Untamable Rogue (Formerly: A Christmas Baby) (35 page)

After the men gave in to their children’s pleas, as Sabrina predicted they would, the rogues came looking for their wives to set the event in motion.

“Lark,” Ash said. “The children are to go sledding.”

“I am glad to hear it. I wish you will have a wonderful time.”

Reed reared back and furrowed his brow at Chastity.

Gideon turned on Sabrina. “I see
your
hand in this.”

Hawk chuckled. “You are right.” He looked to his own wife for confirmation.

“Do not look at me,” Alex said, striding past. “I have a babe to feed.”

“No!” Myles said when he realized the men had been outfoxed and were to take nearly twenty children out to play in the snow, but it mattered not, because that was the plan.

The women remained inside and made decorations for the tree—ribbon rosettes, parchment snowflakes. Lark filled lace circles with lavender buds, and tied them with bows to hang on the tree.

They worked beside the huge bay window in the portrait gallery so as to keep watch over the sledding party.

Lark noted the camaraderie between the rogues, the way they must have worked together to defeat the common enemy. With the children, they laughed, shouted, made snow caves, snow men, snow angels. They hauled little ones on their shoulders uphill, took them on fast rides down, wiped noses, carried laggards, doled out cocoa, hugs, kisses, and more often than not, replaced mittens, hats, and scarves.

“Do you see that some of our older children have paired off?” Chastity said. “Matthew and Beatrix for instance, and Micah and Rebekah.”

Alex admired a rosette then looked up. “Harry and Briana as well,” she added, “for I heard them discover that they had both survived the London streets.”

Lark was not surprised to hear as much about Harry for there was an edge to him that could only be earned one way. She was lucky Briana had not acquired quite so brittle an edge.

“Reed seems to be counting heads more often than the others,” Lark said.

“Old habits,” Chastity said. “He is a good father.”

“Gideon is more like to get down and play with the children, rather than organize them,” Sabrina said, shaking her head. “As if I have six, not five. Ah, there he goes. See, he and Micah are about to … tip.” Sabrina rose as did Lark while the two flew through the air, Gideon’s arms firm about Micah, Gideon landing them so Micah never touched ground.

Lark sighed in relief.

Sabrina smiled. “He does make for a fine pillow.”

“The children are enjoying his antics,” Alex said. “Hawk is less like to play and more like to teach them to build or repair something, like the snow cave he is overseeing. What about Ash, Lark?” Alex asked. “What is he like to do with the children?”

“Ash reminds me of a lost soul,” Lark said. “As if he does not yet know where or to whom he belongs, but he gives instinctively to each of our children what they need most, whether it be responsibility, or a hair ribbon.”

“He is a good man,” Alex said, “and you
do
love him after all.”

Lark’s eyes filled. “How should I know if I do?”

Chastity looked up from her work. “It sounds as though you are two lost souls, or two halves of one,” she said. “Perhaps you will be whole only when you both know the answer to that question.”

Lark turned to look out the window oblivious to the happy scene before and about her. “How can we be two halves of a whole if a lie stands between us?” she asked, but no one answered.

A stranger came to the Chase that afternoon, a man who introduced himself as Drummond Amesbridge and asked to be brought before the Earl of Blackburne.

Lark had Grimsley show the man into a small receiving room off the main foyer then she sent the retainer for Ash. She did not enter on her own but waited for her husband.

She met Ash in the hall and they clasped hands. “Where is Briana?” she asked.

“Well protected,” Ash said. “One of us will have to go for her, or our friends will keep her hidden. I half expected this. Ready?”

She kissed him. “For luck.”

He nodded for Grim to open the door and they went inside.

Ames
’ “uncle,” Drummond Amesbridge, a worm of a man, slimy and underhand, lacked the ability to meet any eye. With dispatch, he claimed legal custody of Briana and insisted on getting her “home” for Christmas.

When asked to prove his claim, he handed Ash a sheaf of signed and sealed documents. “You have no choice,” the worm said, “but to hand the girl over.”

“The papers look real enough,” Ash said. “But I must confer with Hunter for a minute then have Reed come and peruse them. Reed has experience in such matters.”

“Bring the girl,” the man said.

“You will be all right?” Ash asked Lark before he left, and she nodded.

As soon as Ash quit the room, Lark swooned into the arms of the worm, however distasteful the experience.

When Ash returned, he introduced Reed as the Earl of Barrington, to impress Ames’ shoddy fake of an uncle, and handed Reed the documents.

“The problem is,” Reed said, after reading them, “they are all based upon a letter and record of birth, conspicuous by their absence.”

Lark rose and handed Reed the paper she had picked from the man’s pocket when she swooned. “This might help,” she said. “Read the name if you please.”

“Briana Fairhaven,” Reed said, lost as to its significance, though Ash and Lark grinned.

“And do you know where Briana Fairhaven was born, Mr. Amesbridge?” Lark asked, not expecting an answer. “France,” she supplied. “So why do you suppose her proof of birth is written in English?”

