The Christmas Wager (4 page)

Andrew hadn‘t been in his room, so Thomas walked down to

the main floor, one hand sliding cautiously along the banister,

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25

while he endeavored to wipe the sleep from his eyes with his

other hand.

To his dismay, he found not only Andrew in the dining

room, but also his mother.

―Nice of you to join us, Thomas,‖ Duchess Barrington said

primly.

He ignored the reprimand in her tone. His mother had

never approved of people who slept late, so this was nothing

new. Andrew, on the other hand, smiled warmly as Thomas

entered the room and sat beside him.

―Tea?‖ Andrew asked, pouring before Thomas could

answer. It was a ritual with them—Andrew knew perfectly well

that Thomas needed his tea before he could face the day.

Thomas was relieved when his mother stood and

announced, ―You‘ll have to excuse me. I have some things to

attend to. I shall see you both at luncheon.‖

He didn‘t expect to be at Barrington Hall for lunch. As

soon as he was conscious, he intended to pack his bags and

have Simcox call for a carriage. But he wasn‘t up to arguing

with his mother, so he let her go about her business.

Andrew put milk and sugar in his tea. As always, Thomas

was struck by the feeling of domesticity Andrew engendered in

him—as though they were married. The thought was both

comforting and disturbing, so Thomas pushed it from his mind.

―Would you like a scone?‖ Andrew asked.

Thomas practically snarled at him. ―Don‘t be ridiculous.

You know I never touch food first thing in the morning.‖

―Neither do I,‖ Andrew said, chuckling, ―But somehow I‘ve

ended up with two of the beastly things on my plate.‖

They sat in companionable silence for a long moment, as

each sipped his tea. Andrew seemed cheerful enough this

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morning, Thomas reflected. Certainly, he must be disappointed

that the beautiful country Christmas he‘d fantasized about had

fallen flat, but Thomas knew Andrew would never complain

about it. He was a good chap. The best.

―Are you nearly packed?‖ Thomas asked.

―Completely.‖

―Then I shall have someone bring your bags down. Simcox

can summon a carriage for us.‖

Andrew seemed to be mulling over something. At last he

spoke. ―We should, perhaps, say goodbye to Susan.‖

―Why?‖ Thomas snapped. ―As you said yourself, I don‘t

know her. I‘ve barely spoken ten words to her.‖

―But she is your niece.‖

Thomas looked at him through sleep-blurred eyes, trying

to fathom what was going on behind that quirky smile. Andrew

was up to something. He could feel it. But as he could think of

no good reason to shun Susan, he replied, ―Very well. We‘ll pop

up to the nursery, after I‘ve finished my tea.‖

ANDREW wasn‘t quite sure what visiting Susan would

accomplish. But at least it gave him a little time to think. He

wasn‘t absolutely certain that Duchess Barrington was correct

about forcing a reconciliation between Thomas and the duke.

Yes, it would be good for them, if it succeeded. But they were

currently living in a state of uneasy truce. If things went badly,

Thomas could find himself disinherited. And though Andrew

would never let him starve, his interference could easily

damage their friendship.

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Bother!
he thought, as they climbed the main staircase,

then the back stairs up to the third floor,
God save us both

from meddling mothers!

The nursery was small, at the back of a hallway which

housed several of the servants, including Susan‘s nanny, Katie.

Katie was just clearing the dishes from Susan‘s breakfast when

they entered, and the little girl herself was seeing to it that her

dolls were having their tea and cakes in the corner of the room.

Thomas greeted the nanny, and then approached his niece.

―I‘ve come to say goodbye, Susan.‖

Susan was looking angelic this morning, dressed in a frilly

white dress, with her startling red hair falling in loose curls on

her shoulders, sporting a single white ribbon. Her blue eyes

regarded her uncle seriously for a moment, before she replied,

―Goodbye.‖

Uncertain what to say after that, Thomas gave her a brief

smile then turned to leave.

This wasn‘t going well at all, Andrew reflected. If he didn‘t

intervene, they would leave the nursery, go down to the

entrance hall, and be spirited back to London by carriage

before they knew it. Any chance there was of fixing the rift

between Thomas and his father would be gone, as would any

opportunity for improving the dreary circumstances Susan was

being subjected to by her misguided—though, no doubt

loving—father.

Then he saw it. Behind the dolls‘ breakfast party, in the

dollhouse itself….

―Is that a tree, Susan?‖ he asked, crouching down to peer

inside.

The little girl looked startled and glanced at her nanny.

―Yes…,‖ she said reluctantly.

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Thomas crouched down, too, to peer into the dollhouse.

Behind a miniature of a clavichord was a tiny reproduction of a

spruce tree covered in tiny, brightly colored paper and foil

ornaments.

―Where on earth did you get that from?‖ the young man

asked, his curiosity piqued.

Clearly Susan thought she was going to get in trouble. She

regarded her uncle with trepidation, refusing to answer, until

Katie spoke up. ―I gave that to her, Your Lordship. I‘m very

sorry, if I shouldn‘t have.‖

―No,‖ Thomas said softly, ―that‘s quite all right.‖

Seeing that Thomas was not angry about the little tree,

Susan grew a bit bolder. ―Katie says her house always had a

tree in it, when she was little.‖

―Well, not
always
,‖ Katie said, laughing, ―only at

Christmas.‖

Thomas smiled. ―We had trees in Barrington Hall, as well.

