A Dangerous Nativity (10 page)

Will sent a footman to tell the boys they
could join the family, and the three men rose. The earl felt
satisfied with himself, until he put his hand to the door to the
family parlor. Lord Arthur froze. He definitely had memories of the
room they were about to enter, as he had made clear the last
time.

Yes, now for the hard part.

***

Catherine enjoyed a private smile. One moment
Sylvia stood, rigid and uncertain, near the doorway. The next, her
son accosted her with a hug and an enthusiastic kiss. The duchess
couldn't hold back a warm smile, but her expression reflected
puzzlement and confusion. Charles grinned back and pointed up.
Those mischief-makers hung mistletoe where it will catch anyone
coming in the door.

Randy came in behind Charles. He looked
apprehensive, but he stood on his toes to place a quick kiss on the
duchess's cheek. "Joyeux Noël, Your Grace," he said, blushing
furiously.

Freddy did the same, and the duchess allowed
it.

Amazing.

Sylvia spun around, looking at Catherine as
though to ask if the world had turned upside down. Before Catherine
could speak, however, Glenaire came through the door.

Does a lady accost a gentleman under
mistletoe? No power on earth could push Catherine to approach the
aloof marquess. Her father followed behind, however, and she
couldn't resist. "Happy Christmas, Papa," she said, with an
affectionate kiss. The old man beamed back at her. "Happy
Christmas, Daughter."

The sound of loud throat clearing came from
the hallway. Lord Arthur stepped out of the way, to enable Will to
enter. Catherine started to take a step back, but a firm hand took
her wrist.

"Oh, no, you don't. Mistletoe rules," the
earl laughed.

His mouth covered hers in a kiss that heated
her to her toes, but managed to stay chaste enough for the
audience. Catherine felt her world spin.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Wheatly," the earl
whispered, searching her face. "I hope it is the happiest you've
ever known." He released her hand, but not her heart. His eyes held
hers. What an odd thing to say.

She felt relief when Will turned his eyes
away to look at the dancing faces of three boys, and suggested they
open gifts.

Songbird Cottage's modest gifts, framed
watercolors, were well received. The duchess appeared touched by
the pair of goldfinches in hers. "Chadbourn must have told you they
are my favorite," she said.

"Actually, it was my idea," Charles said,
proudly.

Will opened his gift to reveal a drawing of a
humble English robin, head high. "I will treasure this," he
murmured. Even the marquess seemed impressed with his painting of a
sleek, black raven.

Once Lord Arthur thanked the earl and duchess
for his pen set, all eyes turned to Catherine. "I can wait," she
said. "I'm not sure the boys can."

The next moments were a riot of paper and
exclamations. Freddy went into spasms of joy over a set of cavalry
figures sized to match the miniature army in Charles's nursery.
Randy grinned over a leather-bound copy of A Guide for Young
Shepherds. Charles opened a copy of The War of the Roses and
wrapped his uncle in an impulsive hug. Catherine initially
suspected the duke could expect more luxurious gifts over the next
twelve days, but doubt plagued her when Sylvia spoke.

"I've never known such a night in this house.
Mistletoe, Chadbourn? Gifts?"

Pity filled Catherine. Could it be, this
woman had never had a holiday party? Her father's next words wrung
her heart.

"There never was a night like this. M'father
didn't believe in celebrating. Church service, yes, but 'no pagan
nonsense,' he would say." Lord Arthur sounded bitter. "I think the
old man didn't want to spend a groat on family. It took my Mary to
teach me how to make a family. Praise God for her." He smiled at
Catherine sadly.

Silence greeted this statement. Even the boys
looked at him, their expressions sad. Catherine couldn't find
words. He had mourned her mother these five years, never more than
at Christmas.

It was the duchess who spoke next. Her words
startled Catherine. "Lord Arthur, you make her sound like a
wonderful woman. Why did your father disapprove of her? Why was he
so adamant we should avoid the pair of you?"

Lord Arthur glanced at Catherine and appeared
to come to a decision. "May as well tell it all. Time to heal." He
took a deep breath. Catherine saw Will and the marquess exchange
glances.

