The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection (41 page)

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Authors: Patricia Kiyono

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BOOK: The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection
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Amelia stammered her thanks, but Phillip
climbed up into the tree and caught the kitten by the scruff of her
neck. Holding Sophie carefully, he dropped lightly to the ground
and offered the shivering kitten to her.

Amelia could barely meet her rescuer’s gaze.
Heat flooded her cheeks — was it from embarrassment, or was it
excitement from the physical contact with the handsome duke?


Thank you again, Your
Grace. And I know my future sister-in-law will be most grateful to
you for rescuing her Sophie.”

Phillip bowed. “I assure you, it was my
pleasure.”

Before Amelia could frame a response, Laurel
took Amelia’s arm. “I’m so glad we found you at home today, Lady
Amelia. I need to speak to you. I’ve talked to Uncle Phillip, but
he says I need a woman’s view, so I asked him to bring me here
right away.”

Amelia couldn’t imagine what advice she
could give, but she gestured toward the bench and invited Laurel to
sit.


How can I
help?”

The girl launched into her tale. “It’s Mama!
She wants me to have a season next year, and she has lots of plans
for dresses and parties, but I don’t need all that to find a
husband. I don’t want to marry anyone but Nicky!”

Laurel’s anxiety tugged at
Amelia’s heart. She could sympathize with the girl’s dilemma,
having had wishes totally against those of her parents. Amelia’s
own mother, rest her soul, had cried endlessly at her only
daughter’s total lack of interest in the selection of eligible
bachelors attending the balls during her season. A few of the
gentlemen had even offered for her hand, but she simply hadn’t been
able to muster enough enthusiasm for any of them and had turned
them down.
“Why should I marry simply
because a man asks?”
she’d said when her
mother had pressed.

But now, Amelia needed to choose her words
wisely. The young girl with hopeful eyes was the daughter of her
close friend, and probably as close to a daughter as she would ever
have. She needed to tread carefully.


Have you explained how you
feel to your mother? Does she know the young man?”


She knows him, but she
thinks this is simply a schoolgirl whim and that I should see what
real gentlemen are like. Oh, Lady Amelia, I don’t need to see
anyone else. No man would ever compare to my Nicky.”

She glanced at Phillip. “Nicky?”

The duke cleared his throat. “Nicholas
Kentridge, second son of the Earl of Dunham.”

Though his voice had revealed nothing, his
dark expression told Amelia exactly what he thought of the young
man. Knowing the boy’s identity, Amelia had to agree. The earl was
a rake, and according to rumor, his sons were cut from the same
cloth. But the love-struck girl wouldn’t want to hear that.

Amelia covered Laurel’s hand with her own.
“Does Nicky feel the same? Has he expressed a desire for the two of
you to marry?”


Well… no, but I’m certain
he will. It just wouldn’t be fair for me to encourage anyone
else.”


You wouldn’t have to
encourage anyone during your season. But if you go along with your
mother’s plans, you can show Nicky exactly how lovely and suitable
you are.”


Nicky’s not interested in
beauty.” Laurel’s eyes gleamed, and her posture straightened as she
spoke of her intended beau. “He told me he admires my intellect and
my artistic talent.”

Amelia noticed Phillip turn his head away
and guessed it was to hide the derision in his eyes. Thankfully,
Laurel was too lost in her own thoughts to notice her uncle.


Perhaps not, but it would
be a shame to deny your mother the joy of seeing her daughter as
the beautiful debutante you would be.”


But, Lady
Amelia—”


Hear me out. Even if your
parents approve of — er, Nicky — you are not yet at the legal age
of consent. Why not take a year and let your parents dote on you? I
know you’ll have a lovely time.”


But you didn’t enjoy your
season,” Laurel protested. “I’ve heard you complaining about it to
Mother.”

Amelia pursed her lips. Her family had
always chided her about her runaway mouth. Now it could cause a
problem for her friend.

