Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas) (11 page)

The last titled person who came to mind was Lord Doncaster, who resided in Leffington some ten miles away. That baron had to be getting along in years. He could be dead for all David knew. David's pulse accelerated. What if Lord Doncaster were succeeded by a handsome
younger
man? Just because Lord Doncaster had not sired any sons did not mean his heir couldn't be a young, handsome bachelor. David hoped to God that was not the case. He swallowed. “Does Miss Balfour even know a baronet?”

Cathy giggled. “No, she doesn't. Papa and I try most sincerely to push such silly ideas from my sister's beautiful head.”

Mr. Balfour was a very wise man. His Sunday sermons always demonstrated a remarkable degree of intelligence. The vicar's maiden sister, though, was quite another thing. David's mother had little patience with the foolish woman. Mrs. St. Vincent, a woman in possession of a considerable degree of intelligence, frequently remarked that Kate Balfour was in want of good sense.

He now had verification of his mother's opinions. Imagine, filling pretty Miss Balfour's head with notions of marrying a title!

Straight ahead he saw the lighted windows of Stoneyway. How good it felt to be back in Ramseyfield! His heart swelled, filling him with such a deep sense of appreciation, it was almost palpable.

Eyeing the Balfour home, he thought of all those previous times he'd been there as a child and as a young man. He never knew then what a privilege it was to live here in Ramseyfield. It had taken hundreds of lonely nights in strange, often hostile lands for him to understand the welcoming comfort of the place where he'd been born, the deep affection he felt for the people he'd known over the course of a lifetime.

He was aware that when he beheld his own house and his own much-beloved mother and siblings, his reaction would be even more profound.

Though he longed to see Miss Elizabeth Balfour, he knew that even a quick visit could rob him of still-passable roads. If he waited much later, it would be impossible to get home to his family tonight.

“I do hope, Mr. St. Vincent, you are home for good now. How often we have thought of you and prayed that you'd return safely.”

“I must be getting quite old for all I've been able to think of is settling down in Ramseyfield with my own farm.”

“I suppose as the captain of a vessel you've scooped in your share of bounty.”

He nodded. “I've been fortunate.”

“That's wonderful! Did you know Lord Haworth has decided to sell Belford Manor?”

“What, Miss Balfour, are you suggesting?” Even the hint that he could take up residence in that stately old pile set his pulse racing.

“I was hoping—for your sake—that you could afford to consider purchasing it.”

Surely if he were in possession of Belford Manor the beautiful Miss Elizabeth Balfour would be most agreeable to uniting her life with his. “I don't know if my pockets are that deep.”

“I heard that since Lord Haworth has not taken especially good care of it in recent years—owing to his deplorable addiction to faro—he may let it go cheaply.”

He found himself confusing Cathy's more mature voice with her sister's, and the two now seemed indistinguishable. But, of course, he hadn't heard Elizabeth speak in years.

It wasn't just their voices which seemed to blend. Unless Elizabeth had grown considerably, he thought the two sisters were built remarkably alike. Both were of medium height, which was considerably shorter than he. And both were on the slender side but he remembered Elizabeth being pleasingly rounded in the places where a woman should be rounded.

He could almost believe it was Elizabeth's back brushing against his chest, almost believe that sweet rose scent were Elizabeth's, and only with the greatest restraint was he able to resist encircling the younger Miss Balfour with arms that ached to hold her sister. “Then be assured that as soon as the snow abates, I shall make inquiries about Belford Manor.”

“It's so wonderful having you home again.” Her head spun as if she were trying to see his face behind her. “Is this to be a surprise for your mother, or does she know you're coming?”

He turned onto the lane to Stoneyway. “A little bit of both, actually. I told her in my last letter I'd be home for Christmas, but she doesn't know when I'm to arrive.”

“How I wish I could see the dear woman's face when she beholds you after so long!”

Cathy had always been a great favorite of his mother. And of everybody, actually.  “By the way,” he said, “I have something to return to you. A Balfour Family heirloom. Do you even remember giving it to me?”

