A Christmas Courtship (2 page)

The jeweler picked up the goblet, turning it slowly to examine the engraving he’d already completed. It was to be a Christmas gift, and was cut in a delicate design of holly, ivy, and mistletoe, together with the ducal coat of arms. But his thoughts returned once again to the tantalizing subject of Blanche Amberley. For her sake he hoped that the whispers weren’t true, but if they were, he hoped Antony Mortimer wasn’t in his sire’s mold. The Amberleys were gentry through and through, and honor and justice were listed high in their priorities; the Mortimers were upstarts, come to prominence in a single generation, and honor and justice didn’t figure at all in their philosophy. Still, maybe it was all just gossip, based on nothing more than someone’s having seen Antony in the company of a young woman who looked like Blanche.

Mr Gilbey gave a wry smile. A young woman who looked like Blanche? No other woman looked like her; she was
gloriously
unique with her tumble of silver-blonde curls and those magnificent eyes. No, if someone saw Antony with a woman who looked like Blanche, then that woman was Blanche. The jeweler’s smile faded. Amatch between the Amberleys and the Mortimers? What a misalliance it would be. Her father,
impoverished
as he now was, would still regard such a connection as a social disaster; and Clement Mortimer’s ambitions required a titled bride for his son, not an Amberley without a penny to her name. No wonder the young lovers, if lovers they were, were apparently striving to keep their affair a secret. Picking up his instruments, Mr Gilbey prepared to continue engraving the beautiful cup, and Blanche’s affairs faded from his thoughts.

Unaware that she’d occupied the jeweler’s mind for so long after her departure, Blanche hurried up the almost deserted
pavement
of Westgate Street. It was a broad thoroughfare that led up from the River Severn toward the crossroads in the center of the city. The shop windows were illuminated as the short winter afternoon drew toward a premature close, shortened by the yellow-gray clouds that filled the sky, bringing with them the promise of snow.

There were wreaths of Christmas greenery on doors, and garlands in windows, and a group of musicians stood on a corner singing ‘God rest ye merry, gentlemen! Let nothing you dismay!’ Blanche shivered as she made her way toward the Saracen’s Head inn, where she was due to meet Hannah Cutler, the former housekeeper at Amberley Court, who, together with her husband Jake, the former head gardener, had remained
faithfully
in the employ of the Amberleys after their financial ruin. Jake drove Blanche and his wife into Gloucester once a week in the pony and trap to do their shopping while he called upon various old friends, then he returned to the Saracen’s Head in the late afternoon to drive them home to Amberley St Mary again.

A small party of soldiers stood on the pavement outside the Bell tavern on the other side of the street. At times of war it was prescribed that members of the armed forces should always wear uniform, and so such groups of soldiers were not an uncommon sight. They were laughing together, and the light breeze carried their voices so clearly that she was left in no doubt as to the fate they intended for the Emperor of the French should he ever fall into their clutches. Their words were a sharp reminder of the war for Blanche, for her brother Jonathan’s regiment was embarking for the Spanish peninsula in the new year, and the seemingly endless conflict would touch upon her personally for the first time.

She hurried on, glancing up at the darkening sky as a few stray snowflakes drifted on the frozen air. The cathedral bell rang out, and she quickened her steps in dismay. It was later
than she’d realized, and Hannah would already be waiting for her; but first there was another appointment to be kept – with Antony Mortimer.

Blanche could still hardly credit that Antony had come to mean so much to her in such a short time. They’d only met the month before, when chance had caused them both to ride along the same country lane near Amberley St Mary, and so instant and strong had been the attraction between them that she’d very swiftly found herself breaking all the rules by agreeing to meet him again. Now, for the first time in her life, she was in love, and she was happy again after two long years of hardship. She was so looking forward to this Christmas, for even though she and Antony had to keep their love a secret from families who’d disapprove, they’d still somehow find some time to be alone together.