She cleared her throat, hoping the
inspiration would come. “Laurel, dear, I was wrong to protest
against my mother. Had I simply gone along with her wishes, I would
have made her happy, and she would have seen for herself how
unsuitable the young men in my circle were for me. It would have
saved us both a lot of unpleasantness.”

Laurel sighed. “So you think I should just
let Mother have her way and make me spend an entire season being
nice to mere boys in whom I have absolutely no interest?”


Mmm, there are some good
things to consider.”


What would those
be?”


Well, as a debutante, you
will be presented at court. That’s quite exciting.”

Laurel’s face brightened. “Oh, yes. I’d
forgotten about that.”


And you’ll have an elegant
new wardrobe.”


Well, that would be nice,
but Nicky says I’m beautiful even without the fancy
clothes.”


That’s quite… gallant of
him. But I still think you need to attend a few social events.
Nicky will probably be invited to many of the same events as you,
and then he’ll be able to see how lucky he is to have your
affection. Besides, the season is only a few months. If you don’t
do it, you’ll disappoint your mother, and you might regret it
later. If you go through with your season and make her happy,
you’ll also have some wonderful tales to share with your own
daughter someday.”

The girl frowned. “I suppose you’re right.
It is only for a little while. Nicky says he doesn’t enjoy the
social life, but perhaps he’ll attend a ball or two to please
me.”


Undoubtedly.”


I’m still not certain I
should dance with other men besides Nicky, but I suppose I could go
through with the presentation at court. Just to please my parents,
of course.”


Of course,” Amelia
replied. “And I know they will be so proud of you.”

The girl surprised her with a quick hug and
then launched into a flurry of plans, pacing excitedly in front of
the bench. Amelia listened for a few seconds, but her attention was
diverted when Phillip leaned close and whispered, “Well done, Lady
Amelia.”

Despite the cool weather, Amelia felt a
definite rise in the temperature.

 

Chapter Seven

Phillip sat beside
the young boy, his large hand gently covering
Bertie’s smaller one, helping the child form the letters of his
name. The lines were shaky, but the letters were
recognizable.


Excellent, Bertie. Now,
can you do it by yourself?”

The six-year-old nodded and pursed his lips
as he gripped the chalk tightly and concentrated on his task.

Phillip wasn’t sure how he’d come to
actually help Amelia in this makeshift schoolroom. He’d merely
wanted to see that she’d received the supplies he had sent. And
then suddenly she’d had to deal with a little girl’s tears, and
Bertie had needed help. She’d turned to him, but he’d hesitated.
He’d turned to her footman, who had shrugged.


Beggin’ Your Grace’s
pardon,”
Giles had said.
“I’d like to help, but I can’t read. I help Lady
Amelia carry her supplies and watch out for pickpockets and
lowlife, but I can’t help her in here.”

With a sigh, Phillip had seated himself next
to the child, showing Bertie again and again how to form the
letters of his name.

A sixth sense made him twist around. Behind
their bench, a man watched intently as Bertie worked. One hand was
raised, his index finger tracing a path in the air. Was he Bertie’s
father? He didn’t bear any resemblance to the child.

The man must have felt the duke watching
him, because he abruptly put his hand down and lowered his eyes.
His cheeks reddened. “Sorry, Yer Grace. Since me little neighbor
Bertie and me share the same name, I thought so’s I’d learn along
with ’im how ta write it. That way, I can sign me own name rather
than just a mark.”

Phillip’s mind whirled at the man’s words.
Reading and writing were so much a part of his life that he
couldn’t imagine not having the ability to do so. And being able to
sign one’s own name to a document was a basic skill this man didn’t
have.


I have an extra slate and
some chalk,” he told the older Bertie. “Why don’t you sit down and
join us?”

The older Bertie’s jaw dropped. “Me? Sittin’
down wi’ a duke? Truly, Yer Grace?”


Truly. I’d be honored to
help you.”

