Christmas Heart Read online

  On the other side of the partition, the rustling and low discussion about blankets faded away.

  She put her lips to Alex’s ear. “Did we do the right thing?”

  “Sending a thief to share a room with a suicidal rake?” he breathed. “Funnily enough, I’m sure we did,”

  She was content just with his closeness, to lie in his arms until it was light. They had no privacy to give physical expression to their feelings, so she simply enjoyed the sweet thrill of desire, the warm hardness of his body against hers. It had turned into the most beautiful Christmas.

  And with that thought, she fell asleep.

  *

  She woke to the familiar sound of Arthur’s demanding cry and had stumbled toward it from instinct before she remembered where she was. Daylight shone under the door of the stall and over the wall from the other stall where the door must have been open.

  “Good morning, my imperious little lord,” she murmured, picking the baby up.

  Alex stood closer to the wall in his boots and coat, struggling into his many-caped great coat. He smiled at her. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she said with unexpected shyness.

  “I’ll take Spring for a walk,” He jerked his head in the direction of the other stall. “And take these fellows with me to give you some privacy. Then I’ll see Villin about breakfast on the way back.”

  “Good,” she said, going toward him with her face already raised for his kiss, for she refused to lose the closeness, the unspoken understanding of last night. It was brief but held all the promise she could have wished for, and she smiled as he strode away with Spring bouncing on the end of his leash.

  She was still smiling as she settled down to change Arthur’s wrappings and feed him. Then, leaving him kicking and wriggling on the bed, she washed her face and hands in the icy water. She was just pinning up her hair with all the scattered pins she could find, when a knock came at the door.

  “Come in!” she called, believing it to be her husband. But in fact, it was Villin who walked through the door.

  “Ah, your grace!” he beamed. “I hope your night was quiet and not too uncomfortable!”

  She couldn’t help her gurgle of laughter. “I couldn’t say it was quiet, Mr. Villin, but it was certainly a comfortable night in the end. Did his grace speak to you about breakfast?”

  “Yes, he did. I offered to clear out the coffee room for him, but he says in here would be best.”

  “I suppose it would.” Leaving aside Fortescue’s possible dislike of company just now, Mark Strong would be out of place at their table. And yet, she felt strongly he should be there, for one meal at least.

  Villin still stood there, leaving her at a loss as to why he had come. Then he took something from his apron pocket and took a step closer, holding it out to her.

  “I wanted to give you this for your little one. I know it’s worth nothing, but we came across it the other day, and when I saw you last night looking so tired and sad, I wanted to give him it for luck.”

  Surprised and not a little touched, Charlotte took the toy from him. It was a teething stick made of pale pink coral—a somewhat expensive trinket for an innkeeper to own.

  “How kind of you!” she said, touched. “But Mr. Villin, you should give this to Lily for her children.”

  He shook his head stubbornly. “It’s hers in the first place, but she left it. Lily don’t need such gifts from us. And God knows that girl makes luck enough without coral. It’s for his little lordship, and Lily would agree. You and his grace, your whole family, have done wonders for our house. So here’s a little luck to take with you.”

  Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed by Villin having recognized her unhappiness yesterday—to say nothing of the quarrel that must have been obvious from Alvan arriving several hours after her with no servants whatsoever. She glanced at him uncertainly, and for the first time saw the unhappiness in the eyes of her genial host.

  She smiled. “Thank you, and Mrs. Villin and Lily! It is a gift we will all treasure. Come and give it to him yourself.”

  Arthur was obliging enough to grin at the innkeeper and stretch up his little hands to grasp the coral, which then went straight into his mouth. Villin smiled, satisfied.

  “How are you, Mr. Villin?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oh, well as you see! And the inn is doing well, always busy these days, and no trouble to speak of.”

  She held his gaze, and after a moment, he swallowed. “I miss my girl. I miss Lily.”

  Charlotte felt helpless. He knew that girls left home to be married all the time. Some went farther away than others, but they never forgot their parents. She was living proof of that. She had even risked her husband’s ire to come home to them for Christmas. Lily, clearly, had not, or at least not yet, so she didn’t feel it was a great example to give him.

  Therefore, she only nodded and gave him the only thing she could think of—a hug of comfort.