“Of course I remember! I knew Grandpapa's cross would keep you safe.” Now she did turn enough that he could see her profile outlined against the smoke-colored skies. “I was so afraid I- - -we'd never see you again.”

His voice softened. His free hand settled gently at her slim waist. “I've never taken it off these past six years.”

As they came to a stop not twenty feet from her front door, his emotions were conflicted. On the one hand he hated to terminate this conversation with Cathy. He was disappointed, too, that he would not be able to feast on the vision of Elizabeth. But he was equally as impatient to be at his own home, to be with his own family after so long an absence. Each moment of delay would make it more difficult to get home over roads that were obliterated by snow.

It was as if she could read his thoughts. “I don't suppose you can come in tonight?”

He shook his head as he dismounted. “I must make haste before the snows fall even harder.” He helped her down.

She offered her hand. “Promise you will call on us the minute the roads clear.”

He brushed his lips across the back of her hand and bowed. “I give you my word.”

* * *

Elizabeth flung her arms around Cathy's neck before her sister could even remove her wet cloak. “I was beyond miserable with worry over you! I feared we'd find your corpse frozen to death. How could you put us into such a fright?”

Cathy shook the snow from her cloak and hung it on a wall peg. “It was a perfectly fair day when I left at noon.”

Elizabeth's brows lowered. “Did I hear the sound of a horse bringing you home?”

“Indeed you did. You will never guess who rescued me from my icy misery.” Stripping off her gloves, Cathy went straight to the hearth to warm her icy fingers.

“Then I beg that you just tell me.”

Cathy almost hated to. For those few minutes she had liked to think she had David all to herself. He was perhaps the only thing on earth she did not want to share with her sister.

She'd been so happy with the dark knight who'd rescued her from the frozen path.

How she treasured their solitary ride that frigid evening. How she treasured everything about the most handsome man in the entire Royal Navy.

She knew, though, that once David and Elizabeth saw one another, she would never spend a single minute alone with him again.

He had never told Cathy he was in love with her sister, but she had often observed the way he hungrily looked at Elizabeth. He would never look at the younger sister in a similar way. No matter how badly she wanted him to.

“Actually it was David St. Vincent. Captain St. Vincent.”

Her overly dramatic sister clutched at her chest, her mouth gaping open. “David's home?” Her eyes sparkled like crushed crystal. “You must tell me, is he as handsome as ever?”

Cathy pictured him as he'd stood there in the snow, tall and exceedingly handsome as his hands clasped her waist to hoist her atop the horse. His greatcoat had stretched over broad shoulders, his dark hair spilled onto his fine, masculine face. Her heartbeat drummed at the memory of the man. And she nodded.

“Why did you not ask him in?” Elizabeth pouted, something she did frequently and to great effect.

“Had he dallied even for a minute, he might not have been able to reach home. The snow seemed to get heavier with each passing minute.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “He could have stayed in Papa's room.” Her lower lip puckered into a perfect pout.

Cathy glared at her sister. “Honestly, Elizabeth, consider the poor man's feelings! He hasn't seen his family in six long years.”

“There is that, I suppose.” Her pout stayed.

As dearly as she loved her sister, Cathy did not feel like talking to her right now. In fact, she merely wanted to go to her bedchamber. And remember every torturing word, touch, or glance that had passed between her and the man she had always loved.

For her love of David St. Vincent was the only secret she had ever kept from her sister.

Chapter 2

Miss Catherine Balfour's head was filled with just one thing: a very handsome officer, though she'd sooner forfeit her well-loved and completely spoiled Fluffs than admit to her obsession over David St. Vincent. In all other respects, she was competent, pragmatic, and relatively intelligent. Except in matters pertaining to a certain recently returned captain in the Royal Navy.

She may have refrained from giving voice to her thoughts of him, but those thoughts had done a thorough job the past three days of robbing her of rational judgment.

There had lamentably been the incident where she absently locked Fluffs in her linen press and sat down to read Scott while petting the shawl folded in her lap—completely oblivious to her poor cat's screeches.

And she still had not come up with a plausible story to explain how she could have mistaken the post boy for her youngest brother. He was a full head shorter than Matthew and of swarthy complexion. All of the Balfours were very blond.

