Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

by Joanna Chambers

  Lysander hid his disappointment. The last time he and Adam had come to the Abbey, for the wedding, they’d had neighbouring rooms in the east wing. Lysander’s usual rooms, however, were in the west wing.

  Quincy turned to Adam. “Parker will show you up, sir. Tea is being served in the drawing room when you are ready.”

  Adam nodded at him, then turned to Lysander. “Are you coming up too?”

  “My rooms are in the other wing,” Lysander said, trying not to sound as regretful as he felt. “But I’ll see you in the drawing room shortly for tea?”

  “Of course. I’ll see you there.” Adam’s tone was perfectly normal, but Lysander sensed a disappointment that matched his own.

  Adam turned away then, following the blue-and-silver clad footman up the east staircase. Already Lysander felt distant from him, unable to talk as they did at home, absurdly conscious of the servants’ eyes upon them.

  Miserably, he turned and trudged up the west staircase towards his own rooms on the second floor. They were at the furthest end of the corridor, about as far away from Adam as could be.

  He opened the door and went inside. Everything was exactly as he’d left it. The furniture and the drapes and the bedcovers—all the same as when he’d left, and when he went to the window and gazed down at the gardens below, he felt almost as though he’d never been away. As though the past year and half hadn’t happened.

  Sighing, he crossed to the dressing table and examined his appearance. The last leg of their journey had been easy so his clothes weren’t too rumpled. A quick wash, a fresh neckcloth and clean boots—once his luggage arrived—would be sufficient for the purposes of tea in the drawing room.

  Pouring out a basinful of water, he untied and removed the cravat from his neck and splashed the water over his face. He was in the process of drying off when a knock at the door heralded the timely arrival of his trunks.

  Within ten minutes, he was spick and span and on his way down to the drawing room. He wanted to be sure to get there before Adam and, sure enough, there was no sign of the man amongst the dozen or so ladies and gentlemen gathered there.

  “Lysander! My darling boy!”

  That voice was unmistakable. His mother. He turned to find her in her usual reclining pose, draped over a chaise longue by the window and holding out her hands to him.

  Obediently, he went to her, smiling. She had been a much-admired beauty in her youth and was still a handsome woman, in a plump sort of way.

  Taking her hands in his, he bent his head to kiss her knuckles. “Mama, you look quite lovely.”

  She beamed at him happily. “Do you think so? The gown is new—I do love pink!—and oh, but I’ve missed you, you wretch. None of my other children tell me I look lovely.”

  He chuckled. “They’re monsters.”

  “Aren’t they?” she agreed. “Every one of them! Let’s get you some tea, my darling.” Of course, she didn’t fetch it herself, merely lifted her chin and called for his sister. “Althea!”

  His sister, who was standing nearby, turned at her voice. “Yes, Mama?”

  “My dear, do fetch your brother some tea. He’s come all the way from Buckinghamshire and he must be simply parched.”

  Althea met Lysander’s gaze and gave him wry grin. Their mother’s laziness was a long-running source of amusement between them. “Yes Mama,” she said dutifully and moved towards the tea tray

  Lysander glanced about the room. “Where’s Father?”

  His mother wrinkled her pretty nose. “Still in town,” she said, the faintest hint of irritation in her tone. “He insisted on staying for some absurd dinner at his club, which means he won’t get here till tomorrow. I’m very cross with him—he sent out several personal invitations, and now he’s not here to greet our guests. It’s too mortifying!”

  Lysander automatically responded with a soothing murmur and gazed around the room, taking in the other guests whilst his mother prattled on about his father’s rudeness. His parents’ particular friends, Mr. and Mrs. Griffiths and Major and Mrs. Gould, were talking together animatedly. And sitting by the fireside was his eccentric great-aunt Maud with her companion, Anne Greenhill, a playmate of the Winterbourne children from years ago who had fallen on hard times after her father’s death.

  As his gaze tracked across the room, a new and very welcome arrival entered the room—his oldest friend, Lord Perry Cavendish.

  “Perry!” he called, rising from the chaise longue. “I had no idea you were coming!”

