A Christmas Bride (18 page)

“I know.”

“Even if it meant your leaving Cheyney Park right now.”

But I do not want to go right now
. Again she was glad those words had been in her head, not on her lips. She could not imagine a day without Timothy in it. Nor could she imagine being without his laugh, his kindnesses, his eyes that bespoke the yearning that taunted her as well.

“I promised you that I would stay to see this through, no matter what,” she said.

“I appreciate that, Serenity, but I have been thinking lately about those who must be missing you.”

She was glad when he put his arm around her again, because the ice within her was even more frigid than the wintry wind. “I have thought of that often. I wonder how I would fare if someone I cared for vanished without a trace. It is not just me, but the others who were traveling with me.”

“They have not been identified either. If there was anything in the carriage to offer a clue, it was stolen before we were able to look for it.”

“I appreciate that you have tried.”

“Don't give up yet.” He turned her to face him. “I have not.”

Timothy fought to draw a breath as he gazed down into her eyes that glistened with unshed tears. No one had ever had more right to surrender to vapors than Serenity Adams did. In spite of that, she remained as strong as the walls of Cheyney Park.

He curved his hands along her face. He did not need to hear Felix's irritating voice urging him to take full advantage of this situation. Every inch of him was repeating it. This was the woman he had devised out of his dreams. Only a widgeon would let her walk out of his life without giving her a few memories to replace the ones she had lost.

With a silent groan, he turned away. She had done all he asked, providing him with a way to hide his shameful lies. He could not compound that shame by seducing her.

He had not turned away quickly enough, for he had caught a glimpse of her shock that he had not kissed her.
Dash it!
Did she have any idea how difficult this was for him? He had been a fool to taste those beguiling lips even once.

Not saying anything, he hurried her toward the house. There were not many more days before Grandfather's birthday celebration, and then …

And then what? Would he send Serenity on her way? Impossible, even if she had a place to go. Having her stay here after he left would be foolish, because every passing hour threatened the truth becoming known, and she should not face that moment alone, when the lie was his. He could bring her to Town, but, whether he set her up in her own house or as a guest in his, the gossipmongers of the
ton
would label her his high-flyer. That would ruin her reputation, and, if she truly was an abigail, no household would ever hire her again.

He must think of a solution. If she were to regain her memories … No, he could not depend on that, although he wished that for her.

Branson was waiting to hold the door as the wind herded them into the foyer. From the railing overlooking the foyer, Theodora waved as her nurse carried her toward the earl's sitting room.

When Serenity scurried back out the door, Timothy exchanged a baffled frown with the butler. What was she up to now? He never was quite sure with Serenity. Unlike everything else in his life that could be put in order with a minimum of fuss, she created this charming uproar.

She ran back into the house and up the stairs. Curiosity spurred his feet to follow. With a laugh, he paused in the doorway to his grandfather's sitting room. Theodora was perched in her favorite chair again, and Serenity was kneeling beside her as she placed a snowball in the little girl's hand.

“It is so cold!” Theodora gasped.

“Not as cold as the wind.” Serenity shrugged off her coat and let it fall behind her on the carpet.

Timothy picked it up and settled it over his arm as he watched the little girl stare at the snow as if she had never seen it this close. With a flinch, he suspected she probably had not. How many more ways was Serenity gently going to remind them of how a tender heart could be a greater cure than all the advice of all the doctors in England?

“Next time we will take you with us. Right, Timothy?” Before he could answer, she went on, “You do have a coat, don't you?”

“You would have to ask Nurse,” Theodora said.

“I shall.” She wiped the melting snow from Theodora's hand and stood. Smiling at Timothy, she slipped her hand into his. “We shall have fun together outside.”

“You can kiss Timothy, you know, like Felix and Melanda did.” Theodora lowered her voice. “I will not look if you do not want me to.”

Timothy laughed, unable to halt himself. Theodora was as serious as an old tough, urging her charge to flirt with a highly eligible bachelor.

