Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas (7 page)

Or a
chere amie
.

Before her spirits could sink any lower, a shout from the distance recalled her to the present.

“Lady Anna!” Her coachman’s familiar voice. True to his word, Nicholas had wasted no time.

“Yes—I am here,” she answered. Gathering up her things, she stood and began to stamp out the last flickering of the fire.

N
icholas sent
the coachman to fetch the horses, so he would have a chance to speak to Anna alone. As he slipped through the entrance to the abbey, he noted that the letter was still in her hand.

“There’s been a slight change in plans—I hope you don’t mind.” He could feel that his smile was slightly lopsided. So were his nerves. The beating of his heart had knocked them all to flinders. “I found I could not bear the idea of leaving you alone on Christmas.” His feet shuffled in the snow. “Or on any day, for that matter. That is to say, the idea of a future with you. . . and me. . . together. . .”

He cleared his throat. “Dash it all, for a diplomat supposedly skilled in the nuances of language, I am making a real hash of this.”

Anna let out her breath. “I think you are doing just fine.” She smiled “Please go on.”

Encouraged, he pulled her into his arms. “Then I shall stop beating around the bush. I love you, Anna. More dearly than words can ever express.” He feathered a gossamer kiss to her brow, her cheek, and then possessed her moth in a far more through one.

It was several minutes before he spoke again. “Will you marry me, sweeting? You have hinted that your guardian has other plans for you. And as a matter of fact, my father wishes for me to— well, never mind. It doesn’t matter now.” His arms tightened around her. “To the Devil with the expectations of others. We have been given a great gift in finding each other, one too precious to let be taken from our grasp.”

Tears, like ice jewels, sparkled on her cheek. “I love you, Nicholas. I wish with all my heart to be your wife.” Her chin took on the defiant little tilt he had come to adore. “And if my guardian seeks to make an international incident—”

“Leave the negotiations to me, my dear, said Nicholas firmly. “I will take care that our two countries do not come to blows.”

“
Y
ou are late
.”

“Yes, well, I ran into a spot of difficulty.” Biting back a more acid comment to his father, Nicholas settled for a retort that was only mildly sarcastic. “Next time you wish to summon me during the depths of December, kindly negotiate a truce with the weather gods so they don’t interfere with your plans.”

“Hmmph.” Without looking up, the Earl of Royster opened another portfolio and fanned the contents across his blotter. “Was that, perchance, meant as a criticism?”

“With all due respect, sir. . .”

His father shuffled a sheaf of documents into order.

“Yes,” replied Nicholas loudly. “It bloody well was.”

The earl put down his pen. And let out a chuckle. “That was not the most diplomatic of replies.”

“I was not speaking as a diplomat.” Nicholas did, however, moderate his tone to something less than a shout. “Sir.”

Leaning back in his chair, Royster quirked a silvery brow and fixed his son with The Stare. It was a look the earl had perfected over the years, using it with ruthless regularity to reduce friend and foe alike to quaking in their boots.

Unmoved for once, Nicholas simply stared back.

“Well, well, well. It appears you have a bit of fire in your belly after all.” Steepling his fingers, the earl tapped them against his chin. “I was beginning to wonder whether there was any sort of spark there, or merely a lump of ice.”

“I was under the impression that you considered cold reason to be the cornerstone of duty and diplomacy.”

“So I do.” The corners of his father’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “But that is not to say one must always be a Stoic. There is nothing wrong with showing a bit of passion from time to time.”

“I am very glad to hear you say so sir.” Like his Christmas journey, the conversation was taking all sorts of unexpected twists and turns, but Nicholas refused to be sidetracked. “For that surely means you can have no objection to my telling you I’ve decided not to pay court to some stranger.”

The humor disappeared from Royster’s face. “Now, now, there is no reason to be hasty.”

“I’ve had a rather prolonged interlude in which to give your request careful thought,” replied Nicholas. “And the answer is, I won’t do it.”

“If we discuss this in a calm and rational manner,” replied his father. “I’m sure we can come to an acceptable compromise.”

“You may as well save your breath, Father. I can’t imagine any argument that could change my mind.” Nicholas angled his gaze to the portrait over the mantel. Lud, did all Wrenfax men look so imperious? “You see, I have made other plans.”

The earl’s brows angled higher and The Stare took on a more pronounced squint. “The count will be deeply disappointed if I tell him you won’t attend the ball he’s giving in the young lady’s honor. Indeed, he might take it as an insult, not only to his family, but to Mother Russia.”

“Russia?” Nicholas jerked his head around.

