Mr Winterbourne's Christmas

by Joanna Chambers

  The nursery doors, when they reached them, were firmly closed and all was silent. It seemed no one was there. Lysander glanced at the others over his shoulder. They looked as though they were all having similar thoughts...until a sudden noise from beyond the doors pierced the silence. It was a voice. A soft, female cry. What the—?

  Another sound came then—a sharp crack this time—and then that cry again, followed by the rumble of a distinctly masculine voice.

  Oh, dear God, Lysander thought. He turned to Perry, to say something, but Perry was already moving, pushing past Lysander to throw the door open and crash inside.

  “Bella!” he shouted. “Are you all right?”

  “Perry!” Lysander hurried after him, following his stumbling form into the dark nursery, Adam following on Lysander’s heels. The central room was empty, but Perry rushed onwards, tugging open the door to the boys’ bedchamber where Lysander had taken Adam earlier.

  And that’s where they found Bella, bent over the broad back of the rocking horse with her bare bottom in the air...and Sir Edmund Hunt standing beside her.

  Chapter 13 - Adam

  “You fiend!” Cavendish yelled—loudly—and launched himself at Sir Edmund.

  “Perry!” Bella screamed from her undignified position. “Don’t you dare touch him!”

  Adam and Lysander both lunged for Cavendish, grabbing an arm each and hauling him back from a wide-eyed Sir Edmund. Christ, Cavendish really was a big bugger, and strong as an ox. He strained against them and Adam had to use all his strength to hold him.

  “Perry,” Lysander gasped, “Calm down for God’s sake!”

  “What were you doing to my sister?” Cavendish shouted. “You scoundrel!”

  “If you’ll calm down, we can discuss this in a civilised manner,” Sir Edmund said, though he was busy slipping off his coat in apparent contradiction of his own words. It was only when he draped the coat over Lady Arabella’s naked rear that Adam realised he hadn’t taken the coat off in anticipation of a bout of fisticuffs with Cavendish.

  “What are you doing?” Cavendish howled.

  “Tending to Ara—I mean, Lady Arabella,” Sir Edmund said haughtily. “Unless you think we should leave her tied up while you scream your head off.”

  “Don’t touch her!” Cavendish yelled again, straining once more against Adam and Lysander.

  “Oh, shut up, Perry!” Lady Arabella yelled back. “He’s untying me, you idiot.”

  Cavendish stilled, but his expression was troubled. “Why are you sticking up for him? He was hitting you!”

  Sir Edmund had dropped to a crouch and was fiddling with something at the base of the rocking horse—releasing bonds of some description, Adam assumed. Glancing past the gentlemen, Sir Edmund addressed Mrs. Rodney and Miss Greenhill who were standing in the doorway.

  “Could I trouble one of you ladies to fetch Lady Arabella’s nightgown?” he asked politely. “It’s over there, on the bed.” He nodded in the direction of the middle cot.

  “Of course,” Miss Greenhill agreed, calmly crossing the room and returning with the garment in hand. The gentlemen all turned away while Lady Arabella righted herself and donned the nightgown—even Sir Edmund, which struck Adam as a somewhat redundant gesture.

  “I’m decent,” Lady Arabella said at last, sounding subdued. “You can turn around.”

  Adam had let Cavendish’s arm go by now, but Lysander still rested a warning hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  Perry shot Sir Edmund a dangerous look. “Now, I’ll ask you again,” he said in a deceptively soft voice. “What were you doing to my sister?”

  Sir Edmund’s tone was calm. “Over the last few days, your sister and I have become acquai—”

  Cavendish made an impatient sound and cut across him. “Just tell me why you were beating her,” he said. “So that we can get to the part where I beat you in return.”

  “He was spanking me because I asked him to,” Lady Arabella said tightly, before Sir Edmund could get out a word. “I wanted him to do it.”

  Cavendish flushed hard. “What—what nonsense is this?”

  Sir Edmund was flushing now too, his gaze moving between Lady Arabella, her irate brother, and Mrs. Rodney, who appeared remarkably unconcerned by what was unfolding, given she’d apparently been expecting a marriage proposal from Sir Edmund.

