A Hero for Christmas. Jo Ann Brown

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Nigel’s. Once the roads have cleared, he will send it over with one of his grooms. I wanted to get back as soon as possible.” With a laugh, he added, “You know how Sir Nigel can go on and on about absolutely nothing, especially when it comes to his paintings.”

      Jonathan grimaced. He had met the baronet only once, but that had been more than enough. Sir Nigel styled himself a great artist and displayed his work as if some great Renaissance painter had created it. The truth was the art lacked any semblance of skill that Jonathan could perceive.

      He put the baronet out of his mind when Cat stood and asked them to excuse her. She fired a quick glance in his direction, and he guessed she did not want him to say anything to her cousin about the invitations Meriweather had sent. Whether she wanted to speak to her cousin privately, or she realized that there was nothing that could be changed at this point, he would acquiesce. He gave her a nod, wondering if she saw it as she hurried out of the room.

      Meriweather took one look at the pile of letters on the desk and motioned for Jonathan to follow him from the room. He mumbled something about the room was better fit for ladies than the two of them.

      Once they were a ways down the corridor, Meriweather said, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of my cousin, but this time Sir Nigel did not prattle about his paintings.”

      “Because you discussed the smugglers?” During his previous visit, the smugglers in Sanctuary Bay had trespassed on Meriweather Hall lands, and he knew Meriweather was as determined to put a halt to them as his predecessor had been. It appeared that Meriweather’s efforts had been as futile as those of the previous baron.

      “We did talk about the smugglers. Some.” He shuddered. “But his real interest was talking about his great-niece. I think he said her name is Lillian. He seems to believe that she would be very eager to marry a baron who lives close to her great-uncle.”

      In spite of his efforts not to, Jonathan laughed. “Some woman is always expecting you to marry her. First, the elder Miss Meriweather, whom everyone assumed you would marry after you inherited the title from her father.”

      “Not everyone, because Northbridge won her heart.”

      “True. However, there is now this unknown great-niece who has decided you would be a good husband. You have become, it would appear, quite the irresistible man.”

      “’Tis no joking matter.”

      “Quite to the contrary,” Jonathan said. “It is highly amusing when you are the focus of the matchmaking.”

      “When I decide to marry, it will be my decision. No one else’s.”

      “Not even the young lady’s?”

      Meriweather let loose a loud laugh. “Ah, Bradby, I have missed you and your bizarre sense of humor. Come in here.”

      He went into a chamber across from the dining room. The aroma of coffee wafted around them, but Jonathan paid it no mind as he looked at the center of the room.

      An elegant billiards table claimed most of the space. The oak had been carved with the Meriweather family’s crest, and additional images from the moors and the sea. A cast iron rack holding the cues was set in one corner. The balls were scattered across the table’s top.

      “I don’t remember this from my other visit,” Jonathan said.

      “It was delivered last month.” Meriweather draped his coat over a chair by the hearth.

      “When did you decide to order it?” He was careful not to put emphasis on decide because he did not want to upset his friend, but he could not imagine how Meriweather had chosen to order a billiards table when he could not make any decision.

      With a sheepish smile, Meriweather said, “Actually it was ordered by my predecessor. No one knew about it until the table arrived. The craftsmen were very slow workers, but they did a fine job, don’t you think?”

      Jonathan ran his hand along the smooth edge of the table. “I agree. Excellent work.” Looking across it to his friend, he asked, “So don’t you think it is time you tell me why you were so insistent that I come to Meriweather Hall?”

      “I told you in the letter I sent. I could use your advice on certain matters to do with the estate and with my construction business.”

      “And that could not wait until after Christmastide?”

      His friend’s smile became a guilty one. “You have caught me out. You and Northbridge and I have been through so much together. I did not think we should abandon him on his way to the altar.”

      “You sound as if he is about to meet the hangman.” He leaned against the billiards table. “I am surprised he didn’t marry your cousin Sophia before he left for his estate.”

      “Sophia wished for her mother to be out of mourning, so she could attend the ceremony. Then there are all the plans the ladies like in order for everything to be as complicated as possible. Catherine is so focused on the events that the slightest problem or change can send her up to the boughs.”

      Jonathan bit his tongue to keep from saying that Meriweather was one of the reasons Cat was stressed. Rather, he said, “I am sure the wedding and the ball will be successes. I have offered to do my bit to help Miss Cat—Catherine.”

      “You are a braver man than I am, Bradby.” He slapped him on the back. “But we knew that already, didn’t we?”

      Here it was. His chance to tell the truth. His chance to clear his conscience.

      Again, as he had done too often, he hesitated. He should tell Meriweather the truth straightaway.

      Unless...

      He began to smile and nodded as his friend suggested a game of billiards. Going to the rack, he lifted out a cue. The solution was so simple that he was unsure why he had not considered it before.

      He would never have to reveal the truth if he proved to everyone—and himself—that he deserved the title of hero. He hefted the cue and smiled.

      After all, how hard could it be to become a true hero?

      Chapter Two

      The eaves outside Catherine’s bedroom windows dripped in a steady rhythm two days after the snow had stopped, and Mr. Bradby had returned to Meriweather Hall. The sun glittered on snow that had fallen from the trees and bushes. Puddles were forming on the garden paths, and she guessed by late afternoon that most of the snow would have melted.

      She looked down at her shoes and then paused. Between the sloppy snow and the sand along the shore, she risked ruining anything she wore on her feet. She needed footwear that would not work as sponges, so she reached into her cupboard and pulled out a pair of old boots.

      She pulled them on, and thereafter she went to the closest window and opened it. Cold air swept her breath away. She hastily shut the window. She had not realized it was so chilly. The dripping eaves had suggested it was much warmer.

      She pushed away from the window. No matter. She would go ahead with her plans to visit the beach below the village farther north along Sanctuary Bay. If her bosom-bow, Vera, did not want to leave her cozy fire and join her, then Catherine СКАЧАТЬ