A Christmas Affair (17 page)

“Amelia.” She reached out and laid a comforting hand on Amelia’s arm, forcing her to meet her compassionate gaze. “Are you certain you want to go through with this? It’s not too late to call things off. I could go to Justin and—”

“No!” Amelia interrupted sharply. “No,” she repeated, her voice softening at the concern in Amanda’s eyes. “I told you, I’ve given this a great deal of thought, and I am certain we are doing the right thing. As you say, Justin is a good, honorable man, and I know we shall have a good marriage.”

“But—”

“Don’t scowl so, dearest.” Amelia gave a shaky laugh, enfolding her sister in a quick embrace. “Haven’t you always told me I ought to know my own mind?”

“Yes, but I never thought the day would come when you would hurl those words back in my face,” Amanda admitted gruffly, her eyes searching Amelia’s. “You’re sure?” she asked at last.

“I was never more certain of anything in all my life,” Amelia squeezed Amanda’s hand gently. “Now, do stop hounding me about it, else I will think that it’s you who’s had the change of heart.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that I’ve seen those languishing glances you have been casting Justin’s way when you think no one’s watching,” Amelia continued, breaking into soft laughter at the expression on her sister’s face. “You seem to be most taken with him. Are you certain
you
wouldn’t rather be his
bride? As you say, it’s not too late to call things off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Amanda replied, flushing at Amanda’s playful teasing. “I’d as soon be wed to the duke of Clarence than marry that overbearing bully! I just wanted to know that you were happy.”

“I am, delightfully so,” Amelia assured her with another laugh. “And I don’t want you to fret; it will all turn out for the best, you’ll see.” She glanced up at the door as Mrs. Whistler and Belinda came hurrying toward them.

“There you are, love,” Amelia said, holding out her hand to Belinda. “Come and help me choose my gown. Only mind that it’s in the first stare of fashion,” she warned as the little girl joined her on the settee. “Once we are in London we must take care not to appear like country bumpkins. Now, what do you think of this?” And she turned her sisters’ attention to the pattern book in her hands, effectively ending the conversation.

“But, Justin, why can’t I have an orange waistcoat?” Jeremey wailed, raising tearful eyes to Justin’s face. . “Squire’s oldest boy wears one, and he’s all the crack!”

“I don’t care if he’s a tulip of the ton,” Justin shot back, thrusting an impatient hand through his dark hair and making yet another attempt to hang on to his temper. “I told you I wasn’t buying you one of those demmed things, and I meant it. We’ll hear no more of the matter.”

Jeremey gave a loud sniff and turned his back on his idol, clearly put out by such an unreasonable attitude. While he and his twin returned to perusing the fashion magazines offered by the long-suffering tailor, Justin sought refuge in his brandy, silently wondering how the devil things had managed to get so out of hand. He’d once commanded an entire battalion, he reminded himself
grimly, taking a restorative sip of the indifferent liquor. How the devil was it he couldn’t even control two half-grown schoolboys?

At first things had gone just as he’d planned. With Stephen acting as his guide, he’d visited the milliner’s, the dressmakers’, and the shoemaker, carefully explaining to each proprietor that Miss Lawrence’s and Miss Amelia’s bills were to be forwarded to his London solicitor for payment. He’d even taken the precaution of ordering them to make up a complete wardrobe for Amanda, knowing instinctively that she wouldn’t buy herself so much as a lace handkerchief. That done he had then led the boys to the tailor’s shop, and it was there his carefully laid plans unravelled.

The twins, excited by their first visit to a “real gentleman’s shop,” became completely unmanageable, pulling down bolts of material from shelves and tearing through stacks of pattern books in their eagerness to order the most outlandish outfits they could find. Justin had said no to gaudily striped trousers, pink and green waistcoats, and a vile, puce-colored jacket, the shoulders of which were so fully stuffed as to give the wearer the appearance of a hunchback, and his patience was all but at an end.

Even the normally staid Stephen had fallen in love with a greatcoat that contained no less than seven capes and was pestering him for it. “Please, Colonel,” he pleaded, clutching the illustration to his chest. “No one else in my forum has anything half so grand, and I’d be the envy of all the lads if I came back with this!”