“All you need to worry about when you go down to the pond with us is finding the ducklings' nest,” he said.

Her eyes grew round. “Do you think ducks kiss, too?”

“I don't know. Have you ever seen them kiss?” She shook her head. “All they do is waddle about, and when Nurse opens the window I can hear them quacking. I so would like to touch one.”

“We shall have to see about that, won't we, Serenity?” Serenity smiled. “Timothy has promised me that he will take you down to the pond to see the ducklings as soon as they hatch. Of course, the mother and father ducks may not want you to touch them right away, but you can see them up close.”

“And will you come, too, Serenity?”

“I—”

“Timothy, thank heavens, you are here!” Melanda rushed into the room, her hair, for once, as tangled as if she had been out in the wind. Her colorless cheeks, however, warned that she had not suffered from the wind's fierce caress.

He caught her before she could fly right past him, so lost was she in her despair. “What is it, Melanda?”

“'Tis Felix.”

“What about Felix?” He glanced at Serenity and saw his disquiet mirrored on her face. If Felix and Melanda had had a brangle, discussing it in front of Theodora was a mistaken thing. He wished he could ask Melanda to step out into the hallway, but that would create more questions from the little girl who was watching, wide-eyed.

“He is missing!” Melanda swayed.

Timothy caught her before she could fall. Settling her back on the settee, he heard Serenity say she would ring for
sal volatile
.

A throat was cleared nearer the door. “My lord?”

Coming to his feet as Serenity bent over Melanda and began to chafe the senseless woman's wrists, Timothy asked, “Branson, do you know anything of this?”

“Only what Miss Hayes said, my lord. It seems that Mister Felix is missing.”

“Felix is missing? How did she decide that?” He had not guessed that his cousin would bestir himself from the chair closest to the hearth.

“Miss Hayes did not say, my lord, but she is clearly beyond distressed.”

“My uncle—”

“Is not in, my lord. He has gone to call on a friend on the other side of the village.”

Timothy groaned. “Has Felix taken leave of all sense? All right. Let's do a search of the outbuildings and the gardens. If he is not found, we shall look farther afield.”

“Very good, my lord.” Branson hurried out to make the arrangements.

Turning back to Serenity, Timothy said, “Stay here with Theodora, if you will.”

“Gladly.” Serenity gave the little girl a bolstering smile, then offered the same to him. He appreciated it more than he could ever voice.

His fingers caressed her soft cheek. “Both of you please keep an eye on Grandfather. Melanda will just upset him with her vapors. Uncle Arnold is not much better in a crisis, so be prepared if he returns.”

“I will.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her to her feet and away from Theodora, who was listening avidly. “Keep Melanda and my uncle away from Grandfather. Please.”

“I shall do my best.”

“I know you will. Thank you.” He bent toward her.

This time he could not resist the lure of her wine red lips. Her soft gasp warned of her surprise that he would kiss her when Theodora was watching. The sound vanished beneath his mouth as his arms enveloped her, pulling her up against his chest.

With a groan of his own, he released her and rushed out of the room while he still could. His cousin might be in trouble, but he could think only of Serenity and what they could share when he returned.

Thirteen

“Egad!”

Serenity paused by the top of the stairs to look down at the foyer. Timothy was standing in the very middle, scowling at an evergreen tree that was dripping melting snow onto the stones. “Welcome home!” she called.

Before she could ask if he had found his cousin, Timothy asked, “Why is there a blasted tree in the foyer?” He shrugged off his coat and walked around the tree that had its branches still intact. If it had been stood on its cut base, it would have been no taller than he was. “If that is to be our Yule log, it is sadly lacking in breadth as well as height.”

Serenity folded her arms on the upper banister. “You should ask your Aunt Ilse. She had one of the stablemen bring it in not more than five minutes ago. Did you find Felix? What happened to him?”

