Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

by Joanna Chambers

  Adam was lost in the kiss when a sudden noise—a snapping twig—pierced the haze of love and desire surrounding him. He froze and Lysander did too, yanking his head back, eyes wide with alarm.

  “What was that?” Lysander hissed.

  Adam sat up slowly. “Probably nothing,” he said, but as they got to their feet, they both gazed around, listening intently for any betraying sounds.

  There was nothing. But then, the trees were thick in this part of the woods—it would not be difficult to hide.

  When Adam glanced at Lysander, he saw his lover’s expression was troubled and that made his chest ache. He wanted Lysander never to have to worry, always to be happy and content.

  “It’s all right,” he said, adopting a tone of confidence he didn’t truly feel. “I’m sure it was nothing. But perhaps we should go and find the others now.”

  Lysander nodded. “Yes. Let’s do that,” he said. But though he gave Adam a reassuring smile, there was a hint of worry in the depths of his gaze.

  Chapter 8 - Lysander

  Lysander and Perry ended up carrying all the greenery that had been collected back to the Abbey. Great branches of holly and long trails of ivy, and yes, the sprigs of mistletoe in Lysander’s pocket.

  Lysander hoped to get Adam alone with one of those sprigs, later.

  Not that he was having much luck getting Adam alone. A stolen moment in the dining room last night, then their kiss in the snow—all the while with the threat of discovery looming. Lysander had tried to arrange things so that he and Adam could walk back to the Abbey together, quietly sorting the greenery into two bundles while everyone else joked and laughed. He was going to wait for just the right moment...but Perry had seen what he was doing and had lifted the second bundle before Lysander could even suggest that Adam help him.

  Now Adam was walking with Althea back to the Abbey. They were just ahead of Lysander and Perry, with Gwen and Simon at the front, and Bella, Anne and Sir Edmund bringing up the rear.

  Perry had been very quiet since they’d set off, responding to Lysander’s conversational gambits with monosyllabic answers, till Lysander had given up. They’d been walking in silence for several minutes when Perry sighed heavily.

  Lysander turned to him. “That’s a big sigh. Is something wrong?”

  Perry met his gaze, an odd expression on his face. “Just thinking,” he said.

  “What about?”

  Perry shrugged. “Things have been different since you went to Edgeley Park. This last year without you—it’s been awfully quiet.”

  Lysander felt a pang of regret. He’d been so absorbed at Edgeley Park that he hadn’t given Perry much of a thought. He felt guilty about that now. They’d been best friends since they were boys, near inseparable, but he’d neglected Perry since he’d met Adam.

  “Have you been bored?” Lysander asked, trying to shift the melancholy tone with a teasing smile. “Maybe you need to find something new to spend your time on? There are only so many boxing matches and races a man can go to.”

  “Perhaps I should join the army.”

  Lysander chuckled wryly. He could think of few people less suited to army life. Perry had an aversion to following orders. At school, he’d barely been able to sit most days from the number of canings he’d been given.

  “Or perhaps,” Lysander said teasingly, “You should get married.”

  “What? God, no!” Perry exclaimed.

  Surprised at his vehemence, Lysander frowned. “Why not?”

  Perry flushed, his cheeks staining pink. “I—just—” He broke off, then concluded lamely, “No reason.”

  Lysander eyed him for a moment. He’d always thought Perry would likely marry young. The man had an easy, affectionate nature and, despite his occasional wildness, was quite a domestic fellow at heart. “Don’t you want to?”

  Perry met Lysander’s gaze then, and his own flashed with surprising temper. “No, I don’t. Do you?”

  It sounded very pointed the way he said it, almost accusatory. Do you?

  “No,” Lysander said truthfully. “Not in my case.”

  Perry glanced away. “Well, not in mine either,” he said stiffly.

  He was being distinctly odd.

  “Is something wrong?” Lysander asked at last, watching his friend closely. There was something bleak about Perry’s expression as he stared straight ahead.

  Perry didn’t turn Lysander’s way. “Why d’you ask?”

  “No reason,” Lysander said, but he sensed Perry was preoccupied, thinking.