Justin hesitated, recalling an incident from his own boyhood when he had longed for an ivory-topped cane. The other boys had all had them, and he’d wanted more than anything to be like them. His father had refused to even consider his request, calling it vain and frivolous. But
then Edward had paid him an unexpected visit, accidentally leaving his own cane behind when he left. Justin had dutifully, written him, reminding him of it, but Edward had simply sent back word that Justin might as well keep the damned thing as he had no further use for it. He’d felt like the cock of the walk for the rest of the term. . . .

“It does look rather grand,” he relented, giving the lad a warm smile. “And at least with all those capes we wouldn’t need to worry about you catching a cold. All right, you may have the wretched thing.”

While Stephen was stuttering out his thanks, Joss and Jeremey set up an immediate protest, demanding that they should receive equal consideration. Finally Justin had had all that he could endure and put his foot firmly down.

“We shall ask your sister,” he said, not feeling one ounce of shame at laying the responsibility at that hoyden’s feet. “If she doesn’t mind you looking like a lot of man-milliners, then I suppose I might be persuaded to pay for them.”

“We might as well forget it, then.” Joss gave a tragic sigh and returned the pattern book he’d been pawing through to its shelf. “She’s a girl.”

“Yes”—Jeremey nodded sagely—“they don’t understand how it is with us men. Ah well, maybe next year . . .” and he quietly submitted to the tailor’s measuring tape.

When the tailor had finished measuring the boys, he showed Justin several sketches for what he termed a proper wardrobe for the young gentlemen, and he waved a hand in agreement. He knew he’d probably end up replacing everything once they were in London, but at the moment he was too exhausted to care. The drive across the Peninsula hadn’t left him feeling half this drained, and he wondered if he still had a touch of the fever. Certainly
that was a more acceptable explanation than was the possibility he couldn’t keep up with two twelve-year-olds and a bookish schoolboy.

A glance at his pocket watch showed it to be a quarter before one, and he began rounding up his charges. They were less than three streets from the inn, but knowing the twins as he now did, he knew he’d best leave at once if he hoped to arrive on time. It turned out he was right, and it was a little after the appointed time before they came spilling into the private parlor, the twins so covered with snow that it took Amanda a few seconds before she could identify them as her brothers.

“What on earth happened to you?” she demanded, pulling Jeremey out of his coat and tossing it over the back of a chair. “You look as if you jumped headfirst into a snowbank!”

“He did,” Justin grumbled, performing a similar service on Joss. “And then this little imp jumped in after him. We were more than ten minutes in digging them out.”

“You should have seen it, Mandy!” Stephen exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. “At first all we could see was the very bottoms of their boots, and when they stopped wiggling, we was certain they were dead. The drayman who helped us free them said as much, and all the old ladies watching fainted dead away. It was grand, wasn’t it, Colonel?”

“Grand,” Justin answered with a grim smile, recalling his horror at the thought the twins could have been smothered in the thick snow. When they’d finally succeeded in extracting them, he’d been torn between giving them a sound thrashing and hugging them to his chest. His hands still shook at the memory.

Amanda saw the betraying tremor, and a smile of understanding softened her lips. She longed to say some
thing comforting, but knew Justin would not thank her for calling attention to what he would surely consider a weakness. Instead she turned to Amelia, who was busy handing out hot cups of chocolate and gentle admonishments to the others.

“While you are busy warming up these scamps, I believe I shall go and have a word with Mr. Peasey. He must have some extra blankets somewhere in this inn,” Amanda said.

“I’ll go with you,” Justin said, recalling the conversation of that morning. He’d already spoken sharply to the innkeeper about his treatment of Amanda, and he wanted to be certain the message had been understood.

“No, you’re almost as badly chilled as the boys,” she said, sending him a stern frown. “This won’t take but a few minutes, I assure you.”

“But—” Justin began, only to find himself addressing thin air. For a moment he was strongly tempted to go storming after her, but in the end he decided against it. He knew such an action would be certain to infuriate her, and as he was more interested in keeping the peace than in exercising his male prerogatives, he thought it best to let the matter drop.

