A Christmas Affair (11 page)

“It won’t be so bad,” he promised, infusing a note of confidence into his voice. “The twins are a plucky lot, and Belinda won’t care where we are so long as she has her cursed dolls. And Amelia, well, she’ll soon be marrying Charles, and they’ll be living in that crumbling old manor house he inherited from his uncle.”

“And what of you?” Amanda asked gently, touched by the way he thought first of the others. “You do know that you won’t be able to return to school? At least, not this year,” she
added, doing some swift calculations in her head.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I was thinking of coming home anyway,” he said, manfully swallowing his disappointment at the thought of giving up his beloved studies. “School’s a dashed bore.”

“Oh, Stephen.” She leapt to her feet to give him an impulsive hug. “I do love you!”

He returned her embrace somewhat awkwardly and then stepped back, the tips of his ears reddening with embarrassment. “Come now,” he said, loudly clearing his throat, “let’s go and tell the others, shall we? And don’t worry, Amanda. It will all work out in the end; you’ll see. We shall all be together, and in the end, that’s all that matters.”

The small stone church where five generations of Lawrences had worshipped was filled to overflowing as neighbors and villagers filed in to pay their final respects to Daniel. In celebration of the holidays, the interior had already been hung with festive greenery, but at Amanda’s request they had been left up, adding a touch of poignancy to the services. She was aware of a few shocked whispers, but she paid the speakers no mind. Daniel had always loved seeing the church decorated for Christmas, and she knew he would have approved.

On her right she could hear Amelia crying softly into her handkerchief, while Belinda sat on her left, a crooked finger tucked into her mouth as she listened to the vicar’s stirring eulogy. Amanda reached out and plucked the girl’s finger from between her lips, giving her hand a loving pat before turning her glance toward her brothers.

Stephen sat between Colonel Stockton and Belinda, his thin face rigid as he fought against tears. He was wearing one of Daniel’s old jackets, and the black velvet fitted somewhat loosely across his bony shoulders. She couldn’t see the
twins without leaning forward, but for once she wasn’t afraid they would misbehave. She’d overheard the colonel telling them that good soldiers never broke rank, and since then they’d been sitting as still and silent as a pair of statues.

Thoughts of the twins made her remember last evening and the brave way her family had taken the news. Amelia had instantly offered her bridal portion, insisting Charles wouldn’t mind. While she was thanking her, the twins disappeared into their rooms, emerging with an old metal box which they promptly placed in her hands.

“It’s our treasure,” Joss had said, for once speaking before Jeremey could open his mouth. “We was saving it to buy us a ship so we could be pirates, but you can have it.”

Even Belinda was eager to contribute to the family coffers, gravely offering to sell her beloved dolls. Amanda had blinked back tears as she refused both the dolls and the twins’ treasure — which amounted to almost ten pounds — but she knew she would never forget their unselfish generosity for as long as she lived.

The sound of the vicar offering the eucharist brought Amanda back to the present, and she silently bowed her head. Listening to the soothing words, she knew a sudden lifting of her spirits, and a feeling of peace and contentment washed over her. She could see Daniel’s smiling face in her mind’s eye, and she felt that if she tried very hard, she would be able to hear him speak. She shut her eyes tightly and concentrated with all her will, and from a great distance she heard a faint and familiar laughter.

“Don’t worry, sister, it will be all right. Never you fear, I shall look after you. . . .”

Following the service, the mourners adjourned to Lawrence Hall for a somber repast. Mrs. Hatcher had out
done herself and Amanda was pleased to note that everyone seemed to have more than enough to eat. She moved about the company like a quiet ghost, a set smile pinned to her lips as she accepted the condolences of her friends and neighbors.

From his position in front of the fireplace, Justin watched her progress with narrowed eyes. Her bright hair was scraped back in a bun so tightly not a single curl was allowed to escape, and the fierce temper he associated with her was nowhere in evidence. Not that he expected her to kick up a dust at her brother’s memorial service, he thought, his mouth lifting in a grim smile, but with her one could never be certain. Looking at her now, her slender body draped in a simple gown of black silk trimmed with jet beads, he found it hard to believe that she was the same woman who only yesterday had challenged him so defiantly.