“A very large chunk of frozen tundra to our east, populated with bears, beards and boyars,” came the dry reply. “Need I remind you that the alliance is of strategic importance to our country?”

“No, I am fully aware of how much is at stake. But the truth is—’

He was saved from having to explain himself by a muffled roar from just outside the library.

“Step aside, lest you wish your spindly shanks to be fed to the wolves! I tell you, the earl will see me, regardless of the hour.”

The family butler, who did have rather reedy legs, had a hunted look on his face as he opened the door a crack. “Milord, I tried to tell the, er, gentleman, that you could not be interrupted, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“
Nyet
indeed!” thundered the intruder.

“It is quite alright, Belmont, your limbs are safe from snapping jaws for the time being,” said Royster. “You may allow the count to come in.”

The butler pressed his frail shoulders against the paneled oak to avoid being flattened by the onrushing figure.

With his greatcoat skirling around his high-top boots and the capes flapping like raucous ravens around his broad shoulders the count appeared even larger than he really was.

“Merry Christmas, Yevgeny,” called the earl “Won’t you join me and my son in a toast to good cheer and—”

“Nyet!” roared the count. “I cannot be merry at a time like this! I am—how you say—dis. . .”

“Distraught?” suggested Nicholas. His own nerves were none too steady at the moment.

“Yes! Distraught! Otherwise I would not descend upon your home and your holiday like a ravening bear. Of all my English acquaintances, you are the man I have confidence in, Royster.”

“I will help in any way I can. What is the trouble?”

“My niece was due to arrive in London the day before yesterday, but she has gone missing!”

The earl’s expression sobered considerably. Setting aside the decanter of brandy, he sought to allay his visitor’s agitation. “I am sure there is no real cause for alarm. I know for a fact that the bad weather has delayed a number of travelers.”

“Father,” said Nicolas.

Neither man paid any heed to Nicholas’s quiet murmur.

The count’s composure took a sharp turn for the worse as he started to pace before the fire. “One of the men I sent out in search of her discovered her coach, abandoned on a stretch of desolate road.”

“We—” began the earl.

“We were just coming to tell you that all is well and that your niece is quite safe.” Nicholas fixed the earl with a steady gaze and waggled a brow. “Weren’t we, Father?”

The Stare took on a peculiar tilt, but years of diplomatic experience allowed the earl to reply without missing a beat. “Indeed. We were. But seeing as Nicholas deserves all the credit, I will defer to him in explaining all the details.” Folding his hands upon his blotter, Royster added dryly, “I confess, Yevgeny, I am as anxious as you are to hear exactly how he managed the feat.”

Count Federov, who had been rendered momentarily speechless, recovered enough to sputter, “You mean to say my Anna is with you?”

“At the moment, sir, she is downstairs with our housekeeper, freshening up from her ordeal.”

An odd rumble started deep in the count’s throat, and his hands began to twitch.

It was, decided Nicholas, a reaction that did not bode well for peace and harmony. In one fell swoop both his limbs and any prospect of a treaty between England and Russia looked about to be ripped asunder.

“Grrrr. . .” With two quick strides, the count crossed the carpet. “Thank God! I am eternally grateful to you,
tovarich
.”

Nicholas found himself enveloped in a bear hug and lifted off his feet.

“Royster,” called Count Federov, his craggy face wreathed in a joyous smile. “You told me that your son was a remarkable young man, but you were too modest by half. Ha! I do not know how he discovered my plight, but to have acted so quickly and decisively.” He shook his head. “It’s a miracle.

“Sometimes even I am astounded by my son’s resourcefulness,” drawled the earl. “Er, perhaps if you would allow him a breath of air, we may hear all about the dramatic rescue. It promises to be a fascinating tale.”

“Yes! Of course.”

Nicholas hit the floor with a thump. His knees wobbled, but he kept his balance and cleared his throat. He did not need to look at the earl to know that he was treading a very fine line. One small misstep and he would go from being a hero to a goat.

A goat staked out on the Siberian steppes for the wolves to devour.

“It was a dark and stormy night, Count Federov. . .”

The earl gave a small cough. “Forgive me—something must have lodged in my throat.”

A laugh, unless Nicholas was much mistaken. His reproachful glance was met with a nod of contrition.

“Do go on,” murmured Royster, after swallowing a sip of his brandy.

“Through the swirl of the snow I happened to spot a wink of light. . .” His secret delight in the novels of Mrs. Radcliffe and the Minerva Press was now proving quite useful in cobbling together a suspenseful narrative. “Then, above the howl of the snowstorm, I heard a faint cry for help. . .”

