A Christmas Affair (15 page)

“Oh, no!” She shook her head solemnly. “But the pudding is ready, and you have to take your turn stirring it. Otherwise how will your wish ever come true?”

The twins added their pleas to hers, and Justin soon found himself in the tiny kitchen, waiting for his turn at stirring the thick, fruit-laden concoction. He’d heard of the ancient custom, of course, but this was the first time he had ever taken part in it. His father had had little patience with such tomfoolery, he recalled bitterly, his hand closing over the handle of the wooden spoon.

“Here.” Belinda folded her tiny hand over his, guiding his movements. “Stir it three times and make a wish. And wish for something very special,” she cautioned with
a quick frown, “ ’cause it’s Christmas, and you can only have one Christmas wish a year.”

Justin smiled down at her, feeling a faint twinge of regret that he’d missed out on something so magical. Had he ever believed in Christmas wishes, he wondered, then answered his own question with a heavy sigh. Never. “Very well,” he said, pushing the melancholy thoughts from his mind and doing as he was instructed. “I wish—”

“You’re not s’posed to say it out loud!” Belinda was clearly scandalized by such a breach of etiquette. “You’re s’posed to whisper it in your mind, that way only God and Father Christmas will hear you.”

“My apologies, Belinda,” he murmured, his eyes flicking toward Amanda, who was standing quietly beside the little girl. His smile widened at the defiance he saw shimmering in her dark eyes, and in that moment he made his wish silently entreating any deity who might be listening for patience in taming the shrew who was soon to become his sister-in-law.

Two days later Justin was sitting in the library examining the accounts when Linsley entered bearing a letter on a silver tray. “For you, Colonel,” he said, bowing as he proffered the tray. “It arrived in this morning’s post. I believe it is from your brother, the duke.”

Justin glanced up with interest. “Is it?” he asked, reaching for the letter with some surprise. It had been only a few days since he’d written to Edward advising him of his plans, and he was amazed that he’d received a reply so quickly, Evidently the mails had improved since the last time he was in England, he mused, using his thumb to break the wax circlet sealing the letter.

The missive was indeed from Edward, and according
to the date scribbled in the upper corner, he must have written it immediately upon receiving his letter. It was written in his usual, florid style, and Justin found himself smiling as he struggled to decipher the atrocious handwriting.

     
My dear Justin,
(it began)

     
Congratulations and best wishes to you and your bride! Now that you have done your brotherly duty and seen to the succession, I shall at long last be free of all those tiresome debs and simpering chits that clutter up London during the Season. Most obliging of you, I must say!

     
I’ve spoken with Aunt Letty, and she insists upon your fiancée and her brood putting up at her place until the pair of you are properly fired off. You, of course, shall billet with me, and once the deed is done you may move into Dover House. The old barn has been sitting empty a donkey’s age, and I fear it will require a spot of work before it is habitable. Hope you have the blunt, brother mine, as I daresay it will cost you a pretty penny to set things right again.

     
On that note, I am hoping you will see your way clear to advancing me a bit of pocket money. I’ve sunk my funds into some intriguing investments and must wait until they pay off, as I am assured they will. It needn’t be much; a hundred pounds or so will do fine.

It was signed simply,
Edward,
and Justin had to smile at his brother’s lack of formality. He knew such casualness had little to do with false modesty. It was merely that there were times when Edward forgot he was the duke, and when he did remember, he was usually too preoccupied to bother with the pomp and ceremony attached to his rank.

“You really should have been the duke,” he’d once told Justin, grimacing as he dressed to attend the opening of House of Lords. “I daresay you’d be much better at it. Wouldn’t care to exchange places, I suppose?”

Justin reminded him that as he was a major in the army, exchanging places might prove somewhat dangerous, and Edward had good-naturedly agreed that he was probably right. They had then gone their separate ways, and Justin had forgotten all about the matter . . . until now.

As much as he loved his brother, the plain truth was that he
would
have made a better duke, he thought, frowning as he tapped the letter against the edge of the table. For one thing he had a much better grasp of the land and its people than did Edward and for another he would never have gambled away his inheritance to such an extent that he was forced to borrow against his capital. Whatever could his brother have been thinking?

