Once Upon a Christmas Kiss (2 page)

“We’ll have such fun, Winnie,” her sister said, hugging her. “It will be like the old days before Mama and Papa died.”

Winnie didn’t bother pointing out to her sister than even when their parents had been alive they had never been invited to the sort of house party they were likely to find at the Hursts. And to her own surprise, she found herself growing, if not as enthusiastic as Cordy about the possibilities of the house party, then at least more sanguine.

Once they had arrived, however, she had found all her expectations had proved correct. Though Lord and Lady Hurst had welcomed them with warmth, Cordelia and Winifred were given two small rooms facing the kitchen garden in the East Wing. True, they were actual guest rooms rather than servants’ quarters as Winnie had feared, but she knew well enough that the Hursts wouldn’t have dreamed of placing any of their other guests in such tiny chambers.

Even so, the rooms were quite prettily furnished, and to her surprise, Lady Hurst had assigned them their own maid—to be shared between them. It was a luxury Winnie had never been afforded before, and which frankly made her nervous. She was well acquainted with the way that servants viewed the people they served, and she suspected that the maid, Mary, found both Winnie and Cordelia pitiable because of their low status and perhaps even resented them for it. Even so, since Cordelia was thrilled by the notion, Winnie did not voice her concerns aloud.

Lady Hurst had told them that they might rest a while before dinner, and Cordelia, having taken one look at the comfortable bed in her own room, was determined to do just that. Winnie, however, was not used to having free time during the day, and closing her chamber door behind her, stepped out into the hallway in search of the library, which Lady Hurst had informed her was in the main wing of the house. She had nearly reached the staircase when a gentleman burst forth from one of the bedchambers along the hall, nearly knocking her down.

“Oh, I say,” he gasped, gripping her by the upper arms, which in her surprise made Winnie flinch. “I’m terribly sorry.” But almost as soon as he grabbed her, he let go.

She could never say after that just what it was about the man that was familiar to her. It might have been his height, or the way he held himself, or even his clean scent of sandalwood mixed with man, but she knew from the moment he touched her just who he was. “Sir Lucien,” she said, her voice sounding breathless to her own ears. “I did not expect to meet
you
here.”

If he was shocked to see her, he did not show it. Instead, he bowed with his customary aplomb until he spoiled the effect by grinning. “Miss Nightingale. What a pleasant surprise.”

At his obvious pleasure on seeing her, Winnie felt her heart beat faster. “You are a guest for the holidays, too?” she asked, wondering where the easy familiarity they’d enjoyed in Yorkshire had gone.

“I am, indeed,” Sir Lucien said with an easy charm that never failed to make Winnie melt a little. “Lord Hurst is my cousin, and I’ve been invited to spend Christmas holidays. It is a long-standing invitation, but I’ve never accepted until this year. How pleased I am that I finally did.”

As friend and neighbor to Winnie’s employer, Sir Lucien ran tame in the Duke of Ormond’s household, and not long after she accepted her position there she realized that it would be impossible for her to avoid the man, even if she wished to. And to her shame, she very quickly realized that she did not wish to. Not only was he handsome, which even Winnie found herself susceptible to upon occasion, he was also witty and charming and kind. Despite her best efforts to keep him at arms’ length, the two developed a friendship. And, as her employers did not appear to object, Winnie had allowed it as her one indulgence in an otherwise carefully ordered life.

But a country friendship far from the prying eyes of Sir Lucien’s friends and relations was one thing. They might technically be guests under the same roof now, Winnie reflected as she stood before him, but that hardly meant that she’d been elevated to his social equal.

She was, regretfully, about to bid him good day and excuse herself when he tilted his head to the side and snapped his fingers. “Of course! The schoolteacher my cousin told me about is your sister. You’ve told me about your sister before, but I forgot until this very moment. And you’re the governess he spoke of.” At her nod, he continued, “I admit that when he first told me, I imagined a pair of dried up old prunes. It’s been that long since I thought of you as a governess. And if your sister is anything like you, then she’s as far as I’d expect from a schoolteacher as I could imagine.”

