance at his daughter to make certain she wasn’t eavesdropping, he focused on Lucy’s face. “Ellen is correct. I do cry at nights sometimes.”

  Would she think him weak?

  “Why?” Her eyes had widened with interest.

  He took a shuddering breath. The truth would not reflect well on him, but Lucy waited patiently and he owed her this confessional. He nodded. “When I am home and drinking,” he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest, “Spare me the lecture. I am well aware I’m a failure as a man.” Colin stared at the shabby carpet beneath his boots. “When I am in my cups, I take a small portrait of Adelaide out of a drawer in my desk. I stare at it, and at times I force myself to look at it.”

  “To remember your wife fondly?”

  He raised his head, searched out her gaze and held it.

  “You miss her, do you not?”

  “No.” The word was pulled from his tight throat. Surely Lucy would hate him after this, but he had to fully confess. “I make myself look upon that portrait of my dead wife to ask her forgiveness for never giving her the affection and attention she should have had.” The tightness in his chest, the feeling that never quite left him, made its presence known, and if it hadn’t been the coolness of Lucy’s eyes, he would have stopped talking and called for yet another drink.

  Lucy held her bottom lip between her teeth as she’d done as a young woman when she mulled something over. “You had an affair.” Disappointment once more pooled in her gaze, which added to his self-loathing.

  “No.” Why couldn’t she see past the mask he kept over his heart to hide from the fear? “Regardless of my reputation of a rake, I was faithful to my wife while we were wed. I’d actually prided myself on it.”

  “Then why the excess of maudlin emotion? Why torture yourself?”

  He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “I hated myself in those moments, for I didn’t love he
r as I should have, not with my whole self.” Colin lowered his voice so much that Lucy leaned closer. “When I’m in a blue study, I know the truth. I cannot escape from it during those times. So I ask forgiveness for failing her and Ellen. For being a disgrace to them, but in death at least she is at peace and can no longer suffer embarrassment from me.”

  What must Lucy think of him? Perhaps manners would prevent her from saying.

  Silence brewed between them for long moments, marked by the steady drone of rain hitting the nearby window glass. Finally, she rested a hand on his forearm. “Why didn’t you love your wife as you should have?”

  The heat from her fingers seeped through his sleeve and only served to make him remember how good she’d felt against him all those years ago. “I was in love with another, a woman I couldn’t have, a woman who was another man’s wife.” You. And he’d never been able to forget her, even after all these years, even when he knew she’d belonged to his best friend. He couldn’t stop hiding the truth from himself: he still loved Lucy Ashbrook. If he confessed that, it would turn the remainder of the trip into a farce. He couldn’t risk it.

  She couldn’t quite hide the shock in her expression. “How terrible for you both.”

  If only she knew. “Yes.” A wave of emotion smacked into him, and then another and another, too quick for him to analyze. To his mortification, hot tears stung the backs of his eyelids. He looked at Ellen while blinking the moisture away, lest Lucy see. “My wife died during Christmastide, so the holiday is forever a reminder of my failures.” When he returned his attention to his companion, compassion filled her gaze.

  “You haven’t failed, Colin.” Lucy squeezed his arm, and he reeled with the comfort that small action brought. How long had he kept these thoughts to himself, battled with them in his mind alone? “Life has merely handed you a series of setbacks that you haven’t handled with nobility or grace.”

  “I know.” He didn’t have guidance, no longer had access to her voice in his head that had served as his moral compass. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose himself in those Arctic depths of hers. Would she save him from drowning?