A Regency Christmas Pact Collection (3 page)

“You?” Miranda leaned back slightly as though to assess Tessie better, her dark curls bounced about her shoulders. “What he could possibly find objectionable about
you
?”

Tessie shrugged. “He just seemed…” How could she put this? “Well, he seemed like he recognized my name, and I thought perhaps the rumors had spread across London after all.”

A sad expression settled on Miranda’s face. “No one knows, Tess. Harry would never tell a soul, and if he ever heard anyone mention it, he’d squash the rumor in an instant.”

Truly, after the mess Tessie had made of her life, she didn’t deserve a friend as loyal as Miranda, and by extension, Lord Harrison. “I suppose I always feel like everyone knows, that they can see the truth as plain as the nose on my face. And—”

Miranda squeezed Tessie’s hands once more, offering the same comfort and support she had over the last year. “We all make mistakes.”

But not ones as giant as Tessie had made.

“And someday you’ll find the perfect gentleman. One who won’t care…”

One who wouldn’t care that she wasn’t an innocent? For all her bravado, Miranda was a bit naïve. But Tessie knew better. “There isn’t a man on Earth who won’t care about my past.”

Her friend shrugged slightly. “I don’t think it’s as dire as all that. You’re young, pretty and the kindest girl I know. An intelligent, honorable man will see that. A fellow who is the exact opposite of that villain Stalbridge.”

Tessie couldn’t help but flinch at hearing
his
name said aloud. “Please, Miranda,” she begged. “I’ve come to terms with my lot in life, and I don’t have any room in my heart for false hope.”

Berks shut the door to his study a bit more forcefully than was needed, but he couldn’t help it. How dare his siblings try something so ridiculous? He’d gotten along just fine for thirty years without assistance from either of them.

“You!” He dropped into the leather chair behind his desk and pointed at his brother. “You will not interfere in my life. Do you hear me?”

Harry simply blinked at him and then exchanged a confused look with St. Austell.

“And that goes for my sister too. As her husband, I expect you’ll make certain she heeds my wishes.”

Harry stepped closer to Berks’s desk and leaned his large frame against the back of one of the wingback chairs before him. “You don’t seem at all like yourself. What is the matter with you?”

Berks narrowed his eyes. His brother knew good and well what this was about. “That girl.” He gestured towards the corridor. “What is that girl doing in my home?”

Harry and St. Austell glanced again at each other. His brother-in-law shrugged. “Which girl?” he asked.

“Don’t be obtuse,” Berks growled. They both knew which girl he meant. There was only one girl who shouldn’t be here.

“Miranda?” Harry asked, his voice tinged with confusion. “She doesn’t mean to be weepy. Truly.”

“Pippa was much the same,” St Austell commiserated.

“That
Birkin
girl,” Berks ground out. The two dolts were being intentionally difficult. As though Berks had meant Miranda! Of all the inept things to suggest.

“Tessie?” Harry’s brow furrowed. “Well, she’s a very sweet girl.”

“I will have you know,” Berks nearly seethed, “that I will not have you foist Stalbridge’s castoffs on me, Harrison Casemore.”

Harry’s face turned slightly red, which only went to prove his intent, and at the same time St. Austell echoed, “Stalbridge’s castoffs?”

“Why the devil would you say something like that in front of
him
?” Harry jerked his head in St. Austell’s direction. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Miss Birkin and that wastrel Stalbridge?” St. Austell continued as though he hadn’t just been disparaged.

For a moment Berks had a twinge of remorse. He probably shouldn’t have said all of that. He just assumed St. Austell knew. He assumed everyone knew. “You didn’t tell him?” he asked more softly than he’d spoken thus far.

“Why the devil would I tell
him
anything?” Harry barked.

“Well, I’m quite trustworthy,” St. Austell returned.

“When you’re not lying about your identity, I’m sure you’re very trustworthy.” Harry glared at their brother-in-law. Then he turned his angry green eyes back on Berks. “
You
were the only one I confided in because you’re my trusted brother.”

That twinge of remorse grew in Berks’s chest.

“And,” Harry continued, his fingers biting into the upholstery of the chair in his grasp, “I don’t appreciate you blabbering everything to St. Austell, for God’s sakes.”

“What kind of girl would involve herself with the likes of
Stalbridge
?” St. Austell mused aloud, his lips twisted up as though he’d tasted something that had gone bad.

“The same could be said about any girl who would involve herself with
you
,” Harry replied sharply, which only made their brother-in-law smirk. The man had been a notorious rake before he met Pippa. Even then he would have been a better catch than Lord Stalbridge. But maybe just barely.

“Your sister is quite happy,” St. Austell picked at an imaginary piece of lint on his jacket. “Ask her if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I know she’s happy. It’s the only reason you’re still alive,” Harry returned with a growl in his voice.

