A Kiss At Christmastide: Regency Novella (10 page)

His father's use of Lucas's honorary title and not his given name was like a slap in the face. He'd refused to address his son directly for years, and now he wanted to deny him knowledge of what Lucas's sacrifices would gain his family. It was unthinkable and worse than being outright ignored.

Lucas had asked a direct question, and his father was attempting to shut him out; going from passive observer to active participant in keeping Lucas at arm's length.

“It is very well my concern.” Lucas stood, having taken enough. “Unless you forget, you still need my signature to secure this match. I have reached my majority, and may very well only have a courtesy title at the moment, but I am of an age to make my own decisions.”

“And if I cut your funds?” his father asked. “Your lovely townhouse will be gone, your bill at the tailor will not be settled, your cupboards will go bare, and you will have to find another way to support your mistresses.”

Previously, all those threats would have had Lucas coming to heel and agreeing to anything his father proposed, but the village? It was the root of Pippa's bleeding heart. He would agree to almost anything to keep her safe, happy, and away from any scandal caused by him or his family. But never would he allow anything to happen to her village.

It would surely ruin her more than he ever could.

“You can take everything I have, but I will not agree to a marriage to Lady Natalie—or any other woman you propose.” Lucas moved toward the door, ready to depart.

“If you walk out that door, you will be cut off. Permanently!”

“Then so be it,” Lucas retorted. Startled, he realized he was willing to give it all up, no matter if it was only an open threat or idle conversation.

“Where are you going?” Sheridan called in concern. “Bowmont, fix this!”

Lucas halted, turning toward his father. “I am going to save a village and Lady Pippa—something I was unable to do for those dearest to me in my youth.”

The door slammed behind him, rattling on its hinges. Besides Pippa's sweet laugh, it was the most satisfying sound Lucas had heard since his childhood. It was something he should have done a long time ago—stood up for himself, not silently begging for his parents to think the best of him.

For a brief moment, Lucas paused, unsure which way would lead him to an exit.

“Lord Maddox.” Lady Natalie stood a few paces away, her hand raised, pointing to the right and a long, wide corridor. “The front door is that way.”

The girl's porcelain skin was shiny, and blue eyes stared back at him, a hint of sadness showing through, but he sensed the fleeting emotion was not directed at him or his decision. Nevertheless, he owed her an apology for the liberties their parents had taken in arranging a marriage between utter strangers.

He hesitated further, trying to find the right words that would say all he needed to say, but not injure the girl further. “I am sorry our meeting did not go as planned, my lady.”

“Your heart is settled elsewhere, I cannot fault you for that.” Her arm fell to her side, and her chin lifted in defiance. “No one asked where my heart lies.”

“I know it cannot lie with a stranger,” he responded, taking a step toward her, begging her to understand, to know he had not meant to injure her in any way, least of all, emotionally. “There will be another, far more suitable man for you.”

The girl laughed, a hollow, empty sound—nothing like the carefree, unbridled way Pippa's seemed to escape her without notice. “Do not flatter yourself to think I could love you or feel any affection at all.”

Her words were cruel and unnecessary. Their betrothal was not to be, Lucas had signed no papers, nor had their match been known to anyone outside of Somerset. The thought of Pippa calling this girl a friend baffled Lucas. They were entirely at odds with personality.

“Again, my deepest, sincere apologies for this muddled mess our parents have created for us,” Lucas said, meaning every word. “I also regret you needing to hear all that transpired within your father's study.”

Lady Natalie shrugged off his apology. “This is best for all concerned. Your heart is elsewhere, as is mine. I do hope you and Pippa fare better than me in your future. She is a lovely woman, and deserves much happiness.”

“On that, we agree, my lady.” The silence between them lengthened as they stared at one another. Could Lady Natalie be thinking of what her future could have held had Lucas not fallen for Pippa first? “Do call on me if you ever need anything, my lady. Your gracious acceptance of our parting ways is very noble.”

