Snowbound Surrender. Louise Allen

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      ‘I assume this is about you and Gascoyne,’ he said, squaring his shoulders and preparing for the worst.

      ‘Among other things,’ she agreed. ‘He told me what happened before he left for Portugal. You meddled in my life. You told me nothing of his offer.’

      ‘I did it for your own good,’ he said with an apologetic smile.

      ‘Still, you had no right.’

      ‘On the contrary. Once Father died, I had not just the right but the obligation to see that you made a good match.’

      ‘That does not mean you should not have consulted me as to my wishes,’ she reminded him.

      ‘I knew what you would have said,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘You followed Jack around like a puppy, from the moment you were out of leading strings.’

      ‘I adored him,’ she agreed.

      ‘And in return, he got you into no end of trouble,’ Fred replied. ‘Boosting you over fences to steal apples from his grandfather’s orchards.’

      ‘It was hardly stealing since they practically belonged to him,’ she replied.

      ‘Riding astride on the stallion.’

      ‘Side saddles are pointless things,’ she replied. ‘You would know it if you ever tried riding on one.’

      ‘Except the horse threw you,’ her brother reminded her.

      ‘He threw you as well and you did not think anything of it.’

      ‘He broke your arm.’

      ‘An unfortunate landing,’ she agreed. ‘But it healed as good as new.’

      ‘And that Christmas,’ he added, ‘Jack gave you a full cup of punch, not to mention port and cigars.’

      ‘Only one puff,’ she said. ‘I did not like tobacco. But the port was excellent. I do not understand why women are not allowed to drink it.’

      He ignored her perfectly reasonable statement. ‘Until he bought that commission, Jack Gascoyne led you into every scrape he could contrive, and you went willingly all the way.’

      ‘True,’ Lucy agreed with a smile.

      ‘I know you were infatuated with him. But at seventeen, you were far too old to be his partner in crime.’

      ‘But not too young to be his wife,’ she reminded him.

      ‘You might have been old enough to marry, but even at twenty-one, he was too young to be your husband. He had more debts than money and lived at the whim of a family that was constantly threatening to cut him off from what little they gave him. He could not have supported you. It was for the best that he went to war, for you had reached an age where he could no longer be trusted to behave like a gentleman around you. He admitted that himself.’

      Perhaps there was something in her expression that gave away the truth, for now he was staring at her as if he suspected what had happened. So, she hurried to return to the attack. ‘He wrote me a letter to that effect. He promised to return. I never received it.’

      Now Fred looked guilty again.

      ‘I went on for five years, heartbroken because I thought he’d left without saying goodbye.’

      ‘I had no idea that you still thought of him at all,’ Fred replied.

      ‘Because you did not want to know,’ she said. ‘You never asked me what future I wanted for myself. You have been too busy trying to match me with the likes of William Thoroughgood to see if I was happy or sad.’

      ‘The Vicar is a fine, upstanding man,’ her brother replied. ‘That is why I suggested he pay court to you.’

      ‘He is so upstanding that he is as stiff as a plank,’ she snapped. ‘Yesterday, he forbade me from standing under the kissing bough in my own home because mistletoe is a pagan plant that will jeopardise my immortal soul.’

      ‘What were you doing standing under it?’ Fred said, missing the point.

      ‘I can tell you what I was not doing,’ she said. ‘And that was waiting for the Vicar. And don’t you dare dictate to me over mistletoe. Our guests have been giving and collecting kisses all day and you have not said a word against it.’

      ‘They are not my sister,’ he said, as illogical as ever.

      ‘And your sister is no longer twelve,’ she said. ‘But if I was, I would still be standing under the kissing bough and hoping to be noticed. It is harmless fun, Fred. I have no intention of banishing it to the servants’ quarters as Mr Thoroughgood suggested.’

      ‘That does seem rather drastic,’ Fred agreed at last.

      ‘It is indicative of the future I will have if I marry him,’ she said.

      ‘You are of age, Lucy. Your future is your own,’ he said. ‘I just thought...’

      ‘That after years of pulling pranks and roving about the countryside with you and your friends, I would turn into a retiring flower when it was time to marry and become a parson’s wife.’

      ‘I did not think it would hurt to present the option,’ he said with a shrug.

      ‘If Thoroughgood is the best you can do, then please, do not think, any more,’ she said. ‘I will be nice to him while he is here, for your sake and to spare his feelings. But that is all.’

      Fred sighed dramatically. ‘I suppose you have your heart set on Gascoyne again.’

      ‘There has never been another man for me,’ she replied.

      ‘Then you are likely to be disappointed,’ he said. ‘When I encouraged him to renew his suit of you...’

      ‘You did not,’ she said, wincing in embarrassment.

      Fred held up his hands in surrender. ‘Just to tell him that there would be no resistance from me this time.’

      ‘If he wanted me, your opinion would not matter,’ she said, glum.

      ‘It is not that he does not want you,’ her brother said, gently. ‘He is in a worse way than I imagined. Last night, he was talking rot about ending his life.’

      In all the time he had been in mortal danger, she’d thought she was used to the idea that any day could bring news of his death. Since he’d returned, she had found small relief in knowing that, even if he was not with her, he was at least safe. She could not abide the idea that, now he was so close, she might lose him again in a way far more permanent than simple rejection.

      She would not allow it. ‘He might have felt thus last night,’ she said, firmly. ‘Tonight might be another matter entirely.’

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