Anne Barbour (36 page)

“I would be the last person in the world to hurt Melody,” declared Josh.

“Sometimes one can inflict pain without the slightest intention. Are you still planning to leave after Christmas?” she asked in an apparent non sequitur. Josh glanced at her sharply.

“Yes. Or—no.” He listened to himself in some surprise. “I don’t know. It is time I went home,’ he concluded a little desperately.

Lady Sandborne sighed. “I had hoped you’d come to realize that you are home, Josh. This is where you belong, my dear boy. Here, among your family and friends, all of whom are growing to love you,” she added gently before turning to greet the next guest.

Blindly, Josh swung away from her and stumbled toward the sound of an orchestra playing. For some moments, he stood staring at those in the ballroom. The musicians had swung into a country dance, and the chamber was filled with warmth and music and laughter. Again, he felt a stirring within him, as though something large and heavy, a burden carried for too long, had cracked and shifted. He realized with wonder that, though he was outside, looking in, he was not an interloper. All he had to do was to enter and be welcomed, for he was home—among his family, the family for which he had unknowingly been searching all his life.

He looked about for Melody, but he could not—no, there she was, dancing with cousin Farlow Bryce, from Lancashire. Josh leaned against a decorative column, his arms folded across his chest, watching her. As though aware of his observation, she stumbled slightly in the intricate steps of the dance, and once again, her eyes met his. She colored a little and transferred her gaze to her partner.

When the country dance had ended, he approached her, but her hand was solicited immediately by a young sprig whom he recognized as Miles Weston, oldest son of the Surrey Westons.

Recalled to his duty by a minatory stare from Aunt Helen, he requested his aunt Lucretia’s hand for the next dance, a quadrille. The one after that was a waltz, and his partner was Maribelle Grant, she of the yellow curls and hopeful gleam in her eye.

To the young lady’s obvious disappointment, he did not ask for a second dance. At the first intermission, as the musicians laid down their instruments and thirstily eyed the refreshments set out for them, Josh girded his loins and hurried to the spot where Melody stood in conversation with several young ladies.

Grasping her hand, he laid it on his arm, and murmuring polite excuses to the other ladies, he led her away from the group.

“Josh!” Melody exclaimed. “What in the world—?”

“I have been trying to get you to myself all evening, with absolutely no luck. I blame you for looking like a fairy tale come to life, but that is neither here nor there. I would have a word with you, young Melody.”

He knew he was babbling, but a strange excitement filled him, causing his blood to fizz like champagne.

“Really, Josh, you can’t just walk out of the ballroom with me and leave everyone wondering—”

“I can and I will. It’s a bit nippy outside for a stroll on the terrace, but how about a turn in the conservatory?”

“But—” protested Melody, to no avail. Josh merely tightened his grip and led her through corridors and passageways until they reached the ground-floor conservatory, now empty of all other company.

Good heavens, what was wrong with the man? thought Melody. Her heart had leapt in her breast like a stricken bird when she had sighted him for the first time that evening. Looking impossibly handsome in his ball attire, he was every inch a peer of the realm. What a very good thing she had her emotions firmly in check, so that his appearance had absolutely no effect on her other than to cause a constriction in her breathing for a few minutes. How fortunate that she had planned out the course of her behavior toward him during his remaining tenure at Sandborne Court and thus could confront him with her usual composure.

She turned to him as he ushered her into the conservatory and breathing in the cool, earth-scented dampness of the chamber, she said icily, “Now, then, what was it you wished to discuss with me?”

“I guess I should start with the other night,” Josh began, observing her unpromising demeanor with some dismay.

“The other night?” She lifted her brows in apparent bewilderment. “Oh, yes—when you kissed me. Yes, I suppose you do owe me an apology for that, but never mind. I have all but forgotten the incident.”

“You have?” This was not going at all as Josh had envisioned. “I—I’m sorry to hear that.”

Melody’s curved brows lifted again, but she said nothing.

“Because,” continued Josh, “kissing you was the highlight of my visit to England so far and”—he moved closer and lifted one of her curls in his fingers—”I was hoping to repeat the occasion.”

Melody’s velvet gray eyes were transformed instantly into boiling little infernos of fury.

“How dare you, sir! Do you think me Haymarket ware? A piece of muslin with whom you can while away the tedium of the hours before you leave Sand-borne Court?” Behind the anger, Josh caught the glitter of tears unshed.

“Leave Sandborne—? Oh, God, Melody—I—I’m sorry. I never meant—” He drew in a deep breath. “Lord, I’m making an unutterable mull of this. Look— I mean, listen, please. Hear me out.”

He drew her onto a bench beneath a spreading Empress tree.

“Yes, I thought to leave the Court and England. I never intended to stay any longer than it would take to put my affairs in order here. It never occurred to me that I could fit in here—that I could consider it my home.

