A Regency Christmas Pact Collection (2 page)

Berks didn’t stop until he reached the white parlor. Why the devil had Harry and Miranda invited that Birkin chit to his home for the holidays? Insane women were dangerous to be around, and though he’d never met Miss Birkin until now, he did know she was insane. Mad as a March hair. After all, no sane woman would involve herself with that ne’er-do-well Stalbridge. No sane woman would share the wastrel’s bed and get herself ruined. No sane woman…

“Berks!” Harry’s booming voice caught Berks off guard as his brother rose from his spot on the settee, beside his very expectant wife. “We were just wondering about you.”

“Were you, indeed?” He quickly scanned the parlor, his gaze seeking out the other inhabitants. His sister, Pippa, sat in a wingback chair, cooing over her infant, while her husband lounged a few feet away talking to a grey-haired gentleman who coughed into his fist. Mr. Pratt, no doubt. Berks returned his attention to his brother. “I didn’t think you were due in until tomorrow.”

Harry left Miranda’s side and crossed the room in just a few strides. “Ah, well, Miranda isn’t feeling her best these days and didn’t want the journey to drag on longer than was necessary.”

“Much better to drive through the night, tempting highwaymen and the wintery weather? Is that it?” Berks asked. After all, it wasn’t possible they could have made the journey any other way. What a foolish thing for his brother to have done.

“Well,” Miranda began to explain, “we didn’t want Tessie to arrive before we did, you see.”

Of course not. It made much more sense to drive recklessly through the snowy countryside, despite Miranda’s delicate condition. Berks let his gaze linger on his olive skinned sister-in-law. His earlier estimation was most definitely correct. The chit was mad. Harry would be wise to watch his back and his fire irons.

“Oh, Berks.” Harry gestured towards the grey-haired fellow beside his brother-in-law, Jason York, the Earl of St. Austell. “This is Martin Pratt. He’s Miss Birkin’s uncle.”

“Yes, I just met Miss Birkin. She was stumbling over Bach.” It was
why
the duo was at Wellesborne Park that still remained a mystery. Still, he nodded to the old fellow anyway. “Welcome. Very nice to meet you.”

“Thank you for having us.” Mr. Pratt smiled gratefully, which did make Berks feel the tiniest bit guilty for his uncharitable thoughts, but only briefly.

He looked once again at his brother. “When Davis said we had guests, I was afraid I’d find Potsdon inhaling every morsel in the Park.”

Harry chuckled, a warm sound that reminded Berks of all the happy times he and his siblings had shared together in earlier years. “Albie’s in Bombay.”

“Most likely inhaling all of the morsels in India.” Pippa’s green eyes twinkled with mirth. “Do come look at Edmund before I have to put him down for his nap. I’ve been holding him off until you arrived.”

Dutifully, Berks crossed the room until he stood beside his sister’s wingback chair. The chubby bundle in her arms looked more like a wrinkly old man than a little boy. “Aren’t you cute?” he lied through his teeth.

“We are rather proud of him.” St. Austell pushed out of his chair and stepped towards Berks in order to get a better view of his tiny heir. “Such a good baby. Never cries.”

His tiny heir. Something Berks would never have. He pushed the maudlin thought away almost as soon as it popped into his head. Keeping one’s skin had to take precedence to bearing an heir.

From the other side of the room, Harry laughed. “I do hope Miranda and I can say the same this time next year.”

Besides, Harry and his children could inherit. There was really no reason Berks needed an heir of his own. He could dote on his nieces and nephews over the years, just like he suspected Mr. Pratt had done with Miss Birkin. Though, it was too bad the old man hadn’t kept a keener eye on his niece. If he had, she might not have ruined herself so soundly.

“Berks,” Pippa began, interrupted his thoughts, “would you mind taking Edmund so I can stand up?”

“Of course.” He stepped around the chair, bent at the middle, and retrieved his nephew who blinked up at him with little, cornflower eyes.

So, the little fellow might be on the
edge
of cute. Rising back to his height, Berks touched the baby’s cheek and couldn’t keep from smiling. Pippa hadn’t been the prettiest baby either. But still, he and Harry couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her all those years ago. Of course, doting on their new baby sister had been preferable to thinking about their step-mother’s unfortunate passing.

His sister pushed up to her feet, a misty look in her eyes as she gazed at her son. Pippa might not have been a pretty baby, but she was a beautiful woman now. So there was probably hope for little Edmund after all, now that he thought about it.

“You know, I think he favors you,” Berks said as he passed the baby back into his sister’s arms.

Pippa’s bright smile was his reward for the compliment. Then she pressed a kiss to the child’s brow. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s time to go to bed.”

“Oh!” Miranda called from the settee. “I’ll come with you.”

Harry returned to his wife’s side and helped her alight from the settee. Then he handed her a handkerchief that she used to dab at her eyes.

She was crying? Why the devil was she
crying
? There was no reason for tears, not as far as Berks could see. No one had even said anything remotely sad. “You all right?” he asked carefully.

Harry shrugged. “Her condition just makes her a little weepy these days.”

“I’m not weepy!” Miranda protested. Then she blew her nose into the handkerchief.