  For a while, the man brooded, and they trudged onwards, through the snow. And then, seemingly out of the blue, Perry said, “So, you and Freeman. What’s that all about?”

  Lysander’s gut shifted with unease at Perry’s flat tone. “I’m not sure I know what you’re asking,” he said carefully.

  Quite suddenly, Perry stopped walking, so Lysander did too, watching his friend with concern. “Perry,” he said, more urgently this time. “Is something wrong?”

  Perry did look at him then, and his gaze was burning. “I saw you,” he said. “Kissing him.”

  A fist squeezed Lysander’s heart—he couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. “Perry,” he whispered.

  His friend’s expression was devastated, anger and grief written all over his face, and Lysander didn’t know what to say, how to explain what Perry had seen, and likely didn’t understand. How to explain that he loved Adam. That their happiness harmed no one else and if Perry was disgusted by that, then he could—

  “If that’s what you wanted, why didn’t you ever kiss me?” Perry cried hoarsely.

  Lysander blinked at him, astonished. Perry was asking this of him. Perry.

  “You wouldn’t have wanted that,” Lysander said faintly. “You’re not...you’re not like me.”

  “I am,” Perry said, eyes still blazing. “And there’s nothing I’d’ve wanted more.”

  Lysander’s heart was pounding now, hard. Perry was his friend, his oldest friend. They’d told each other all sorts of secrets, but he’d never known this. And in this moment, standing in the snow, Lysander couldn’t reconcile this new knowledge with who Perry was to him.

  “I—I had no idea.”

  Perry laughed harshly. “I know. You didn’t notice me at all. I thought you liked ladies, like everyone else. So I just watched you, wanting you and keeping quiet about it. Until Freeman came along and off you went. Forgot I existed.”

  “I didn’t forget you!” Lysander protested, though he was guiltily aware the accusation was not without foundation. “It’s only I’ve been so busy and—” He broke off, returning to the unfathomable truth that Perry had just thrown in his teeth.

  “There’s nothing I’d’ve wanted more.”

  “I’m sorry I neglected you this last year,” Lysander concluded weakly.

  Perry just shook his head, hoisted the bundle of greenery higher in his arms and resumed walking.

  “I saw you were smitten with him at Althea’s wedding,” he said flatly, not looking at Lysander. “Didn’t think it was my sort of smitten, not then. Thought it was just that you admired him. He gave you that position you wanted, after all.”

  “When you say your sort of smitten, you mean...?” Lysander trailed off.

  Perry gave a bitter scoff of exasperation. “The sort of smitten a normal chap feels for a lady.”

  “So, you—you really prefer men, then?” Lysander asked. “Not just me, I mean?”

  Perry laughed, but it was a bleak sound. “I do. God help me, I do.”

  Lysander shook his head wonderingly. “I never knew. Hadn’t the faintest inkling. Have you—you know, done it with anyone? A man, I mean.”

  Perry averted his gaze. His cheeks were flushed “No,” he admitted. “Well, not really. Just a couple of times with hands and—well, you know.” He paused, then added, almost apologetically, “I nearly went to a molly house once.”

  It was such a Perry thing to say that Lysander couldn’
t help the startled bark of laughter that burst out of him. “Nearly?”

  “Chap in the park suggested it,” Perry said. “An awful rum fellow. I panicked and ran off.”

  “Oh, Perry!” Lysander said, and his voice—full of mingled sympathy and helpless laughter—made Perry give a tiny, rueful chuckle of his own, and then they were both laughing, Lysander imagining his friend haring across the park with some chap charging after him.

  Their gazes met and Perry’s softened in an inexplicable way that made Lysander feel oddly sad.

  He was relieved when Anne Greenhill’s distant voice interrupted them.

  “I say, Lysander! Lord Perry! Wait there, will you?”

  They both turned to see her hurrying down the path towards them, waving.

  “What’s wrong?” Lysander called.

  “It’s Lady Arabella,” she called, stopping now that she had their attention. “She went over on her ankle. I don’t think she can walk back.”

