A Christmas Bride (27 page)

“You cannot prove that I did anything wrong!” he cried.

“No, I cannot, although a true gentleman would take responsibility for his mistakes.” He folded his arms in front of him, looking like his grandfather when the earl refused to be countermanded. “It is no mistake to tell you that you would show a decided want of sense to return to Cheyney Park in the wake of this. Grandfather may not be as forgiving as I that you tried to murder me here.” Looking at Serenity, he said, “And attempted twice along this road to slay Miss Loughlin. Men have hanged for less.”

Felix's face became gray. “You would not send me to hang, would you?”

“I would not, but I cannot speak for our grandfather or Miss Loughlin's father.” He pointed to the horse that Ned had ridden to warn them. “I suggest you take yourself posthaste to somewhere where Grandfather cannot find you.”

“Where?”

“I understand that Colonel Coleman's regiment is being sent to India.”

Felix mouthed the word
India
.

“That you are half a world away should be enough to persuade Grandfather not to follow you. I suspect Melanda will not be thrilled with such a posting, but she should have thought of that before marrying you last night.”

Serenity turned to look at Timothy. Was he jesting? No, his face was without a hint of humor. She had not guessed that Felix and Melanda were being wed when they had not appeared for dinner last evening.

“I have no funds of my own to buy a commission,” Felix mumbled.

“I suspected that.” Timothy reached under his coat and drew out a piece of folded oilcloth. “I had intended to speak to you of this under more congenial circumstances, for I saw it as an opportunity for you to obtain the prestige you have never hidden that you wish could be yours. Inside this, you will find what you must do to get your commission in London, Felix. I have arranged for the funds to be transferred to the lieutenant who was selling his commission.”

“Lieutenant?” He gasped. “You bought me a mere lieutenancy?”

Serenity bit her lip to keep from saying that it was more than he deserved after trying to kill his cousin so his father might inherit the title and Felix after him. Only because Timothy knew how this would hurt his grandfather was he trying to settle the whole of this with little fuss.

When Timothy said nothing, Felix slowly took the packet. He walked to the horse and mounted. No one spoke as he vanished into the storm.

“But, my lord,” Jenkins said, “London is in the other direction.”

“My uncle's house will be his first stop.” Timothy shook his head. “I shall have Melanda meet him there so they can travel to Town together.” Putting his arm around Serenity, he said, “Now we can continue—”

A horse burst out of the darkness, racing straight toward them. Serenity screamed as Timothy shoved her up against the carriage, protecting her with his body. Who else wanted to see them dead?

“Lord Cheyney!”

At the shout, Serenity looked past him to see the rider reining in. It was not Felix, intent on another plot to kill them, but another of the lads from the stable.

“What is it, Louis?” Timothy asked.

“Lord Brookindale sent me to find you, my lord. 'Tis Miss Theodora. She has taken a turn.”

Serenity moaned and clutched Timothy's arm. “Oh, sweet heavens! Do you think the chill from the sleigh accident caused her to sicken?”

Instead of answering her, Timothy ordered, “Ride back and tell Grandfather we are on our way. Jenkins, return us to Cheyney Park without delay.”

Serenity bit back her questions that no one could answer as Timothy handed her into the carriage. The door was barely closed behind him before Jenkins was whipping up the horses. She grasped the handhold on the side of the carriage. She had not expected to return to Cheyney Park … not like this.

Nineteen

The house was preternaturally silent as Serenity handed her soaked bonnet and cloak to Branson. She wondered if all the guests had sought their rooms in the midst of the hubbub of tragedy that had replaced the holiday excitement.

The butler did not meet her eyes as he said, “Lord Brookindale is with Miss Theodora in her rooms, my lord.”

“How does she fare?” Serenity asked tremulously, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer. She had been headstrong in her determination to prove to everyone that they had been mistaken about what Theodora should or should not do. As headstrong as Felix, who had let ambition blind him, for she had been unabashedly proud each time Theodora shown that she could do all Serenity had hoped she could.

“I know only the message His Lordship gave me to send after you, Miss Adams.…” He gulped. “Miss Loughlin, I mean.”

“Do not fret about such things now.” Gathering up her damp skirt, she rushed to the stairs as Timothy added something she did not hear to the butler.

By the time she had reached Theodora's door, Timothy had caught up to her. He winced on every step, and she guessed his injured leg was bothering him. She put her hand on his arm in sympathy, and he gave her a stiff smile.

“Do you want me to go in first?” he asked.

“Of course not! This is my fault.”

“On that you are completely right,” said the earl as he opened the door wider. “The whole of this is your fault, Miss Loughlin.”

Tears jeweled his face where his mouth worked with the emotions he was struggling to control. “May I see her, my lord?”

“If you think you can handle what you are about to see.”

“Grandfather,” Timothy said with the same rigid tone he had used with Felix, shocking her, for he never had shown his grandfather anything but respect and love, “do not treat her cruelly. She has been a victim in this charade, not the perpetrator of it. All she has done is bring you and I and Theodora and even Aunt Ilse closer as a family.”

The earl stepped aside to let them enter the dusky room. “So put away that tone that suggests you are about to don your armor and fight for your lady fair.”

“Grandfather, about all this—”

“We will speak of this later.”

“My lord,” Serenity whispered, “may I see Theodora?”

“This way.”