The realization made his smile fade as he remembered last evening. She had been subdued, even somber, but he had put her mood down to simple grief. After all, the whole family had been surprisingly restrained—even the twins — and they’d made an early evening of it. Breakfast had been equally as quiet, as had the carriage ride to the church, but he suddenly found himself wondering if perhaps there might be some other explanation for his hostess’s lack of spirit.

“Ah, Colonel Stockton.” An elderly man paused before Justin, holding out a heavily veined hand in greeting. “I am Mr. Elias Stranton, sir, and I am most happy to make your acquaintance.”

“Mr. Stranton.” Justin recognized the solicitor’s name at once, and he stiffened with interest. Instincts honed by a decade in uniform told him the solicitor’s arrival yesterday was connected with Miss Lawrence’s behavior, and he was suddenly determined to learn just what had transpired in that little study.

“I am also pleased to meet you, sir,” he said, accepting the man’s hand with a warm smile. “I apologize for not introducing myself yesterday while you were here, but Miss Lawrence explained you had come on important business.”

“Ah yes, the will.” Mr. Stranton sighed, pleased the colonel was proving to be so approachable after all. He’d seemed so cold and haughty at the church. “A rum business, that.”

Justin’s ears pricked at this bit of news. Taking care to hide his interest, he took a casual sip of his punch, allowing a moment or two to pass before he remarked, “Yes, Miss Lawrence remarked that there was some impediment. Nothing too difficult, I trust?”

“Well, I really should not be saying,” Mr. Stranton said, licking his lips nervously. It wasn’t often he found himself the center of attention, and for a moment a rare sense of discretion warred with his natural inclination to gossip. “Professional confidence and all that,” he added, shooting Justin a look that indicated he could easily be persuaded otherwise.

Justin was quick to take the hint. “Come, Mr. Stranton,” he said, fixing him with a commanding look, “you can tell me. The lad died taking a musketball meant for me, and I promised him I would have a care for his family. If there is some problem, I insist that you tell me at once!”

That was all it took to loosen the solicitor’s tongue as he launched into an eager description not only of the terms of her grandfather’s will, but of her precarious financial situation as well. By the time he had finished, Justin was white-faced with fury.

“Do you mean to tell me that they are virtually penniless?” he demanded, his fingers tightening around his cup.

“Well, I would not go so far as to say that, my lord,” Mr. Stranton corrected in his pedantic way. “There is some income; two hundred and fifty pounds per anum, not count
ing the annuities to the younger children and the money Miss Lawrence will inherit from her mother. Their circumstances will be greatly reduced, but they are certainly not destitute.”

“But how will they live?” Justin asked feeling a cold wave of horror wash over him. Good God, he thought with growing consternation, he dropped more than that in one night’s gaming and never gave the matter another thought.

“I have mentioned the possibility of a marriage of convenience to Miss Lawrence,” the older man confided. “It is often the only way in such cases. A well-heeled Cit with more brass than breeding has been the salvation of many a highborn family, and although there is no title, the Lawrences are unmistakably Quality.”

“She could never have consented to such a thing!” Justin thundered, shooting Amanda an appalled look.

“No,” Mr. Stranton admitted with an indifferent shrug, “but you must agree, ’twould be the best for all concerned.”

“I do not,” Justin answered tightly, everything in him revolting at the very thought of either Amanda or the beauteous Amelia being reduced to such a choice. It was unthinkable, preposterous, and he for one would not allow it. Clearly something had to be done, and equally as clear, he was the man to do it. He set his punch cup on a nearby tray and turned to the solicitor.

“I would like to meet with you on the morrow, Mr. Stranton,” he said, coming to a sudden decision. “Please be here by one o’clock.”

The other man blinked at the terse command. “Of course, my lord,” he said, looking puzzled. “Er . . . might I ask what this is in reference to?”

“Duty,” Justin replied tersely, his jaw hardening with resolve as he studied Amanda. “It seems that I have been remiss in mine.”

“As you say, sir,” Mr. Stranton replied in a perplexed
tone, his expression clearing as he watched the colonel striding purposefully toward the corner where Miss Lawrence was standing. So it was like that, was it, he thought, his thin lips parting in a pleased smile. Excellent. And on that happy note he went off to explore the delights of the buffet table.

