The Christmas Wager (6 page)

absence, cleaning the entrance hall and the other rooms on the

first floor. Charlotte practically shrieked when Hew and

The Christmas Wager |
Jamie Fessenden

42

Duncan began carrying the evergreens in, tracking mud

through the great hall, but Simcox calmed her.

Katie was waiting by the door to take Susan in hand. The

girl was badly in need of a warm fire and a nap, by this point,

but she still protested at being taken from her uncle.

―Don‘t you worry,‖ Thomas reassured her, ―Andrew and I

will come fetch you when it‘s time to hang the ribbons.‖

The cook had apparently been busy, as well, because she

was waiting to present Thomas with a list of items she‘d been

unable to find in the larders—things she assured him she

absolutely
had to have
, if she were to prepare a banquet for the

Christmas Eve dance. The list was substantial, but the large

woman had such an expression of panic on her face, he didn‘t

think it wise to argue

He did, however, have to ask, ―Is there any place nearby

that can supply these items? We don‘t have time to travel far.‖

―There‘s a local grocer in the village, Your Lordship,‖ she

replied, anxiously worrying her apron with her heavy hands.

―With your permission, I can send some of the kitchen help into

town.‖

―That shouldn‘t be necessary, Georgina. I‘ll be happy to

run into town. Simcox? May we borrow Hew and Duncan and

the cart again?‖

Andrew joined them, as Thomas had known he would. Had

his friend not been there, Thomas was certain he‘d be as panic-

stricken as the cook. But somehow Andrew calmed him and

made it all seem manageable.

Andrew quietly pointed out, when they arrived in the

center of Barrington Village, that none of them had had a

moment to eat since breakfast, and it was now well past

midday. Thomas suspected this was more for the benefit of the

boys, rather than Andrew himself, though neither of them had

The Christmas Wager |
Jamie Fessenden

43

complained at all. When the idea was broached, Duncan

enthusiastically directed them to a local pub.

After an unsophisticated but excellent meal of bangers and

mash, the four of them practically cleaned out the local grocers.

Hew and Duncan took it upon themselves to inform everyone

they met about the dance at Barrington Hall, even though the

invitations hadn‘t yet gone out, which delayed them a good bit.

But Thomas didn‘t mind. He was having a better time today

than he‘d had since he was a boy.

By the time they got back to the hall, the servants had

strung up the evergreen boughs and had begun decorating

with ornaments retrieved from the attic. The portrait of Anne

still adorned one of the mantels, but the hideous black garland

had been replaced by much more festive balsam. Susan was

awake again and ran up to her uncle and Andrew the moment

they entered the hall.

―You said you would wake me when you put the ribbons

up,‖ she accused them, while taking them each by a hand and

tugging them inside.

―But I don‘t see any ribbons,‖ Andrew observed.

―Not yet!‖ the little girl said, clearly exasperated.

Simcox approached, looking amused. ―The ribbons have

been kept aside, sir, awaiting your return.‖

Thomas laughed and scooped his niece up in his arms.

―There now, you see? Nothing to worry about. Come along,

Andrew. We‘ve ribbons to do battle with.‖

The Christmas Wager |
Jamie Fessenden

44

Chapter 8

AFTER Susan had tired of hanging ribbons on the evergreen

boughs, and the hall was looking lavish with red and gold

Christmas ribbons and ornaments, and not one but
two

towering Christmas trees, Katie escorted Susan up to the

nursery for dinner. Andrew followed Thomas into the dining

room, where both Duchess Barrington and Duke Barrington

awaited them.

Andrew could sense Thomas growing tense at the sight of

his father, but he took his seat without a word, Andrew sitting

across from him. For a long time, nobody said anything, as

Simcox ladled out a rich vegetable soup in front of each of them.

―The decorations are coming along beautifully, Thomas,‖

Duchess Barrington said cheerfully when the silence had

grown oppressive.

―Thank you, Mother.‖

The duke harrumphed. ―Though I‘m not quite sure how

our Christmas
ball
became a Christmas
dance
.‖

Andrew saw Thomas grit his teeth, but he managed to

answer calmly. ―It‘s far too late to put on a ball, father.‖

―The dance was my idea,‖ Duchess Barrington interjected.

―The wager was for a Christmas
ball
.‖

―Then I‘m changing the wager,‖ his wife said dismissively.

―It will be a grand time, Henry. Don‘t be a lump.‖

The duke glared at his wife, but apparently he knew when

he was beaten. He remained silent through the rest of the meal,

The Christmas Wager |
Jamie Fessenden

45

apart from the occasional grumbled comment in response to

something Duchess Barrington said. Thomas wasn‘t

particularly talkative, either. But his mother managed to keep

the conversation going with Andrew‘s assistance.

After dinner—a dinner sorely underappreciated, for all of

the work Cook put into it—Thomas and Andrew retired to their

rooms.

―Your father seems to have mellowed a bit,‖ Andrew

commented, as they stood in the hallway outside his door.

―Don‘t believe it for a second,‖ Thomas replied. ―He never

gives in. The old bugger is up to something.‖

Andrew smiled at that. ―Well, are you coming in, then?‖

―I think I‘ll have hot water brought up for a bath,‖ Thomas

said, leaning his head wearily against the door frame, ―Would

you care to join me for a brandy?‖

Andrew laughed. ―In the bath?‖

―No,‖ Thomas replied with a tired smile, ―that isn‘t

precisely what I meant.‖

A short time later, Andrew was sitting in his dressing gown,

sipping a brandy near the tub in Thomas‘s room. This, too, had

become a ritual with them, back at the University Club—one of

them bathing, while the other sat nearby, enjoying one of their

lengthy philosophical conversations.