Jaw slightly agape, Federov perched his bulk on the edge of the desk and leaned forward.

“Half frozen, and on death’s door from the blow he had suffered trying to stave off the falling tree, the coachman lay unconscious inside the coach,” went Nicholas. “The stalwart young lady had braved the elements to save him from a certain demise, but with the weather worsening, things were looking very grim.” For the most part, Nicholas was able to adhere to the spirit, if not the letter, of the truth, with just a few omissions and embellishments to gloss over the unconventional parts.

His father’s brows crept fractionally higher as the tale went on, but he remained silent. The count was a good deal more voluble, interrupting every few moments with a gasp or a mutter in his native tongue.

“Extraordinary!” he exclaimed, when Nicholas was done recounting the arrival in Grosvenor Square.

“Extraordinary,” echoed the earl.

“With such admirable talents, I think your son is destined for a brilliant career in your foreign service, Royster,” said the count.

“Yes, well, I have always stressed to him that one of the keys to success in diplomacy is creativity—along with the ability to think on one’s feet.”

“Actually, I’m not quite finished,” said Nicholas.

Federov looked slightly perplexed. “There is more?”

“I have left until last mentioning that I have asked Anna for her hand in marriage.”

He was rather amused by the stunned silence that followed the announcement. It wasn’t often that two such gentlemen could be rendered speechless.

“And she has accepted?” asked Fedorov warily.

“Yes, sir.”

“Without —how do you say—fireworks? Or your having to call in a regiment of the Preobrazhensky Guards?”

“As you know, sir, the use of force is always the last resort for a diplomat,” replied Nicholas, a twinkle lighting his eye as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I was able to persuade your niece to say ‘yes’ through the means of rational discourse.”

The count made a wry face. “Perhaps you have rescued the wrong young lady.” An instant later the grimace was gone, replaced by a grin. “I think I shall accept that drink after all, Royster. It seems we have much to celebrate on this most joyous of your holidays.”

Turning to Nicholas, he inclined a low bow. “It may not yet be Christmas in my country, but you have given me a most wondrous gift, Lord Killingworth. I believe Anna shall be very happy with you. And for that I thank you with all my heart.”

“Rather it is I who should be thanking you, sir.” Nicholas turned to the earl. “And you, Father. I consider myself blessed with miraculous good fortune. Who would have dreamed that in the midst of darkness and storm I would come upon the light of my life?”

He raised his glass, savoring the blazing fire and beaming smiles through the warm glow of the brandy. “To family. Both present and future.”

The clink of crystal had not yet subsided when Fedorov proposed another round of toasts. “It seems that tomorrow’s ball will take on an extra note of good cheer as we will be able to announce a pair of alliances between our two countries.”

He winked at the earl. “After much discussion, my delegation agreed to your latest proposal and the papers were signed this morning.”

Nicholas stifled a laugh. “I trust they plan to award each of you a medal for your consummate skill at handling delicate negotiations.”

His father maintained a straight face, save for a tiny waggle of his brow. “Oh, I believe Yevgeny and I have reward enough.”

* * *

I
t was not snow
but a blur of bright silks and satins, that swirled through the ballroom, and the brilliant sparkling of light came from a myriad of crystal chandeliers rather than ice.

“It is like a scene from a fairy tale,” whispered Anna as Nicholas spun her through another series of twirls.

“Our journey most certainly had a storybook ending, my love,” he replied, his eyes dancing with a depth of emotion that made her heart skip a beat.

“Complete with a dashing hero who sweeps the lady off her feet,” she whispered.

How had she ever viewed him as just another pompous prig? Now she saw only his kindness, his strength, his humor. His chiseled features, softened by the curl of golden locks and a devilish smile, were not bad to look at either. “You had a few small details of your story wrong. Your father is not such an ogre after all.”

The Earl of Royster, resplendent in ivory silk waistcoat embroidered with a forest of fir trees, appeared not at all perturbed to be holding a glass of champagne instead of a sheaf of government papers. “He dances quite beautifully and told me several very amusing stories about you and your first pony.”

Nicholas gave a mock wince. “Yet another instance of me falling smack on my rump.”

“As for your mother. . . “ Anna touched the pale peach flower pinned to his lapel, then glanced at the countess, who was dancing with Count Federov. “To think she spent the summer and fall creating a new species of roses specially for you. And it was very ingenious of her to design a portable greenhouse so that several of the bushes could be transported from Yorkshire.”