  “Zander!” Perry crossed the room, grabbing Lysander’s hand and shaking it with his usual energy. “Arrived yesterday. Told your mama not to let on to you I was coming. Are you surprised?”

  “Astonished!” Lysander laughed. “And pleased, of course.”

  “Bella’s with me,” Perry said, adding in a lower tone. “Watch out, she’s husband hunting.”

  Lysander grinned. Perry’s sister had been searching for a husband the last time he’d seen her.

  “Oh, I think she’s probably immune to me. Last time we met she made it very clear she wanted someone with rather deeper pockets than mine.”

  In fact, Lysander remembered, Arabella Cavendish had been rather taken with Adam on that occasion, though Adam hadn’t particularly noticed her.

  Perry shook his head. “She’s a minx. M’mother says I’ve to keep a beady eye on her.” He tapped under his left eye to stress the point.

  Lysander grinned. “Isn’t that her job?”

  “Poor woman’s exhausted,” Perry said. “You know how Bella is. She’s already broken off one engagement!”

  “Hallo, there—I come bearing tea.”

  They both turned at this new voice. It was Althea holding out a dainty cup and saucer to Lysander who leaned forward to take the tea and quickly kiss her cheek.

  “Where’s that husband of yours?” he asked.

  “Writing letters,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Adding, as though, it explained everything, “Politicians!”

  Simon had become a Member of Parliament a few months before—the Winterbourne family name having oiled the wheels of his selection as a candidate.

  Althea turned to Perry and said brightly, “Peregrine, dear, may I get you some tea?”

  “No chance of a proper drink, I suppose? Brandy, say?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Althea said promptly. She’d known Perry since he was a baby and did not stand on ceremony with him. “It’s tea or you can go thirsty. One lump or two?”

  “Two,” Perry said glumly. As she walked away, he added, “Your sister’s a harsh woman. Your mama would have let me have brandy.”

  “You drink too much brandy,” Lysander said without heat. “Tea will do you good.”

  “Probably,” Perry agreed, though he didn’t sound convinced. “So, how’s this working man thing going? Strikes me as a rum old business, Zander. Tiring, is it?”

  Lysander chuckled and began to tell him about his daily life at Edgeley Park—albeit leaving out some of the more interesting details involving Adam.

  “Is Freeman here?” Perry asked after a few minutes, quite as though he’d read Lysander’s mind. “Your mama said he was invited.”

  “Yes,” Lysander said. “He should be down shortly.”

  It felt odd to be talking about Adam, almost dangerous. As though Perry could possibly guess what they were to each other just from Lysander uttering his name aloud.

  In an attempt to change the subject, he gave a subtle jerk of his head in the direction of a small group on the other side of the room, two gentleman and a lady. The older gentleman—who looked to be in his middle to late forties—was a slender, rather handsome man with black hair, threaded with silver. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, other than his very white neckcloth, in the midst of which gleamed a deep red ruby cravat pin. His lips were faintly curled in an expression of superior amusement. The lady, who appeared a few years younger, wore a similarly haughty expression, though without any trace of amus
ement in her case. Her hand rested possessively on the arm of the second gentleman, who was the youngest of the group and startlingly handsome. His olive-toned skin, blue-black hair and meltingly dark eyes spoke of a foreign heritage.

  “Do you know who those people are?” he asked Perry.

  “The older chap’s Sir Edmund Hunt. Woman’s his sister. I forget her name.” Perry made a face, then shook his head in defeat. “The other fellow’s her fiancé. Italian chap.”

  “Hunt?” Lysander repeated softly. “Wasn’t there some scandal attached to him? I’m sure I remember mother warning Althea to stay away from him during her come-out.”

  Perry nodded and leaned closer. “Rake,” he said with a significant look. “Whores and bastard children coming out his ears, they say.” He flushed then, a deep pink, and added almost inaudibly, “Worse besides. Sodomy, I heard.”

  Lysander went rigid, a stupid frisson of guilt running down his spine.