“I fear the power to aid me does not reside with you.” The sadness returned to her eyes, and Lucas truly wished Lady Natalie found her happy ending, as he was determined to do. “But, you should be going if you wish to arrive at Helton House before the storm hits once more. Do treat my friend with love and kindness—something I failed to give her when she needed it most.”

Lucas crossed his arm over his chest in promise. “I will give her nothing but love and cherish her every day. I know she will be happy to see you—when you're ready.”

“Maybe someday I will have the words to make my amends with Pippa, but for now, you are what is best for her.”

“How can you know that?” he asked.

Lady Natalie pondered Lucas's question for only a second before answering. “She was genuinely damaged when she heard of our match. I have not seen such a betrayed look since it was I who wounded her. Now, you must go—before it is too late.”

Lucas gave her a quick bow, blessed to have found Pippa, but he also found solace in knowing he hadn't irrevocably harmed Lady Natalie by ending their betrothal before it had officially begun. “Until we meet again, Lady Natalie. Do have faith that the right man will find you.”

“And if he already has—and walked away?” She blinked rapidly to hold back her tears.

“Then believe he will right his course and return to you.” All this talk of faith and love was new to Lucas, something his family had lacked, even before Randolph was taken; but he would not make this mistake with Pippa. She would know, every moment of every day, how much she was loved.

That was, if she forgave him for lying to her. Or rather, omitting the truth.

P
ippa crowded
into the shallow doorway to be out of the wind and removed her glove, pounding her fist on the door before her. When no one answered, she raised her hand again to knock, a bit louder this time to be heard over the storm. She squeezed a bit closer and slipped her exposed hand into her grey muff for added warmth, still clutching her glove.

The storm had returned full force as she'd finished her second delivery in the village, except the temperatures had dropped so severely that heavy snow fell in sheets instead of a drenching rain. The gusting winds brought the snow down in such a way, it blew right into Pippa's eyes. Her nose was too numb to be felt, and her toes ached in her boots. The flakes only lasted a moment before melting and disappearing into her coat.

She should have remained at home—out of the storm—however, she'd needed to escape the confines of that house and fulfill her responsibility to the villagers. No matter how cold she was, Pippa kept in mind that these families needed her. Many ran out of coal long before winter ended. Many were forced to sell off what little they possessed to stay warm, dry, and fed. All the while, the wealthier citizens of England ate extravagant meals each day and spent exorbitant coin on gowns made of satin and lace.

No matter how true it might be, Pippa would not admit she'd continued, despite the growing storm, as a distraction from what broke her heart.

It wasn't that Lady Natalie was to marry, it never had been.

It was that Pippa hadn't found anyone—even with the story of her parent's beginning. She had failed.

Lucas was to wed another, and Pippa felt immense sadness at that fact—an ache so deep and crushing, she doubted it would ever heal and make her whole again. She wanted him to be happy and find contentment—a way to dispel the darkness, just as she wanted her former friend to be happy and well taken care of, no matter how or why their friendship had ended.

But Pippa deserved happiness, too. She wanted more than happiness—she longed for love. A love not always present in societal marriages. What she truly desired was a love and commitment like her parents had…a man willing to endure scandal and ridicule for the woman he loved.

She was being selfish, petty, and entitled. Those were traits that her parents most despised.

Her mind needed to be occupied elsewhere, anywhere, but on the feeling of Lucas's arms around her or his laughter at the sight of her covered in flour in the kitchen or, even, his dour mood and snide comments when he'd first arrived. Yes, Pippa would also look favorably on that moment as well, despite her irritation at his forthright manner.

It was a never-ending cycle that had pounded her senses the entire drive to town as she'd sat alone in her carriage. She was undeniably attracted to Lucas—all of him. Then she remembered his lies, his deception. A sense of betrayal hit her so swiftly, she wondered how she could see past the fury over his dishonesty. With a few beats of her heart, she'd remember the way he'd tried to rescue her shattered angels and, again, Pippa could only remember the light in his eyes that pushed past the darkness that tried to keep him locked within.