“. . . terrible thing,” Mrs. Kingsfield concluded dramatically, dabbing at her dark eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “My heart quite goes out to you and your precious family.”

“That is very good of you, ma’am, thank you,” Amanda replied dutifully, casting a surreptitious look at the clock above the mantle. She’d been trapped by her loquacious neighbor for the better part of a quarter hour, and her head was pounding with the effort of being polite. The elderly woman with her affected manners was trying under the best of circumstances, and given the present situation, Amanda was beginning to doubt her ability to remain civil much longer. She was wondering if she should simply slip away while the woman was still talking when she felt a strong hand cup her elbow.

“I want a word with you,” Colonel Stockton said, his voice commanding as he bent to whisper in her ear. “Now.”

Amanda’s first inclination was to ignore his curt demand, but the opportunity to escape from Mrs. Kingsfield was too tempting to resist. After murmuring a polite apology to the older woman, she allowed him to escort her out into the hallway. The moment they were alone, however, she pulled her arm free and turned around to face him.

“Really, sir,” she began, her eyes sparkling with a militant light, “I will thank you not to order me about like one of your soldiers!”

“And I will thank you, ma’am, to be honest with me when I ask you something!” Justin retorted, his face darkening with anger. Lawrence was right, he decided, crossing his
arms over his chest and meeting her incredulous stare. The minx was a regular tartar, and it hadn’t taken but a few minutes to put them at daggers drawn. But he was done with coddling her. He was in command now, and the sooner she realized that, the better.

“I — how dare you accuse me of dishonesty!” Amanda gasped, a flush of indignation adding needed color to her pale cheeks. “When have I ever deceived you?”

The presence of a gawking maid called Justin’s attention to their unsecure position and without another word, he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down the hall and into her study. When the door was closed firmly behind them, he said, “I know about the will, Amanda.”

His use of her Christian name was almost as shocking as his admission, and for a moment she could only stare up at him in mute astonishment. In the next she was exploding with fury.

“Mr. Stranton! I might have known that loose-tongued fool was not to be trusted! Why my stepfather saw fit to name him our guardian, I know not! He is the worst gossip in the county, and—”

“He only told me what he thought I had the right to know.” Justin’s cold voice cut off her tirade as effectively as a knife. “And I did have that right, Amanda, regardless of what you think.”

“I don’t see why,” she muttered ungraciously. “
You
aren’t our guardian.”

“No, but if it weren’t for me, Daniel might still be alive” he said with uncompromising honesty. “Directly or indirectly I am to blame for your financial difficulty, and I mean to set it right.”

For a few seconds Amanda was tempted, terribly tempted, to take whatever aid the colonel saw fit to offer. She’d been struggling with the lack of money for so long that the thought of being taken care of was sweet beyond all
bearing. But in the end her sense of pride and honesty won out over her weakness.

“Daniel was a soldier, sir, and he knew and accepted the risks he took,” she said quietly, her brown eyes serious as she met his gaze. “You aren’t to blame for his death, and I can not allow you to accept a responsibility that isn’t yours. I appreciate your concern for us, but we will manage.”

“How?” Justin demanded, his brows meeting in a fierce scowl. “By making a marriage of convenience? Stranton said you were as good as considering one.”

Amanda was hopelessly confused until she remembered the solicitor’s innocuous remark about an “advantageous” marriage. She hadn’t given the matter another thought since, but now she could see its merits, especially if it would convince the impossible man facing her that they didn’t need his help.

“Yes, I suppose a marriage of convenience would solve all of our problems rather nicely,” she hedged, mentally crossing her fingers.

Justin uttered a harsh oath under his breath as he stood glaring down at her. She was impossible, he thought savagely — a managing, infuriating scold — and he almost felt sorry for the poor, misguided fool who would offer for her. He would be expecting a lady for a bride, and would get a fishwife instead.

Despite the serious nature of their heated discussion, Amanda suddenly found herself fighting laughter. He looked positively apoplectic, she thought, biting her lips to hold back a smile. Apparently the thought of marrying out of one’s station, regardless of the reasons, offended his delicate sensibilities. She might have known he was a snob as well as a tyrant and a prig, she decided, casting about in her mind for a suitably abhorrent candidate for her hand.