  Perry sighed. He dropped his bundle of greenery in the snow. “I suppose I’m going to have to carry the silly chit back,” he muttered and began jogging towards Miss Greenhill.

  “Wait there,” he called to Miss Greenhill. “I’m coming.” He began jogging down the path towards her.

  Lysander set his own burden down beside Perry’s and began following at a slower pace. When Perry reached Miss Greenhill, he paused to exchange a few words, then jogged onwards while Miss Greenhill waited for Lysander.

  “Is Lady Arabella all right?” Lysander asked when he reached her.

  “She’ll be fine,” Miss Greenhill said, “But she seems to have twisted her ankle quite badly—she can’t put much weight on it at all. She’s not too far away though, just round the corner here.”

  They found the others another hundred yards on. Bella was sitting on a tree stump with a woebegone expression on her pretty face while Sir Edmund spoke to Perry. As Lysander and Anne approached, Sir Edmund was mid-complaint.

  “—silly little fool was too busy showing off,” he said tightly. “Running around like a schoolgirl.”

  Bella glared at him. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t know there was a foxhole under the snow!”

  “Well, you should have been walking more carefully,” Sir Edmund retorted.

  Bella opened her mouth to say something else, but Perry beat her to it. “You are a goose, Bella,” he said, shaking his head at her good-naturedly. “Shall I piggy back you to the Abbey?”

  Bella flushed—possibly for the first time in her life, Lysander thought—and sent a mortified glance in Sir Edmund’s direction.

  “Yes,” she said miserably. “All right.”

  Perry turned and offered his broad back to her. “Hop up, then.”

  Sir Edmund rolled his eyes. “She can’t hop up, you cretin. She can barely stand.”

  Perry peered over his shoulder at this, puzzled. Lysander was about to step forward to help Bella up onto Perry’s back, but before he could do anything, Sir Edmund was dropping to one knee in the snow and holding up his hand to Bella. Offering his thigh as a makeshift step in an unexpectedly chivalrous move worthy of Sir Francis Drake.

  Bella went scarlet and bit her lip shyly, but her eyes shone in a curious way, and when she whispered, “Thank you,” she sounded almost demure. She glanced at Lysander then who, taking the hint, helped her step up onto Sir Edmund’s thigh with her good foot, bracing her hand in his. Thus elevated, she wound her arms round her brother’s neck and settled onto his broad back.

  Perry hoisted her up as though she was a sack of potatoes, making her briefly squeal. “Gallop or trot?” he asked her jovially, seeming quite oblivious to the little dance that had just played out behind his back.

  “Perry!” she chided, cheeks pink. “For goodness sake, I’m not a child!”

  “Gallop it is then!” Perry yelled and set off at run, Bella shrieking in his ear.

  Sir Edmund cursed and clambered to his feet, brushing the snow from his breeches. “For Christ’s sake!” he huffed. “Does that boy have no sense whatsoever? He’s going to have them both tumbling over again at this rate!” He set off after them at a run. “Slow down, you fool! She doesn’t need a broken head on top of everything else!”

  “I think I’d better help you carry the greenery back,” Anne said.

  When Lysander began to protest, she quickly interrupted.

  “Strange as it may seem, I am—despite my weak and feeble female body—perfectly capable of carrying a few holly branches a short distance. I can assure you I won’t break.”

  Lysander’s lips twitched at that. “All right. I could certainly do with the help.”

  “Good,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 9 - Adam

  When Adam and Althea reached the Abbey, a flurry of servants were milling about, unloading a great quantity of luggage from a sumptuous and very new-looking carriage.

  “I see Father’s arrived,” Althea said, her tone a little dry.

  They entered the great Abbey doors and walked through the portico into the main house, where they found the earl in the hallway removing his greatcoat and handing it to his valet. He appeared a little alarmed to see Adam, as though he hadn’t invited him himself.

  “Althea, my dear,” the earl said, holding out his hands. Obediently, she went him and dutifully kissed his cheek.

  “How was your journey, Father?” she asked solicitously, adding sweetly, “Your new carriage looks wonderfully comfortable!”