Their time together had only impacted her after he was gone.

It was odd—while in the kitchen, she hadn't thought to commit everything to memory; the way he'd moved about the room, the way he'd leaned his hip against the table and crossed one ankle over the other, the way he chuckled as if neither of them had another care in the world, and the way he'd crimped the pie crust and taught her something new. The way he'd lifted her high to re-hang the wreath—allowing her body to slide down his, back to the floor. She'd felt his entire length: his solid chest, muscular thighs, and rigid manhood.

Pippa had wanted more—far more—than she'd received.

Somehow, her mind had known to remember every second of their time together, knowing he would shortly be gone, and the memories would be the only thing left of him.

The door before her swung open with a loud creak. “M'lady,” the woman inside called. “Do come in, quickly, afore ye are blown over.”

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Pippa said, stepping into the thatched-roof house comprised of one room with two large beds and a wood stove in one corner. Not even a table graced the room for meals or schoolwork. Only one candle lit the room. “Merry Christmas. I have brought a gift for Samuel and Lilly—oh, and a pie for you and Hector.”

“M'lady.” Cassandra curtseyed. Pippa noticed the woman wore nothing but thin stockings on her feet. “Ye did not be having ta do all this, ‘specially with a blistery storm brewing again.”

“Presents!” Two little heads popped from under the blanket on the straw mattress across the room. “We need presents!”

“Ye two scoundrels be remember'n ye manners,” their mother scolded.

“Thank ye, m'lady,” the pair chimed in unison.

“Thank
you
, my lady,” Pippa corrected with a laugh. “Do not forget the lessons I taught you.”

“We will not, my lady,” Lilly said, ducking back under the blanket for warmth.

“Make certain you do not, or your mother will send for me, and I will have to return to the village to teach your lessons once again,” she threatened.

From the children's muffled laughter beneath their covers, no one thought it was any sort of threat.

Pippa leaned close to Cassandra and whispered, “I've included caps, mittens, and a new book for each.”

“Ye be too kind.”

“There is never enough kindness, especially during the Christmastide season,” Pippa said as she handed the two gifts to the woman. “And for you and Hector, a mincemeat pie for supper—Cook included a loaf of fresh bread, as well.”

The woman's eyes grew large at the mention of a hearty meal, especially a feast containing meat, which was difficult to come by during the winter months.

The pie and bread were handed over and set close to the stove for what little warmth it gave. Cassandra embraced Pippa quickly and stepped back, ashamed of her impulse to show her gratitude. “Thank ye so very much, m'lady. We be having a Merry Christmas for certain.”

“Everyone deserves a blessed Christmastide.” Pippa reached forward and gently squeezed Cassandra's hand. “Briars sends his love, as well.”

The woman beamed at the mention of her father, Pippa's butler. “He is well?”

“He is very well and will be here tomorrow to spend the holiday with you and your family.” After their meal was prepared, and the Duke and Duchess of Midcrest handed out gifts to all the servants, they were free to return to their families for the night or find their quarters early. “Now, make sure those two little ones keep studying.”

“O'course, m'lady,” Cassandra nodded, making a show of her actions. “Samuel will never grow ta be a smart business gent like his papa if'n he doesn't study hard.”

“Very good,” Pippa said with a wink. “I must be going. I have many more packages to deliver.”

“Thank ye again, and have a blessed holiday.”

“You, too, and tell Hector I sent good tidings and blessed Christmastide wishes.” Pippa put her glove on and slipped her hands inside her muff before departing the house into the storm once more—six more stops before she could start the journey home.

Pippa brought her hand to shield her eyes from the heavy snow as she stepped, once more, into the brutal storm. Her next stop was only a few yards down the street at Ms. Tartinston's home. She quickened her steps as she held her satchel close, containing her last mincemeat pie before needing to return to the carriage for more.