The man blustered. “I have no notion.”

“Ash,” Lark said, “can you get Briana?”

“She is here,” Reed said opening the door and ushering her in.

Briana went to Lark and Ash, and they claimed her, Ash with a hand to her shoulder, Lark by tidying her hair.

“Briana,” Lark said. “Do you know this man?”

Briana regarded her, not the worm. “He was a friend to Amesbridge. My Mama was afraid of them. They wanted her money.”

The worm snorted and denied as much, while everyone ignored him.

“Of course,” Ash said. “Why did I not think of Nora’s fortune?”

Briana regarded Ash with trust. “I did not know when I should tell you, but my
Maman
said I would be a woman of property after she died, and when she did, the servants were to send me to you, so I would be safe.”

“And so you will be.” Ash squeezed his daughter’s shoulder and narrowed his eyes upon the worm as if he might rip him apart. “I have jurisdiction in this village, and friends in high places. The girl remains here. You had best return to Seven Dials, or better yet, sail for the colonies, for you are under investigation as we speak and the stink of your reputation is foul.”

The worm turned crimson and spluttered, even as Reed
escorted
him out by the seat of his pants.

Reed took up the certificate when he returned. “What amused you about this?”

Ash lifted Briana into his arms. “Tell him your real name, Sprite. He will say nothing until you give permission.”

“My name is
Ashley
Briana Fairhaven.”

Lark knew by the look on Reed’s face that he saw the truth in the matching expressions of father and daughter regarding him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

On the afternoon before Christmas Eve, the children’s excitement reached fever pitch as they dressed for their Christmas performance.

Chastity had the rogues set up chairs for the audience and hang a curtain at the far end of the portrait gallery, beside the huge Christmas cedar hung with plump crimson apples, lavender balls, small gold pears, ribbon rosettes, pinecones, gilded chestnuts, and fine-cut snowflakes.

The audience sighed in appreciation as the curtain opened to reveal a nativity tableau. Matt, hooded, as St. Joseph; a blue-veiled Beatrix as Mary; Brandon Alexander as baby Jesus; Sabrina’s Caleb and Joshua, twin lambs in white wool; Mark, Luke and Micah, wise men all, in capes of silver, copper and gold.

Christmas filled Lark’s heart and tightened her throat.

Chastity read a short version of the nativity, then the heavenly hosts in parchment wings appeared. “Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child,” they sang, accompanied by Rebekah on her flute.

“To end our tableau,” Chastity said, “each of the children who wishes, may step up and tell us, in their own words what love means to them.” Chastity and Lark exchanged glances; and Lark knew that her new friend was attempting to help answer her question.

“Children,” Chastity said, “you may begin by saying, “Love is” then tell us what Love is to you.”

A moment of hesitation ensued before Luke stepped forward. “Love is Mama stealing us from the workhouse.”

Luke’s sister Rebekah followed. “Love is Papa braiding my hair.”

A speaking look passed between Reed and Chastity.

Damon rose next. “Nurse says love is when Mama and Papa nap in the middle of the day.”

Sabrina squeaked, and Gideon leaned close, whispered in her ear, and kissed her cheek.

Lark and Ash sat forward when Briana rose and curtseyed. “Love is being able to admit who you are. My name is
Ashley
Briana.”

Lark covered her mouth with a hand.

She had her answer. Love was the ability to be oneself…. Love was a kiss, a whisper, intimate moments, speaking looks, shared years, tears, hurts and sorrows, good times and bad, raising children, loving them, a reaching hand … Ash’s own now taking hers, clasping it, speaking without words, his eyes bright—as if he too had just recognized love for the first time.

Lark turned the concept over in her mind. The rogues and their ladies all shared love, but to hear them tell it, love had not come easy. They had traveled rutted roads, fought their destinies, and before they had accepted their fates and acknowledged love, to a one, they had hurt, then forgiven, each other.

Was that the final secret then? Forgiveness?

If so, she would be doomed, for Ash forgave little. He would never forgive a deception that forced marriage. No matter his grandfather’s will, he should have taken to wife a bride freely chosen.

Could a one-sided love inspire forgiveness for a deceit so vile? Did so dishonorable a cheat deserve the hand of forgiveness? Lark feared not.

Nevertheless, as she soothed her child with a stroking hand, she knew that before he or she entered this world, the truth must be spoken, however harsh the results.

‘Twas nearing midnight and all their guests had long since retired to their beds before Ash was able to take Lark, in her wine velvet pelisse, out in the horse-drawn sleigh. He gave the horses their heads, for they knew the moonlit path well after so many turns had been taken that evening.

“I feared Reed would bloody Myles’ nose,” Ash said, “the way you bloodied Hunter’s, when Myles took Peg in the sleigh.”

An owl hooted as they shushed slowly past. “I do not see why,” Lark said. “Pegeen is a woman grown.”

“Because Reed was afraid Myles would employ his roguish charm and Peg would succumb, of course.”