The Romany Heiress (24 page)

The last had been said more to himself than to any
audience, but Lady FoxHaughton picked up on it immediately. “Are you sure?” She was all attention, her
mind firing quickly.

“Quite sure.”

She strode to the shelve where she kept her important reference books and pulled out her well-used copy
of DeBrett’s Peerage. She thumbed through the pages
until she found what she was looking for. She hadn’t given it much thought upon her return over a month
ago, but now it suddenly seemed of pre-eminent importance since Giles had gone and married the girl.

“Ha! He couldn’t have married Cate Winthrop because she doesn’t exist.” Candice moved her finger
through the Winthrop lineage. “She’d have to be the
daughter of Stonebridge’s younger brother’s son to be a
fourth cousin,” she muttered, scanning the lines to
make sure she didn’t overlook anything. “Ha! There is
a C. Winthrop but it’s a child who died in infancy and
my copy doesn’t denote if it was male or female”

Daniel looked perplexed, a furrowing marring his
smooth brow. “Then how can he have married her?”

Candice slammed the book shut with an impressive
bang. “He didn’t marry her. He married someone pretending to be her.” She tapped a hand on the table,
thinking fast. “The question is, does Giles know? Perhaps someone is hoodwinking him or perhaps they are
in it together and they want us to believe that is who she
is.” Now why would Giles, the most ethical man she
knew, try to perpetrate a scheme that was bound to fail?
Surely everyone would know there was no such person
as Cate Winthrop?

“Daniel, I need you to do something for me, darling. I
need you to get a look at that marriage certificate. Whose
name is on it? I’ll wager it’s not Cate Winthrop’s”

Spelthorne Abbey, December 24th

Wke up, sleepyhead!” Cate shouted, throwing
back the heavy draperies cloaking the master chamber
windows in floorto-ceiling elegance. A burst of rare
winter sunlight filled the room. “It’s time!”

In the bed, Giles groaned and threw a hand across his
eyes. She laughed in satisfaction. She’d risen early on
purpose to tease him. Usually, he was the first one up
and he loved to rib her over her penchant for sleeping
in. Today she’d bested him.

It hadn’t been that difficult. Her excitement over the
impending holiday had propelled her from bed early.

She tugged on the satin comforter and threw it back.
Giles groaned again. “What’s so special about today?”
he yawned.

“What’s so special about today?” she said in mock
disbelief, hearing the teasing tone in his voice despite
his complaints. “It’s Christmas Eve!” Her first Christmas as a married woman and in some ways her first
Christmas ever. Never had she spent a Christmas surrounded by the activities that had the abbey already
bustling at dawn. This morning the abbey and all who
wanted to come were going out to fetch the greenery
and the yule log. Tonight there’d be a grand party, and
later a quiet church service in the little Norman chapel.

Giles smiled widely, something he’d done more often since their marriage. He reached up his hands to
grasp hers. “Is it too early to say Merry Christmas?”

Cate giggled, sensing his excitement too. “You’ll
have to hurry; people are already gathering in the stable
yard. They await their lord. Shall you get up, or shall I
tell them to go a-greening without him?”

Giles sprung out of bed in a fluid motion. “I’ll be
ready in a moment’s notice.”

She flashed him a final smile before going downstairs to wait for him. She’d come to treasure spontaneous moments like these when they were alone, not
surrounded by the servants or the demands of earldom.

It was those moments where she learned the most
about Giles the man, who he was apart from being the
embodiment of Spelthorne. She had not known him before their marriage, but in their brief acquaintance before the wedding, she’d deduced he was a man of great
responsibilities, someone on who others relied. He took
those responsibilities seriously, leaving little time for himself to relax and set those burdens down. These
days, she thought he did a bit more of that-for the better. He laughed easily, smiled, played, found a certain
exuberance in doing the everyday tasks required of him.

He had shown her every courtesy a man could show
his wife. She was overly conscious of the fact that he
never treated her with anything less than the honor she
deserved as his partner. He was sincere in his regard
and tender in his affections. In short, he was as much a
paragon of a husband as he was an earl.

Although she knew the grounds upon which he’d offered for her, she also knew she was dangerously close
to falling in desperate love with her new husband. In
spite of their rocky start, there was no reason not too.
And perhaps that was what held her back from pledging
the very last piece of her heart that was not already his.

He was too perfect. He’d accepted his situation with
equanimity. Not once had he ranted over having to take
a wife that was beneath him or that there was the intangible taint of blackmail surrounding his proposal. He’d
simply made the best of it and forged ahead.

Perfection and the attainment of happy-ever-after
were not part of the hard life she’d known with the gypsies. Cate worried about accepting the smooth reality
Giles’s life laid at her feet. She was convinced all she’d
found with him would eventually be obliterated. Some
day the carpet would be pulled out from under her and
the reality beneath the illusions of their life would be
cruel-even heartbreaking if she let them. So she did
her best to protect herself against the coming of that day.

But it was a hard task, one she would put aside today
as a holiday gift to herself. Magda had laughed scornfully at her whimsy when she’d quietly come to help
her dress that morning. Catherine would not be deterred. It was a real Christmas, the kind she’d dreamed
of as a little girl, and she would embrace it fully no
matter what cynicisms Magda threw her way.

“What are you thinking?” Giles asked, coming down
the stairs to join her. “You were miles away just now”
He grabbed up their cloaks and mufflers from a bench.

She shook her head. “Nothing. Everything.” She
turned to let Giles drape her riding cloak about her
shoulders, liking the brush of his hands on her shoulders as he fitted the cape across them. “I’ve never had a
proper Christmas. I suppose I am excited.”