  It was difficult to say which of them was the more flabbergasted by her instinctive act. Duchesses did not embrace innkeepers.

  “She loves you,” Charlotte muttered. “She’ll always love you, and she’ll always come home.” She coughed. “Perhaps that breakfast now, Mr. Villin? My husband and his friends will be back directly.”

  Villin’s startlement resolved into a smile and a bow. She might have imagined there was more of a spring in his step as he left, but she didn’t think so. Gratefully, she sat down on the bed beside Arthur, who had lost interest in the teething stick in favor of a strand of hay. Charlotte picked up the coral and placed it on the table beside the button and the gold ring.

  “Quite a haul for a little man away from home,” she told him.

  “What is?” Alex asked from the doorway. He released Spring from his leash and the dog bounded across the stall to land in Charlotte’s lap and lick her face before lying down panting next to Arthur, who grasped his hair and tugged. It must have been painful, but Spring only licked the baby’s hand and wagged his tail. Arthur grinned at him.

  As the others trudged in behind Alex, Charlotte indicated Arthur’s gifts on the hay table. But Mrs. Villin, the ostler, and the maid were on their heels with a trestle table and chairs which they set up near the door. The brazier was refueled, and a vast array of breakfast was brought in. Mrs. Villin might have glanced askance at Mark Strong, but clearly decided it was up to their graces who they chose to breakfast with, for she made no comment.

  Mr. Villin bustled in with pots of tea and coffee. “Good news, your graces!” he exclaimed, setting his burdens down on the somewhat rickety table. “Looks like the road to Audley Park will be passable by midday. The sun’s striking it directly, and the snow’s vanishing. Probably flooding the ditches and the fields, but that’s a problem for another day!”

  Alex glanced at Charlotte. “Merry Christmas. It seems our luck is holding.”

  Charlotte turned impulsively to Fortescue. “Come with us, if you have no better plans. It will be chaos, for my young brothers will be there at the very least, and probably my sisters, too, but everyone will be glad to welcome you.”

  Fortescue looked startled and glanced instinctively at Alex for guidance.

  “Come,” Alex advised. “There is nowhere quite like the Maybury residence in festive spirit. And you need not fear imposing.”

  Fortescue bowed. “Then I accept with gratitude. On the understanding that Lady Maybury evict me as soon as she wishes.”

  Spring chose that moment to land in the middle of the table. Even Charlotte was taken by surprise, and several cups were spilled and a whole slice of ham vanished into the canine maw before she caught him and threw him on the floor with stern warnings.

  Wagging his tail, Spring sat and licked his lips.

  “Give him some of mine, if you want,” Mark Strong said, pushing his plate back. “My eye’s bigger than my belly, and I can’t eat another thing.”

  “Well, you might have to soon enough,” Ale
x said casually. “The cook at Audley Park does a huge Christmas dinner for the servants’ hall, too.”

  Mark blinked.

  “If you want a fresh start,” Alex said, “you can look after my horses for now and come back to Lincolnshire with us. I need some laborers, and in time, there could be a tenancy available if we suit each other.” His lips quirked amiably, but there was just a hint of flint in his eyes. “I don’t need to explain the conditions, do I?”

  “No, sir,” Mark said fervently.

  After everything was cleared away, Fortescue went to the inn to collect his belongings, and Mark Strong went off to become acquainted with Alvan’s horses and John Coachman.

  “I think we are having a kind Christmas,” Charlotte observed, going to pack her own belongings away, but Alex stopped her, pulling her into his arms instead for a long, hungry kiss. “I’m glad now we were stopped here,” she whispered against his lips. “The Hart is a lucky house.”

  “It’s we who are lucky,” Alex said, and she had to admit he was right.

  Until Spring, who was jumping at the stable door, finally discovered how to make it open, and with a yelp of delight in his freedom, bolted out in search of trouble.

  THE END

  About Mary Lancaster

  Mary Lancaster lives in Scotland with her husband, three mostly grown-up kids and a small, crazy dog.

  Her first literary love was historical fiction, a genre which she relishes mixing up with romance and adventure in her own writing. Her most recent books are light, fun Regency romances written for Dragonblade Publishing: The Imperial Season series set at the Congress of Vienna; and the popular Blackhaven Brides series, which is set in a fashionable English spa town frequented by the great and the bad of Regency society.

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