Lord Arthur went on without noticing the
others. "Mary had a child, of course, and wasn't married. She ran
to Scotland when she knew she had conceived. She ran before I could
stop her. It took me five years to find her, another four to set
myself up to support her and Catherine, and a few more years to
convince her. Would have stayed in Scotland, but all I had to
offer, Songbird Cottage, lay right next to Eversham Hall. She hated
coming back, but Emery let us be. Mary learned to love it."

Will spoke into the awkward silence, asking
what they all wondered. "Lord Arthur, are you Catherine's natural
father?" Catherine's heart cracked a little. She had wondered that
very question much of her life. She wasn't sure she wanted to know,
however, much less to find out in front of others.

Lord Arthur gave Catherine a look that
widened the crack. "No. I wish I were. Emery forced Mary, the
summer she turned sixteen."

The duchess gave a little cry. Catherine sank
back into the settee. When Will came to sit next to her, she hardly
noticed. Her attention belonged entirely to her father.

"Emery knew I loved Mary. He knew I planned
to marry her. He did it to hurt me, but he almost destroyed her.
M'father beat him when he found out what Emery did, but both of
them wanted Mary gone. Wanted no shame on the Wheatly name, as if
hiding her would cover what my brother did."

Catherine could not speak. When Will took her
hand, she clung to his. She caught movement from the corner of her
eye and saw Randy looking at Freddy as if asking for explanation.
She had forgotten the boys were there. So, apparently had Lord
Arthur.

All three boys had expressions filled with
hurt and confusion. Concern for the boys brought Catherine out of
her stupor. The boys obviously struggled to piece together what
they had just heard. Someone would have to give them blunt
explanations she would rather they never had to hear. She glanced
up at Will and saw the same concern in his eyes when he looked at
his nephew.

Charles broke the thick silence. He seized on
a boy's simplest issue. "Does that mean Cath is my sister?"

"But she's our sister," Freddy insisted.

"We'll need some time to sort this out, but I
think you're both right," She managed to sound reassuring.

"Interesting!" Charles exclaimed. "Having a
sister will be good, won't it?"

The adults laughed nervously and assured him
that it would be.

Sylvia rose and bustled to the bell pull. "I
think we need refreshments," she said, with a tight smile.
Catherine could see that her hands shook. As sick as Catherine felt
about what her own mother endured, she regretted that Sylvia had to
endure yet more pain over the behavior of her despicable husband.
How on earth will I ever face her again? How can I face any of
them?

"I don't think I can manage food," Catherine
said, rising. "You will understand I've had a shock, and I feel
unwell. I'll bid you good night." She spoke rapidly and tried not
to run out the door.

Will caught her as she reached the doorway.
"Catherine, I know this is a shock, but isn't it better to
know?"

She nodded, fighting tears and trying to tug
free.

"We'll manage this fine. When we're married,
it won't matter in the slightest."

Married? Merciful angels! She pulled free
then and ran. She ran like her life depended on it. Perhaps it
did.

***

"I thought I might find you here." Glenaire
spoke as he sank into a leather chair in Eversham Hall's study, a
male bastion of dark leather, lingering cigar smoke, and unread
books.

Will grunted and drained another glass of
brandy. He reached for the bottle and found it empty. "Ring for
another one. There's a good fellow."

"Rather rushed your fences back there."

"I made a mull of it. Tomorrow, I have to go
back to the beginning and court her all over again. She never even
opened her gift."

"What was it?"

"Silk gloves, useless on a farm. I meant to
tell her there's more to life than Songbird. That probably wouldn't
have gone well, either."

"Did you follow her?"

"To her room? What do you take me for? The
lady wanted to be alone."

"Did you at least tell her you love her?"

Will choked. "The Marble Marquess suggests
sweet words of love to court a lady? I thought you believed love
matches disgrace the participants and taint noble families with
weakness."

Glenaire shrugged. "You want what you think
your parents had: home, hearth, and love of the land. You don't
need a dynastic marriage."

"Like you do?"

Glenaire acknowledged the truth with an
inclination of his head.

"Oh, God, Will!" Sylvia burst into the men's
refuge and threw herself at her brother. He hardly had time to
register that she had called him by his Christian name, when she
told him, "He's gone. Charles has run off!"

