Season's Regency Greetings (11 page)

More silence.

“
Do you go to church? Read from the Bible? Work on someone else's charts? Visit old friends in the City? Have dinner out with your fellow barristers? Sing Christmas carols? Squeeze in another good work or two?” She stopped, hating the sound of her own rising voice and its relentless questions. She looked him straight in the eye. “Or do you just sit at your desk hating yourself?”

He leaped to his feet, fire in his eyes, and slammed the file onto the table like a truncheon. “I don't need this!”

She looked away, frightened, but held herself completely still in the chair. It was then that she noticed the row of bottles against the wall. My God, she thought, my God. With courage she knew she did not possess, she stood in front of him until they were practically toe to toe. “Or do you try to drink yourself to death, because you failed one little boy?”

He raised his hand and she steadied herself, because she knew it was going to hurt, considering his size and the look in his eyes. Almost without thinking, she grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close to her in a fierce grip. She closed her eyes and waited for him to send her flying across the room. She tightened her grip on the ties on his waistcoat. All right, she thought, you'll have to pry me off to hurt me.

To her unspeakable relief, the file dropped to the floor and his arms went around her. She released her grip and began to run her hands along his back instead. ‘Trevor, it's going to be all right. Really it is,” she murmured.

He began to sob then as he rested his chin on her hair. “I line up a row of bottles and drink my way through Christmas Eve, Christmas, and Boxing Day, Cecilia,” he said, when he could speak. “I almost died last Christmas, but damn me if one of the other barristers at the Inn didn't come knocking on Christmas afternoon. I woke up with a surgeon's finger down my throat!” He leaned against her until his weight almost toppled her. “Please stop me! I don't want to die!”

Holding him so close that she could feel his waistcoat buttons against her breast, she understood the enormity of his guilt, as irrational as it seemed to her logical mind. She moved him toward the sofa and sat down. He released her only to sink down beside her and lay his head in her lap. She twitched her shawl off her shoulders, spread it over him, and rested her hand on his hair—did he never comb it, ever?—as he cried. Sitting back, she felt his exhaustion and remorse seeping into her very skin. As he cried and agonized, she had the tiniest inkling of the Gethsemane that her dear foster father spoke of from the pulpit, upon occasion. “Bless your heart,” she whispered, “you're atoning for the sins of the world. My dear, no mortal can do that! What's more, it's been done, and you don't have to.”

“
That's your theology,” he managed to gasp, before agony engulfed him again.

“
And I am utterly convinced of it, dear sir,” she said. Cecilia pushed on his shoulder until he was forced to raise himself and look at her. She kissed his forehead. “Even someone as young as Davy understands that we celebrate Christmas because Christ gave us
hope!
Dear man, you're dragging around chains that He took care of long ago.” She kissed him again, even though his face was wet and slimy now. “I really think it's time you stopped.”

“
But Jimmy's dead!”

It was a lament for the ages, and she felt suddenly as old and tired as he, as though he had communicated the matter into her in a way that was almost intimate. She considered it, and understood her own faith, perhaps for the first time. “Yes, Jimmy Daw is dead,” she whispered finally as he lowered himself back to her lap, his arm around her this time. “And you have done more to honor his memory than any other human being. Every child you save is a testimony to your goodness, and a memorial to Jimmy Daw. I know it is. I believe it.”

He didn't say anything, but he had stopped crying. She knew he was listening this time. She cleared her throat, and wiped her own eyes with a hand that shook. “May I tell you how we are going to celebrate Christmas Eve next year? We are going to remember all the children you have
saved
. We are going to thank Kind Providence that you have the health and wealth to do this desperately hard work.”

“
We are?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

“
We are,” she replied firmly. “You are not going to do it alone ever again.”

What am I saying? she asked herself, waiting for the utter foolishness of her declaration to overtake her. When nothing of the kind happened, she bowed her head over his, then rested her cheek against his hair. “You're a good man, Trevor Chase. I even think I love you.”

“
Cecilia,” was all he said, and she smiled, thinking how tired he must be. She could feel his whole body relaxing. After a long time of silence, she moved her legs, and he sat up.

“
I believe I will go to bed now,” she told him. She stood up and looked at the row of bottles, waiting there still. “Or should I stay?”

He shook his head, and reached for a handkerchief. He blew his nose vigorously. “If you want to open that window and drop them out, I think that would be a wise thing. Old habits, you know.”

She knew. She opened the window and did as he said. The first bottle didn't break, but the others did as they landed on each other. She leaned out, then pulled back quickly from the fumes rising over the rosebed. She gathered up her shawl and went to the door. “Good night, and happy Christmas, Trevor,” she said, and blew him a kiss.

The house was so quiet. She pulled herself up the stairs, practically hand over hand, and went into the girls' room. The bed looked far more inviting than her own little cot. Since they were in the stable, she shucked off her clothing down to her shimmy and crawled in.

She was nearly asleep when Lord Trevor opened the door, came to the bed, and stood there. “I threw the file on the fire,” he said, his voice sounding as uncertain as a small child's.

“
Good,” she told him, and after only the slightest hesitation, pulled back the blankets.

“
Are you certain?” he asked.

“
Never more so.”

“
I don't want to be alone tonight,” he told her as he took off his shoes, then started on his waistcoat. “I'm so tired.”

“
I know you are, but I have to know one more thing. I think you know what it is.”

He sat down on the bed, and rested his head in his hands. “I do. I was going to go back to my chambers this year, lock the door, and keep drinking until ….” He stopped, unable to speak.

Cecilia sat up and leaned her head against his back. “My God, Trevor, my God,” she whispered. “What … what changed your mind?”

