Greetings of the Season and Other Stories (32 page)

“Hunt on your…? Oh.”

“I had thought she’d be more eager to return to London if she had one of your kittens to show off.” Along with the diamond and ruby bracelet he’d ordered. “But now I doubt if she’d go, until she’s got her claws firmly into the wealthy Cit.”

“You don’t mind?”

“What, that she’s finding a new protector? That’s why I asked to bring her tonight. It was either Mactavish or Remington. I am relieved.”

So was Gerry.

“Oh, and I put in a good word with Mactavish about your brother. Told him I thought the lad would do well in politics, with the right backing. And that Prinny was handing out titles like tea cakes, to those who made significant contributions to the regent’s coffers. No reason a baronet couldn’t be elevated to baron or some such. I agreed to use my influence in Town.”

He hadn’t only hung the moon, but the stars along with it. “You did all that? For Stacey?”

“No, for a Christmas kitten for my daughter.” And one for Charleen.

7

Miss Geraldine Selden wished she had more time, alas. With Christmas right around the corner, there were never enough hours for all the shopping, sewing, baking, and decorating, much less choir rehearsals, c
hil
dren’s parties at the orphanage and the school, and informal gatherings at the neighbors’. Every year she vowed to start earlier, and every year she enjoyed every minute of the frantic rush. This year, however, she truly needed a few more weeks to try to earn enough money to reclaim Stacey’s horse. He would be so disappointed when Mactavish banned him from Selden House as a suitor for the heiress, he’d need cheering more than ever. The mare couldn’t take the place of Miss Mactavish’s hand in marriage, of course; then again, Jigtime wouldn’t soak his shirtfront with constant tears, as Miss Ginger seemed wont to do.

Gerry decided to make one more attempt to bargain with Squire Remington. Sadly, he no longer owned the horse, but he did want a kitten. Under no conditions would Gerry give one of her darlings to a house full of unruly, uncivilized little heathens, to say nothing of the hard-drinking squire and his flea-bitten hounds. He said he wanted the kitten for his sister in Bath, however, a poor invalid who could never travel. That was the excuse she gave for never visiting Remington Manor, at any rate. Gerry said she’d think about it.

*

Squire wished he had more time, blast it. With that confounded ball coming faster than a bull with a burr up his nose, Remington needed help. He put on his Sunday clothes, having washed his hands and face and behind his ears, and took himself off to Boughton’s place. At The Boughs, he made Miss Musgrove a handsome offer, which she handily accepted. The governess moved into the manor; Jigtime moved to the earl’s stables. Suddenly there was peace and quiet.

Suddenly the servants were not threatening to leave. Suddenly Squire could take a nap in his own book room without barricading the door and hiding the key to his gun cabinet or his wine cellar. Glory! And the woman had done it all in…jig time. Squire slapped his knee. Damn, things were looking up. He was feeling so in charity with the world, in fact, that when Miss Selden called, he asked for one of her infernal cats. Silly creatures, they were, all hair and no nose, with enough airs to shame a duchess, but if she was too stubborn to trade with the earl, Squire decided, he’d see they both got what they wanted. They might even get a bit more than they bargained for. He slapped his knee again, which a mangy brindle dog named Squeaky took as invitation to join him on the couch.

*

Miss Musgrove wished she had more time, by heaven. The whole county was invited to Squire’s ball and she’d barely begun to get the little savages in hand—a hand which incidentally held a birch rod—much less the servants, the sty of a manor, and Squire himself. The dogs had to go, as soon as she had a firmer grip on the reins, but at least Miss Musgrove was only sharing her quarters with unmannered mongrels, not mistresses.