But Thomas didn‘t appear to be feeling philosophical

tonight. He sat in the water, steam billowing about him,

sipping his own brandy snifter and brooding. After a couple

glasses, he was beginning to get a little tipsy. ―I really don‘t see

that we‘ll have any attendance at the dance, at all. It‘s going to

be an unqualified disaster.‖

The Christmas Wager |
Jamie Fessenden

46

―We shall see,‖ Andrew replied. He was used to Thomas‘s

dark moods, and knew not to take them overly seriously. ―Have

the invitations gone out yet?‖

―No!‖ Thomas gestured dramatically with his glass,

splashing some brandy into the tub. ―That‘s part of the problem.

Henrietta is still preparing them.‖

―Who is Henrietta?‖ Andrew looked at him quizzically. ―I

thought your mother said she would take care of it.‖

―She
did
take care of it—by ordering Henrietta to do it.

She‘s my mother‘s personal secretary.‖

―I see where your streak of industriousness comes from.‖

Thomas smirked at him. ―Are you disparaging my mother,

blackguard?‖

―Of course not. I would never—‖

Before he could finish, Thomas had staggered to his feet, a

bit tipsy and dripping with water. He brandished his snifter at

his friend like a weapon. ―If I weren‘t a bit drunk—and naked—

I would call you out, scoundrel.‖

Andrew laughed, but he found the sight of Thomas‘s

naked crotch so near, and at eye level, extremely disconcerting.

He set his glass down on the floor, then stood to take Thomas‘s

out of his hand. The man offered no resistance.

―Sit down, you fool, before you slip and break your neck.‖

―The water is getting cold, at any rate.‖

―Then let me help you out,‖ Andrew said, slipping his arms

underneath Thomas‘s armpits. Thomas wrapped his own arms

around Andrew‘s shoulders in a soaking wet embrace, allowing

his friend to half lift him out of the metal tub.

Andrew found Thomas‘s towel and wrapped it around him

before settling the man on the chair he‘d been using himself.

Then he held out his arms, taking in the sodden arms of his

The Christmas Wager |
Jamie Fessenden

47

dressing gown. ―Well, that ends my evening. I think I shall

retire to my room and crawl into a nice dry bed.‖

He wasn‘t certain whether Thomas would find his way to

bed, if he left, or simply fall asleep in the chair. So he helped

his friend up again, made certain he was reasonably dry—at

least so far as his sense of honor would allow—then helped

Thomas climb into his own bed.

―There you go.‖

―Andrew, you are the best friend a man could ever ask for.‖

Andrew smiled, feeling self-conscious. ―Everybody‘s a

bosom friend when you‘re drunk.‖

―I‘m not that drunk,‖ Thomas protested, ―and I mean it.

You‘re wonderful, and I adore you.‖

That made Andrew even more uncomfortable. He smiled

faintly and permitted himself a light brush of his fingers along

Thomas‘s forehead and cheek—to brush the hair out of his

eyes, he told himself. ―Sleep well.‖

Then he went back to his room. He doubted
he
would

sleep well. Not after that. Oh, why did Thomas have to be so

prone to these bouts of melancholic affection? They made

Andrew‘s life agony.

The Christmas Wager |
Jamie Fessenden

48

Chapter 9

THOMAS woke at an unusually early hour. At least, it was early

for him. No doubt his mother was already awake and feeling

primly virtuous on account of it. He remembered last night and

felt supremely ashamed of himself. Not only had he put Andrew

in the position of having to aid him in a very intimate way that

one gentleman would never ask of another, soaking Andrew‘s

evening gown in the process, but he‘d said… what? That he

adored him?

It was true. He did adore Andrew. His affection for the

gentleman was genuine and deep in a way that Thomas had

difficulty finding words for. But saying so out loud had been

vulgar. It had clearly made Andrew uncomfortable.

If I don’t stop putting the poor man in these awkward

positions, I shall lose him forever!
The thought was unbearable.

Andrew was irreplaceable. Thomas would just as soon cut off

one of his own legs than find himself without the man‘s

companionship.

He splashed clean water on his face from the washbasin

and ran a comb through his hair. He rather enjoyed the

decadent feeling of padding about his room naked, but

eventually he dressed and went to the door that connected the

two rooms. There was no answer to his light knock, so he let

himself in.

Andrew was still asleep in the large four-poster, so Thomas

sat on the edge of the bed and nudged his friend‘s shoulder.

The Christmas Wager |
Jamie Fessenden

49

The blond stirred, then opened his eyes to look up at him,

somewhat surprised. ―Thomas? Have I overslept? You never

wake before I do.‖

Thomas laughed. ―No, you haven‘t overslept. It‘s

appallingly early. But I should like your assistance this

morning.‖

―With what?‖

―I‘ve decided that the best way to stir up enthusiasm for

the dance tomorrow night is to deliver the invitations in person,‖

Thomas announced.

Andrew blinked at him for a moment. ―Yes. I suppose that

might encourage some of the locals to attend.‖

―We‘ll take the twins with us, as well. They seem to know

everyone in the village.‖

―A splendid idea.‖

Thomas stood to allow his friend to sit up, setting his bare

feet upon the carpet. After a moment‘s silence, Thomas felt he

had to address his behavior of the night before. ―Andrew… I

hope I wasn‘t too awful last night.‖

Andrew looked up at him, startled. ―Awful? In what way?‖

―Well, obviously we should never touch each other in so

intimate a fashion. It was very inappropriate for me to require it

of you.‖

He had hoped Andrew would accept his apology gracefully,

but instead the young man looked irritated. ―That‘s quite all

right.‖