Page 5 of Christmas Comes to Little Valentine

“So, your family wishes you to marry, and you prefer to carry on your carefree bachelor existence,” she suggested, lifting her spoon once more and applying herself to her pudding.

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” Nat admitted, forcing his attention back to his brilliant idea. “I don’t mean to say I shall never marry, but I’ve no intention of doing so for a while yet, and when I do, I’ll choose my own bride, dam—dash it all—not one my mother found for me!”

“And how—” she began, and then went a spectacular shade of alabaster as her spoon clattered into her bowl. “Thank you most kindly for everything you have done for me. If you will excuse me, I really must be going,” she said, pushing to her feet and giving every indication of fleeing.

“Hold on!” Nat said, lurching to his feet and grasping hold of her arm.

She glared at the hand restraining her and then at him, her expression so fierce Nat released her at once.

“I beg your pardon, but don’t go. You’ve not even heard what—”

“I do not need to hear it,” she replied crisply, and with such starch he could see for the first time what a good governess she would be. Quite terrifying. “I read something of the sort in a book once. The plot was entirely ridiculous, and I will not submit myself to such… such…”

“You mean to say you’ve figured out my plan?” Nat asked, impressed by her quick mind.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve figured you out, at least,” she replied, still tart but looking a little less like she might run away.

“How so?” Nat asked, wondering why he was so desperate to keep her talking, to keep her from running away. If she ran off now, it was entirely her own decision and would sever any obligation he felt for her. “Come, come. Sit down. You’ve not even finished your apple pie, and it’s very good, isn’t it?”

She sent her bowl of pudding such a wistful glance that Nat’s heart ached for her.

“Oh, very well,” she said crossly, sitting down again.

“There’s a good fellow,” he said, smiling at her. “Do you really know what I was going to say?”

“Not precisely,” she said, picking up her spoon again. “But I suspect it will involve my lying to your family about precisely who I am for the entire Christmas period, and that I shall not do. I may be desperate, but I am not and never have been a liar.”

“Of course not. I can see that, but this isn’t a lie designed to hurt anyone. It’s simply to stop them throwing some poor girl at my head for the next three weeks. I’ve never even met her before, and I’m dashed if I’ll let them force my hand.”

“Then don’t let them,” she said, scraping the bowl with her spoon to scoop up every last trace of cream.

“You don’t know my family,” Nat said gloomily. “They have this marvellous knack of making me feel like a foolish child, and they go on and on, telling me about all stupid things I’ve done and all the rotten decisions I ever made until I feel utterly hopeless. Then, of course, there is the girl. She’ll likely be nice and terribly embarrassed at the corner everyone is pushing me into, and I’ll end up pretending I don’t really mind and agreeing to marry her just so she doesn’t feel bad. It’s intolerable.”

Miss Bancroft frowned at him. “Are they truly so managing?”

Nat snorted. “If I let them. That’s why I stay away as much as possible. They can disapprove of me and sigh in disappointment all they like, but at least I don’t have to listen to it.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, and Nat ordered another pot of tea, concerned that Miss Bancroft might make another attempt to bolt if he did not give her an incentive to stay.

“You really would be doing me the most wonderful favour and, once it’s over, I’ll confess all to my cousin Della. She’s a marvellous sort, you’ll like her a great deal, and I know she’ll be able to help you find a new position. You might even find something in Little Valentine, for she was telling me about this new club the women have created. Something about all women being equal and having a voice—I can’t quite remember, but it was definitely in the spirit of all for one and one for all.”

Miss Bancroft gazed at him, a spark of interest alight there now. “A women’s club in Little Valentine?” she repeated, and he was uncertain which item was of more interest.

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “A rather odd name, I suppose, but it’s a charming place. A pretty little town by the sea in East Sussex. My grandmother has a house there. And yes, Della is a member of the club, so she can tell you all about it. Apparently, it’s run by a widowed lady and some of her friends. Della seemed most impressed by its ethos.”

“Surely your cousin will be furious with you for such a deception,” she said, frowning at him, but he had piqued her interest, he was certain of it, and he would not give up now.

“Della?” he said with a laugh. “Certainly not. Her brother would be another matter, I’ll grant you, but we keep out of each other’s way.”

“Why?”

“Why? Oh, because we don’t like each other. Chalk and cheese, I suppose you’d say,” he remarked, thinking this a rather large understatement.

“How so?”

Nat threw up his hands, not wishing to discuss Hawkney. “Oh, I don’t know. I take nothing very seriously and he takes everything far too seriously. That’s it in a nutshell, I suppose.”

Miss Bancroft gazed down at the table, her expression grave. “He will suspect at once.”