*

Charleen, Lady Trant, wished, once again, that she had more time. But there was another wrinkle in her mirror every day, so she dare not wait much longer. She was no closer to melting Boughton’s heart, if he had one to melt, and her bills were no closer to being paid. Most likely she’d never had a chance of bringing the top-sawyer up to scratch, no, not even if she’d managed to get one of those curtain-climbing cats for his sickly little brat. His gratitude would extend only so far. So far he had presented her with a necklace she wouldn’t be ashamed to walk into a pawn shop with, and the promise of a check waiting for her in London—if she left, and left him the pearls. His patience was growing as thin as Charleen’s hair, from all the bleaching. Aunt Forbisher’s kissing the antique armored knights, hoping for one of the footmen under the mistletoe, wasn’t helping. So Charleen powdered her nose and rouged her cheeks, and went to see Mr. Mactavish. The bald old man couldn’t hold a candle to the earl, but he did hold a king’s ransom in Consols.

*

Mactavish wished he had more time, by George, time to show his little girl off in London and time to make a noble match for her. But she was getting her heart set on young Selden more every day. And turning into a blotch-faced watering pot, besides. With her looks so off, it was a wonder even the baronet came to call. Mactavish wanted her married, he wanted her a lady, but more and more, he wanted his mewling daughter and her meowing cat off his hands. Especially now, when he could wrap his hands around the tidiest bit of willing woman he’d encountered in years—if his daughter were not underfoot. That was why he got so excited when Lord Boughton came to make an offer. Unfortunately, the offer was for Ginger’s cat, not Ginger.

“What, part those two? Be easier to part the Red Sea, my lord. The widgeon ain’t been the same since she got the puss, but I’ve got enough woe trying to get her mind off young Selden without sending her into a decline. But happens I might be able to persuade Miss Selden to give me another, to sweeten me toward the family, like. I could say I got so used to having the little blighter underfoot that I want one of my own, for when Ginger goes off on her wedding trip.”

“You get the cat for me, Mactavish, and I’ll get Selden a higher title, even if I have to give him one of mine.”

*

The earl wished he had more time, by Jupiter. Christmas was just days away and he was no nearer to getting one of the wretched little beasts for his daughter than he was to flying. He’d even inspected every litter of kittens in the shire, it seemed, in hopes of finding one that looked peculiar enough to pass for one of Miss Selden’s misfits. He had his London solicitor make inquiries at the Royal Feline Fanciers Society, with no luck. Drat the woman for being a pig-headed prude when it came to giving away the Malukistan mousers. And drat her for intruding on his dreams, too. She was not mistress material, and she sure as the devil would not make a comfortable wife, if he were in the Marriage Market, which he was assuredly not. Therefore, she had no business in his thoughts, his imaginings, his Christmas wishing. Brett vowed to put Miss Selden entirely out of his mind—as soon as he’d gone to the gatekeeper’s cottage one more time.

*

Sir Eustace wished he had more time, hang it. At first he worried that Mactavish would scoop Ginger off to London for presentation to every fortune hunter in town, or arrange a marriage for her with some ancient aristocrat. He didn’t think the merchant could outright ban him from the doorstep of Selden House, since Stacey still owned the pile, but he could make sure Ginger wasn’t home to receive him. The old man seemed to be leaning toward favoring his suit, though, with the earl’s influence, Stacey didn’t doubt. At least he’d stopped slamming doors and throwing things, according to Ginger, who was adorably ablush as she offered him tea. Before the old crab could change his mind again, Stacey meant to make a formal offer for his darling Ginger. He was fairly certain she’d accept, too, if her father gave permission. She’d whispered to him after church that she missed
him
. What joy! Stacey had walked into a tree, waving goodbye. Lud, he wanted his sister to know such happiness. Furthermore, he wanted her to have a comfortable future, without having to share the cottage with him and Ginger. Even if Mactavish let them all move back to Selden House, the baronet knew Gerry would not be content as a poor relation in another woman’s home.

Sir Eustace desperately wanted his sister to shine at Squire’s ball, his last hope that a particular nobleman would take notice. He wanted her pearls.

Gerry was out delivering baskets to the needy when Boughton called, but Sir Eustace was glad to see his employer, even if he was a shade embarrassed to have to wipe cat hairs off the chair before he could invite the earl to sit. Once he’d poured a glass of brandy, he put forth his new offer. As he explained to the earl, if Stacey could gain Mactavish’s blessing, then the bank would surely make him a loan against future expectations, with which he could pay Lord Boughton back for his sister’s necklace. Not that he was interested in Miss Mactavish for her father’s money, he made sure the earl knew.

