Regency Christmas Gifts (23 page)

“
Mama wants me to distinguish
myself, too, but I mostly like horses.”

A miracle had already happened with Edward.
Lucy was ready for another one. “I have no doubt that Mr. Bledsoe
will find a way,” she assured him.

Michael nodded, but his worried look barely
changed. “I also don’t want to be far from Edward,” he said in a
whisper.

She glanced at Edward, who stood with his arms
out as Mrs. Hodgson measured him for a suit jacket. “We’ve always
been together,” Bradfield-Ashby’s newest apprentice
said.

In her mind’s eye, she saw both boys trudging
dusty Spanish roads, following their father as he marched toward
his own destiny. She thought of Clotilde, and how her sister’s
London Season and subsequent engagement had driven a wedge between
them, with the gulf growing wider. Soon they would barely know each
other. What would Mama have said about these boys?

“
Let me talk to Mr. Bledsoe. I’ll
see what he can do.” She moved closer to Mrs. Hodgson. “May I speak
to Edward’s patron?”

“
Certainly you may, Miss Danforth,”
the housekeeper said. She paused to write Edward’s measurement on a
tablet. The tape went around his waist next. “After all, we still
have a half dozen gingersnaps to go.”

She walked back to the counting house just as
Miles was shaking hands with Mr. Bradfield at the
entrance.

She stood there on the pavement, pleased all
out of proportion by the welcoming smile on his face. She thought
of all the hours they had spent with each other and felt suddenly
as shy as Michael Lonnigan. She knew this cousin of hers so well,
but one of them was changing. Whether it was he or she, Lucy did
not know.

He took her arm on the sidewalk and shepherded
her toward a bench under a counting house window. “Where away, Miss
Danforth?” he asked.

She could have just told him what Michael
wanted, but she had to say more, had to tell him what was in her
full heart. He might think her silly; she hoped not. If she had
learned anything in the last few remarkable days, it was that one
shouldn’t leave things unsaid. And this was Miles, who knew her
better than any man alive, even Papa.

“
Miles, you’re the most magnificent
person I know,” she said, and felt her face grow warm, even with
snow beginning to fall. “At … at the beginning of this week, I
was just going to take a basket of food to a hungry family.” She
looked down at the snow settling on her cloak, relieved when his
arm tightened around her shoulder, as if he were encouraging her.
“Here we are in London, and you have just guaranteed a young lad’s
future.”

“
The work is still his to do,” he
said. “Lucinda, I’ll confess to you that I am so happy about what
just happened that I want to give you a whacking great kiss and
dance a little jig.”

“
You know you’re more dignified than
that,” she said with a laugh.

He didn’t kiss her, but he rested his cheek
against hers for an all-too-brief moment. “Kindly do not overlook
the good you have done for Mrs. Lonnigan, Mary Rose, and even Aunt
Aurelia. Doing good seems to beget more of the same.”

“
I believe Mama intended that,” she
said. She took a deep breath. “Michael loves horses, and neither
boy wants to be separated from the other. What do we do
now?”

He loosened his grip on her shoulder, but did
not release her. “I suggest we think about the matter, if you don’t
mind sitting in the snow.”

“
Not at all, since you are here,
too,” she said, which changed his expression from good humor to
something more serious. Lately she was seeing more and more of this
side of her dear cousin. She wanted to tease him about it, but
there was her own shyness to account for, which she could
not.

“
I started this journey thinking we
would go to Portsmouth on the way home to Tidwell. I sent a message
by post last night to a surgeon friend of mine at Haslar Royal Navy
Hospital,” he said. “He is always saying he needs more loblolly
boys to do the fetch and carry in the wards.”

“
Started?” she prompted, when he
said nothing more for a long moment, lost in thought.

“
A simpler child is Michael,” he
said finally. “He’s young for his age, and I have made myself
uneasy with the thought of pitching him into such a place as
Haslar.” He ran his hand along Lucy’s arm, probably not even aware.
She wasn’t about to say anything, not even in jest, because she
loved the feeling. “My friend would watch him, but Michael is a
tender little fellow.”

“
It’s probably not the place for
him,” Lucy agreed. “He likes horses.”

He smiled and brushed at her hair.
“Snowflakes,” he said. “They’re quite becoming on you, Miss Curly
Hair Beauty Fair.”

For the first moment in her lifetime of knowing
his cousin of hers, she could not think of anything witty to say in
return. She realized she had no wish to break the lovely
spell.

The boys did that for her, Michael still a
child, but Edward changed. The older boy smiled to see them sitting
there, but there was something more in his look now. He had been
measured for a suit; he was on the path to adulthood. To Lucy’s
delight, he wore maturity well.

Dusk had settled over London. Feeling their
upcoming separation, the boys wanted to share the same seat in the
post chaise, which meant that Lucy was shoehorned in with Miles,
his arm around her to make more room. She hadn’t really meant to
rest her head against his shoulder, but there he was, and so
handy.

“
You’re not wearing bay rum,” she
said, which only hours ago would have struck her as silly
conversation.

“
You noticed?” he asked, and sounded
pleased. “I tried something new that Roger brought back from Spain
on his last visit. You like it?”

“
Sí, señor
,” she teased,
which suddenly lightened the odd tension she felt.

The butler informed them that dinner would be
served in a half hour, so she hurried upstairs to her usual room to
dress. The boys went next door and she heard them laughing and
talking.

She sat on her bed for the longest time,
thinking about Miles Bledsoe, the cousin who had teased her,
laughed with her, got her in trouble now and then, shared her
silliness, and rescued her from occasional folly. How did he know
how desperate she was to never forget her mother, and how unhappy
to see Clotilde miserable when she should be over the moon with
joy? How did he know?