It might be easy for him to forget about her profession, Winnie reflected wryly, but she was not so lucky—an indication that perhaps she’d better keep to herself for the duration of their stay here, no matter how flattering his compliments might be.

“You said nothing of holiday travels when last we spoke,” Lucien went on, blithely unaware of her thoughts. “Not that you are required to inform me of your every plan, of course. If I’d known you were coming this way, though, I might have offered you a seat in my carriage.”

Better to warn him off before he got them both into trouble. “You know as well as I do, Sir Lucien,” Winnie said firmly, “that I could have done no such thing. What a lot of talk
that
would have caused. Besides I was perfectly comfortable in the duke’s carriage.”

“I would have engaged a maid to act as chaperone, of course,” he said with a frown. “I wouldn’t risk your reputation like that, my dear. No matter how foolish I think such rules are at times.”

But Winnie knew better than most that such foolish rules had ruined many a governess before her, and she’d come to have a healthy respect for them. Pinning a bright smile on her face, she said with the ease of long practice, “Indeed. Well, it appears that we are to spend the holiday together. I will let you return to whatever it was you were doing.”

Perhaps she was being overly harsh, but Winnie could not afford to let either of them fall into a false sense of security. Especially since she had her sister’s reputation to consider as well as her own.

Her head held high, she continued down the hall toward the main wing.

Chapter Two

Damn. Damn. Double damn.

Lucien cursed himself for being such a nodcock. Judging from the way she’d fled, he’d obviously said something to offend Winnie, he reflected some two hours later as he descended the stairs to the first-floor drawing room.

He had always accounted himself a bit of a charmer when it came to the ladies. He’d won over even the most reluctant of dowagers and the sourest of spinsters with his wit. But when it came to Miss Winifred Nightingale, he was no more socially adept than a smooth-cheeked stripling carrying out his first flirtation.

Things had been different in Yorkshire. Of that he was certain. Had it been only a few days ago that she’d blushed over his light teasing in Ormond’s parlor? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Now they’d landed in this strange land where they had to start over again from scratch, where their established friendship disappeared under the scrutiny of a houseful of other guests.

Nothing to be done about it now, he told himself as he entered the drawing room. Though he did hope to catch a glimpse of Winnie before she was monopolized by some pillock with more hair than wit.

He saw only his cousin’s wife, however. “Sir Lucien,” Lady Helen said with a broad smile as she looped her arm through his. “You are just in time for me to introduce you to the rest of the party.”

Vowing to make up for his earlier ill humor when he arrived, Lucien resigned himself to be on his best behavior and set himself to be at his most charming. “Anything for a pretty lady, my dear,” he said, allowing Helen to steer him from group to group. He found, as with many such gatherings, he was already acquainted with many of the other guests—a few of the men from his clubs in town, and the ladies from various
ton
entertainments over the years.

As they neared the corner, his gaze zeroed in on the settee where he finally spotted Winnie, seated beside a lady who was obviously her sister. While pretty enough, Miss Cordelia Nightingale was not nearly as striking as her sister. Even so, if they’d been given the benefit of wealth and seasons in town, he very much suspected they’d have taken the
ton
by storm.

Instead of introducing them, however, Lady Helen paused first beside a younger lady. “Of course you know Lady Emily Stanford,” she said, gesturing to the chit who’d been declared a diamond of the first water last season. He’d danced with the girl at her come out ball and again at some other ball last year. But try though she had to win him over, he’d found her a bit too impressed with her own beauty and wit.

“What a delight to see you again, Sir Lucien,” Lady Emily said, extending her hand for him to bow over it. “I must admit when you disappeared before the season was over last year, I was nearly prostrate with grief.”

Lucien doubted that very much, but said with a bland smile, “I regret causing you distress, Lady Emily. I was called away on estate business. Though I have little doubt that there were plenty of other gentlemen to amuse you in my absence.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded, with a tilt of her head. “But I cannot say that any of them was as charming as you.”

Her smile was sweet, but Lucien couldn’t help but feel as if she were marking him before the other ladies present. Like a cat rubbing her cheek against a favorite chair.