How she wished they could come out into the open about their feelings, but it was out of the question. Her father would never consent to a match with the Mortimers, of whom he
thoroughly
disapproved, and Jonathan had once had a very
unfortunate
meeting with Antony, when they had taken an instant dislike to each other, all of which made her predicament very awkward indeed. As for Antony, his father was ambitious to acquire a wealthy, titled bride for him, and a lowly Amberley would no longer do at all. And so their love must be kept hidden, and the future left in the lap of the gods; but for the time being they were simply too much in love to consider anything beyond spending every single stolen moment together. She was sure of her heart, sure that love would triumph over adversity, and so she had no misgivings as she hurried to keep the illicit tryst.

The Saracen’s Head loomed ahead, its weatherbeaten sign
swaying slightly in the draft of cold air sweeping through the city. Hannah would be waiting in the dining room now,
wondering
where she was, but the assignation with Antony was more important, and what was more, it too was to take place in the inn, in the private coachhouse his father leased. The Mortimer town house, fine as it was, no longer had any stabling of its own, being a medieval property overlooking the crossroads.

Gloucester was an important port on the River Severn, and also provided the first bridge over the river, and as a
consequence
it was a very busy city, especially just before Christmas, when there was so much river trade and so many more people traveling. The Saracen’s Head was the principal inn, a loftly gabled building with a wide archway leading from the street into a galleried courtyard. A constant flow of stagecoaches, mails, post-chaises, private carriages, and lesser vehicles passed to and fro beneath the archway, making the yard a singularly noisy, crowded place.

Blanche halted on the pavement outside the inn, carefully arranging her hood so that there was no possibility at all of anyone seeing her face. It wasn’t very likely that anyone would give her cloaked figure a second glance in such a busy place, but it still wouldn’t have done for Blanche Amberley to be witnessed hurrying furtively through into the stableyard at the rear of the inn.

She looked cautiously through the archway, in case Jake had already arrived with the pony and trap, but there was no sign of him. There were two stagecoaches on the point of departure, fully laden with Christmas luggage and travelers. Their teams stamped impatiently, jingling their harness, the horses’ breath silvery in the fast-fading light. The passengers were seated
reluctantly
after the warmth of the inn. Those unfortunate enough to have only secured outside places were very well wrapped against the cold. Several faces bore the telltale glow of mulled ale or wine, and the men carried flasks containing the wherewithal to maintain that glow during the icy miles ahead. Then the ticket office bell rang out for the last time, summoning any final passengers who might be lingering in the hostelry. The smell of hot mince pies drifted in the enclosed air, for the Saracen’s Head
had been serving them for the past week now, and would continue to do so until Twelfth Night, as had become the
tradition
at the inn.

No one paid any attention to Blanche as she slipped around the edge of the yard, moving swiftly past the pools of light thrown down by the lamps suspended beneath the lowermost part of the gallery. A groom was leading two horses through from the stableyard, and she drew quickly back, pressing into the shadows until he’d passed. Then she left the bustle of the yard to hurry across the much quieter, less well lit stableyard toward the row of coach houses at the far end.

The doors of the Mortimer coach house were closed, but they opened easily enough as she pushed upon them. It was very dark inside, but she could just make out the three vehicles kept there, a gleaming maroon traveling carriage, a dark-blue barouche for the town, and Antony’s dashing yellow cabriolet. Everything was so quiet that she thought she was the first to arrive, but then, as her eyes became used to the darkness, someone moved behind the barouche and spoke her name. It was Antony.

He wore a camel-colored greatcoat with a brown fur collar and Hessian boots that sported gilt spurs. An ivory-handled cane swung in his gloved hand, and his top hat was tipped rakishly back on his curly brown hair. He was tall and
good-looking
, with soft hazel eyes that played havoc with her heart, and as he smiled at her, she ran into his arms.