She had even provided entertainment at the dinner table the previous night by pouring beef gravy into one of Mama's lovely stemmed crystal glass. “I declare,” Aunt Kate had chastised, her eyes wide with surprise, “I have never seen my level-headed niece act so scatter brained.”

“I will own,” Matthew responded, “Cathy's acting more like Elizabeth.”

Except for the similarity in their hair color, Cathy had never been compared to her elder sister—unless it be by someone uncharitably questioning how so beautiful a girl could have so plain a sister.

In the three days since she had seen David, Cathy had developed an inordinate curiosity about the weather. It was a wonder she had not worn thin the Turkey carpet between her desk chair and the window from her incessant trips to peer at the bleak winter landscape. She knew he would come once the snow cleared, and not an hour passed that she did not observe the relentless snowfall, willing it to go away.

On the fourth morning, she had awakened to radiant skies even though a great chill still hung in the air.
David will come today
, she had told herself as she dressed in her warmest garments in order to visit poor Mrs. Williamson
and return in time for David's afternoon call. It always puzzled her that
morning
calls were paid in the afternoon.

That afternoon, she was returning to Stoneyway later than she would have liked, but she had not wanted to leave the unfortunate widow until she was better able to raise her spirits. When Cathy had arrived at the dark little Williamson cottage, the poor widow had not even attempted to draw open the curtains to allow in the day's meager light.

She had sat in front of the fire in the dark little room, knitting for her babe. “Oh, Miss Balfour, it is so very good of you to come. Your visits are the only thing I have to look forward to.”

“Now that simply isn't true, Mrs. Williamson. You've got the babe—your very own flesh and blood—to look forward to.”

The widow nodded. “I do look forward to having someone to love, someone who will love me as me Frederick did.”

“You must remember how blessed you were to be loved by Frederick. Conceive that some women will go to their graves and never know a love like that.”
Will I be one of those women? Like sour Aunt Kate.

Though Mrs. Williamson was five years her senior, when she smiled up at Cathy, there was a child-like quality about her. “It always cheers me when you come, Miss Balfour. You bring cheer wherever you go.”

“That makes me very happy to hear.” Cathy handed her a wrapped piece of plum pudding. “Here, I know how much you like this.”

“You are so thoughtful and kind.” She quickly unwrapped it and broke off a piece to eat. “I hate to burden you with my problems, but you're the only person I have.” Mrs. Williamson's eyes misted. “I dreamt last night that the babe was born dead.”

How cruel it would be for the woman to suffer two such losses so close together! “I'm sorry you had such a wretched dream, but you must realize that's all it was: a dream. As long as your spirits stay so low, those melancholy thoughts will invade your dreams. I must encourage you each night before you go to bed to force yourself to think pleasant thoughts.”

Cathy hated to leave Mrs. Williamson before she could brighten her outlook. When she finally felt comfortable enough to leave, she stood. “It's just four days until Christmas. I will save a place for you in our pew on Christmas morning.”

“I hope my babe comes before Christmas.”

Cathy shrugged. “It could be a Christmas baby.”

“What a blessed Christmas gift that would be!”

By the time Cathy returned to Stoneyway, the St. Vincents' carriage was already there. Her spirits fell. She would not have the opportunity to change into a more feminine or more flattering dress. She would have to greet the man of her dreams in her serviceable woolen frock while her beautiful sister would no doubt be stunning in something delicate and utterly lovely.Why should it matter what she wore? No man would ever even look at her as long as Elizabeth was in the same chamber.

As she moved along the lane, she remembered David reminding her of the last words she'd said to him when she was twelve and a half and had no sense of delicacy. It still embarrassed her that he knew her secret when not even her own sister suspected. How grateful she was that he had the decency not to repeat those embarrassing words when they had met again!

Inside her house, she was still shaking her head at her foolishness six years previously. How could she have been so humiliatingly honest? Obviously, she had been completely devoid of pride. She'd had six years in which to restore that pride, and she vowed to never again humiliate herself in such a way.