“Enough!” This wasn’t going at all as Berks had planned. He didn’t want to rehash the less than traditional courtship of Pippa and St. Austell. He’d brought the two men in his study to disabuse them of their matchmaking plans. “I’m not happy that you invited people to
my
home without consulting me first.”

Harry’s gaze snapped back to Berks. “The girl and her uncle are still grieving the loss of her aunt. Miranda thought a change of scenery would help them through the holidays.”

“You still should have asked.”

“Oh for the love of God.” Harry raked a hand through his dark hair. “It’s hardly the first time we’ve had guests for the holidays. If I had any idea you were going to be a chutless arse about it, I wouldn’t have invited them.”

Was that all there was to it? Miss Birkin and Mr. Pratt were simply trying to get through the holidays? Berks frowned. “So you
don’t
intend to match me with the chit?”

Harry’s glare softened to a look of astonishment. “That’s what you thought? I hardly think you’re her sort.”

“She apparently prefers rakish ne’er-do-wells,” St. Austell chimed in.

Harry’s head snapped once again towards their brother-in-law.

St. Austell shrugged. “Stalbridge has already sold off or lost everything that isn’t entailed.”

Harry’s glare returned full-force on the earl. “You will forget you ever heard such a thing, or I’ll pound you into dust, Pippa or no Pippa. Do you hear me?”

“No needs for threats. I said I was trustworthy.” St. Austell held up both hands as though surrendering. “I just feel sorry for the chit, is all.”

Berks scoffed. “If you want to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for Arrington.”

“Aye.” St. Austell nodded. “Very sad situation, indeed.”

Berks dropped his head in his hands. “Be glad you didn’t see him. I cannot understand why his casket was open.”

Harry winced. “That’s rather morbid.”

To say the very least. Berks looked up at his brother’s hulking form. “What do you think Miranda would do if she discovered you’d been unfaithful?”

Harry took a slight step backwards. “I would never be unfaithful.”

“For the sake of argument, let’s say you were.”

“I’d rather not.”

“For God’s sake, Harry! Do you think she’d take a fire iron to you? Do you think she’s capable of such a thing?”

Harry shook his head. “She might cut off my bullocks, but…”

“Agh!” Both of St. Austell’s hand flew to his crotch as though he could prevent such a thing from ever happening to him. “Good God! Pippa would never do something like that.”

“She wouldn’t have to.” Harry cast their brother-in-law a sidelong glance. “If you were ever unfaithful to her—”

“On the off chance you haven’t heard a word I’ve said since I met your sister, I love Pippa. I would never be unfaithful to her.”

Berks sighed. That really wasn’t the point. “I hardly think one’s fidelity, or lack thereof, should subject him to murder at the hands of his wife.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” his brother-in-law agreed. “Did Lady Arrington fancy herself in love with the earl?”

“I hardly see that it matters,” Berks replied.

St. Austell rounded the chair in front of him and then dropped into it. “Must be a bitter pill to swallow, finding out your spouse was unfaithful if you fancied yourself in love with them, not that it justifies murder, mind you.”

Nothing justified what had happened to Richard. Philanderer, gambler, drinker… Whatever he may have been, he didn’t deserve the treatment Lady Arrington had given him.

“She always seemed slightly off to me,” Harry put in. “Lady Arrington, that is.”

“Off?” Berks asked. He’d been around Lady Arrington on more occasions than Harry had.

“Obsessive, perhaps,” his brother continued. “Arrington should have been more careful.”

Careful. That’s what Berks was going to be. Careful the rest of his days. Still… “I hardly think we should blame the victim.”

Harry shook his head. “Of course not. But that doesn’t mean one should behave recklessly either. If one sets a flame to tinder, one should expect a fire.”

Berks shuddered at the thought. “Please don’t mention fires, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m just surprised the woman could lift a fire iron.” St. Austell frowned. “I doubt she weighs eight stones.”

Berks glared at his brother-in-law. “And. Don’t. Mention. Fire irons,” he ground out.

“Have you thought of names?” Tessie asked, linking her arm with Miranda’s as they started towards the drawing room to meet the others for dinner.

“Simeon if it’s a boy,” her friend began, though it sounded as though there was a lump in her throat. Miranda clearly still missed her oldest brother.

“And if it’s a girl?” Tessie pressed, hoping to distract her friend from the heartache that still plagued her.

Miranda shrugged a bit. “Harry’s convinced it’s a boy.”

What utter nonsense. Tessie couldn’t help but giggle. “Fairly certain fathers can’t determine such a thing. If they could, we’d all be boys.”

Miranda laughed now too. “I said something very similar last week.”

“What names are
you
thinking of then?”

“Well, Harry’s mother was Beatrice.”

“That’s a pretty name.” Tessie smiled.