  “This is very embarrassing,” Sir Edmund met Lysander’s sister’s gaze. “I owe you a particular apology, Mrs. Rodney. I can only—”

  “What about my sister?” Cavendish interrupted. “She’s the one you were beating black and blue!”

  “For goodness’ sake, he wasn’t beating me black and blue,” Lady Arabella said wearily. “He was just spanking me with his hand and as it happens, I was thoroughly enjoying it.”

  “Bella, you can’t have enjoyed that,” Cavendish said desperately. “He’s—he’s a rake He made you think you were—

  “No,” Lady Arabella interrupted, her tone very firm. She met her brother’s gaze. “Listen to me, Perry. He didn’t make me do anything. He didn’t even suggest it—I did. I asked him to tie me up and spank me. At first he refused, but—”

  “What did you say, young lady?” a new voice boomed.

  Everyone turned at that. Major Gould was standing in the doorway, looking scandalised. A moment later, his wife and the earl appeared beside him, the earl breathing heavily.

  “What’s on earth is going on?” Mrs. Gould demanded, glancing between the players in this increasingly embarrassing and public scene. “We were on our way to bed when we heard all the shouting.”

  “The Cavendish chit said she asked Sir Edmund to spank her!” the major told his wife. “Actually asked him!”

  Mrs. Gould gasped and turned to the earl, as though waiting for an explanation.

  “Surely there’s been some mistake,” the earl said desperately. “Sir Edmund?”

  Sir Edmund’s face was scarlet now, but he didn’t flinch from meeting the earl’s gaze. “No mistake,” he said in a clipped tone. “Well, other than a gross error of judgment on my part—I accept that. But as to the facts? No mistake there.”

  “Oh dear,” the earl said faintly. He looked at Mrs. Rodney with plain dismay.

  “What about my sister?” Cavendish demanded of Sir Edmund. “She’s the one whose reputation will be in tatters now!”

  “Thanks to you, you idiot!” Lady Arabella snapped at him. Then her gaze moved to Sir Edmund and her anger seemed to dissipate. Blinking back tears she said miserably, “I’m so sorry.”

  Sir Edmund met her gaze with an unreadable expression. At last he said, softly but implacably, “Go and get dressed. I need to speak to your brother.”

  “All right,” she whispered but didn’t move.

  Help came in the form of Miss Greenhill, who crossed to her side and began to steer her towards the door. “Come on,” she said with kindly brusqueness. “Gwen and I will come with you.”

  AT CAVENDISH’S REQUEST, Adam and Lysander stayed with him during his interview with Sir Edmund. Lysander had commandeered the earl’s study for the meeting, shutting out the earl—much to his dismay and Adam’s private amusement—and the curious Goulds.

  “Well?” Cavendish said to Sir Edmund once they’d all sat down. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Sir Edmund cleared his throat. “With your leave, I would like to pay my addresses to your sister.”

  “You want to marry her?” Cavendish sounded surprised and a little angry still.

  “Yes,” Sir Edmund said flatly. “Though if she does not want to accept my proposal, I have no intention of allowing you to force her to wed me.”

  “Force her!” Cavendish exclaimed. “That’s rich, coming from you!”

  Sir Edmund coloured again, though with temper this time, Adam thought. His lips were thinly pressed together, and his eyes flashed with irritation.

  “Perry, come on,” Lysander cajoled, setting a hand on Cavendish’s forearm. Adam found he real
ly didn’t much like it when Lysander touched Cavendish, which really was an absurd thought.

  “Come on, what?” Cavendish sulked.

  “Her reputation will be in shreds after this,” Lysander said. “The Goulds are terrible gossips, so it will certainly get out. This will ruin her, Perry—unless she marries.” He gave a lopsided smile. “And she does seem quite partial to him.”

  Cavendish gestured at Sir Edmund. “He was hurting her. What if—”

  “Oh, for goodness sake!” Lysander interrupted, “How many times did she tell you, Perry? They were obviously playing a game. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of people doing such things.”

  Cavendish flushed but said no more. At length he looked at Sir Edmund again, his expression unfriendly. “Fine,” he said. “But only if she wants you.”

  SHE WANTED HIM.