Big Bertie promptly plopped himself on
Phillip’s other side. “Thank ye, Yer Grace,” he said. “Me name’s
Bertie Jones, and if ye ever need yer chimney swept, I’m yer man.”
He was soon hard at work writing the letters of his name, his face
as determined as the younger Bertie’s.

The boy finally finished writing the last
letter and looked up with pride shining from his dark eyes. “I
wrote my name all by myself,” he bragged. “Mama will be so proud of
me.”

Phillip shared in the boy’s joy. “Perhaps
she’ll give you a treat.”

Bertie’s face fell. “Maybe. If Mama can get
enough washing to buy food this week.”


What about your
father?”


Papa is sick. He got hurt
at his work. He has marks like yours all over his whole body.” He
pointed to the scars on Phillip’s face.


How did he get
them?”


He was working in a
factory, and the furnace exploded. Now he can’t walk. Mostly he
just stays in the bed because he can’t see and he can hardly hear.”
Bertie reached up and gently traced a scar on Phillip’s cheek.
“Does it hurt?”

Phillip shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Bertie nodded. “Mama said someday soon
Papa’s sores won’t hurt him anymore.” He turned his hopeful eyes
back to Phillip’s. “Do you think that will be soon?”

Phillip’s heart ached. Bertie’s father
didn’t have long to live. What were a few facial scars compared to
the agony this boy’s father had had to endure? He swallowed. “I
hope so, Bertie. I sincerely hope so.”

 

~~~~

 


Thank you again
for helping little Bertie Crabtree, Your Grace,”
Amelia said as he escorted her out of the cathedral to his waiting
carriage. “I know he looked up to you. He misses interaction with
his father.”


Yes, he told me about his
father’s accident. I would like to do something to help his
family.”


How generous of you, Your
Grace. I know they would appreciate your donation.”


I could donate, but I
thought perhaps I would see if Bertie’s mother could join my
household staff. He told me she presently takes in
washing.”

Amelia stopped in her tracks. “What a
wonderful idea! I’m sure that would help the family immensely. I’ve
been trying to think of ways to help the students and their
families. But giving them positions would benefit them so much more
than simply giving them food and money.”

Her mind raced with new ideas. She bubbled
with excitement as he handed her into the carriage. “I can’t offer
positions to every family, but I think I can persuade Mrs. Garrett,
our housekeeper, into hiring one or two more maids. And I shall
speak to some of my friends, too. They’re always complaining about
how difficult it is to get good help. I shall have to gather the
children’s parents together and find out what their talents are. If
there are men who have training of any kind that will make them
more marketable…”

Before she knew it, they had arrived back at
Sudbury House, and she bade the duke a good night. She went
straight to her room and gathered her writing materials. There was
work to be done.

 

Chapter Eight

Phillip had
attended
nearly every session since his
meeting with the two Berties, and he had faithfully supplied
materials for each lesson. He’d even produced an easel to make it
easier for Amelia to instruct the entire group. And each time, his
cook had sent tasty sandwiches for the children and the increasing
number of parents who came to observe. The food was as much of an
attraction as the lessons, but knowing he was feeding their
stomachs as well as their minds gave Phillip a sense of purpose
he’d never known.

He sensed she had spoken, so he turned so he
would have a clear view of her mouth. “Pardon me?”


The children should have a
Christmas party,” she declared. “I imagine their holiday isn’t
nearly as merry as ours. Most of their parents can’t afford gifts.
We could give them a nice meal and some small gifts — as a reward
for doing so well on their lessons.”


Excellent idea,” Phillip
agreed. “I have several books I could contribute as gifts. When
should this celebration take place?”


It would be nice to have
it on Christmas Eve, but I’ll have to plan it for the day before.
My brother insists on my attendance at the Kringles’ Ball at Holly
Hall. He says that since Colette has left him, we must attend
several major functions to reassure the
ton
he is not distraught over her
departure.”


I think it would be safe
to assume no one would think of him that way. But I sympathize for
him. I didn’t realize Mademoiselle Colette had left.”

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