Candlelit Christmas Kisses: Captain Moorcroft's Christmas Bride / Governess Under the Mistletoe

‘You wouldn’t think of it—of marrying her in a few years’ time?’

‘Miss Millie … no,’ Henry said, but he looked self-conscious.

‘You’ve fallen for one of them. Is it Miss Searles?’ Robert narrowed his gaze. ‘No, it’s Miss Amy, isn’t it? Good Lord! You’ve only known her a day, Nor. You can’t be serious. You must be ten years her senior.’

‘Eleven, actually,’ Henry said, and smiled ruefully. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? One smile and that was it. I can’t believe it happened like that … out of the blue. I thought that kind of love was a myth, but it isn’t. I’m too old and too ugly for her. She was kind and made a point of looking at me without flinching, but I know she could never feel anything for me. However, I’m afraid that I’ve lost my heart. She’s the woman I want, Robert. Not that I shall allow her to see it. She is too far above me.’

‘Ridiculous! You are the best man I know—the staunchest friend, the kindest person I’ve ever met.’

‘For God’s sake,’ Henry said, revolted. ‘I can do without that rubbish, Robert. No, it is a lost cause. I know it. But I shall do all I can for her without making myself a nuisance.’

‘She might welcome an offer. You may not be the richest man in England, but you have no need to be my secretary.’

‘You would be lost without me—and I without you,’ Henry said simply. ‘Please forget I spoke. I should not have told you.’

‘Well, you must do as you think best, of course.’ Robert looked thoughtful. ‘It does happen, you know—love that strikes out of the blue. I remember once at a dance in Bath … No! It can’t be …’ He stopped and a look of pleasure came to his eyes. ‘Her name … yes, I’m certain it was Selina … but she looks so different …’

‘What are you saying?’ Henry asked, intrigued. ‘Have you remembered where you know Miss Searles from?’

‘Yes, I think I have.’ Robert grinned at him. ‘How could I have forgotten? It seems so long ago … like another lifetime. But of course I was a different man then.’

‘You actually knew her?’

‘Not exactly knew.’ Robert laughed and shook his head. ‘Do not ask, Nor, for I shall not tell you. I am only just beginning to remember—some of the details escape me. It was just before I left to join my regiment—and I was a little drunk that night. Actually, I was very drunk, but I remember this girl … she was so beautiful, like an angel …’

‘You are talking of Miss Searles? She is beautiful, of course, or she might be if she dressed differently—but an angel? That implies innocence?’

‘She must have been all of sixteen at the time. Too young to have been out, of course. I cannot imagine what her mama was about, taking her to a ball at that age.’

‘No doubt she kept a watchful eye on her?’

‘Perhaps. I cannot recall much of what happened, but …’ Robert smiled oddly. ‘No, do not question me with your eyes. I shall not reveal a lady’s indiscretion or my own. Good grief! Do you think she remembers?’

‘Perhaps. It depends on what you did or said that night, Robert—does she have cause to remember?’

‘To be honest, I can’t remember what I said to her, but I think I danced with her and then …’ He shook his head. ‘She must have forgotten. We only met once. Besides, I have changed so much—as has she.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder why she hasn’t married.’

‘I daresay she did not have the chance. Millie has told me their sad history. Her papa gambled their money away, and there was none for Selina or Amy to have a season, and then, when he was desperate, he killed himself. That sent their mother—who was always delicate—into a decline. The will allowed them to live in the house until she died, but then … Well, you know the rest.’

‘You’ve certainly been busy!’

‘Millie is very forthcoming—particularly when one talks to her as an equal. I think her sisters tend to treat her as a child, which she assures me she isn’t. I think I agree with her. Like Miss Searles, she has had grief and responsibility thrust upon her, and she has grown up faster than her years—which is sad, in a way.’

‘Yes, for all of them.’

‘Miss Amy seems the least affected. She does not show it in her manner—she has a joy in life that is hard to resist.’

‘You are smitten,’ Robert said dryly. ‘You should definitely propose, my dear Nor.’

‘We shall see how things progress. I would marry her rather than see harm come to any of them.’

‘How gallant,’ Robert drawled. ‘You were ever the gentleman. I fear I am a careless devil and shall not lose my heart so easily.’

‘What of the angel you met so briefly?’ Henry raised his brows.

‘She no longer exists. Somewhere along the way, she died, as did the dashing captain of her dreams. If she ever dreamed of me. I daresay she thought me an uncouth drunk who made free with her person … and breathe a word of that to another person and I’ll wring your neck.’

‘As if I would,’ Henry said, and smiled. ‘You know, Robert, I had wondered if you were lost to us for good—but I think there may just be a chance for you yet.’