He smiled. “Aunt Ilse, is it? Who knows what she may have in mind? She has been as excited as any of the children with the advent of Christmas. Where is she?”

“She mumbled something about wondering if there would be enough small candles in the storeroom, then hurried off toward the kitchen.” Serenity came down the stairs and stepped over a puddle where snow had fallen off the fir branches. “She asked me to gather up any children in the household so they could help.”

“Help with what?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. Mayhap she wants to allow them to have a small Yule log of their own.”

“I hope she does not plan to burn it in the parlor's fireplace. It would create a fearsome mess in there.”

“Timothy! What about Felix?”

He grimaced. “He is fine. I shall tell you all about it when there are fewer ears about.” He tugged on one of the branches, and needles scattered onto the floor. “These should have been cut off before it was brought into the house.”

“She insisted that the branches be left on.” Serenity tried to keep her voice cheerful, but was curious why Timothy wanted to hide what he had discovered about his cousin.

“Why does Aunt Ilse want the branches left on?”

“I have no idea. Mayhap it is something they do in her prince's household.”

“She has picked up some strange habits as well as her name.”

“Her name?” Serenity climbed back up the stairs with him.

“Her birth name is Elsbeth, but she changed it to Ilse when she married Rupert.”

“So I am not the only one with a different name.” She gasped, wanting to take back the words that might betray Timothy's plan.

As if nothing were amiss, he laughed. “Women are accustomed to changing their names when they marry, but usually not their given names, too. I think you should keep Serenity. Serenity Crawford.” He paused as they reached the upper gallery. Taking her hand, he bowed over it. “My Lady Cheyney.”

She knew she should say something jesting in return, but no words came into her head as he stood, his gaze capturing hers. How wondrous it sounded to be addressed so! She could not imagine how glorious it would be if she truly were his betrothed.

“My lord,” she whispered, knowing she must say something.

But that was the wrong thing to say in the wrong tone, she realized, when the fires in his eyes swirled around her and within her in an invitation to be a part of that vivid flame. He said nothing while he drew her into a nearby room and shut the door.

She was in his arms, her mouth against his, before she had time to form a single thought. The day's cold sifted from his coat through the fine material of her gown, but all she knew was the sweet warmth of his kiss. When his mouth left hers to taste the line of her pulse along her neck, she gripped his arms, afraid that this rapture would consume her even as she wanted more. His lips brushed the curve of her breast above her modest gown, and she moaned with the need that would be silent no longer. He answered with the soft whisper of her name as his fingers combed up into her hair to pull her mouth to his again.

Serenity jerked herself away. Had she lost her mind? She was not Serenity Adams! She was not the fantasy that chance had brought to life for Timothy. Yet … Her fingers rose toward his face as he cupped her elbows. Mayhap she was more wantwitted not to take advantage of what might be her last chance to be in the arms of a man she loved.

She started to step toward him, but paused as a knock sounded at the door. It opened, and the earl peeked in like a naughty child.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

Although Serenity had the peculiar feeling that he wanted her to say yes, she said, “Of course not. Do come in and join us.”

“If you are sure I am not interrupting.” He glanced at his grandson. Now she was certain the earl had hoped to intrude upon a private moment, that he wanted his heir and his heir's fiancée to be mad about one another.

Timothy drew off his gloves. “Grandfather, Serenity assured you that you were not.”

“As long as you are
sure
?”

“Yes, of course.” She took the old man's hand and led him to sit on the settee closest to the hearth. “I was just about to ask Timothy what news he had of Felix's present whereabouts.”

“I see that you were.” Lord Brookindale pushed a strand of her hair back from her face.

She realized that her hair was undone and hanging about her shoulders. When had that happened? Slipping the strand back behind her ear, she hoped her face was not as red as Timothy's, which had been scratched by the wind's claws.

The earl looked at his grandson with an abrupt frown. “Felix's whereabouts? Is the boy missing?” He sighed. “One would have guessed he had given up such childish habits along with his childhood.”