“But… Well, Berks was the closest to her since he’s the oldest, so…”

“So you’re saving that name for him,” Tessie finished.

Miranda squeezed Tessie’s arm as she led her into the drawing room. “I’ve been thinking about Theresa. What do you think?”

Tessie stopped in her tracks, not paying attention in the least to the room’s other inhabitants. Truly touched, her hand fluttered to her chest. “Miranda, that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Well, you’re my dearest friend.” Miranda smiled.

And Miranda was most certainly Tessie’s dearest friend. Even after knowing every terrible choice Tessie’d made, Miranda had stood by her side. “You are the most wonderful lady. Do you know that?”

Miranda sniffed a bit.

“Now don’t make her cry,” came a silky smooth voice near the hearth. Tessie’s head turned in the direction of the voice to find the devilishly handsome Lord St. Austell, leaning his large frame against the mantle. “Female tears will only strike fear in the heart of our host.”

Miranda scoffed. “Don’t tease me, Jason. I’m not in the mood.”

“I would
never
tease you, Miranda.” The earl pushed away from the wall, and a roguish smile tipped his lips. “But the oh-so-noble Lord Berkswell is not himself these days, if you haven’t noticed.”

“He was gruff this afternoon.”

St. Austell chuckled. “Only because he already figured out what you and Pippa were up to. He’s a smart man, Berkswell. You’d do well to keep that in mind.”

What Miranda and Pippa were up to? Tessie cast her friend a sidelong glance. “What
are
you up to?”

“You didn’t tell her?” The earl laughed even harder.

“Tell me what?” Tessie asked.

Miranda stubbornly shook her head. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“Don’t you?” St. Austell’s brow shot northward. “The late night discussions between you and my wife, all of your plotting to see the lonely marquess married off to Miss Birkin here?”

Tessie was certain her face turned white as ash. “I-I beg your pardon?” Miranda had plotted to see Tessie married to that brusque
Berkswell
? What in the world had she been thinking? He wasn’t at all the sort who would make Tessie happy. Besides, a man of his reputation and good standing would never look twice in Tessie’s direction. What a ridiculous, foolhardy—

“It’s no wonder my husband can’t abide you,” Miranda ground out, glaring at the earl as though he was the lowest of the low.

“Me?” A wicked glint flickered in the earl’s light blue eyes.

“Miranda!” Tessie managed to breathe out. “Why would you do that? Why would you bring Uncle Martin and me here, just to humiliate me?”

“Tess—” Miranda began, turning her gaze onto Tessie; but when someone cleared his throat from the threshold, her friend clamped her lips together.

“Ah, Berkswell!” Lord St. Austell said, the wicked glint in his eyes flickering even more devilishly. “We were just talking about you.”

Oh, heavens! What was the earl doing? Why would he say such a thing? Tessie’s breath caught in her throat.

“Were you, indeed?” the marquess asked, and though Tessie couldn’t force herself to glance at the man, she could tell his eyes were on her, like two hot coals of condescension.

Heavens! Had Miranda and Lady St. Austell said something to the marquess about her? What she wouldn’t give for the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

“Tessie was just commenting on what a lovely home Wellesborne Park is,” Miranda said.

“And,” Lord St. Austell continued smoothly, “I was telling her this was all thanks to your management of the place
.
Cardinham should be so lucky.”

“You’re too modest,” Lord Berkswell replied, stepping closer to the small group. “Your family seat is quite breathtaking as you are well aware.”

“That is kind of you to say, but I don’t believe I have the same love and devotion to the place as you do for Wellesbourne.”

Tessie and Miranda exchanged a glance as the marquess now stood between Miranda and the earl. Apparently, her friend didn’t understand why Lord St. Austell had brought them to the brink of discovery only to help them hide the truth of their conversation a moment later either. How his wife tolerated him was a complete mystery. Whatever the earl’s reason was, however, Tessie was more than grateful he’d changed the course of the conversation. She would die of mortification if Lord Berkswell thought she’d come here with designs to set her cap for him.

She took a steadying breath and allowed her gaze to lift slightly, taking in the marquess’s visage. He was handsome; her first impression was most definitely a correct one. His strong jaw spoke to the marquess’s rigidity that Miranda had often mentioned. He was most definitely of the serious variety, and that sort had always frightened Tessie to her core. There should be some room for levity in one’s life, shouldn’t there? Not as much levity as there was in Stalbridge’s life, without a care for anyone except himself, but some sort middle ground.

“It’s all routine, St. Austell. Just like clockwork.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that.” Then a true grin spread across the earl’s face. “Ah, there’s my darling wife.”