Giles laughed. “I hope Spelthorne lives up to your
expectations then”

She smiled up at him. “How could it not with you in
charge of everything? I bet even the mistletoe grows
according to your plans”

“Let’s go find out” Giles held out his hand for her and
she took it, letting him lead her outside into the waiting
throng of merrymakers who were eager to be off.

In the stableyard, Cate clapped her hands at the sight
of the converted wagon that would convey them out to
the Spelthorne woods. The wheels had been replaced
with runners to glide over the snow. The empty wagon
box would serve to carry back the greenery to the
abbey later. Two draft horses had been harnessed with
sleigh bells that jingled in the crisp air.

“Your chariot, madam. I am glad you’re pleased,”
Giles said softly beside her before boosting her onto
the wagon bench where she’d ride beside him as he
drove the team.

The villagers and tenant farmers mounted up on similar converted wagons. Many piled into wagon boxes as
if the outing were a hayride without the hay. Giles
clucked to his team and they were off, forming a little
parade. Those who had stayed behind to see to baking
and last minute preparations waved to them from the
cottages. Someone started a lively song, and soon the
sound of merry voices joined the jingle of harness bells.

It was a beautiful day, a perfect day complete with a
brilliant-blue winter sky overhead and sparkling white
snow on the ground. The singers breaths came in great
puffs as they sang. She could ask for no better setting
against which to see her first Christmas unfold. She
thought of the small gifts she had for Giles later and
hoped they would be enough to convey how thankful
she was for this day.

The sleigh-wagons pulled into a clearing and everyone piled out. Everyone knew their job from years of
tradition. It was easy for Cate to fit into their rhythm.

The women took baskets and gathered holly full of
berries, the leaves a waxy green against the snow. They
hunted for mistletoe and other greens for the kissing
bough they’d make back at the abbey.

The men set to work gathering great swags of greenery to decorate the mantle and to twist into a garland to
drape down the long staircase. Another group of men, led by Giles, took out axes and saws and set out to find
the perfect yule log.

Deep in the woods she could hear the men calling
out to one another and finally a victorious cry that the
right tree had been found. The women put down their
baskets and moved towards the voices, excitement rising at the prospect of seeing the yule log cut.

Cate joined the other women. She stared in amazement at what the men had found. It wasn’t a log at all
by any stretch of her imagination. It was practically a
tree. She’d privately thought the men a bit ridiculous in
hauling out their saws but she could see now that a saw
would be put to good use.

The butcher and the blacksmith started the process of
cutting the great trunk into a log that could be hauled
back to the abbey. There were goodnatured catcalls and
jests as their tremendous efforts resulted in little progress
on the trunk but plenty of sweat on their brows. After
awhile another team took over and another until all the
men in attendance had played a role in cutting the yule
log. Giles and the head groom from the abbey went last,
either by design or by accident, Cate wasn’t sure which.

The day was cold but sawing was hot work. Giles
had shucked off his outerwear and rolled up the sleeves
of his shirt. Patches of sweat showed through the material as he flexed and pushed with the saw, reminding all
present of the excellent physique of their earl.

At last Giles and the groom were triumphant. A great
cheer went up as the saw cut clean through for the final
time. There was much backslapping among the men surrounding Giles and then ropes were lashed about the
log, which was still much larger than she had expected.
The men took up their places at the ropes and began the
haul back to the wagons.

It was afternoon by the time the log was hitched to a
team of horses and the wagons loaded with people and
greenery. The afternoon was graying with the promise
of more snow. People were cold and the prospect of hot
drinks back at the abbey kept spirits high as they headed
home.

Giles’s housekeeper had mulled wine and hot sticky
buns waiting for the glad crowd. The older participants drank for warmth and headed home for other
preparations. The younger people stayed on to help
with decorations.

In what seemed an impossibly short time, the abbey
was transformed into a Christmas dream. Evergreen garlands draped around the banister of the staircase, adorned
with bows Giles had brought down from the attic, saved
from holidays past. The yule log was positioned in the
large fireplace awaiting the night’s festivities. The dining
room had been prepared for the laying out of the abbey’s
silver and the Christmas feast. Spelthorne held nothing
back. Tonight it would be silver and candles and plenty
for all who attended.

As dusk fell, the young people sang out their goodbyes with promises to see each other shortly. Cate stood
in the hall, watching the last of them go.

“There’s one more thing to do,” Giles said, materializing beside her.

“I can’t imagine what that would be. We’ve done so
much already,” she said.

“It’s down at the chapel. Are you up for a walk?”
Giles took a lantern in one hand and her arm in another
and led the way to the little chapel. There was no one
there. It was quiet and dark and peaceful.

Giles set about lighting a few more candles. “We
need to unpack that box in the corner.” He nodded his
head to large carton set near the altar. “I had it brought
down earlier today.”

“What is it?” Cate asked, going to the crate and
opening it. She took out the wrapped pieces inside.

“Go ahead, unwrap them. Can’t you guess?” Giles’s
voice was soft, almost reverent, causing her to wonder
what could be so significant about the box.

She carefully unwrapped the first piece. She gave a
little gasp. “Oh, it’s a shepherd.” She held the piece up
to the flickering lights. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a creche, hand carved and painted from Italy. It
was given to Celeste as a wedding gift from her father.
She had a passion for Italian things,” Giles said, coming to stand by Catherine.

“A creche?” She tried the unfamiliar word out on her
tongue as she unwrapped another piece.