All is Mary and Bright: A Christmas Regency Romance (Belles of Christmas: Frost Fair Book 2) Read online

  “Was this what you were after?” she asked, bending to pick up the brown leather ball at her feet.

  Andrew rose, brushing dirty snow from his pantaloons, his back stiff. He cleared his throat. “Yes, the children…”

  She turned, extending the ball toward him, and he caught sight of dirt along her blue pelisse. He took the ball and dropped it on the ice before kicking it toward the crowd of younglings, heedless of where it ended up.

  She brushed dirt from her arm. He reached forward to help her when better sense prevailed, and he let his hand fall by his side. “Are you hurt? Can I assist you to a chair?”

  Her glittering green eyes darted to his face, and she shook her head. She was amused but reserved—far different from the overly flirtatious women he was used to. “I am well. I suffered nothing but a shock.”

  “I can well imagine,” he muttered, rubbing his jaw. “You must allow me to rectify the situation. Would you care for tea? Coffee? Perhaps a cup of gin?”

  Her lips curved into a smile, and his eyes glued to them. “I must return to my friend. I heard the children shouting and wandered back here. She is surely wondering where I’ve gone to.”

  “Might I escort you?”

  She shook her head. “I think it is best if I return alone.” She seemed to hesitate, her soft brown eyebrows pulling together. “Do not concern yourself over my well-being, sir. I suffered no harm, and no one could blame you for slipping on the ice. We are standing on a frozen river, are we not? Each of us is taking a risk.”

  He commended her ability to put him at ease when she was the injured party. It did nothing but heighten his need to know her name. She was a veritable angel. Any other female of his acquaintance would take full advantage of finding themselves wrapped in his arms.

  Perhaps it was their lack of acquaintance—her lack of knowledge of his title and position—which saved him from such a scene. But, no…she did not seem the sort of woman to take advantage of the situation in such a way.

  She turned to go, and he was slightly hurt by the ease at which she could depart. Had she no interest in learning who he was? He could see by the fine stitching on her pelisse that she was a lady, and certainly she could detect by his polished—albeit dirty—Hessians and closely fitting coat that he was a gentleman. He was no dandy, but he did take care with his appearance.

  “Wait,” he said before he could think better of it.

  She paused, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Might I know your name?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Please?” he asked, stepping closer and doing his best to charm her with a smile. It had been years since a woman had so interested him. “Just your name.”

  Lines formed between her eyebrows, and she glanced back toward the bustling crowds eating gingerbread and purchasing trinkets. A sense of urgency seemed to set her shoulders back, and she gripped her pelisse tighter about her neck.

  “I will likely never see you again,” she said.

  “All the more reason to assuage my curiosity,” he pitifully argued. He did not request anything from her beyond the possession of her name; it was not his right to even ask for that, but he did anyway.

  A grim smile sat on her lips. “I’m not sure this—”

  “Mary! Mary, where are you?” a voice called from the crowd.

  The woman turned toward the sound as though on impulse, and Andrew grinned.

  “Mary?” he asked, and she looked back at once, her lips set in a firm line.

  “Good day, sir.” She enunciated the word to further drive home her opposition to his knowing anything about her, it seemed, and fled with haste.

  Andrew stepped back, watching her slip around the tent and out of sight. Mary. She certainly looked as dignified and stable as her name.

  Drat his luck. Of course the first woman to grab his attention in years was not only stunning, but he would never see her again.

  Chapter 2

  Mary fingered the pearls around her throat, the hard, smooth beads cool against her skin. After selling every other piece of jewelry she owned, this necklace and a pair of ruby earbobs were all she had at her disposal. The paltry collection was a far cry from the jewels that had adorned her milky white skin just three years before, but there was little she could do about that now.

  No, that was not true. There was one thing she could do about her family’s unwelcome situation, and she had already done it. She had accepted the proposition, signed her name to the agreement, and it was now settled as surely as a wax seal on a missive.