  Sir Edmund was granted a few minutes’ privacy with Lady Arabella—now respectably attired—to make his proposal and when they came into the drawing room, where most of the other guests were still gathered, she was radiant with happiness. Sir Edmund appeared rather grimmer, but you had to give the man credit. He was dealing with a difficult situation with considerable aplomb.

  In expectation of the happy announcement, Lady Winterbourne had arranged for wine and cake to be served. Since the earl could not bring himself to speak, Simon was given the job of proposing a toast in the engaged couple’s honour. He skated over the evening’s scandal, skilfully hinting it had been little more than a stolen kiss and managed to leave the company with the feeling that Sir Edmund and Lady Arabella’s sudden engagement was the height of chaste romance. And if not quite everyone believed him—Adam saw Mrs. Gould roll her eyes at her husband—no one was rude enough to say so. Or, indeed, mention that just a few hours ago, the earl had proposed a toast to Sir Edmund with the obvious expectation that he would soon be the man’s father-in-law.

  Afterwards the guests milled around, conversing. Lady Arabella and Sir Edmund stood in the centre of the room, accepting the other guests’ congratulations. Mrs. Rodney didn’t seem unhappy about the situation. She was in conversation with Miss Greenhill, the two of them smiling and chatting easily. She certainly didn’t have the look of a woman scorned.

  Lysander had been standing with Perry during the toast, giving him his silent support, but when Adam glanced their way again, he saw that Perry was talking with Simon now. Gazing around the room, he finally caught sight of Lysander sitting with his great-aunt Maud on a small sofa, listening intently to whatever she was saying. Adam bit back a smile of affection—and amusement—because God only knew what the eccentric old lady was saying to him.

  Adam decided to rescue him—or at least share his trials. He excused himself from the group he’d been standing with and crossed the room.

  Mrs. Winterbourne beamed as he approached. “Ah, it’s your friend, Lysander. I like this one a great deal. He has a lovely—”

  “May I join you, ma’am?” Adam interrupted before she could complete the thought. Lysander pressed his lips together against laughter.

  “Of course,” she replied. “I shall have the two handsomest men in the room on either side of me and I can tell you it’s been a few years since I’ve been able to say that!” She winked at him roguishly, gesturing at the chair beside her, and Adam obediently sat himself down.

  “I was just saying to Lysander,” the old lady began, smiling at Adam, “how nice it is to see young people pairing up—and those two make such a lovely couple, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know either of them very well,” Adam admitted. “But Lady Arabella appears to be a very lively young woman and Sir Edmund—”

  “Oh, not those two!” Mrs. Winterbourne said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “The gals, I mean.”

  Adam blinked, confused. “The gals?”

  Mrs. Winterbourne nodded. “Anne and Gwen,” she said as though Adam was quite stupid. Sighing happily, she added, “You only need to look at them to see how devoted they are to one another.”

  Adam met Lysander’s gaze. His lover’s eyes were wide with surprise and Adam suspected his own expression was similarly shocked, though he had to admit he was already feeling rather stupid as he remembered the events of the last days, particularly that moment, earlier in the library when the two women had emerged from the window seat. They’d seemed perturbed at being discovered, but at the time he’d put it down to them being seen by a group of gentlemen with their hair down. And then yesterday in the nursery, and yes, on the greenery walk too...When he came to think about it, it seemed they’d been trying quite as hard as he and Lysander to find some privacy.

  Glancing across the drawing room to where Miss Greenhill stood with Lysander’s sister, Adam watched as Mrs. Rodney spoke animatedly, her pretty face bright with amusement, and Miss Greenhill smiled at her with obvious affection. There was friendship between them, yes, but it seemed there was more than that. A deeper intimacy in the way they looked at each other.

  Aware that he was staring at the ladies, Adam abruptly turned his gaze back to Mrs. Winterbourne, and Lysander. Mrs. Winterbourne was patting Lysander’s hand now and smiling up at him.

  “Now, my dear, I don’t want you to feel left out, but I must tell you that I’ve decided to leave the bulk of my fortune to those gals. They need it more, you see. You have your profession, and your young man.” She turned to smile beatifically at Adam, who went scarlet at the realisation that the old lady seemed to know about them too. Turning back to Lysander, she continued, “Your dear sister does not have the same luxury. And it is not as though I have a very large fortune to leave. Though it is a tidy sum and quite enough for two gals to live comfortably upon when I am gone.”