Nine of them, if I recall.‖

Susan‘s eyes lit up for the first time since Andrew had met

her. ―Nine?‖

―Mmm-hm. And the front hall and ballroom were adorned

with garlands of spruce and balsam and holly. It smelled

wonderful!‖

―But why?‖

―Why, for Christmas, of course! And there were mince pies

and goose and rum punch—well, perhaps not for little girls—‖

But Susan was looking puzzled by all of this. ―What‘s

Christmas?‖

That brought Thomas up short. He looked at his niece

with an expression of shock. Then, slowly, he stood up.

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―Perhaps it‘s time you found out what Christmas is,

poppet.‖

He turned to Andrew. ―I will return shortly. I‘m going to

have a word with my tyrant of a father.‖

Andrew watched Thomas take leave of Susan and the

nanny, then stride from the room like a soldier marching to

battle, and he felt exhilarated. What he had been unable to

accomplish, Susan had managed with just a few words. He just

wished he could be a fly on the wall when Thomas confronted

the duke.

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Chapter 5

ACCORDING to Simcox, Duke Barrington often spent his

mornings in the kennel, tending to his beloved hounds, so that

was where Thomas headed. There was a cool crispness in the

morning air as he walked across the wide stable yard, and the

dirt under his boots crunched with morning frost. Even without

snow, it smelled like Christmas—to those who knew what

Christmas was.

This was an appalling state of affairs. Never mind the fact

that he‘d never met his niece until last night and had no claim

on her upbringing. The girl was living a drab, dull existence in

a home that had forgotten joy and merriment. Thomas couldn‘t

simply turn his back on her, Edward and their father be

damned!

Thomas was surprised to discover how warm the kennel

was, though the overwhelming smell of dog informed him that

he was definitely in the right place. The small room was in

chaos at the moment, as the hounds fought over their morning

meal. Thomas cautiously stepped through them, toward the far

end, where he could see the duke tending a wood stove.

His father glanced up as he approached and glared at him.

―I believe I told you to leave.‖

Thomas had never stood up to his father before. It had

always seemed wiser to rebel in secret and let the stubborn old

fool think he was having his way. But it was no longer just

Thomas‘s happiness at stake. He steeled himself for a quarrel.

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―You did, Father. But I‘ve come to have a word with you.‖

The duke snorted. ―We have nothing to say to one another.‖

―I‘m afraid I have a great deal to say,‖ Thomas said, ―about

Susan.‖

His father stopped in the process of feeding a split log into

the stove and looked up at him again. ―She‘s no concern of

yours.‖

―She‘s a four-year-old girl living in a house with no other

children to play with! And she doesn‘t even know what

Christmas is!‖

―Don‘t you raise your voice at me, young man!‖ the duke

snarled, brandishing the log at him, as he had his walking

stick the night before. ―You know nothing about what goes on

in this house. We‘ve not heard a peep from you in six years,

and now you come sauntering in like you own the place.‖

Thomas gritted his teeth in frustration, resisting the urge

to knock the stick away from his face. ―This has nothing to do

with me—‖

―No, it does not. Susan is Edward‘s daughter—not yours.‖

―And where is Edward? Christmas is just three days away,

and he‘s in London?‖

―He‘s in London attending to business matters, because he

knows the meaning of responsibility!‖ The duke threw the log

into the stove and slammed the door shut.

For a moment, Thomas thought his father was going to

explode, but the man looked at him for an uncomfortably long

time, narrowing his eyes.

―I should throw you out on your ear, you shiftless layabout.

But I‘ve just thought of a better use for you.‖

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―What?‖ Thomas responded, taking a step back. It wasn‘t

that he feared his father would get violent, but he didn‘t like

the look in the man‘s eye.

―You think Barrington Hall should celebrate Christmas

this year?‖ the duke snarled, poking at Thomas‘s chest with his

index finger. ―All right, then. If you want Christmas, you
make

Christmas!‖

Thomas was still uncertain what his father meant, but the

duke went on, ―You take charge of the decorating. You take

charge of the menus and buying everything the cooks need.

You take charge of the ball, and the guest list, and the

invitations—‖

―The ball?‖ Thomas gasped in dismay. ―Surely we don‘t

need to go that far! Susan is much too young for a ball.‖

Duke Barrington laughed unpleasantly. ―Oh no. You don‘t

come into my house, telling me how to run things, then do a

slapdash job of it yourself! If you want Christmas at Barrington

Hall, you‘ll do it yourself and you‘ll do it right! You‘ve been

costing me a fortune for years, while you‘ve gadded about

London with your friends. Now, for once, you‘re going to show

some responsibility! I expect Barrington Hall to shine this

Christmas. Or it will be the last you ever see of it.‖

The man began to turn back to the fire but thought better

of it. With a faint smile coming to his face that gave Thomas a

chill, he added, ―And while we‘re at it, let‘s make this a wager.

If you succeed, I‘ll raise your allowance—just a small amount,

mind you. But if you fail you‘ll never see another penny from

me.‖

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Chapter 6

ANDREW had asked Katie if it would be all right to take Susan

outside for a bit. From what the little girl told him, she was

seldom allowed out alone, especially in the winter weather.

Some fresh air might do her good.

Bundled up in her overcoat and bonnet, Susan looked very

prim and reminded Andrew a bit too much of a diminutive