  “Really?” he managed, though his lips felt stiff. “What’s mother thinking of, inviting him?”

  “He’s a friend of your brother-in-law,” Perry said. “One of his political chums. Rumour is he aiming to be more respectable. Probably wants some fancy job and needs a virtuous bride to make him look better. He’s swimming in money, so he can have what he wants.” When Lysander kept staring at him, Perry added, “Supposedly, he’s got his eye on your sister Gwen.”

  “Gwen?”

  Gwen was the second youngest of the Winterbourne brood. She’d married rather suddenly at the end of her first season and before Althea, her older sister, much to Althea’s chagrin at the time. But her husband, the Honourable Charles Rodney, an unremarkable if perfectly eligible young man, had tragically passed away a year later following a riding accident.

  Having lived independently in Northumbria since her husband’s death, Gwen had recently been forced to return to live with their parents—Rodney’s estate had, it turned out, been deeply in debt. After trying—and failing—to get by on her tiny income, Gwen had finally swallowed her pride and returned to Winterbourne Abbey in the summer. She’d missed Althea’s wedding the year before, so Lysander hadn’t seen her since Charles’s funeral.

  “Where is Gwen?” he asked now, gazing around.

  “Hiding?” Perry suggested.

  Lysander glanced at him. “From Hunt?”

  Perry shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Gwen had always been shy, generally preferring the company of horses and dogs to people. Of all the Winterbourne children, it had been himself and Gwen who had most loved being outdoors, and since they were closest in age, they’d spent endless hours exploring the estate together.

  Just then, the door to the drawing room opened again, distracting Lysander from his thoughts. When he turned his head to see who had come in, he was rewarded with the sight he’d been longing for since he’d first come down to tea: Adam stood in the doorway.

  He looked rather grim as his gaze raked the drawing room, until he caught sight of Lysander. Then, his expression softened, and he smiled.

  And Lysander’s heart turned over.

  Chapter 5 - Adam

  The drawing room was full of guests, but the only person Adam noticed was Lysander.

  The man met Adam’s gaze and his mouth curved in that uniquely sweet smile that always made Adam smile back, even when he felt horribly self-conscious.

  Lysander was standing on the other side of the room, with a tall young man who looked to be around his middle twenties. The young man was taller even than Adam and broader through the shoulders with a wide chest and long, thick legs. He could have passed for a pugilist with his close-cropped brown hair and blunt features, but his expression was warm and friendly as it rested on Lysander. There was fondness in the man’s gaze and Adam was conscious of a pang of jealousy as he moved towards them.

  He was intercepted before he reached them by Lady Winterbourne, who called his name and beckoned to him from the chaise longue she was reclining on.

  “Mr. Freeman!” she exclaimed with every appearance of pleasure. “How lovely to see you again.”

  Adam went her, bowing over the hand she offered him. She did not rise from her comfortable and elegant pose but managed to avoid seeming rude with the warmth of her greeting.

  “Lady Winterbourne,” Adam said. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  She beamed at him, and for a moment he was reminded of Lysander. Of that unselfconscious sunniness that was so very charming.

  “I’m delighted you could come,” Lady Winterbourne said, sounding perfectly sincere. “Althea is here, though I believe your brother has tucked himself away somewhere to do...oh, something or other. Whatever it is Members of Parliament do, I suppose. He’ll be down by and by I’m sure.”

  “I look forward to seeing them both,” Adam replied politely. “And Lord Winterbourne of course.”

  Lady Winterbourne’s easy expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “His lordship has been detained in town, I’m afraid,” she said. “Though he has promised me faithfully he will arrive in time for dinner tomorrow. Oh, look”—she craned her neck up and waved at someone across the room—“there’s Althea. Althea!”

  Her call alerted Adam’s sister-in-law to his arrival. Althea was not the beauty her mother had apparently been in her youth, but she was a pleasant-looking young woman and he’d discovered on longer acquaintance that she was as agreeable as her brother in nature, if not quite so gifted with easy charm. Adam liked her, and he thought she possibly liked him too. She certainly smiled widely when she saw him, crossing the room to greet him with what appeared to be genuine pleasure, before linking her arm through his and drawing him away from her mother—and, unfortunately, from Lysander.