  “I understand perfectly,” Lysander said kindly, smiling at her.

  “I knew you would,” Mrs. Winterbourne said approvingly. Then she winked and added, “And you needn’t worry about me blabbing to anyone else about your young man. It amuses me to say shocking things—it’s one of the few benefits of being as old as I am—but I’m really very discreet about the things that matter. Speaking of which, look out—your mother and father are coming this way.”

  When the earl and Lady Winterbourne reached them, Lady Winterbourne said “Lysander, your father needs to speak with you and Mr. Freeman. And besides, you’ve been monopolising your aunt for quite long enough.” She smiled at Mrs. Winterbourne merrily, saying, “My turn for a coze with you.”

  The old lady beamed at that, then elbowed Lysander, saying cheerfully, “I’ll have to ask you to shoo, dear. Mimi needs to sit here, and besides, your father wants you.”

  Judging by the earl’s resigned expression, that wasn’t strictly true, but he’d been given his orders by his wife, it seemed, and was going to see them out.

  “Shall we talk in my study?” the earl suggested.

  Lysander glanced at Adam, a question in his blue gaze. It was the smallest thing, but Adam was touched that Lysander’s first instinct was to check that the earl’s proposal was all right with Adam. That Adam’s comfort was important to him.

  He cleared his throat. “By all means.”

  They rose from their chairs then, bidding Mrs. Winterbourne good evening, and followed the earl out of the drawing room.

  Chapter 14 - Lysander

  Lysander watched his father pour three glasses of brandy. The earl’s hand shook as he undertook the simple task, then he downed his own glass in one swallow before reaching for the decanter and pouring himself another.

  “So, Father,” Lysander prompted. “You wanted to talk with us?”

  “Yes, yes of course,” the earl said, as though only just remembering they were there. He ran a hand over his face, then said, wearily, “Sorry, m’boy. Tonight’s been rather a shock. I was expecting—” He broke off. Sighed heavily and threw back the second brandy.

  “You were expecting Sir Edmund to offer for Gwen?” Lysander supplied.

  “He was going to offer for her,” the earl sai
d bitterly. “We’d come to terms. He was going to ask her tomorrow—till that flighty little Cavendish slut threw herself at him. Christ!”

  “Father,” Lysander said, a note of warning in his voice. “Please do not speak of Lady Arabella in such terms.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” the earl cried. “He had her tied up over a rocking horse and was spanking her bare arse. She’s a little—”

  Angry now, Lysander banged his fist on the table, making the brandy glasses jump. “Not another word about Bella!”

  The earl fell silent, glaring at Lysander. At length he said, more calmly, “Arabella Cavendish will profit handsomely from this debacle. It’s a shame your own sister will not fare so well.”

  Exasperated, Lysander said, “Please don’t pretend you’re aggrieved on Gwen’s behalf. I assume the terms you came to with Sir Edmund were that you would receive money. You are plainly in debt again.”

  The earl stared at him, saying nothing, but his silence was its own kind of confirmation.

  Lysander added, “And the loan Adam gave you for the estate repairs—you have spent it, yes?”

  The earl’s shoulders rounded in defeat at that. “Yes.” He glanced at Adam, and added hoarsely, “I didn’t mean to, but some...debts of honour arose. A gentleman cannot allow such debts to go unsettled.”

  Shame engulfed Lysander. Gaming debts, of course. God forbid his father should ever welch on a lost wager, and too bad if that meant the people on his own estate had to continue living in filthy, unsafe houses.

  “I intended to pay it back,” the earl added, almost resentfully.

  Adam’s expression was grim. “Why did you let Althea persuade you to invite me here?” he asked. “It was obvious I’d see the promised works hadn’t been done.”

  The earl just stared at the polished surface of his desk.

  “You invited him after you came to terms with Sir Edmund, didn’t you?” Lysander said. “You knew he’d demand you repay the loan and you thought you’d be able to do it, from the money Sir Edmund was giving you in exchange for a respectable wife.”