‘Forget any foolish idea of romance, Nor. You may have fallen in love with Amy, but my heart is untouched. It died one hot Spanish night, and I do not think I can feel love—or any other decent emotion except guilt and regret.’

Robert stared at himself in the mirror as he dressed for dinner that evening. He had decided to take Miss Searles up on her invitation, for it seemed foolish to make the staff serve two separate meals when they might all dine together. And if he was a little curious to discover whether or not anything remained of the young woman he seemed to remember kissing in a moonlit garden, he would not admit it—to Nor or to himself.

No, it was simply a matter of practicality. Until his chef arrived, it would just make more work for her cook. Besides, he did not fancy dining alone with Henry in the great hall. They could, of course, eat in the library, but it would still make extra work.

Tying his cravat in a style that had taken him some years to perfect, he brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his coat and prepared to leave. His memory of that night in Bath was distinctly hazy. He thought he’d kissed her, but he could not recall what he’d said or what she’d replied. He had a feeling he’d gone a little too far and she’d broken away from him, but his memory would not function properly, and he did not know what had happened after the kiss.

Did Miss Searles remember him? Had she even known his name? He must surely have introduced himself. But she would have forgotten the small incident long ago, wouldn’t she? It could not have meant anything to her—the clumsy attentions of a drunken officer. If she did remember, she could feel nothing but animosity towards him.

Was that why she dragged her hair back and made herself look older? Was she afraid that he might try to take advantage of her again?

Robert felt the heat spread over his entire body. It was embarrassing. He had been a foolish youth, carried away on a tide of excitement and fear. Even while he’d longed for adventure, he’d known full well that he might be killed.

Yet he’d come through the wars almost unscathed, apart from a few small wounds that had healed easily. No, his scars were mental. He would never forget Juanita’s broken body, or the way she had wept in his arms before she died as the result of the cruelty of a pack of drunken dogs. They had thought her one of the enemy and had raped her brutally, inflicting wounds on her body and her mind—wounds that she could never have recovered from.

His own men. Men he’d nurtured, cherished and wept for had behaved like animals. He’d been forced to punish them—to hang the ringleader, a man he’d truly liked until that moment. It had been unlike Harris to behave so ill, for he had been generally a good man and caring of his soldiers, but in the heat of bloodlust, he’d gone berserk and committed the foulest of crimes. The look in his eyes as Robert had condemned him to hang had been like a dagger thrust in his heart.

It was not that he’d loved Juanita, but she’d helped him to nurse Henry through his sickness and had not deserved such a cruel death.

How could he ever forget the things he’d seen and done out there? It was impossible. He was dead inside.

If he married it must be for the getting of an heir—to a sensible older woman who understood what such a marriage would be about. Was Miss Searles such a woman? Robert wasn’t sure. The girl he’d kissed on a moonlit night was someone different—a dream of love that had vanished under the punishing heat of Spanish skies. Robert hardly knew her. Henry seemed to have broken all barriers and was already treated as one of their family, but he … he was the earl, and they were guests in his house.

He sighed as the elusive memory disappeared like mist. Perhaps if he found it hard to remember then she did, too. He hoped so, for otherwise … Good grief! Had he made her any promises that night? His thoughts whirled in confusion, then he dismissed them. She’d surely known he was drunk. She was far too sensible to have believed anything he’d said that night.

No, he doubted she even recalled the incident. She would have given some sign. Besides, she must have had other suitors. He could not imagine why she had not married. Even if she had little dowry, there must have been someone … Mr Breck had told him her cousin wished to marry her, but she’d taken this house on rather than accept. Clearly she was not desperate to marry or she would have accepted the offer.

Frowning, he left his bedchamber and walked slowly down the stairs, through the library. Even before he reached the dining room, he could hear laughter. Henry sounded so relaxed and happy. He hadn’t heard him talking so animatedly for years.

Smiling, he walked into the room—and then caught his breath as the woman in yellow silk, trimmed with an overskirt of black lace and similar frills to her neckline, turned to look at him and memory came rushing back into his mind. She had been wearing yellow that night, too, and her hair had been dressed in becoming ringlets. The colour suited her, and if she were to soften her hairstyle a little, she would still be beautiful.

Robert felt the ice round his heart crack a little. Surely he had called her an angel … and he’d done other things, too—things that made the heat rush through his body once more.

How could he have forgotten? For one glorious hour, he had fallen madly in love. He’d always intended to contact her, to tell her that he’d meant every word, but caught up in the excitement of his first campaign, he had forgotten—and then it had all turned sour …

CHAPTER FIVE

WHY was the earl frowning at her in such disapproval? Selina’s heart caught. Did he think she had put off her blacks too soon? Was he shocked that she and her sisters were all wearing colours this evening? Amy had chosen lilac trimmed with grey lace, Millie a dark blue trimmed with satin ribbons of a matching shade.