After her sister’s wedding Miles would return
to Christ Church College in Oxford. Well aware how he threw himself
into his studies, she did not expect to see him, or even get the
occasional letter until the end of Hilary Term. Suddenly March
seemed so far away. Could she last that long without hearing from
her cousin? Worse and worse, she would be in London for her Season,
something she knew Miles had no interest in. He disliked ballrooms
as much as she did. The hard fact was that she might not see him
again for months, a realization which made her uneasy in the
extreme.

Reason took over. Certainly she would manage
without any word from or news of Miles Bledsoe. He was just her
cousin, she reminded herself, and a second cousin at that. She knew
she would be forever grateful for his Christmas intervention this
year. She would have to thank Papa for inviting Miles to Tidwell;
it had proved to be a stroke of genius, a word not generally
associated with her fox hunting, pleasure-loving father. Mama had
always been his leaven, and without her, Papa floundered. All the
more reason to beg off from a London Season this year, and stay
home. Papa needed a daughter at home, and Clotilde would be
gone.

She resolved to thank her father when they
returned to Tidwell. She also told herself to enjoy this evening
with the Bledsoes, almost as dear to her heart as her own
parents.

She took the boys hand in hand down to dinner,
pleased to be joined by her Cousin Vivian, who offered her arm to
Edward to escort her to the table. Miles and his father came down
the hall from the bookroom, Miles serious, but Cousin Will
smiling.

“
Lucy, my dear, you grow lovelier by
the hour,” her cousin proclaimed, to her embarrassment. “No, Miles,
it’s my turn to see her in to dinner.”

Any fears that dinner would overwhelm the
Lonnigan brothers proved to be groundless. The footman led them to
the breakfast room instead of the dining room.

Even better, the servants had put the entire
dinner on the table in serving bowls. There would be no footmen
standing about to offer dishes, and embarrass little boys not used
to this much grandeur. She smiled at Vivian, communicating her
pleasure at the woman’s thoughtfulness.

Edward may have been the more astute of the two
brothers, but Michael was the storyteller, once he overcame his
natural shyness. His face animated, he regaled the Bledsoes with
more stories of following the drum through Portugal and
Spain.

“
Do you miss the life?” Vivian
asked, as she filled his plate again with more quail and
potatoes.

“
I suppose I should,” he said
finally, “but I don’t mind change.” He turned his attention to
Lucy. “Miss, do you think your housekeeper and that Froggie cook
will keep Mama and Mary Rose on?”

“
I think it entirely likely,” she
said, happily perjuring herself, even though she had no idea. “The
secret to success is to make yourself indispensable.”

“
Mama is good at that,” Edward
said.

“
Then do not doubt,” Lucy said,
touched at the Lonnigan family’s mutual devotion. She glanced at
Miles, who was looking at her. She swallowed, thinking of her
cousin’s many kindnesses to her, and his own devotion. All of a
sudden, her heart felt too large for her bodice.

The dinner continued with food and small talk,
neither of which seemed to register with Lucy. When the boys were
starting on their chocolate pudding, Miles stood up and held out
his hand to Lucy. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”
He glanced at his father, as if for reassurance. “It really can’t
wait.”

Lucy stood up, her mind in a whirl. The odd
notion that her cousin might declare himself made her breath come
faster. She took his hand, and then his arm as he escorted her from
the room.

In silence, he walked her down the hall to the
library, a room she particularly enjoyed because she loved to read.
He sat her down, but took himself to the fireplace, standing with
his back to her as she waited and hoped.

He turned around, looked at her as if already
measuring her response, and spoke. “Lucinda, I learned something
today.”

I believe I did, too
, she thought,
terrified and overjoyed at the same time. A week ago, she never
would have felt this way.
He feels the way I do
, she thought
with gratitude.

He sat beside her, but he didn’t reach for her
hand, even though it lay quite available on her leg. “It’s this:
Mr. Bradfield let drop an alarming bit of news. He couldn’t say
much, because he is an ethical man, and this is effectively none of
my business.”

Suddenly deflated, Lucy did her best to appear
interested. “Better tell me,” she said, as her heart plummeted into
her shoes, probably destined to remain there for the rest of her
life, if it was a life without Miles.

“
He intimated that Lord Masterton
isn’t as plump in the pockets as he may have let on.”

“
What?”

He took her hand then, and Lucy gladly let him.
“Mr. Bradfield could show me no facts or figures—that would be
monumentally unethical—but he cautioned me and suggested in a
roundabout way that someone should say something to your
father.”

Lucy forgot herself and let that unwelcome news
sink in. Miles obviously had no intention of declaring himself, or
protesting his love, or any other silly scheme she had imagined,
but he was still concerned for her family. That was enough. Most
girls didn’t fall in love with their cousins, anyway. She pushed
that thought into a closet in her mind, locked the door, and gave
him her attention.

“
Will Lord Masterton ruin us?” she
asked, suddenly fearful for her ramshackle, dear father, who never
met a horse he didn’t like, and who had probably depended on her
mother for sound decision-making. She felt her heart grow cold with
fear.

“
He could, Lucinda, and that is what
worries me,” Miles said. “As matters stand now, your father will
pay the Danforth marriage portion to Lord Masterton and Clotilde
will marry him. I fear that Cousin Roscoe’s new son-in-law will
continue to demand money and more money. I fear it
greatly.”

He released her hand and stood up, walking back
to the fireplace to kick at a log. He stopped in front of her and
blew out his cheeks in exasperation. “Deuce take it, Lucinda, don’t
think me a churl if I say that without your mother’s calm judgment
and wisdom, your father will be pudding in the hands of a practiced
sharpster like Lord Masterton.”

He sat down beside her again and put his arm
around her, pulling her close. “I won’t see you and your family
ruined, but how can we stop him?”