She looked back when she heard Branson's voice. Timothy motioned for her to go with his grandfather as he turned to speak with the butler. Not caring what they were discussing, she rushed to Theodora's bed. She frowned when she saw the covers were undisturbed.

“My lord?” she asked, baffled, as she turned to the earl.

Light flared as lamps were lit. In shock, she stared at Lord Brookindale and Nurse and … Theodora. All of them were grinning as if they were enjoying the greatest jest.

Serenity knelt by Theodora's chair. “You are not sick?”

“Only if she ate too many cakes at the gathering tonight,” replied the earl as he ruffled the little girl's hair.

Looking up at him, Serenity whispered, “But the message … It said that—”

“Theodora had taken a turn.” The earl laughed. “A turn for the better. Show her, Theodora.”

Serenity held her breath, watching as the little girl slowly bent her elbow until she could pull her hand up to her chest and then, as slowly, unbent it. “Oh, sweet heavens! Look at what you can do!”

“I would say that is quite a turn for the better.” The earl's belly laugh brought a restrained chuckle from Nurse and a giggle from Theodora. “She is determined to be able to hold one of those ducklings by spring.”

Serenity put her head down on the little girl's lap and gave in to the tears that had burned in her eyes since the messenger had reached them on the icy road. Only now did she realize that everything she had considered a disaster was truly good news. She had found her past, and Theodora was growing stronger every day. Timothy's grandfather might be angry with him, but that wound would heal.

Timothy
…

His broad hand stroked her damp hair, and she raised her face. Taking her hands, he brought her to her feet. Softly he said, “It seems as if everyone has what they want tonight.” His voice grew hard for a moment. “Even my cousin, who has Melanda.”

“Yes.”

“Everyone but you and me, sweetheart.”

Her heart contracted at the longing he put in that single word. “Yes.”

“You know that I love you, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“So stay here with me.”

“I must go home. Father must be half out of his mind with fear for me.”

He reached under his coat. “I had thought of that as well, and, from what I had heard of Sir Philip Loughlin, I could not believe he would wait patiently for word about his missing daughter. I had Branson check Felix's room quickly. My cousin was so bold in his plan that he saw no reason to hide his malevolent machinations.” He pulled out a slip of paper. “Branson brought me this.”

She scanned the letter and gasped. When the earl held out his hand, she gave it to him. He snarled an oath.

“What is it?” Theodora asked, not willing to be left out of the conversation.

“It seems that Felix did not confine his letter-writing enterprise to that single note in Serenity's apron pocket.” Timothy's smile grew strained. “He had started a letter to Serenity's father in London to let Sir Philip think that nothing was amiss with his daughter, so Sir Philip would not come seeking her and ruin my cousin's plans for his revenge and obtaining his ambitions for both himself and his father.”

“What revenge?” Theodora's eyes gleamed with excitement.

The earl tapped her nose. “You
and
Timothy have been reading too many novels. There is no revenge.” His intent gaze warned the rest of them that what he was about to say would be what was shared with the rest of the Polite World. “Felix is simply choosing to try some new things beyond the walls of Cheyney Park.”

“Way beyond.” Timothy grinned. “In India, to be exact.”

“India?” Lord Brookindale's mouth worked as it had by the door, and Serenity realized he was trying not to laugh now, as he had been then. The laugh escaped in an explosion of mirth. “An excellent choice, my boy. Absolutely excellent. Some discipline and appreciation for a Yorkshire winter will be good for him.”

Theodora tugged on Serenity's dress. “So are you staying?”

“What are you waiting for, my boy?” grumbled the earl.

“Waiting for?” asked Timothy with a wink at Serenity.

“Ask her to marry you before I ask her myself.”

“You would ask her to marry me?”

Grandfather chuckled, sounding so much like Timothy that Serenity wanted to hug them both. “No, you widgeon, I would ask her to marry
me
. I am determined to have such an intelligent lass in this family. Any woman who can see through your cousin and through you and—” he wagged a finger at her—“and almost through me is a prize indeed. So what are you waiting for?”

“I believe I am waiting to decide whether I should ask Serenity or Helen to be my wife.”

“Papa would be distressed if you call me anything but Helen when he is about, for I was named for his mother.” Serenity's eyes widened as another bit of her past fell into place. “You have to own, Timothy, that things have not been the least bit serene since we began all this.”

He folded her hands in his and dropped to one knee. “I believe I shall solve the whole of this by asking you to become Lady Cheyney. Then no one will have a problem in deciding how to address you.”

“You will call me Lady Cheyney?”

“I shall call you my beloved wife, if you will only say yes.”

She drew one hand out of his and tousled his hair. “Yes,” she whispered.

As he stood, Theodora wrinkled her nose. “You are not going to do something disgusting like kiss her, are you?”

“I am afraid so,” Timothy replied with a laugh as he gathered Serenity into his arms. His voice lowered to a husky whisper, “Again and again and again.”

About the Author

Jo Ann Ferguson is a lifelong storyteller and the author of numerous romantic novels. She also writes as Jo Ann Brown and Mary Jo Kim. A former US Army officer, she has served as the president of the national board of the Romance Writers of America and taught creative writing at Brown University. She currently lives in Nevada with her family, which includes one very spoiled cat.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2000 by Jo Ann Ferguson

Cover design by Julianna Lee

ISBN: 978-1-4532-4834-8

This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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New York, NY 10014

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