The Duke's Christmas Greetings (Regency Christmas Summons Book 3) (18 page)

“I’m tired of being cooped up indoors,” Helen announced as she opened the door to Rosamond’s bedchamber. “Come on. Let’s ask Anthony if he will take us for a sleigh ride.”

Rosamond paused, mid-stroke on brushing her unruly curls. “I don’t know if that is such a good idea.” She hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but it was true. A sleigh ride with Anthony could rekindle those dangerous emotions she had worked so hard to suppress over the past two days. It helped that she had not seen him at all during that time. In fact, no one at Graveleon had really seen him. His sisters grumbled and complained that he was spending far too much time working in the barns, both at their home and at Danby Castle. His duty, they insisted, lay in amusing them.

“Why not?” With a sigh, Helen wrested the hairbrush from Rosamond’s grip. She began brushing with vehemence. “The weather is fine today. There’s a beautiful layer of snow on the ground. Besides, I’m bored. How will we ever make it until tomorrow? At least then, we will be able to enjoy preparing for the ball.”

Rosamond’s heart gave a painful thud. Yes, tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and she was supposed to win Richard’s favor. “When will Richard arrive?”

“We don’t know for certain.” Helen put the hairbrush aside and began winding Rosamond’s curls into a chignon. “Knowing Richard and his penchant for grand entrances, I should be very surprised if he arrives before the ball begins. He shall probably wait until we are in the middle of a country dance, and then everyone will see him and rush forward to congratulate him on making it to dry land.”

Rosamond suppressed an unladylike snort of laughter. Yes, that was Richard all right. “Or he might just swing in on a chandelier, a cutlass between his teeth.”

Helen worked swiftly, placing hairpins in a strategic fashion so that the chignon held. “Precisely. He is so different from Anthony. We’ll be fortunate if my eldest brother even attends the ball.”

“Why wouldn’t he go?” It was better if he didn’t, of course. She had promised herself the small pleasure of glancing at him from time to time. Perhaps partners would be scarce enough that he would have to ask her to dance, and she would, out of politeness and nothing else, be bound to accept. If he wasn’t there, though, she would have to turn all her attention to entrancing Richard. Which was, of course, the purpose of the evening.

“Anthony detests those kinds of events.” Helen pulled a few curls loose to bob about Rosamond’s ears. “Have you any earbobs? If so, you should wear them. They draw attention to your face.”

Rosamond nodded, and pulled her leather-bound jewelry case from the vanity table. She never wore jewelry, but Papa insisted on buying it for her anyway. “Ladies always have a fine collection of gewgaws,” he would say, presenting her with yet another necklace or bracelet.

Helen snapped the case open and looked through it. “Here. Wear the garnets. The deep color will set off your eyes to perfection.”

Rosamond put the earbobs on, and stared at her reflection. She did look prettier once Helen completed her handiwork. The attractive hairstyle and sparkling gems on her ears made all the difference in the world.

“Now that you’re dressed, come with me,” Helen ordered. “We shall find Anthony and make him take us for a sleigh ride. The weather is perfect, and he has been working far too hard. He deserves a respite, and so do we.”

“Where is Frances?” Perhaps she could at least delay the inevitable awkwardness by asking a few questions.

“She is finishing her breakfast. Why haven’t you eaten yet?” Helen flung open her wardrobe and removed her russet-colored cloak. “For heaven’s sake, do hurry.”

Rosamond draped the cloak over her shoulders. “I wasn’t hungry.”

Helen looked pointedly at her waist, which had shrunk a tiny bit over the past few days. “Nerves? Or are you trying to make yourself more slender?”

Rosamond glanced down. “Both. A little.”

“Good. Richard likes women who are lithe and slim,” Helen replied. “Let’s go.”

Somehow, the realization that Richard might like her if she weighed less made her feel even more jaded about their upcoming reunion. It was also a painful reminder of all of her inadequacies, which she had relentlessly cataloged over the past two days as she lay huddled in her room. At least her cloak concealed her plump figure. Now all she had to do was act naturally when in Anthony’s company, which would be difficult enough, given how much she had been mooning over him since they’d last met.

Had she not seen him since the night they returned? It seemed a small eternity since she’d spoken to him.

She followed Helen down the corridors and out the great hall. Helen was taller and quicker than she, and Rosamond had to scramble to keep pace. By the time they arrived at the barn, she was completely out of breath. She propped herself in the doorway, trying to gain some semblance of composure, while Helen charged in.

“Anthony,” she demanded imperiously, “come out here and speak to me.”

Anthony strode over from one of the stalls, wiping his hands on a rag. He was wearing breeches, boots, and a shirt open at the neck, with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. Rosamond looked away. She was having a hard enough time trying to appear serene and poised without seeing Anthony in such attractive disarray.

“What do you want?” He spoke tersely. “I’m busy.”

“You’ve been busy for days,” Helen retorted. “It’s high time you took us to have fun. Hitch up the sleigh and take us driving.”

“Us?” Anthony turned, and spotted Rosamond. He gave her a brief, curt nod. “I can’t today, Helen. Run along and find something else to do.”

“Oh, bother.” Helen crossed her arms over her chest. “We need something to occupy us until the ball tomorrow. We’re terribly bored, Anthony, and we want entertainment until Richard arrives. Be a good chap. We hardly ever ask you for anything. Rosie—“ She turned to Rosamond, a pleading expression on her face, “Do speak up. Anthony won’t refuse a guest. He’d say no to his own sister, but not to you.”

Rosamond swallowed, for her mouth had gone instantly dry. “It would be very nice of you,” she managed to croak.