  She led him to the tea table, pressing tea and seed cake upon him and asking him about the journey from Buckinghamshire.

  “Simon was so pleased when you accepted the invitation,” she confided. “He was awfully anxious to have you here—he said you’d never spent the Christmas holiday apart till last year.”

  “Yes,” Adam said. “It was—a little strange.” In truth, he’d spent most of it brooding on Lysander’s absence, rather than Simon’s, though Althea didn’t need to know that.

  “He’ll be down soon,” Althea said. “I’ve sent Hawkins to let him know you’ve arrived. In the meantime, let me introduce you to Mr and Mrs. Griffiths. They’re friends of Mother’s and very agreeable.”

  Adam pasted on a smile and let Althea lead him over to a pleasant-looking middle-aged couple. Mrs. Griffiths had been a particular friend of Lady Winterbourne’s when they were young and appeared to be viewed as an honorary aunt by Althea. As for Mr. Griffiths, he was a wealthy landowner who had, it turned out, invested in several enterprises in Adam’s native Lancashire, including a canal venture Adam also had an interest in. They were, as Althea had said, an agreeable couple and easy to converse with. Adam could have happily spent longer with them, but when he looked up to see Simon crossing the room, smiling widely, he made his apologies and moved forward to greet his brother.

  “Finally finished your important letters?” he teased. “Got time to welcome me now, have you?”

  “I came as soon as Hawkins told me you were here!” Simon protested. “Well, as soon as I got dressed properly, at any rate.” Seizing Adam’s hand, he clapped the opposite shoulder with rough affection. “Ah, it’s good to see you, man. It’s been too long!”

  Adam felt a pang of guilt. Simon was right. It had been a whole year since they’d last seen one another, at the wedding. Since then he’d politely declined two invitations to visit the house he’d bought for Simon and Althea in Simon’s new Yorkshire constituency as a wedding gift. One of the invitations he’d declined for business reasons, the second because he hadn’t wanted to leave Lysander after spending several weeks in London without him. He’d promised to visit later in the year but had never got round to it.

  “You’re right,” he said firmly. “It’s been far too long. It’s
been a busy time, but next year should be easier.”

  “Come and visit us in the spring,” Simon said. “Or Althea and I can come to Buckinghamshire, if you prefer.”

  Adam smiled. “We’ll do one or the other. Or both.”

  “No excuses,” Simon warned, wagging a finger at him, “and no more driving me to drastic measures.” When Adam frowned in puzzlement, he laughed. “Inveigling you here for Christmas?”

  “Oh, I see,” Adam said with a reluctant grin. “I thought it was odd that Winterbourne invited me. He’s never liked me.”

  “Althea asked him to,” Simon admitted with a grin. “She’s practically the only one in the family the old man listens to—I think he’s actually a little frightened of her. I’m still a bit surprised you accepted though, even knowing I’d be here. I know you don’t much like socialising with the Winterbournes.”

  Adam felt his cheeks warm faintly. “Enough of the Winterbournes,” he said. “I want to hear all about your first few months as a Parliamentarian.”

  And just as Adam had hoped, Simon was only too pleased to oblige.

  AS THE AFTERNOON WORE on, Adam gradually made his way round the other guests gathered in the drawing room. After his long overdue reunion with Simon, he was introduced to Major Gould and his wife. The major transpired to be a longstanding friend of Lord Winterbourne. Adam found him irritatingly officious, with a manner that suggested he was somehow in charge of the party, despite not being its host. As for Mrs. Gould, during the course of their exceedingly short conversation, she somehow managed to make at least three disapproving comments about other guests.

  Adam was only too pleased to escape them.

  Next, Althea led him to a small group who, so far, had made little effort to talk to anyone else—a grandly dressed lady and two very fashionable gentlemen.

  “Sir Edmund,” Althea said, addressing the older gentleman in the group. “May I introduce my brother-in-law, Mr. Adam Freeman?”