Page 35 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

She looked as pleased as if she had been given diamonds, and hesitated for barely a moment before adding, “And could we come back again, to look at the shops and—?”

“We can do whatever you wish,” he said, laughing at her enthusiasm. “I’m told the place has a splendid modiste these days, which it never did when I was a lad. But if you want to—”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head at once. “Under no circumstances will you spend another farthing on me. It makes me blush to my toes whenever I think of… well, it's of no matter, but no. You are very kind to suggest it,” she added quickly, lest she had offended him again.

“Whenever you think of what?” he asked curiously, and then grinned as he realised she meant her undergarments. That he might know the exact colour and style of her unmentionables was making her cheeks blaze scarlet.

For a moment, the desire to tease her over it was nigh on irresistible, but he reminded himself sternly he was a gentleman, and he was not supposed to be flirting with her. “I didn’t see any of the er… intimate garments. So you may set that concern aside,” he told her gravely, and with a good deal of reluctance, not to mention regret. What a pity he’d not had more time.

She let out a heartfelt sigh. “Thank heavens. That does make me feel somewhat better,” she admitted.

Nat nodded, reminded suddenly that she had broken off halfway through another sentence earlier and he’d meant to question her about it. What had it been? He thought about it as they rode through the town, aware of how many admiring glances she received as she passed. Not that it was surprising, she looked magnificent.

Once they were on the beach and discovered the tide a fair way out and the place deserted, she sprung her mare, who leapt forward with as much eagerness as her rider. To Nat’s delight, Meg gave a little yip of joy as she tore off ahead of him.

Nat waited, just enjoying the sight of her as the canter turned to a gallop for a short stretch before she pulled up. Smiling, Nat urged Merlin on, the big bay covering the ground easily and huffing a greeting to his stablemate.

“And back again?” she asked eagerly.

Nat smiled, noting the way her eyes glowed with excitement, the tip of her nose pink from the cold.

“Certainly, but let’s walk on a bit farther first. I wanted to ask you something.”

She looked at him uncertainly. “Yes?”

“Earlier, before we left the Hall, you said you were afraid. What are you afraid of?”

“I did?” she asked in confusion.

“You did. You said, you look in the mirror and hardly know yourself and you fear—but then you broke off. What did you mean?”

She shook her head and looked away from him and for a moment Nat wanted to kick himself for spoiling her pleasure. Yet if something was troubling her, he wanted to know, to fix it if he could.

“It’s nothing, I was just being dramatic,” she said, with a half-hearted laugh he did not believe for a moment. “But this is like a dream, and… and one day soon I must face reality again. I must keep cautioning myself, keep remembering that it is only a holiday, a reprieve. My life is waiting for me to take it up again, for good or for ill, and I must do so,” she said firmly, and with a brave smile that just about broke his heart.

“Not for ill,” he said, the words harsher and louder than he’d intended.

She jumped a little, staring at him in surprise.

“I promised, remember? And I promise you again, I won’t see you sent to some place where you’ll be a drudge or made miserable. We’ll do better. You’ve my word.”

She smiled again, but this time there was something like pity in her eyes. She regarded him as if he were a foolish child. “You do not understand the life of a female with no money, no family, nothing to recommend her save for a few skills. You speak as if there will be some cosy place for me where I might keep Betty and be comfortable and happy. It does not exist, and to drive yourself mad in trying to find such a utopia because of a promise you made me is foolish. Don’t worry so. I am not so fragile as you might suppose. I shall do well enough. Only find me a place where I might earn my wage without being abused, and I shall consider your promise paid in full.”

“Well, I shan’t,” he retorted.

“Well, I cannot make you, but neither will I blame you when you realise the truth.”

“You’ll have a place where you can be happy, safe and comfortable at the very least,” he said through gritted teeth, uncertain why he was so damned angry.

“And if you can’t find this paradise?” she demanded, looking perplexed.

“Then I’ll damned well have to marry you for real!” he snapped, before turning Merlin and galloping away.

Chapter 8

A clever little oddity.

Hatherley Hall, Little Valentine, 7th December 1815