“Is there some problem, Colonel?” Linsley asked nervously, noting Justin’s grim expression with dismay. “I trust it isn’t bad news?”

“What?” Justin asked, his frown vanishing as he glanced up at the elderly butler. “Oh, no, Linsley, thank you. Everything is fine. My brother was just offering me his congratulations, that is all.”

“Very well, sir,” Linsley replied, executing another bow as he turned and left the room. He knew the lad was being less than truthful with him and sent up a silent prayer that whatever the problem was, it would not prove to be insurmountable. The good Lord knew they’d had enough of those of late, he thought, making a mental note to drop a flea in Miss Lawrence’s ear. If she even suspected something was amiss with the colonel, she’d soon nag the truth out of him, or he didn’t know his
mistress.

In the library Justin was pacing restlessly, trying to decide what he should do about Edward and his foolish investments. It wasn’t that he begrudged his brother the money. Indeed, he was only too happy to lend Edward whatever amount was required, but that didn’t mean he meant to sit quietly by while the Stonebridge fortune was being frittered away.

He would lend Edward the money, he decided, resuming his seat and picking up the quill lying discarded on the cluttered surface of the desk. But he would add a proviso that Edward refrain from any future investments. He might be a younger son, he thought with a sudden flash of resentment, but he still had some rights. In the event he and Amelia were blessed with a son, the estate and title would then pass to him, and when it did, Justin was determined that it be fully intact. With that thought in mind, he dipped the quill’s tip into the silver inkwell and began scribbling a letter to his solicitor.

He had almost completed the letter when his concentration was shattered by the sounds of excited laughter and shouting drifting up from the entryway. At first he tried ignoring the disruptive noise, but in the end he admitted defeat and tossed down his pen with an impatient oath. Surging to his feet, he stomped over to the door and flung it open, his jaw set with anger as he stalked out into the hallway.

“What in Hades is going on down there?” he roared, bending over the upper railing to glare down at the others. “Can’t a man even write a letter in—what the devil is that?”

Amanda glanced up from the huge log she and the others had dragged in from the courtyard, her cheeks flushed with exertion and merriment. The sight of Justin
glowering at them like a disapproving papa made her eyes dance with amusement, and it was all she could do not to burst into outright laughter.

“It’s a yule log,” she called, brushing back a strand of hair that had fallen across her mouth. “Well, don’t just stand there,” she added when he made no move to assist them. “This dratted thing is heavy! Come help us.’”

Justin’s cheeks flushed at her teasing challenge, and he belatedly hurried down the wide stairs to join them. Even with his assistance it took them almost ten minutes to drag the log into the dining room, and another fifteen to wedge it into the ancient stone fireplace.

“I’ll go get the ashen faggots!” Joss cried, jumping up and down with excitement. “And the first wish is going to be mine!”

“Is not!” Jeremey protested, then rushed after his brother, the sound of their squabbling voices echoing after them.

“Aren’t you being a trifle premature?” Justin asked, his earlier anger forgotten as he turned to smile at Amanda. In deference to the cold weather, she was swathed from head to foot in an ancient brown redingote, a woolen scarf wrapped around her throat for added warmth, and he thought she looked delightful. Amelia was also wearing a redingote, he noted, but hers was a far more fashionable color of celestial blue, and a blue felt hat decorated with swansdown added to her charming appearance.

“It’s never too early to start celebrating,” Amanda replied as she began fumbling with her scarf. She had taken off her gloves at one point, and her fingers were clumsy with cold. She was about to ask Amelia for help when he stepped up to her and gently brushed her hands aside, his agile fingers making short work of the knotted
scarf.

“I suspected that is what you’d say.” His warm breath feathered across her cheeks as he bent his dark head closer to hers. “It makes me wonder what else you have in store for me.”

“Ah, sir, that would be telling,” Amanda replied with a forced lightness, wishing he would finish untying her scarf and be done with it. His touch was having the oddest effect upon her sensibilities, and only the knowledge that he would find her nervousness amusing kept her from moving away from him.