Besides, he admitted, limping toward the chair, the chit was right. He
was
frozen to the very marrow of his bones, and the prospect of sitting before the crackling fire was too tempting to resist. But later he intended to have a word with his independent-minded sister-in-law. He would make it clear that he was now in command of the family, and if there was any fighting to be done, then he would be the one to do it.

Amanda returned within a few minutes, followed by a maid bearing a large pile of blankets. After making sure the boys were properly wrapped, she turned her attention
to Justin, bearing down on him with such determination that he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Peace, madam!” he exclaimed, his eyes dancing merrily. “You’ll get no quarrel from me, I promise you.”

Amanda flushed at his teasing words. “See that I do not,” she muttered, her manner brusque as she settled the blanket about his broad shoulders. “I vow, there are times when you show no more sense than do the twins!”

He grabbed her hand as she turned away, anchoring her to his side. “Aren’t you going to tuck me in?” he drawled, his tone deliberately challenging as he smiled up at her.

“I shall leave that happy task to Amelia,” she retorted, trying not to smile as she snatched back her hand. She knew he was trying to provoke her, but rather than taking offense as she once would have done, she was secretly delighted. He was usually so prim and rigid in his behavior that it was rather reassuring to see that he could misbehave on occasion.

Luncheon was a pleasant meal, with everyone excitedly bragging of their morning’s purchases. Justin noted Amanda remained silent, and was smugly pleased that he had anticipated her actions. He couldn’t wait to see her expression when the wardrobe he had ordered was delivered at the house.

It was as they were lingering over dessert and discussing what they would do that afternoon that he realized he hadn’t bought any Christmas presents for the family. He was about to demand Amanda accompany him when he had a sudden change of heart. Perhaps it might be better if Amelia went with him, he thought, flicking a speculative glance at his fiancée. Since their engagement had been announced, they’d spent almost no time at all alone together, and he decided it was time to remedy the situa
tion.

“Amelia,” he began, catching her soft blue eyes as she glanced up at him, “do you think I might prevail upon you to show me about the town? This is my first visit to Godstone and I am looking forward to seeing more of it.”

“Oh.” Amelia appeared momentarily nonplussed by his request; but she recovered quickly, and there was no faulting the sweet smile she flashed him. “Of course, Justin, that would be delightful. Is there anything of particular interest you would like to see?”

“Wherever,” he replied with an indifferent roll of his shoulders. “I shall leave that up to you, my dear.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have us show you about?” Jeremey offered, leaning toward Justin in a confidential manner. “She’ll only want to take you to all those boring old monuments and such.
We’ll
take you to the cockfights!”

“I’m not even going to ask how you know about such places,” Amanda said before Justin could answer. “Something tells me I am better off not knowing. In the meanwhile, I think it best that Amelia act as Justin’s guide.”

“Why?” Jeremey whined.

“Because, you little ninnyhammer, she is his fiancée,” Stephen said, lording it over his younger brother with a smug superiority. “And engaged couples often want to be alone together.”

“I don’t see why.” Joss was quick to pick up the cudgels in his brother’s defense. “Cockfights are much more interesting than any dusty old monuments!”

“I want to go!” Belinda said, setting down her spoon and casting Justin a hopeful smile. “I love monaments!”

Justin glanced from one child’s face to another, wondering vaguely how he was going to extract himself from this contretemps. He turned to Amanda. “Help,” he implored
in obvious desperation.

“Belinda, Joss, Jeremey, that is quite enough,” she said, her stern voice at odds with her sparkling eyes. “If Justin wants to go about with Amelia, then we shall let them. The rest of us have more than enough errands to keep us occupied until it is time to go. Don’t forget we still have to call on the vicar.”

This pronouncement was greeted with groans, but her brothers knew her too well to protest. While they were busy commiserating with each other, Justin leaned forward to cover Amanda’s hand with his own.

“My thanks for your able rescue, ma’am,” he said, his expression warm as he regarded her. “I haven’t felt so harassed since I was cut off from my unit by a platoon of French Hussars.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” she replied, laughing at his apt analogy. “Only mind you and Amelia aren’t gone overly long. I don’t trust the looks of that sky, and I want to get home before it starts snowing again.”