“And here we have Mrs. Green and her dear daughter Miss Green,” Helen said nodding to a matron of middle years whose taste in gowns seemed to run toward an overabundance of flounces and to a daughter who seemed well aware that her mother skirted the edge of what was fashionable. “I’m sure we in the village don’t know what we’d do without them,” Helen said. “For Mrs. Green is always busy with some project or other for the good of Little Sanditon. And Miss Green is never far behind.”

Lucien interpreted “always busy” to mean “busybody,” and seeing the speculative gleam in the woman’s eye he decided that it might be best to avoid the matron and her daughter for the duration of the visit. Even so, he bowed politely and declared himself delighted to make their acquaintance.

“I vow, Lady Helen,” Mrs. Green gushed, “he’s just as prettily mannered as you said.” Turning to Lucien she added, “Though I must warn you, Sir Lucien, my daughter is on the brink of an understanding.”

Miss Green winced at her mother’s words. “Mama,” she hissed in an undertone. “There is no understanding.”

But Mrs. Green was not to be quelled. “I do have three other daughters, however, if you wish to make their acquaintance. Though they are all out, they were
unable
to attend this party.” The matron cast a speaking glance toward Helen, which seemed to indicate to Lucien some resentment on her part. Perhaps because his cousins hadn’t invited
all
of the Green daughters? Not that he blamed Jem and Helen.

Miss Green turned bright red, clearly mortified at her mother’s words, adding credence to Lucien’s theory.

“I shall keep that in mind,” he said, torn between shock at the mother’s gall and sympathy for the daughter.

Even Helen, whom he’d never heard speak a cross word about anyone, looked pained, as she led him away. “And finally, we have my dear niece, Miss Patience Hawthorne.”

A knot settled somewhere in the pit of Lucien’s stomach. That was two unmarried young ladies Helen had introduced so far. He knew Helen was trying to do a bit of matchmaking over the holiday, but he was hardly in the market for a girl just out of the schoolroom as Miss Patience Hawthorne clearly was. Keeping his thoughts to himself, however, he bowed over the young lady’s hand and was not surprised to see her blush as he did so. “It is my pleasure, Miss Hawthorne,” he said kindly, taking care not to frighten her more than she clearly was. “I hope you will enjoy your holiday here with your aunt and uncle.”

“I-I-” she began, though whether she stuttered from nervousness or because it was a particular affliction of hers, he knew not. “That is to say, th-thank you, S-Sir L-Lucien.”

He noted that Lady Emily didn’t bother to hide her disdain for the younger girl. Nor did Mrs. Green, who had unfortunately followed them, her daughter in tow. Silence stretched out over the group, as if they were waiting for the girl’s next pained words.

Before anyone could say anything cutting, however, Miss Winifred Nightingale stepped forward and stood next to Miss Hawthorne. “I do hope you’ll play for us tonight, Miss Hawthorne, for my sister has informed me that you are quite talented at the pianoforte.”

The other ladies, as if prompted into speech by Miss Nightingale’s words, immediately echoed her. All of them devoutly wishing that the young lady would grace them with a performance.

“I fear I’ve neglected to introduce the other two ladies here, Sir Lucien,” Helen said. “The Nightingale sisters. Our own Miss Cordelia Nightingale is the local schoolmistress, and I have it on the finest authority that she is a gifted instructor. I know our local village children adore her.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Green interjected with an intent look at Miss Cordelia, “she should remember that her place is in the schoolroom.”

At the woman’s words, Cordelia blanched, and Lucien saw Winifred frown.

Still, moving on, he bowed over the elder Miss Nightingale’s hand and was rewarded with a warm smile. “I am charmed to meet you, Miss Nightingale.”

“And this is her sister, Miss Winifred Nightingale,” Helen continued, “who is in Little Sanditon for the holidays.”

Lucien looked her fully in the eyes for the first time since their disastrous encounter in the hallway. To his amusement, she didn’t back down. One brow raised in challenge, she tilted her chin a little as if daring him to speak. She hadn’t forgiven him then, he thought ruefully.

“I am pleased to tell you that Miss Winifred Nightingale and I are already well acquainted with one another,” he said to Helen. “Indeed, I was so surprised to find her here when we passed in the hall earlier that I might have been a bit less than civil.”