He held her close, his cheek resting against her hair, for her hood had fallen back. For a long moment they stood in an emotional embrace, and then he tilted her lips toward his, giving her a long, sweet kiss. The smell of costmary clung to his clothes, enveloping her in an embrace of its own, and she felt weak with love for him, as if just by his presence he’d robbed her of her will.

He drew back at last, his eyes dark as he cupped her face in his gloved hands. ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,’ he whispered.

‘Hannah doesn’t know about the pendant, and it was an age before I could think of a suitable excuse for slipping away on my
own. I told her I’d forgotten to buy the handkerchiefs I mean to embroider for Jonathan with his initials for Christmas, and she let me go at last. I only hope she doesn’t ask to see them, because that rogue Mr Gilbey charged me so much for the repair to the pendant that I had to use up nearly all my remaining allowance.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘He charged me too much in order to try to persuade me to sell the pendant.’  

‘Why don’t you sell it? It would make things a good deal easier for you and your father. Just think of the Christmas you could have, my darling, and the gown you could wear to celebrate our good news.’ He smiled mysteriously, stroking her skin with his thumb.

She stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’ she whispered. ‘Simply that I couldn’t bear it any longer, and I’ve grasped the nettle. I’ve spoken to my father about us.’

Her heart almost stopped. ‘You-you have?’  

‘Yes, and what’s more, he’s actually disposed to give his consent.’  

Her eyes widened with utter amazement. ‘Do you really mean it?’ she breathed, hardly daring to hope.

‘He was a little reluctant at first, for reasons I have no need to explain because you know them already, but in the end he came around.’ He smiled again, his lips brushing hers, but then he became more serious. ‘There is a condition, Blanche.’  

‘Condition?’  

‘We must have more than just your father’s agreement, we must have his promise that he’ll intercede with the Duke of Norfolk on my father’s behalf.’

She stared at him. ‘The Duke of Norfolk? But….’  

He put a finger to her lips. ‘I happen to know that your father and the duke are friendly, and since my father needs the duke’s patronage to advance his political hopes, then it is only to be expected that my father would wish yours to speak to the duke in that connection.’  

‘But my father’s friendship with the duke has been in abeyance for two years now, Antony, and anyway….’  

‘It’s important, Blanche,’ he interrupted softly. ‘My father already has one path to the duke’s door, but another one would
surely be a clincher. It means more than anything to my father that he pursue a career in Westminster, and to that end he’s prepared to forgo his wishes concerning a titled bride for me.’

‘I-I don’t know that my father will agree …’ She pulled away from him, her thoughts spinning. She hadn’t expected anything like this, not just yet, and now suddenly it was happening. But with such a condition, it didn’t seem possible that the path would be smooth, for she knew how her father and brother felt about the Mortimers. She turned, looking curiously back at him. ‘Your father already has one path to the duke? What path is that?’  

‘Oh, just an acquaintance made recently through the bank,’ he replied vaguely. ‘It really doesn’t matter what his name is.’  

His manner was a little odd. ‘Antony, why won’t you tell me who it is?’  

‘It really isn’t of any consequence – what is of consequence is that we now have the chance of a future together, provided your father comes around.’ He pulled her into his arms again, his fingers twining luxuriously in the warm hair at the nape of her neck. More curls were loosened from their pins, spilling down over his gloved hand, and his lips pressed down on her again in a kiss more urgent than the one before.

Familiar forbidden feelings stirred through her, and she forgot her questions and gave in to the passion he’d aroused.  

Again he drew back. ‘Were I less of a gentleman, and you less of a lady, I’d make you mine right here and now,’ he murmured.  

‘But you are a gentleman, sir,’ she replied, her face a little flushed.  

‘Yes, and I intend to do everything correctly, including approaching your father as any prospective son-in-law should. Blanche, you must try to persuade him to agree to the match, for it’s imperative that he is willing to speak to the duke for my father. I know that your father disapproves of my family, and that your brother loathes me personally, but if you love me, it’s vital that my father’s condition is met.’  