  Mary should have gone down to dinner already, but the dilemma of the pearls kept her at the looking glass, admiring the done-over pink silk gown with a gauzy ruched overlay. She really should take the necklace off and save it for a more important event, or she would be wearing pearls nearly every evening that she dined at Sanders House. But they were so lovely, and they complimented this gown perfectly.

  Pulling the long white glove further up her elbow, she winced when her fingers grazed the bruise left there by her tumble at the Frost Fair. An image flashed in her mind of the gentleman helping her to stand, his light brown hair flopping over his forehead in disarray. He had appeared out of nowhere, bowling into Mary and taking her down on the ice with him. Brushing her fingers over her waist where he’d held her so tightly, where he’d protected her from further pain, she could almost feel his touch even now.

  It had been clear as soon as she’d noted the crowd of children waiting and the slowly rolling ball that the man had been playing with them and gotten carried away. She could hardly fault anyone for slipping on the ice. But the feel of his arms around her had been anything but frigid and cold. He’d warmed her at once, and she was uncertain if the heat had simply been from another body near hers in the frigid chill, or if it had been due to him.

  Shame flamed in her belly. She reached up and removed the pearls at once, dropping them into her nearly empty jewelry box on the dressing table and turning away. As bare as her neck looked, it was better to save her one necklace for a special event. Christmas, perhaps? Or Epiphany, if Mama could manage to remain in London that long.

  Besides, Mary knew better than to do anything that might draw attention to herself. Father would not like it. She blew out a breath of relief that he was not in London now, that he had not been present at the Frost Fair earlier when Mary had become entangled. Surely she would have received a scolding for it.

  She tucked the moment on the ice away in her heart. She would do better to forget it, but the way the stranger had desired to know her name ignited interest in her. It was not his fault he was so handsome. But all the same, it was a blessed relief that she would never see him again.

  Her door opened, and Lady Anne poked her head inside the room. “Mary, what is taking you so long? Everyone has assembled.”

  “I was detained earlier today on an inappropriate errand, and my entire evening has shifted as a result.”

  Lady Anne grinned, unrepentant. “We shan’t give that excuse to our mothers, though, shall we?”

  “I don’t know.” Mary drew up beside her friend and closed her bedroom door behind her. Stringing her arm through the younger woman’s, she carefully avoided hitting the bruise above her elbow. “My tongue has been known to slip without proper inducement.”

  Lady Anne’s eyes sparkled, her mouth turning in amusement, but she steadied her voice, sounding grave. “I did promise you a favor. What do you require in exchange for your silence? An ice at Gunter’s? Or a trip to Hookham’s Library? I know how fond you are of your books and we have a subscription there.”

  A thud sounded above them, and Mary glanced up the stairs that led to the next floor but saw nothing. “I think I am finished with ice for quite some time.” Leaning in, she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I would happily accept a hot cup of chocolate, though.”

  Lady Anne freed her arm to walk down the stairs, lifting her hem, and feigning irritation. “That cou
ld be arranged, I suppose.” They made it to the bottom of the wide staircase where Lady Anne paused, stilling Mary with her hand. “I know how you jest, but you are not in earnest, right? You will not tell our mothers? I want nothing more than to attend the Rutledges’ Twelfth Night ball, and Mother has already threatened to refuse me the treat if I step out of line again. Since I am not out yet, she’s only allowing me to attend because of her relationship with Lady Rutledge, but if she learns of our adventure today, I know she’ll keep me from the ball.”

  “I will not tell a soul.” Mary squeezed her friend’s hand. “I don’t wish to get into trouble, either.”

  But the deceit clawed at her, and she determined not to let herself be so easily persuaded next time Lady Anne attempted to rope her into doing something they had been asked not to do. She dearly liked the girl, but the debt of gratitude she owed Lady Sanders should have trumped all; the countess had made it possible for Mary’s mother to feel comfortable leaving her house and traveling to Town, which was no easy feat. Mary might not understand the anxiety which kept Mama home more often than not, but she knew of its very real hold on the woman’s peace of mind.

  Resolve firmly in place, Mary was determined. She would not disgrace her hostess with a want of decorum. The Frost Fair was not the gathering of undesirables Lady Sanders imagined it to be, but Mary and Lady Anne had not learned the truth of that until they had arrived at the Thames. They could well have been entirely wrong.

