Twelve Days in December: A Christmas Novella (2 page)

Though she had not been afforded the luxury of a comfortable bed or much time to weep over her loss. Alec had needed tending, and they had both required food and a roof over their heads, and she was the only one left to see to those things.

As I am the only one here who can help Marsali through this grief.

“If only I could stop thinking of Christopher,” Marsali said. “But I still dream of him most every night. And when I am awake I imagine sometimes that I see him places— once on the street when Mr. Vancer and I were out driving. I even thought I saw Christopher at the masquerade ball.”

“Oh, Marsali.” Charlotte’s voice was full of empathy, not reprimand.

Lady Cosgrove let out a slow, heavy sigh, as if resigning herself to something. “You did see him at the ball,” she admitted quietly.

“
What?
” Charlotte exclaimed.

Marsali pushed herself up on her elbows and stared at Lady Cosgrove. “What did you say?”

“The truth.” Lady Cosgrove’s usually straight posture was now hunched, and she looked discomfited. She cleared her throat. “I fear I have done a terrible, terrible thing.”

“Only if you are lying now,” Marsali said. “Please, tell me.”

Lady Cosgrove would not meet her eye but inhaled deeply, as if gathering strength, then launched into a tale of deceit that Charlotte could scarcely believe.

Christopher is— alive?
She brought a hand to her racing heart and could only imagine what Marsali had to be feeling.
If this is true, she
cannot
marry Mr. Vancer.

“I knew I should miss your company if you left,” Lady Cosgrove said to Marsali. “A woman my age does not easily make friends in new circles. But with you as his bride, it was possible that I might.”

“So you kept Christopher from Marsali because you wished to be her
friend
?” Charlotte’s face screwed up in anger, and it was all she could do to refrain from shaking the woman.

“I don’t understand,” Marsali said. “
Is
Christopher alive? Was he here?”

Lady Cosgrove continued her explanation without answering either of them. “Later, I believed I was doing what was best for you… But now I fear I have ruined more than one life with my meddling.”

Perhaps not.
Charlotte read the hope in her sister’s eyes. She decided to change tactics with Lady Cosgrove, reasoning that anger— no matter how justified— would not gain them anything. They needed Lady Cosgrove’s cooperation and help if they were to find Christopher.

“It may not be too late to mend your mistake.” Charlotte softened her voice, and she took Lady Cosgrove’s hand and inquired about Christopher once more.

Lady Cosgrove sniffed and nodded slowly as she explained how Christopher had come to visit and she had told him Marsali was dead. “I was thinking of
you
,” Lady Cosgrove insisted. “Mr. Thatcher had been seriously injured, and it appeared he would be lame for some time— perhaps permanently. I could see only a life of hardship ahead for you, if you remained his wife. I imagined you working to support not only yourself but him as well. But if you stayed with Mr. Vancer, you would never have to work, and you would have everything you ever wanted.”

“I wanted Christopher,” Marsali cried. “It was not your choice to make.”

They continued their argument, Charlotte only half-listening and participating.
What is Marsali to do now? She is to be married to Mr. Vancer in two hours’ time.
It was apparent Marsali had little thought of him at the moment, as she hurried about the room, donning her cloak and retrieving the wedding ring Christopher had given her. Charlotte stood and followed her, voicing concern over Marsali heading off to search for her husband alone.

“And what of Mr. Vancer, who fulfilled the debt?” Lady Cosgrove asked Marsali. “You would repay his kindness by abandoning him at this critical time?”

“We never should have
reached
this critical time had you been honest with us both,” Marsali said, anger shaking her voice. “I regret that he will be hurt, but I
cannot
marry him now.”

“He will lose his fortune
and
suffer public humiliation today,” Lady Cosgrove murmured. “Oh! Whatever have I done?”

Marsali stepped around Charlotte and opened the door. “Somehow I think he would choose both over marriage to a woman who already has a living husband.”

“Indeed I would.” Mr. Vancer stood in the hall just outside her door, his brows pinched and a most stricken expression upon his face. “Forgive me. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but having heard my name mentioned, I paused outside your door and caught the end of your conversation. I gather you are going somewhere— and it is not to our wedding.” He touched the edge of Marsali’s cloak.

“My husband is alive,” she said. “He has even been here— to your home— twice, without our knowledge. Lady Cosgrove at first told him I was dead and then later convinced him that I was better off with you.”

“But you are not.” Mr. Vancer cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“No,” Marsali whispered. “I love him still. I must find him.”

“Of course you must.”

Mr. Vancer spoke with a great deal of understanding, and Charlotte felt her heart breaking for him. He had been so kind to Marsali, and they made such a handsome couple, his lighter hair and blue eyes a compliment to Marsali’s darker coloring.
Dashingly handsome
, was how Charlotte had described him earlier. But now he just seemed distressingly sorrowful.

“This is quite the turn of events.” He brought a hand to his temples and began rubbing. “In less than two hours we were to be at the church. Explaining to our guests shall be bad enough, but now I am left with only one week before the end of the year in which to find a wife. They are not easy to come by, you know.” He gave a harsh laugh.

“I am so very sorry.” Marsali touched his hand lightly. “I did not mean for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you, and I shall find a way to repay every penny you have spent on me.”

“You may have to,” Mr. Vancer said, clearly jesting but with a trace of bitterness in his voice. “I have already made purchases and invested against the inheritance I was to receive. And now I will be unable to pay my creditors back.”

“There is a possible solution,” Lady Cosgrove suggested timidly.

Charlotte turned to look at her, astounded that she dared to even linger in their presence, let alone suggest anything— after all she had done to them both.

“I think I have had enough of your suggestions,” Mr. Vancer said. “You accuse Marsali of repaying me poorly when you have betrayed the long-standing friendship of our families in such a manner.”