‘It won’t be easy,’ she said, drawing unhappily away.  

‘We could be betrothed on Christmas Day, Blanche. Just think of it, we could face the new year with plans for our wedding in the spring!’

‘Yes, but….’

‘If your father loves you, he’ll have your well-being at heart, and once he realizes how much in love we are, I
know
he’ll come around. Jonathan is a different matter, but we don’t need
his
consent.’

She lowered her eyes, thinking about the single occasion when Antony and her brother had encountered each other so disastrously. It had been at a subscription dinner in Cheltenham, when some of Jonathan’s fellow officers had become somewhat boisterous, succeeding in spilling a bowl of hot mulligatawny soup over Antony. In the ensuing unpleasantness, the argument had become very personal between Antony and Jonathan, and the two had only just been dissuaded from a duel.

Antony tilted her face toward his again. ‘My father’s consent depends upon a good word being put in for him with the duke, and if your father refuses to do that, then I have no doubt that consent will be withdrawn. If that happens, we will not be able to marry.’

Tears stung her eyes. ‘I’d be prepared to defy my family for you,’ she whispered.

‘If I defy mine, I’ll be disinherited, and I have any number of eager cousins waiting for that moment, I promise you. If I’m penniless, I can’t support you, and love won’t survive long under those circumstances. We have to have my father’s consent, Blanche, and to have that we have to have your father’s consent too. There can’t be one without the other. You do understand, don’t you?’

She blinked the tears away. ‘Antony, I do understand, it’s just that….’

‘That you wish I’d be more rashly romantic and say I’d throw caution to the winds and flout my father’s wishes?’ He smiled, his voice soft and persuasive. ‘I’m a banker’s son, my darling, brought up to be at all times the soul of practicality. I need to provide for you in every way, I couldn’t respect myself
otherwise
, and if I court disinheritance, I’ll have to watch you
struggle
to stretch the pennies. That’s what you’ve been doing for two long years now, and I couldn’t bear to see it continue when you’re my wife, I love you too much for that. All we need is your
father’s promise.’

‘And-and if he refuses?’ she whispered.

‘Then we must wait, there is no choice.’

She couldn’t meet his eyes. It was true that she wished for more rashness and romance; she wanted to be swept off her feet and carried away by a lover’s passion, but instead she was faced with a calm, rational argument. She was prepared to challenge her family for him, but he wasn’t prepared to do the same for her. An edge was rubbed from her happiness, and she felt suddenly vulnerable and uncertain.

He bent his head to kiss her again. ‘I love you so much, my darling,’ he whispered, ‘and I want it to be right between us. I want to give you fine clothes, live with you in an elegant house, and provide properly for our future. Please don’t find fault with me for that.’ His lips teased hers, drawing a reluctant response until she was suddenly in his arms again, returning both the embrace and the kiss.

He smiled into her eyes. ‘When will you speak to your father?’ he asked softly.

‘As soon as I can. Tonight….’

‘Don’t worry about Jonathan, for he isn’t important in this.’

‘Antony, he’s my brother and I love him,’ she replied, ‘and now that his regiment is about to leave for Spain, the last thing I want to do is quarrel with him.’

‘The moment you consented to see me again, you knew you ran the risk of a quarrel with him,’ he reminded her gently. ‘But if he is so important to you, then we will approach him as if walking upon eggshells. I will do all I can to mend the breach between us, and if it’s possible to become his friend, then I will do it.’

‘Will you really?’ she said, smiling.

‘For you I will do anything, my darling, even be agreeable toward Jonathan. Let’s look to the future, when you and I are happily married and Jonathan has returned from Spain as feted a hero as Sir Edmund Brandon.’

‘Jonathan is a good deal more pleasant a person than Sir Edmund,’ she replied, remembering the only occasion she and the hero of Vimiero had met, when he’d come to view Amberley
Court prior to purchasing it. She’d found him cold, arrogant, distant, and rude, and she’d loathed him on sight.