“
Well, I had to stay here with the children when Hugo and Maria bolted, but even then ….” He turned around and put his arm around her. “Then you came, and I had second thoughts. I didn't plan on falling in love.”

“
Just like that?”

“
Just like that. Are you as skeptical as I am?”

“
Probably. But, the bottles in the book room tonight?”

“
I don't know if I would have drunk any of them, considering how matters had changed. I suppose I'll never know,” he told her as she put her arms around him. “I think I was counting on you to stop me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Cecilia.”

He lay down beside her and gathered her close. With a sigh, she threw her arm over his chest and rested her head in that nice spot below his collarbone. His hand was warm against her back. Her feet were cold and he flinched a little when she put them on his legs, but then he kissed her neck, and fell asleep.

He was gone in the morning. Cecilia reached out a tentative hand; his side of the bed was still a little warm. She got up and dressed quickly, then hurried downstairs. She heard laughter from the breakfast room, his laughter. She opened the door.

“
Lucy, you are telling me that your graceless scamp of a little brother actually stood over by the horses and began to
talk
?” asked Lord Trevor. The picture of relaxation, he slouched negligently in his chair, with his arm along the back of Lucinda's chair.

Janet giggled. “He scared Lucy so bad that she jumped up and stepped in the water bucket the footman had left by the lantern!”

“
Did not!”

“
Oh, we both saw it!”

Lord Trevor held up both hands. “I've never met more disgraceful children,” he scolded, but anyone with even the slightest hearing could have picked out the amusement in his voice. “It's never too late for my prosy lecture. Good morning, Miss Ambrose, how do you do?”

I know my face is red, she thought. “I do well,” she replied. “Happy Christmas to you all.”

Lord Trevor pushed out a chair with his foot. “Have a seat, my dear Miss Ambrose. I've told my long-suffering relatives all about my silliness next door at the manor. They have agreed that a week in the dower house was not too unpleasant.” He smiled at them all. “And now they will move their belongings back, with some help from Mrs. Grey and the footman.”

“
Mama is coming home today,” Davy said.

“
I received a letter from Lysander only a few minutes ago,” Janet said, holding out a piece of paper. She smiled at Cecilia. “He promises to come as soon as all contagion is gone.”

Cecilia poured a cup of tea and sat down, just as the children rose and left the room. Davy even looked back and winked. “Scamp,” she murmured under her breath, trying to concentrate on the tea before her, and not on Lord Trevor, who had decided to put his arm on her chair now. In another moment his hand rested on her shoulder, and then his fingers outlined her ear.

“
You're making this tea hard to drink,” she commented.

“
It isn't very good tea, anyway,” he told her as he took the cup from her hand and pushed it away. He cleared his throat. “Cecilia—Miss Ambrose—it has certainly come to my attention that I … er … uh … may have compromised you last night.”

I love him, she thought, looking at him in his rumpled clothes, with his hair in need of cutting. I wonder why he does not stand closer to his razor, she thought. His eyes were tired, to be sure, but the hopeless look that had been increasing hour by hour on Christmas Eve was gone. She turned in her chair to face him.

“
I would say that you certainly did compromise me. How loud you snore! What do you intend to do about it?”

“
What, my snoring?”

She laughed and leaned toward him. He put his hand around her neck, drew her closer, and kissed her forehead.

“
I suppose I must make you an offer now, eh?” he asked, the grin not gone from his face.

“
I would like that,” she told him. “We'll be an odd couple, don't you think?”

“
Most certainly. I'm positive there will be doors that will never open to either of us,” he replied, without the blink of an eye. “People of my sort will wonder if I have taken leave of my senses to marry Cleopatra herself, and those evangelizing, missionary friends of your parents will assume that you have taken pity on a man desperate for redemption.” He kissed her again, his lips lingering this time. “Oh, my goodness. Cecilia, I will be bringing home scum, riffraff, and strays.”

“
Of course. I'm going to insist that you close your chambers at the Inn and move me into a house on a quiet street where the neighbors are kind and don't mind children,” she said, reaching for him this time and rubbing her cheek against his. She felt the tears on his face.

“
Miss Deprave is going to be awfully upset when you give your notice,” he warned.

She giggled. “Your brother and sister-in-law will probably have a fit when you tell them this afternoon.”

He laughed and pulled her onto his lap. “There you are wrong. They'll be so relieved to find a lady in my life that they won't even squeak!”

She tightened her arm around his neck as the fears returned momentarily. “I hope they are not disappointed.”

“
No one will be disappointed about this except Miss Deprave. Trust me, Cecilia.”

“
Trust a barrister?” she teased, putting her hands on both sides of his face and kissing him.

“
Yes, indeed.” His expression was serious then. “Trust me. I trusted you when I told you about Jimmy that second night.” He took her hand. “I looked at your lovely face, and some intuition told me I could
say
something finally.” He shook his head.

She knew she did not know him well yet, but she could tell he wanted to say something more. “What is it?” she prodded him. “I hardly think, at this point, that there is anything you might be embarrassed to tell me.”

He looked at the closed door, then pulled her onto his lap. She sighed and felt completely at home there.

“
Before I left London, I made a wish on a star. Is that beyond absurd?”

Resting there with her head against his chest and listening to the regular beating of his heart, she considered the matter. “Teachers are interested in results, dear sir, not absurdities. Did it come true?”

“
Oh, my, in spades.”

She went to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head and she found his lips instead. “Then I would say your wish came true,” she murmured, once she could speak again.

He smiled. “I'm a skeptic still, but I like it.”

“
I like it, too,” she admitted.

“
D'ye think you'll still like it thirty or forty years from now?” he asked.