  “I have reason to believe that Mother will be quite distracted tonight.”

  Mary leaned back, narrowing her gaze. “Why?”

  “Because my brother will be joining us after dinner, and he will absolutely steal all of the attention. I could introduce a monkey to my mother’s drawing room, and she would hardly notice. Not with the golden child present, at least.”

  “Is he so incredible?” He had made himself scarce for the last few days, it was hard to imagine.

  Lady Anne pulled her toward the anteroom where the company grouped before dinner. “You cannot ask that of me, for my opinion is entirely biased. But yes, I quite like him.”

  “Here they are,” Lady Sanders said, a welcoming smile on her aged face, the wrinkles beside her mouth deepening.

  Mary stepped into the room on Lady Anne’s arm and bid them a good evening. Mother stood on the other side of the small room, a weary look about her eyes. Was something troubling her? As far as Mary was concerned, her mother knew little about their problems—Father had done his best to shield her from the worst of it. Perhaps she was not sleeping very well. They had only been in London for five days, but that was long enough to wear on a woman if she was not resting adequately in her borrowed bed.

  Especially a woman like Mama, whose apprehension when leaving her own home for any given amount of time hung like a millstone about her neck. It had been difficult for her to agree to this trip, but Father had demanded it; Lady Sanders’s escort had made all the difference.

  Mary would have to recommend a nap to her mother the following afternoon when Lady Sanders left them for her regularly scheduled repose.

  Lady Sanders rose, threading her arm through Mama’s. Their party’s lack of gentlemen had many advantages in Mary’s opinion, the chief of those being their informal dining procedures.

  Mary leaned close to Lady Anne as they followed their mothers into the dining room. “Where is your sister?” The youngest of Lady Sanders’s daughters was twelve and had been dining with them while they were in London.

  “Upstairs with Miss Bolton. Caroline claims to find our dinners long, so her governess agreed that they could dine privately.”

  Mary chuckled, taking a seat beside Mama.

  The footmen laid the first course, an array of rich soup and braised lamb with sliced vegetables and jellies. Fragrant herbs and spices filled the room, and Mary inhaled the aromas, enjoying the robust meals while she had them. Her household had gradually pared back their dinners to cut costs, and she missed the rich foods and sweet pastries she had once enjoyed regularly.

  The women were poised to begin their meal when the door to the dining room opened, and a man came into the room with a pleasant smile about his lips, his pale blue eyes flicking between the women. His light brown hair was swept away from his forehead, the same color as his bronze waistcoat.

  Mary managed to stifle her gasp, dropping her gaze to her lap. Surely the man who had bowled into her at the Frost Fair earlier could not be here now. Fate would not be so unkind.

  “Andrew,” Lady Sanders said, a joyous tone to her words. Her chair legs scraped back as she rose, and Lord Sanders crossed the room at once with swift, certain steps—a walk befitting a man who had all the comfort of security and confidence.

  She stilled, her spoon poised above her bowl, the soup dripping from it. This man was Lord Sanders? Oh, dear. Hadn’t Lady Anne mentioned that he wouldn’t be joining them until after dinner?

  “Mother.” He lifted her knuckles to his lips. “Might I join you?”

  Mary arranged her gloves on her lap, smoothing out the length of fabric as her heart thrummed in her chest. Should she signal Lady Anne? When Lord Sanders recognized her, their ruse would be up. He would certainly make mention of their meeting at the Frost Fair, and then Lady Anne’s hopes for the Twelfth Night ball would be dashed.

  “I did not expect you until later,” Lady Sanders said.

  “I arrived just before you sat to dine and decided to join you.” His voice was harder than the playful tone from earlier at the fair, gathering Mary’s curiosity.

  She lifted her face toward him, and he caught her gaze, his eyes widening on impact. His mouth fell open before he quickly closed it, glancing between Mary and his sister as if to puzzle out the scenario.

  “Did you recall that we have visitors? You have been absent since we arrived in Town, it seems.” Lady Sanders gestured to Mama, playfulness shining in her eyes.