Tessie’s heart stung just a bit. Not that she begrudged the St. Austells their very happy marriage. But the memory of feeling that very same way once upon a time about Lord Stalbridge echoed in her empty chest. If only he’d been the man she thought he was. If only he’d cared for her as much as she’d cared for him. If only—

Lady St. Austell’s tinkling laugh interrupted Tessie’s thoughts. “Miss Birkin!” she said gleefully. “You must visit Wellesbourne more regularly. I’ve never seen Aunt Eugenia so animated as she is with your uncle.”

After just learning what Miranda and the countess had tilted their heads together and conspired for this holiday, Tessie doubted very much that Uncle Martin’s budding friendship with the ancient Miss Mills was the reason behind the lady’s suggestion. “I’d hate to impose more than we have already, Lady St. Austell—”

“Oh, Pippa, please!” the countess insisted. “There’re so few of us here. There’s no reason to stand on ceremony, now is there?”

“I say!” Lord Harrison boomed from the threshold. “Isn’t it time for supper? Why hasn’t the chime been rung?”

Lord Berkswell tugged at his watch fob and said, “Dinner’s not for another fifteen minutes, Harry.”

“Well, I am starving now,” his brother complained.

The marquess seemed to bite back a smile of genuine affection. “I’m certain you’ll survive.”

“Harry,” Lady St…er…Pippa began, “have you noticed how chummy Mr. Pratt is with Aunt Eugenia? I was just suggesting to Miss Birkin that she and her uncle visit on a fairly regular basis. I’ve never seen Aunt quite so happy, and...”

“And Miss Birkin said she didn’t wish to impose.” Lord Berkswell’s sudden, clipped tone quieted the room in an instant. “Perhaps you should take her at her word, Pippa.” The marquess narrowed his brown eyes on his sister, and they didn’t seem as warm as they had just moments ago.

Once again, Tessie wished she could just disappear. It was quite obvious Lord Berkswell didn’t want her here. After all, the man
had
figured out what Miranda and Pippa were up to. Lord St. Austell had said as much. If Uncle Martin wasn’t enjoying himself as much as he was, she’d beg him to take her home and try to forget she’d ever crossed the threshold of Wellesborne Park.

Berks hated that every pair of eyes on the room seemed to land squarely on him. Well, other than Miss Birkin’s. She had the good graces to let her blue-green gaze drop to the floor. But why everyone else should look at him as though he were some sort of ogre was beyond the pale. He hadn’t invited the chit
or
her uncle to Wellesbourne, and he wasn’t keen on hosting the pair ever again.

“For God’s sakes, Berks,” Harry muttered under his breath.

And then, the worst possible thing that could have happened did. Tears streamed down Miranda’s olive cheeks, and then she burst into loud sobs.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Harry soothed, rubbing his hands over Miranda’s shoulders.

“Wh-why does he have to be so me-me-mean?” she heaved, making Berks feel like a complete cad and quite vulnerable all of a sudden.

However, seeing his normally self-assured sister-in-law dissolve into a puddle of tears struck a bit of terror in Berks’s heart too. Women were such emotional creatures. How were you ever to know when one would take up a fire iron and beat you to death?

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be,” Harry growled, his green eyes nearly searing a hole right though Berks.

But Miranda paid him no attention as she lifted her skirts and bolted from the room… Well, honestly, she waddled rather quickly.

“Miranda!” Harry called. Then he cast Berks one final glare before following after his wife.

“Really, Berks,” Pippa softly admonished. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but do try to have a care.” Then she too quit the drawing room, most likely to search after their weepy sister-in-law as well.

The smug expression on St. Austell’s face was enough to make Berks want to send his fist right through the man’s skull. “I suppose that’s my cue to go help soothe the poor girl and join the chorus of voices, wherever they are, in calling you all sorts of unflattering names.”

Berks simply glared at his insufferable brother-in-law. He’d never particularly cared for the man, and even less-so today.

The arrogant earl winked at Miss Birkin just before he too made a quick exit of the room. What the devil was that wink about? Had the blackguard taken up with the tart, right under Pippa’s nose? Was that it? An angry warmth started to swell in his chest.

“I—uh— Well, I’m sorry to have intruded upon your holiday, Lord Berkswell,” Miss Birkin said softly.

“Why did he just wink at you?” He narrowed his eyes on the fallen girl.

“I—I,” she stuttered. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know.”

“If you’ve taken up with him—”

She gasped before he could say more, her delicate hand fluttered to her pink lips. “I beg your pardon?”

She was going to play coy, was she? “We both know what sort of woman you are, Miss Birkin. But for some reason, my sister loves that blackguard and—”

“I would
never
do such a thing,” she said vehemently. A blush stained her pretty face. And she did have a pretty face. A pert little nose, lovely sea-colored eyes, set in a heart-shaped face, surrounded by bouncy, flaxen curls. She looked like an angel, honestly. She didn’t even look like the fallen variety.