Once Upon A Regency Christmas. Louise Allen

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СКАЧАТЬ was almost big enough for him, Julia thought, covertly watching his efforts to keep his long legs under control and his sodden boots away from their skirts and rugs. Men did fill the space up so. This one was a gentleman, the educated voice attested to that. But he was a rangy specimen with a straight nose, a stubborn chin and an excess of stubble. After the smooth, groomed males inhabiting the drawing rooms of Mayfair he was something of a shock to the system. That was all this flustered feeling was, reaction to such a virile creature at close quarters.

      ‘We were lent it,’ Miri said demurely, lying without a flicker of her long lashes. ‘It is very different from the carriages we are used to in India.’ At least she was keeping up with the conversation and not allowing a pair of long legs to turn her brain into mush. This was what came of indulging immodest and improbable fantasies: they climbed into your carriage at the least convenient moment.

      ‘India?’

      ‘We arrived in England three weeks ago, Captain.’ That was better, cool and polite.

      ‘And are returning to your family for Christmas.’

      ‘No. We have no family in England, except for the most distant cousins.’ To describe her sister-in-law as family stretched Julia’s willingness to mangle the English language. ‘And you, Captain? Are you on your way home?’

      ‘Home.’ He said the word as though it tasted of something entirely new and he was not certain that he liked the flavour. ‘I suppose I am. It is a very long time since I set foot in England.’

      ‘You have been in the Peninsula, sir?’

      ‘For several years. I have just sold out.’

      Why? The war is still going on and he doesn’t appear to be suffering from some disabling wound. The coach turned sharply to the left and Julia caught a glimpse of gateposts. ‘We have finally arrived, it seems.’

      ‘You are not familiar with the house?’

      ‘No. It is the only thing my husband left to me. As I met him in India I have never seen it.’ From what Mr Filbert, her solicitor, could tell her, the possession of Chalcott Manor was not going to give anyone the impression that she was rolling in money.

      They stopped and all looked out at the redbrick house that loomed through the snow. As a piece of architecture it appeared to be without merit, except for the possession of a roof with no visible holes in it and a number of chimney stacks, both features that were at the top of Julia’s desiderata for a house, just at the moment. A light showed in one of the semi-basement windows, so at least some of the promised staff were present, but there was no rush to open the door. Perhaps the snow had muffled the sound of the carriage.

      Paul, the groom, opened the door and let down the step. ‘The snow’s deep, my lady.’

      ‘Let me.’ Captain Markham jumped down beside him. ‘We’ll trample a path through. Put an arm around my shoulders.’ The two of them moved forward, stamping in unison.

      ‘What a good thing we found the Captain,’ Miri observed, watching their progress.

      ‘Thomas and Paul would have managed between them.’ At least the man did not have expensive clothing to ruin. She had noticed the worn boots and the roughly mended cuff of his greatcoat. If he had sold his commission then he ought to have bought himself some respectable civilian clothes with the proceeds and not be traipsing around the countryside in that state.

      He came back to them, leaving Paul pounding on the front door. ‘It’s as cold as Satan’s ar—as cold as the devil, ma’am. I would wait there until someone answers.’

      ‘I am not shivering in a coach on my own doorstep, Captain.’ Or being managed by a man. She climbed down, ignored his outstretched hand and started up the trampled path. Behind her she heard him offering his arm to Miri, who murmured her gratitude. Then her right foot shot up, her left foot skidded to the side and she was falling backwards.

      ‘Oh—’ The very naughty word in Urdu clashed with a small scream from Miri, then an arm lashed round her waist and she was lifted off her feet and into Captain Markham’s arms. Really, the man’s reflexes were astonishing. So was the strength of his arm—Julia knew she was no lightweight, not with all five feet six inches of her bundled in layers of winter clothing. ‘Thank you, Captain, you may put me down now.’

      ‘Best not.’ He adjusted his grip, raising her higher against his chest and getting one arm under the crook of her knees.

      ‘Captain!’

      ‘No call for alarm, I have you safe.’

      That was an entirely new definition of safe. Certainly her heart rate had kicked up in alarm. ‘I am not a turkey to be lugged about.’

      ‘No,’ he agreed, striding up to the door. ‘You are much easier to get a grip on and you aren’t shedding feathers.’

      The door creaked open before she could think of a retort. The light etched a thin ribbon of gold on to the snow.

      ‘Yes?’ The voice wavered eerily.

      She shivered and the arms holding her tightened in response. Oh, for heaven’s sake, this is not some Gothic novel! ‘I am Lady Julia Chalcott. This is my house. My solicitor wrote to say that I was coming to stay. Now kindly open this door properly and show us to the drawing room.’

      ‘Maa…’ It was a bleat. Which, as it issued from the mouth of a man who looked more like a sheep than anyone decently should, was appropriate. ‘Ma’am? We never heard from no solicitor.’

      She felt decidedly at a disadvantage and gave a wriggle. An amused huff of breath warmed her temple. ‘You address me as my lady, and who are you?’

      The man retreated into the depths of the dark hall as the Captain strode forward. ‘Light some candles immediately, please.’

      ‘Yes, maa… Sir. My lady. Smithers, my lady. The drawing room is there, but the fire isn’t lit.’

      Nor were the covers off the furniture or the curtains drawn. Captain Markham set her on her feet and waited while she released her grip on his sleeve before he removed the candle from Smithers’s unsteady hand and walked round setting the flame to every candle in sight, then dropped to one knee and thrust a hand into the kindling laid in the hearth. ‘Dry, although I’d not take a wager that the chimney will not smoke.’

      ‘Er…’

      That was an improvement on bleating, but there went her daydream about a cosy house and equally cosy staff. Efficient, cheerful, staff. ‘Tell Cook that we need tea, Smithers. And sandwiches and cake. Then send the footmen to bring in the luggage. I require bedchambers for myself and Miss Chalcott, a maid to attend on us, a chamber for Captain Markham and accommodation for my coachman and groom. Hot water. We will dine at seven.’

      ‘But there’s only me and Mrs Smithers, my lady. And the Girl.’ He somehow managed to give the word a capital letter. ‘And I don’t rightly know as how we’ve got any cake, nor anything much for dinner, my lady. Just the rabbit pie and the barley broth.’ Smithers’s face was a mixture of bafflement and deep apprehension.

      The butterflies that had been flapping around ever since Captain Markham picked her up turned into a lead СКАЧАТЬ