He glanced over at her, a lock of hair falling over his brow. “Fine,” he muttered, ungraciously.

“Oh, thank you, Anthony.” Helen reached over and squeezed her brother’s arm in gratitude. “I’ll go and fetch Frances. Rosie, why don’t you stay here and talk to Anthony? Keep him company while he hitches up the horses?”

Fear shot through Rosamond like an arrow. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t. I’ll go back to the house and get Frances.”

“Nonsense,” Helen trilled, giving Rosamond a meaningful look. She swept past her brother and, as she passed Rosamond on the threshold, she hissed, “You still have time to practice.”

Rosamond stayed rooted in the doorway. She would not practice her sorely-lacking flirting skills on Anthony. What she felt for him was deeper than any flirtation, and if she opened her mouth to try to charm him, she’d likely make an absolute cake of herself, spilling the whole truth.

He was a wonderful man. He would make some girl very happy one day, just not Rosamond Hughes. So she must speak and act naturally around him, as naturally as she dared. She couldn’t avoid him, and she couldn’t love him, so she must just be kind to him.

He was bringing the horses around to the sleigh. “Can I help you?” she offered, finally walking all of the way into the barn. She put the hood of her cloak back as to see better.

“Wouldn’t want you to mess up your nice clothes,” he responded, his voice dry.

“Nonsense.” She removed her cloak and draped it over a nearby hay bale. “Here. I’ll fasten the other side while you work on this one.” Having something to do helped her to overcome her profound embarrassment. She worked deftly, buckling the buckles and threading the reins through the brass rings on the harness. “Lovely work on conditioning this harness,” she added. “The leather so often stiffens and begins to rot if it gets too wet. I was a little afraid the snow storm the other night destroyed it, but you’ve done a great job.”

He straightened, and stared at her over the horses’ backs. “I don’t understand you,” he muttered, his jaw clenched.

“Oh, I just meant that you show great care and pride in all the work you do with your horses.” He looked positively angry, and something deeper ran in his expression, too. Some kind of hurt. She stepped around to his side of the sleigh. Why was he so unhappy?

“No, I mean, I don’t understand you—I don’t understand why you want to change who you are.” He took a step forward. “Whenever I am in your company, and we are alone, I think what an extraordinary woman you are. But you want to change that.” He braced one hand against the carriage, and leaned forward, as though challenging her. “Don’t become another flibbertigibbet like my sisters. You are a rare jewel and lovely just as you are.”

All of the oxygen in the room had vanished. “I don’t think so,” she gasped.

He reached out and touched her cheek. “You are.”

The tip of his finger was rough, and it caught a little on her skin. She could not suppress a quick intake of breath at his touch. Her heart pounded heavily. He must be able to hear it.

“Are we ready?” Frances’ merry tone cut through the air like a knife. Rosamond sprang backwards, knocking herself against the sleigh. Heat flooded her face, and the place on her cheek where Anthony had touched her burned as though she had been branded.

“Yes, yes. Of course.” She grabbed her cloak from the stack of straw and drew it on. She kept her face turned stubbornly away from Anthony. How much had the girls seen? How long had they been standing there?

As they piled into the sleigh, Helen leaned over, her cheerful plaid cloak draping across Rosamond’s lap.

“Well done, my dear,” she whispered, patting Rosamond’s arm. “You will have no trouble working your magic on Richard.”

It was a sweet kind of torture to be near Rosamond as they skimmed over the frozen fields. He could not seem to control himself around her. More to the point, he could not refrain from touching her. If he wasn’t winding a silky-soft curl around his finger, then he was stroking the velvety smoothness of her cheek.

She had said she wasn’t enough. She was trying to make herself into something she was not in order to get Richard.

But would Richard appreciate the treasure heaped at his feet?

He guided the horses carefully around a bend in the road, and his sisters whooped with joy. Rosamond alone sat quietly, her eyes half-shut and her head tilted upwards, as though she were savoring the icy-cold breeze. She would not look at him, would not even glance in his direction, since their shared moment in the barn.

It was unlikely Richard would realize the treasure Rosamond was. He made no secret of loving his his bachelor ways, and of having many adoring women on a string. He would not love Rosamond the way Anthony would. Would he be a blackguard if he stole Rosamond from his brother?

No. He had been wrong to think so in the first place. Richard wouldn’t give up his carefree existence to settle down, no matter how Rosamond was being pushed to present herself. He loved his freedom too much, and he was still seeking his fortune. A wife would tie him down.

He turned the horses so they began heading back to Graveleon, and a collective groan arose from his sisters. “We’ve been sledding for an hour already,” he shouted above the din. “I have other matters to attend to this afternoon.”

As a matter of fact, he had important business that he must focus upon. Now that he had banished the problems of Richard and brotherly honor from his mind, he had to formulate a plan. No, not a plan. A courtship.

He dropped the girls at the portico for the great house, taking great care to treat Rosamond cordially, but without flustering her again. His sisters were his witnesses, and they would enjoy any perceived flirtation far too much—and for the wrong reasons.

When he reached Danby, the castle was full of guests for the duke’s Christmas gathering. Cousins, uncles, aunts, and other relations both distant and close, were milling about the grounds, chatting in the hallways, or taking tea in one of the many rooms on the first floor. Servants ran to and fro, a sure sign of the crush of visitors, for usually the servants at Danby were never seen and rarely heard.

He only needed to speak to one person, however, and he had a pretty good idea of where she might be.

He took the steps two at a time, dodging relatives as best he could, until he reached the second floor. Then he made his way to the library. The massive oak door was closed, but he had an excellent reason to interrupt.