“But then, something unexpected happened. I found acceptance—and love. I thought that being the Earl of Sandborne would be a burden, but instead it has become my salvation. I find I like being the earl, with what seems like a million relatives, and responsibilities and duties and—and everything that goes with it. I plan to stay,” he concluded shakily. “I shall want to journey to America now and then, but here is where my roots lie-—and so shall I, someday, in the good earth of England.”

Trembling, Melody found that her throat had tightened so she could hardly speak. “I am happy for you, Josh,” she whispered. “Truly, I am.”

She realized that she spoke the truth. She had sensed an underlying sadness in the Earl of Sand-borne, from the moment she had met him in that dismal churchyard. She had guessed at the reasons, but had not known until now how deep his unhappiness had run. Her mind whirled with the implications of what he had just told her. She loved this man, and she was glad he had found peace in the bonds of the family he had sought for so long.

But, what of her situation? He would marry. Lady Sandborne would see to that. She simply could not remain at the Court to watch while his new bride took her position as chatelaine of his home and mother of his children. Trying to draw her emotions back into the tight little ball in which they were customarily confined, she became aware that Josh was speaking once more.

“Thank you, my dear. However, there is one thing I need to cement my position as head of the Weston clan—a countess.”

Oh, God. Was he about to tell her he planned to offer for Maribelle Grant? She lifted her head only to encounter his polished jade gaze fixed intently on her. Her heart began to thud wildly. His expression certainly was not that of a man on the verge of declaring his intent to wed another woman.

She swallowed convulsively. “Yes,” she said, a little wildly. “The Earl of Sandborne must make it one of his first priority to choose a proper wife. Aunt Helen thought perhaps—”

“Aunt Helen’s feelings in the matter do not interest me,” interrupted Josh gently, and it seemed to Melody that his jeweled eyes fairly glowed with the fire that lay banked behind them. “What concerns me are your feelings.”

“M-mine?” Melody’s heart was now beating so frantically it seemed to flood her entire being.

“Melody, I found something else here at Sandborne, a woman who fills my life with song and my heart with joy. My dearest lark, we have not known each other for long, but we have become friends. I value that more than I can say, but—oh, dear God, I want so much more from you. I want you to be my wife—to share my new life—to make music with me—and babies. Lots of babies.”

It seemed to Melody that a great well had opened up within her, spreading happiness into every pore and a dizzy delight that surged through her veins.

“Josh—” she began.

“I know it is probably too soon to be speaking to you like this, and if you wish, I’ll wait until you think you might love me. But, oh, my darling lark, could you at least tell me I have a chance?”

His eyes were green fire and Melody thought she might be consumed in them. She drew a shuddering breath.

“Yes, it is soon, Josh, but I’ve discovered that it is possible to fall in love in a very short time.”

Josh’s eyes widened incredulously, and with a gasp of joy, he pulled her into his arms. His mouth came down on hers in a kiss that shook her to her soul. Once more, a shattering response swept through her, and she pressed against him. It was many moments before she was able to return herself to coherent thought.

“Oh, my love,” she said with a little gasp. “Whatever will Lady Sandborne think? I’m quite sure she had Miss Grant in mind for your bride—or Charlotte Ponsonby. She will certainly not think I am an acceptable substitute.”

“I think we need not worry about Aunt Helen,” he replied with a chuckle. “Unless I’m much mistaken, the bride she has in mind is neither of those staggeringly eligible damsels, but a certain soon-to-be-former lady’s companion.”

He bent his head once more to his beloved, and after several moments, Melody spoke in a ragged whisper.

“I never dreamed of such happiness, Josh. You have brought me the joy of Christmas.”

Josh gathered her close once more. “And you are my Christmas wish come true, little lark,” he whispered into the fragrance of her hair, “for all my Christmases to come.”

Melody swayed in his arms, her heart too full for speech. Her heart was so full of joy, she thought she might burst. She reached to brush her lips against Josh’s cheek.

“Yes, my dearest love. For all our Christmases to come.”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

For many years afterward, it became a Christmas tradition in the little church at Westonbury for the Earl of Sandborne to play the splendid organ that was his gift to the village. Afterward, he would play an accompaniment for his countess as she raised her voice in a glorious medley that always included “The Holly and the Ivy.” In later years, they were joined by their children, and later still, by grandchildren and greatgrandchildren. To the last man, woman, and child, the villagers agreed that it was the music of Lord and Lady Sandborne that made Christmas in Westonbury.

Copyright © 2011 by Barbara Yirka

Originally published by Signet in various collections: THE GRAND HOTEL (2000) [The Castaway], FROM THE HEART (1994) [The Wooing of Lord Walford], A WEDDING BOUQUET (1996) [...and a Sixpence for Her Shoe], and A REGENCY CHRISTMAS CAROL (1997) [Melody]

Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

     http://www.RegencyReads.com

     Electronic sales: [email protected]

This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.