“I never supposed such a thing, not with the two of you making sheep’s eyes at each other across the church aisle all through vicar’s sermon.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a velvet pouch. “No, the pearls should never have been sold. I understand the need at the time, and I only blame your father for that, not you. But they belong to Miss Selden. So, here, take them, for her. You’ve worked hard enough to earn them. They’re yours, no strings attached. The only thing is, if you could see your way clear…”

“You still need a kitten for your daughter.”

So Stacey asked his sister for one of the cats as soon as she returned home. “You just have to trust me on this, Gerry. You know I’d never do anything to hurt one of them.”

Since he was sitting on the sofa with Ranee on his shoulder and Mizra Khan playing with his watch fob, and kittens tumbling in his lap, she could not refute his love for the creatures. Nor how happy and carefree he seemed, for the first time in ages. “I’ll think about it,” was all she said.

“Don’t think for too long. I mean it for a Christmas present.”

Gerry wished she had more time. And more kittens.

*

Lady Samantha Wouk wished she had more time, but she was not giving up hope. Her father was here, Miss Musgrove was not, and Sammy needed only one more miracle.

“Papa, why don’t you ask Miss Selden to call, so she can see what a nice home we’ll give the kitten?”

“You know I cannot invite an unmarried woman to my house, poppet. That must have been one of Aunt Jane’s rules you forgot.”

“You could if we invited Sir Eustace and Miss Mactavish to tea, also, couldn’t you?”

“I suppose that might suit, if you are sure you are well enough for it.”

“Papa, I am feeling fine!”

She was looking less peaked every day, and had, to his mind, an inordinate amount of energy for a sickly child. One more game of Hide and Seek would have him taking to his bed. Company tea sounded lovely. The invitations went out, were accepted, and Lady Samantha threw herself into planning her first party.

First to arrive, Gerry and her brother were met at the door by two footmen who took their wraps, and a bewigged butler who escorted them to the nursery parlor, where another footman threw open the door, so the butler could announce their names with every ounce of pomposity he could muster. Lady Samantha giggled. So did Gerry.

A gentleman playing with his son was always an affecting sight, but a lord presiding at his daughter’s dolls’ tea party was sheer magic. The earl was seated at a child-sized table, his
kn
ees almost touching his chest, balancing a tiny teacup. How had Gerry ever thought him stiff and careless of others, arrogant and unloving? His affection for the little girl shone through the embarrassed flush at being caught in such an undignified pose. “We, ah, that is, Sammy thought you should see where the kitten would reside, before taking tea downstairs. Perhaps you would care to wait below, Sir Eustace, in case Miss Mactavish arrives soon and wonders where her host and hostess have disappeared to.”

Stacey was down the stairs before the hoped-for cat could lick its ear. Gerry did not have time to feel the awkwardness in the situation—although she did note that there was no impropriety, with the young housemaid mending one of Lady Samantha’s pinafores in the corner—before the child took her hand and led her to the nursery bedroom. Gerry was encouraged to inspect the wicker basket, lined with the softest flannel, that was to be the kitten’s bed. Pretty porcelain bowls were already set out on an embroidered table runner, waiting food and water.

“And behind the screen in the schoolroom is where its earth box will go. Jed Groom is building it. What do you think?”

“I think you and your father have thought of everything,” Gerry noted, except, of course, how devastated the child would be if no kitten appeared on Christmas morn. Now this was blackmail in the worst degree. Gerry glowered at the earl, who merely shrugged his shoulders, but he couldn’t hide the dimpled grin, the same one Samantha wore. Gerry conceded, as they all knew she must.

“I can see you will make an admirable cat keeper, my dear. I am sure one of Ranee’s kittens will be happy to come live with you.”

The child threw her thin arms around Gerry’s legs, almost toppling her, in her excitement. “Oh, but Papa said it’s to be a surprise.”