Chadbourn calmed her enough to get the story.
She went up to the nursery to say goodnight to her son. "I mean to
do it every night now. Emery said it made him weak but—"

"Easy, Sylvia. You went up, and then
what?"

"His bed lay empty. And I found this." She
waved a scrap of foolscap.

Mother, don't worry. Catherine ran away, and
it is my job to protect her. I will find her and bring her
back.

Charles

Will looked at Glenaire. "Catherine bolted. I
have to go after her."

"Charles is out there in the dark, Will. You
have to find him," Sylvia cried, clutching his lapels.

The marquess pulled Sylvia away from Will.
"Go," he said. "I'll look after Her Grace." Glenaire grimaced while
the duchess wept into his pristine neckcloth. "Shall we ring for
tea, Your Grace?" he asked.

***

Catherine hugged Charles to herself. They
stood in Songbird's barn, where Catherine helped rub down Lady
Guinevere.

"You were brave to ride here, Charles."

"I had to. I had to. I didn't care if I fell.
You ran away, and I had to tell you I'm glad you're my sister.
Glad. Please give it time, Catherine. I promise to be a good
brother. Maybe it won't be so bad to be my sister. Truly." In the
damp night, his voice sounded thick and desperate.

"You thought I left because I didn't want to
be your sister?"

"My father wasn't a good man. He did bad
things. I don't blame you for being sorry he's your real papa." He
swiped at his cheeks.

"Oh, Charles, that part doesn't matter. Your
uncle Arthur is my real papa in every way that matters, and he's a
very good man. I have a good life here at Songbird Cottage."

"You don't have to live at Eversham Hall! I'd
rather live at Songbird, too. Do you think Lord Arthur would let
me?"

Catherine smiled into the gloom. "Your mama
needs you, I think. You've begun to make her smile again. You can
visit, though, whenever you want, and I can visit the hall, too."
When Will isn't there. I won't be able to bear it when he is.

"But, Cath," he said, and her smile deepened
at his use of the boys' affectionate nickname, "Uncle Will likes
you too. I know he does. I heard him tell Lord Arthur he wants you
all to visit Chadbourn Park. I thought maybe… that is… don't
people's families visit when people are betrothed?"

Oh, dear. She sighed deeply, and when she
spoke, she meant the words for her own heart, as much as for her
newfound brother. "Listen to me, Charles. Your Uncle Will is an
earl."

"You are the daughter of a duke," he said
stubbornly.

"You're old enough to understand that
children born outside marriage are not well received in society.
I'm called 'baseborn.'"

The boy started to speak, but she silenced
him with a finger to his mouth. "Besides that, I have no dowry, no
property, and no consequence to bring to marriage. Your Uncle Will
needs a woman who brings prestige to Chadbourn Park. I can't." The
bigger problem stuck in her throat. He needs a woman who knows how
to be a countess. I don't.

Charles started, as if a sudden thought
struck him. "Is that why you ran?"

"I didn't run. I just missed my home."

"You ran," he accused. "Uncle Will says only
cowards run."

The sound of a carriage rattling down the
lane interrupted them, followed by the sound of several people
scrambling out.

"The house is dark. Randy, you check it
anyway," a familiar voice called. "Freddy, look in the garden. I'll
check the barn."

Will! She looked around frantically.
"Charles, go tell your uncle all is well. Tell him I just need to
be alone. Do it now."

The boy ran as if to obey, but she had no
more than sunk deeper into the shadows when his voice, muffled by
the slats of the door, reached her. "She's in the barn, Uncle Will.
She thinks she wants to be alone, but I think you need to talk to
her."

Catherine scrambled up the ladder to the
loft, scooted through the stored hay, and sat against the wall. She
pulled her knees up protectively. I love him. God help me. I love
him, but I can't face him.

She heard the door open, and Will's firm
tread pace the length of the barn, lantern light marking his
progress. Silence followed, but her heart pounded so loudly, it
echoed in her ears. She dropped her head to her knees and closed
her eyes.

"Catherine," a soft voice said, startling her
with its nearness. Will's head looked over the top of the ladder.
He lifted the lantern and put it in the loft. The light flickering
off his hair lit up the golden highlights. "Did I frighten you so
badly? Did I go too fast?"