“Of course, not weepy. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Harry amended, good-naturedly. “Just a little sensitive,” he muttered to his brother.

She definitely seemed
weepy
to Berks. How much would it take to push a woman from weepy to bloodthirsty? Berks glanced towards the roaring fire in the hearth at the far end of the parlor. Even if Miranda bolted for the fire iron, he could still get there before she did in her current state—her weepy state, that was.

Miranda sniffed. “You just looked so happy holding little Edmund,” she told him.

That hardly seemed like something to cry about. Berks eyed his sister-in-law suspiciously. “I see.” Though he didn’t.

Harry chuckled. “No, you don’t. But you will someday when your own wife is with child.”

His own wife! Berks resisted the urge to snort. Over his dead body… Well, that probably wasn’t the best turn of phrase, considering. Still, there was no way in hell he would ever have his own wife. And if that’s what Harry…

The blood drained from Berks’ face.
That
was why Miss Birkin was here! His brother and sister must have decided he’d been a bachelor long enough. Over the last year they’d made a few comments, here and there, about wishing he was settled and as happy as they were with their own spouses. But to go behind his back and try to foist some fallen chit upon him was beyond the pale!

“I’ll have a word with you, Harrison. In my study!” he barked. Then his eyes flashed to his brother-in-law. “You too.” He quit the room without a glance backwards to see if either of the men followed his directive. There was no need to check. They’d follow him, or they could pack their things and leave the Park instead.

Just as Tessie was leaving the music room for her borrowed chambers, she spotted Miranda and Lady St. Austell heading her direction. The two ladies’ heads were tilted together, concerned expressions on both their countenances.

“He’s not usually so gruff,” Lady St. Austell said as she jostled the baby in her arms. “I am sorry he barked.”

Miranda swiped at a tear. “I don’t know why it was necessary for him to yell at Harry. I nearly leapt from my skin, I was so startled.”

“He must be tired from his journey.”

“We’ve all had a long journey. There’s no reason to behave boorishly.”

Lady St. Austell sighed. “It must be the funeral, Miranda. Lord Arrington was an old friend. It must have troubled him to lose someone he’s known most of his life.”

Miranda sniffed again, then noticed Tessie standing in the threshold of the music room. Her friend seemed to force a smile to her face. “Are you done practicing?”

Tessie hadn’t been able to practice since Lord Berkswell had interrupted her, but she thought it best not to mention that. “For now.” She nodded. Then she turned her attention to the countess. “Didn’t mean to overhear, but did you say something about a funeral?”

Lady St. Austell’s kind green eyes seemed to assess Tessie. “My brother’s been in Cambridgeshire this last sennight. An old friend of his from Harrow died unexpectedly.”

“Oh!” Tessie’s hand fluttered to her heart. “That is awful. I am sorry.” Sudden death she understood. Though Aunt Margaret had passed away several months ago, Tessie still felt the loss every day. In fact, that was why she and Uncle Martin were here at Wellesborne this holiday. It just seemed too sad to spend Christmas at home without Aunt Margaret flitting about the place, hanging mistletoe across the banisters, urging all visitors to try her special cider. Honestly, Christmas would never be the same again. She’d been so relieved when Miranda and Lord Harrison invited Uncle Martin and her to Warwickshire for the holidays, last minute though it was. She was grateful anyway. It was such a relief not to face Willow Downs alone this year.

“That is kind of you,” Lady St. Austell replied, shifting her squirming baby in her arms once more. “Do excuse me, both of you. I’d better put Edmund down before he gets too unruly.”

As soon as the countess was gone, Miranda towed Tessie back into the music room. “I don’t think the man has ever been overly fond of me, but he seems to be in worse spirits than normal.”

“His friend…” Tessie began, but Miranda shook her head.

“I lost my brother and father within a few hours of each other and I was
never
snappish.”

Tessie opted not to inform her dearest friend that she was a tad bit snappish right now. It wasn’t Miranda’s fault, and certainly not something she could help. Not if Tessie’s memory of her own pregnancy was any indication. She’d cry at times for no reason, and she wasn’t her usual cheerful self. Of course, Tessie hadn’t had a reason to be cheerful in those days. Unmarried, abandoned by the man she’d thought had loved her, her future more than uncertain. She’d been terrified every moment after she first realized she’d missed her courses. Many people would have found her miscarriage a blessing, but Tessie still carried the loss of her unborn child. Had her babe been born, life would have been extraordinarily difficult for the two of them, but she’d have loved the child. She still did.

“We all grieve differently,” she said softly as the two of them dropped onto the piano bench.

Miranda squeezed her hands. “I know you miss your aunt.”

Tessie nodded. “I do. I can’t thank you and Lord Harrison enough for allowing Uncle Martin and me intrude upon your Christmas.”

“You can’t intrude,” Miranda replied. “You’re family.”

But she wasn’t family, not by blood anyway. Still, Miranda was the closest thing Tessie had to a sister, and she’d been her one and only confidant since they were in leading strings. She tilted her head towards her friend’s. “You’ll think me awful, but I’m relieved to hear that Lord Berkswell’s mood is in regards to his friend. I thought it was me he objected to.”