Her coachman should be waiting at the end of the street, past Ms. Tartinston's home and on the way to her next stop.

She put one foot in front of the other and navigated the street that had piled quickly with snow as she pushed against the wind. Her hood whipped from her head, allowing the storm to play with the strands of hair that had fallen from their pins. Her teeth chattered, but her fingers began to warm in the shelter of her gloves and muff.

The heavy snow made it nearly impossible to see more than five feet in front of her, and the wind kept most other sounds from reaching her. But Pippa swore she heard hooves not far from her.

Maybe it was Hector traveling home after closing his shop.

Pippa turned toward the street and caught a glimpse of a tall horse with a rider pass, but the rider hadn't seen her huddled against the building.

Her shouted greeting went unheard, as well, lost in the storm.

The storm was growing ever worse. Pippa needed to hurry if all the children were to have their gifts to open on Christmas morning.

She lowered her head, placing one palm against the wooden building for support and kept moving. Her next stop shouldn't be too far now, and Pippa would take more time inside and hope the storm lessened.

“One foot in front of the other and repeat,” she chanted. “Almost there.”

The wall should give way to Ms. Tartinston's door, however, no such thing occurred. Had she missed it? Certainly not.

Pippa kept moving, refusing to give in to any sort of panic. She'd grown up on these very streets, and she knew the town better than her own manor house. She'd played with the children here in her youth. She'd taught at the local school for three years, and she'd dined at the inn with her parents once a fortnight.

Suddenly, her palm no longer felt the wooden wall, and her foot hit something, causing her to stumble. She threw both of her hands before her, dropping the last pie to be lost in the piling snow as she fell to the ground. Her muff flew from her grasp with the bag holding the pie. The hard-packed dirt walk met her gloved hands, and Pippa felt the rocks rip through the delicate material, scoring her hands.

Every instinct screamed for her to get up, keep moving, forget delivering the last pie, and find her carriage. The ache in her hands and back pushed her to curl into a ball and wait to be found. Someone would come looking for her, but would it be before the cold took over, making her entire body too numb to move?

Pippa needed to get up, find her footing—and locate her carriage.

The wind howled around her as the damp snow seeped through her gown, bringing the coldness to her skin. Her torn gloves were no fight against the growing cold soaking through to her bones.

Kicking her feet, Pippa attempted to untangle her skirts to stand, only to find the snow had mounded over her in the short time since she'd fallen.

Pippa squeezed her eyes shut as her body began to tremble—not from the cold, but from panic. Despite the extreme temperatures, a clammy sweat broke across her forehead.

Her fight against the onset of terror was waning, and Pippa screamed out, her voice, once again tossed around in the storm.

She needed to get up.

She needed to move.

She needed to find the safety of her carriage.

None of those thoughts seemed possible as her hair whipped about her face, all her pins scattering in the snow around her. The day had grown dark as dusk threatened to take over the remaining daylight hours.

If the storm grew too harsh and she failed to return home, her father would come for her…he must. Or her coachman. Where was he? He should be aware she was taking far longer than expected.

She moved to her knees and pushed against the ground to stand, pain shooting through her palms and up her arms. It made her ears ring. Despite it all, she gained her feet and stumbled onward, the heavy snowfall making it impossible to see anything. She shuffled her feet, determined not to stumble again.

Out of nowhere, a light penetrated the falling snow, and she heard, “Pippa!”

For a moment, she thought her mind played tricks on her—she was dreaming she'd heard her name.

Her heart wanted Lucas so much that her subconscious heard his voice calling to her in the storm.

It was certainly a sign it was too late for Pippa—the cold and wind were taking over, demanding she succumb to their deathly call. If she perished with the sound of Lucas's voice in her mind, then it would not be the worst fate to be had.

Pippa would die happy with the promise of her name on his lips once more.