  The earl pinkened and murmured something about having had the carriage for quite a while now, shooting a guilty glance in Adam’s direction.

  “Really? It seems quite new,” Althea said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I really must change. The hem of my walking dress got quite soaked in the snow.” And with that, she sailed away, leaving the two men alone.

  “Lord Winterbourne.” Adam nodded at the earl.

  “Mr. Freeman,” the earl replied with a nervous smile. “I’m sorry I was not here to welcome you to the Abbey yesterday.”

  “That’s perfectly all right,” Adam said coolly, “Lady Winterbourne has been an excellent hostess, as always. And I must say, the Abbey is looking very fine—though I was surprised to see that the estate cottages still appear quite run down...and rather fewer in number than I expected.”

  The earl’s flush deepened. “Yes, well, I do plan to talk to you about that,” he said. “Perhaps after dinner?” His smile was ingratiating but there was a spark of hostility in his eyes too. He hated having to be civil to a man he considered his social inferior.

  The earl had never liked Adam. He’d expected to be handed a fortune for the great honour of Simon being permitted to marry Althea and had been most put out to discover that Adam wanted to be sure the money was used to pay off the creditors who’d already waited far too long to have their debts settled. It seemed though, that despite the efforts made to safeguard the money set aside for the estate works, the earl had managed to divert those funds to himself. Worse, by the looks of things, he’d run up substantial additional debts. The signs were everywhere: new furniture and decorations in the Abbey, new carriages and horses, new clothes. Adam wouldn’t be surprised if the man was back in the same financial straits as when Adam had first met him.

  Well, if he thought Adam was going to dip his hand in his pocket again, he had another thing coming. Simon and Althea were married now. Adam would happily make over to funds to them directly if they needed them—though he already knew Althea was a hundred times better at managing money than either of her feckless parents—but Adam was damned if another brass penny of his hard-won money would find its way into Lord Winterbourne’s coffers.

  “Very well,” Adam said. “After dinner.”

  “I was actually thinking that the three of us should talk,” the earl said.

  “Three of us?” Adam frowned, puzzled. “You mean you and I and Lady Winterbourne?”

  Lord Winterbourne laughed. “Good God, no! Mimi wouldn’t have
the slightest interest. No, I meant for Lysander to join us.”

  “Lysander?” Adam couldn’t imagine what possible reason the earl would have for including Lysander—the earl had never deigned to involve his youngest son in any of their previous discussions.

  Just then, some of the rest of the walking group arrived back at the Abbey, excusing the earl from answering him. Adam turned to find Lady Arabella perched on her brother’s back, a very cross-looking Sir Edmund standing beside them. Sir Edmund—who was generally very polished—was rather the worse for wear, the knees of his trousers quite filthy.

  “Are you all right, Lady Arabella?” Adam asked.

  “I’m fine—” she began, only for Sir Edmund to interrupt.

  “She hurt her ankle.” He looked furious about it.

  “I had to carry her,” Cavendish said, inclining his head backwards in his sister’s direction. “Lysander’s bringing the greenery,”

  Lord Winterbourne hurried towards the newcomers. “Welcome to Winterbourne Abbey, Sir Edmund,” he gushed. “I’m so pleased you were able to join us.”

  Sir Edmund allowed his hand to be pumped by the earl, smiling with slightly frosty politeness. Lord Winterbourne gave no sign that he noticed the man’s discomfort.

  “I must go and get cleaned up,” Sir Edmund said at last. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Of course,” Lord Winterbourne said. “I look forward to speaking with you further at dinner.”

  As Sir Edmund stalked off, the Cavendish siblings close behind him, Lysander arrived with Miss Greenhill. They were both carrying large stacks of holly and ivy, which they handed over to the waiting footmen.

  Miss Greenhill greeted the earl politely, and he offered her a small distracted nod before she excused herself. His attention, however, was all on Lysander.

  “Lysander, my boy!” he said, once Miss Greenhill had gone. He took Lysander’s hand in his both of his own, shaking heartily, a fond smile on his face that Adam wasn’t sure he’d seen before. Lysander seemed equally puzzled by the earl’s unexpected affection.