  “Yes, forgive me.” Lord Sanders had a deep voice and a perplexed set to his brow. “I had quite a lot on my schedule. Rest assured, Mother. I do not plan to leave you alone any longer.”

  That sounded more like a threat than a promise.

  Lady Sanders’s cheeks pinked, and she smiled in adoration at her son. “How lovely to hear that. Now, I know you have heard about my dear friend, Mrs. Hatcher, but allow me to introduce you.” Mama dipped her head, and Lord Sanders bowed before he turned his direct gaze on Mary. “And my goddaughter, Miss Mary Hatcher.”

  She stilled, meeting his serious gaze, his blue eyes hard. Would he say something now? She refrained from looking to Lady Anne in her fear. The girl was completely unaware of the danger.

  “Charmed,” Lord Sanders said, though he sounded anything but. What caused him to alter from the amiable man of earlier into this agitated creature?

  Mary dropped her head as a bustle of servants brought out another place setting. After much ado about whether or not the earl should be seated at the head of the table quite a distance away from the women, or usurp his mother’s place, Lord Sanders sat beside his sister, directly across from Mary. The meal continued, the mothers chatting happily as Lady Anne questioned the earl, and the earl stole glances at a silent Mary.

  She could not hold his gaze for long without her neck heating, the memory of being wrapped in his arms just that morning utterly undoing her. But despite her best efforts, Mary could not seem to go longer than five ticks on the clock before her eyes unwittingly sought the earl’s striking, pale blue ones. They were the same as Lady Anne’s, but that was where the resemblance ended, and Mary found herself wondering why she had never seen a painting of the earl before. She could have been better prepared for this meeting had she known he was the man from the fair.

  “We’ve had to keep the fires raging at all hours, it seems, to combat the horrid chill.” Lady Sanders shook her head. “Never in my life have I fought such cold in Town.”

  “There are some benefits to the weather.” Lord Sanders wiped his mouth with his
napkin and laid it back on his lap. “The Frost Fair would not have occurred otherwise.”

  Lady Anne looked to Mary, her eyes rounding and mouth pinching closed. Did she not realize that such a pointed look was bound to give her away before it kept their secret contained?

  “Horrid thing, that fair.” Lady Sanders wrinkled her nose. “I am certain I heard of all manner of ruffians racing on the ice. One man fell into the river just yesterday if Lady Rutledge is to be believed.”

  Lord Sanders smiled warmly at his mother. “It is not so bad as that. There are certainly tents which a well-bred young lady ought to avoid, but for the most part, it is just like any fair you could find in Cheshire or Wiltshire.”

  Lady Sanders clicked her tongue. “Just the same, it is not the place for a proper young lady.”

  Lord Sanders looked to Mary, a quirk to his brow. “Is that so?”

  She wanted to sink lower in her chair. So low, in fact, that she could slip between the floorboards and escape this uncomfortable dinner. Instead, she straightened her back and held his gaze. She was not a simpering, cowering miss, and the earl would learn that soon enough.

  Andrew was going to reveal Miss Mary Hatcher—or Mary, in his mind. He could not imagine thinking of her otherwise—for who she truly was. He’d overheard her blackmailing his young, innocent sister and that, from a guest, was not something he would stand for. It was disappointing to have been so utterly misled in her character. Earlier at the fair, he’d imagined her to be a lady of distinction—but what he’d heard in the corridor proved otherwise.

  What do you require in exchange for your silence? His sister had sounded grave, worried. Andrew hadn’t been able to make out anything else that had been said, but he hadn’t needed to. It was enough to know that Mary was holding something over Anne’s head, and Andrew would not stand for it.

  “I was at the fair today, in fact,” the earl said, his eyes holding Mary’s striking green ones. They were large and bright against the milky white of her skin, a blush tingeing her flawless cheeks. Panic laced her features, and her gaze flicked to Anne before settling back on Andrew. He wanted to laugh, point, and exclaim that he’d caught her. Of course she would worry now that she would be exploited and lose whatever it was she’d blackmailed out of Anne.