“Really?” he drawled, the corners of his mouth curving in a wry smile as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “That sounds suspiciously like a challenge to me, Amanda.”

Fortunately for Amanda’s peace of mind, the twins, bearing the burning remnant of last year’s yule log, burst into the room sparing her the necessity of answering Justin’s provocative remark. The next several minutes were devoted to the ritual of lighting the log that would burn through the rest of the holiday season, and singing the familiar carols. Justin’s deep voice blended with the others in perfect harmony, and they sang several songs before the twins grew restive and announced they had had enough of celebrating.

Following the singing, they trooped into the parlor, falling upon the tea Mrs. Hatcher had prepared for them like so many starving wolves. While he enjoyed the freshly baked pastries, Justin listened to the lively conversation flowing around him, his sense of contentment increasing with each passing second. So this was what it meant to be a part of a family, he mused, watching the twins’ antics with amused indulgence. He’d never felt so comfortable before, so—his mind searched for the right word — so accepted, and he found himself wanting more.

For most of his life he’d been the outsider looking in; ignored by his father because he wasn’t the heir, and then dismissed by the London hostesses because as a second son he would only inherit a modest living and an obscure title. The only place he’d ever felt valued was in the army, and now that the wars were ending, he knew that even that would soon be denied him. If he wanted a place in this world, he would have to create it himself, and that was precisely what he intended to do.

“Aren’t you, sir?” Jeremey’s words shattered Justin’s revery, and he looked up in surprise to find the twelve-year-old studying him with a hopeful expression.

“Er . . . aren’t I what, Jeremey?” he asked, sending the lad an apologetic smile. “I fear I wasn’t attending.”

“Aren’t you taking us into God tone in your carriage,” Jeremey prodded, his voice pitched at its most wheedling. “You did say you would, Colonel.”

“Justin,” he corrected automatically, amused at the lad’s attempts to maneuver him. As he recalled, he’d mentioned the possibility of taking the boys into the village but no definite plans had been made. He glanced from Jeremey’s face to Joss’s worshipful countenance and surrendered to the inevitable. “And you are quite right, I did promise the family a ride in my coach.” He turned next to Amanda, his eyebrows raised inquiringly. “Will tomorrow be all right with you, ma’am?”

“That will be fine, sir, thank you,” she said, sending both her younger brothers a suspicious frown. She knew them well enough to suspect they had wheedled the invitation from Justin, and she vowed to have a private word with them at the first opportunity. Justin might be marrying Amelia to give them all a home, she thought, returning her gaze to her plate, but that didn’t mean they could abuse his generosity. She would make it quite clear
to the twins that they weren’t to ask for anything ever again.

“That sounds wonderful, Justin, when shall we be leaving?” Amelia asked, shyly reaching out to touch his hand. Since they were now officially engaged, Amanda had sat them beside each other, and Amelia was gradually accustoming herself to his presence. He wasn’t her dearest Charles, of course, but he was very nice. Given time, she was confident she would eventually come to care for him.

“After breakfast?” he suggested, his eyes flicking once more in Amanda’s direction. “We could leave first thing in the morning and then make a day of it. I am sure you ladies must have a great deal of shopping to do.”

Amanda’s first inclination was to refuse, but after giving the matter some thought, she nodded her head. “All right. There are several things I need to buy, now that you mention it, and I am sure the boys will welcome a chance to see the shop windows.”

“Can we have luncheon at the inn?” Belinda asked, wiggling on her chair in anticipation. “Oh, please say that we might; they have the loveliest cream buns!”

“I don’t know, dearest,” Amanda answered with a thoughtful frown. “The prices at the inn are excessively high, and —”

“If that is what you want, imp, men that is what we shall do,” Justin interrupted, smiling at Belinda even as he sent Amanda a warning look. “We can even have our tea there before starting home if you like.”

“Really, Justin,” Amanda protested, annoyed by his high-handed tactics, “there is no need for such largesse. We do not expect you to spoil us all so shamelessly merely because you are to marry Amelia!”