“I did not intend to.” Lady Cosgrove rose from her seat at the edge of the bed and crossed the room to the doorway. “When we arrived, I
did
believe Mr. Thatcher to be dead. And when it was discovered that he was not, I did not know how to tell you— I was afraid for you and your predicament and concerned for Marsali and the otherwise harsh future ahead of her.” Lady Cosgrove had crumpled a bit but straightened before adding, “And I truly believed that Mr. Thatcher had gone away for good.”

“Clearly, he has not,” Mr. Vancer said. “Nor would I, were Miss Abbott my wife.” He blew out a long breath and leaned his head back, looking up, as if seeking inspiration.

“You can still marry today,” Lady Cosgrove said. “Not Marsali, but Charlotte.”

Me?
Charlotte heard a gasp and wondered if it was her own.

“There is no doubt that
her
husband is deceased,” Lady Cosgrove continued. “And she and Marsali are similar in appearance. Why, it is entirely possible that many in the congregation may not notice the difference.”

“Aside from her
name,
” Mr. Vancer said, clearly exasperated.

Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut, humiliated at being thrust upon him thus.

“And,” he continued, “I
would
rather lose a fortune than force… a woman to marriage.”

She opened her eyes in time to catch him looking at her, assessing.
Asking?
In that brief instant she glimpsed his need— whether purely financial or something else beyond that she could not tell— and a vulnerability that reached her own, aching heart.
He is actually considering it.

A tiny catch of hope, of possibility, stole her breath. Could this not be the answer to her own prayers? The very way she had been seeking to provide for herself and Alec? Her mind reached that conclusion before her heart had quite settled on it. “You would not— have to force me.”

“Charlotte?” Marsali turned to her.

“I would not require much,” Charlotte continued, looking past Marsali to keep her eyes locked with Mr. Vancer’s. It was important he understand. “A roof over our heads and perhaps an education for Alec— when he is older. That is, of course, if you would not mind adopting a child in the bargain.”

“I— would not mind.” Mr. Vancer swallowed thickly. “Are you quite certain? We know very little of each other.”

Beneath Charlotte’s gown her heart beat wildly at the prospect of marrying a man she did not truly know. Marrying again.
Forgive me, Matthew. I am thinking of our son.

“I know you have treated my sister kindly.” Charlotte felt tears welling and fought to keep them at bay. She would have time enough later to both examine and cope with her emotions. But this here and now would come only once. If Marsali gaining Mr. Vancer’s favor was good fortune, for Charlotte to earn his offer of marriage had to be direct heavenly intervention. “I have hope you would regard Alec and me the same.”

“I would,” Mr. Vancer said. “I will. I would be in your debt for so great a favor.”

In my debt.
It was entirely the other way around. He could save them from the life of privation and danger awaiting her at the plantation where she worked.
The very sort of life Lady Cosgrove was trying to save Marsali from.

Marsali looked from one to the other, as if they’d each gone mad.

Perhaps I have, agreeing to marry a man I know so little of…

“It is all settled, then.” Lady Cosgrove squared her shoulders. “Perhaps all will yet be well— for all concerned. Come, Charlotte. You must be readied for your wedding. And, Mr. Vancer, I believe Miss Abbott is in need of a carriage.”

“Yes— please,” Marsali said, sounding focused once more.

“Godspeed, sister.” Charlotte embraced her and added words of caution for her journey. “I shall give you the name of my employer, and perhaps you can take my place there. They should be happy to have a woman without a child tagging along as she does her work.”

“Thank you,” Marsali said. “I shall write to let you know what has become of me.”

“You will do more than that,” Mr. Vancer said. “You shall have an escort.” His eyes strayed to Lady Cosgrove. “So your sister and I will not fear for your safety.”

He does care for Marsali.
Mr. Vancer had been reserved in his affection throughout the courtship, but Charlotte suspected it was only as a courtesy to Marsali.
He might have been starting to love her even. How will he regard me?

“Thank you for your kindness and understanding,” Marsali said. “If circumstances had been different…”

He smiled sadly. “But they are not, and you must go and find your Mr. Thatcher. I hope that when you do, he realizes how fortunate he is.”

After issuing a few orders, William left the women to take care of preparations and walked swiftly to the wing that held his private suite of rooms. He couldn’t get there fast enough, or so it seemed, and by the time he reached the sanctuary of his bedroom, his fingers trembled then slipped on the knob when he tried to turn it.

Four times. This cannot be happening.
His fingers managed to twist the knob, and on legs that felt weak, he entered the room. The door shut behind him, and he made straight for the chair near the window and the snifter of brandy on the side table. A thoughtful servant had delivered it earlier, saying it was for calming pre-wedding nerves, should William have any.

If he ever actually had a wedding, he might.
Four times. I must be cursed.
He sank heavily into the chair then reached for the glass. He brought it to his lips but at the last second thought the better of consuming even one drop of alcohol. Charlotte had nearly two full hours in which to change her mind, and no doubt she would, though he couldn’t help admiring the way she’d stepped in to save her sister, even if Charlotte would come to her senses and back down before all was said and done.

Brandy would certainly help ease the ache of disappointment he felt at the loss of his impending marriage to Marsali, but it would also impair his ability to handle the situation. He would need all his senses on alert and his wits about him in the upcoming hours, days, and weeks when the gossip columns and society pages would be filled with the news of his latest disaster. Imagining the headlines, he cringed.

American businessman William Vancer jilted at the altar yet again… Millionaire knows how to make money but can’t seem to keep a bride.
And worse—
Vancer Furs in trouble after overinvesting leaves Vancer unable to pay creditors.