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The first time he saw her he had been a young lieutenant in His Majesty’s cavalry and she was making her debut into society. Of all the debutantes, she was the prettiest. He recalled everything about her. She was dressed in a white-spotted muslin with soft pink undertones and her blonde hair was pulled up into a soft, cascading Grecian style, with tiny pearls placed throughout. Her eyes shone like sparkling green emeralds. The sight of her forced him to catch his breath.
Determined to know her, he gained an introduction through her mother. At first, he thought her quiet, but when they danced, he found her witty and utterly charming. As he prepared to ask her to dance again, he saw the mother catch her attention and make what looked like a signal with her fan, causing her daughter to startle, as if caught doing something wrong. Lady Agatha met his subsequent offers to dance with resistance, preferring to sit along the walls and watch. He felt sure her mother had informed her he was unworthy.
Whatever the fan signal had meant, he was sure it had chased the light from her eyes.
He could not help himself—he had been smitten. His Grandmama used to say, “You love who you love.” Rebuffed the following day by her butler, he had only the one dance– and the vision of her watching others dance– to remember. His unit, the 12thRegiment, Prince of Wales’s Dragoons, left a few days later for Ireland.
Charles doubted she even remembered him. He had never seen even the barest hint of recognition in her eyes. When he returned from Ireland two years later, he found that she had married. With nothing to keep him in England, he resumed his position with the army and fought in the Peninsular War until injuries in Rolica forced his return to England. His family’s farm could not afford to employ him, so he searched for work, answering an ad for a footman. He discovered shortly afterwards that Lord Wendt, the man that hired him, was the same person who had married Lady Agatha. Feeling like an interloper, he had decided to resign when the old earl suddenly died and changed his mind when he noticed an immediate change in Agatha—almost a paralyzing fear of failing.
Lost in his musings, he barely heard the bell ring for him.
He went to her rooms, but hesitated, hearing voices behind her door when he knocked.
“Please enter,” a sweet voice sounded from behind the door.
Was that her?He could not be certain until he saw. Entering, he saw her sitting straight up in her bed discussing something with Mary, her new lady’s maid.
“Bentley, Christmas will be here in two days. I would like to visit that orphanage you have quietly helped maintain,” she smiled at him for effect. “Do not deny it. I heard Mr. Hanson leaving and thanking you.”
“L-Lady Wendt,” he started to speak, but found himself tongue-tied.She knew?
“Pish,” she responded, cutting him off. “You had the moral sense to do something that I did not. But we will rectify that…quickly,” she said, smiling. “Ask Cook to prepare a large ham with all the accoutrements. We shall need puddings, biscuits, and fruit—foods that nourish growing children.” She took a quick sip of tea that had been by her bedside. “Please send Mrs. Stone and a footman to arrange that and have the carriage brought around. You and I must go to town. I plan to bring toys to the children, lots of toys and books. And cloth—lots of cloth.
He stared at her.
“You are gaping, Bentley,” she gently admonished. “The Christmas season is about kindness and people, is it not?” She leaned in and peered at him. “You do not look well. Are you ill?”
“N-no,” he choked, trying to speak all his thoughts at once, and managed to sort through them before he uttered the first word. “My lady, I would be happy to do this for you. We have plenty of time. I will get this underway right away.”What has happened to her?
“See that you do,” she said. “Take Mrs. Stone with you to see Cook. She understands exactly what I want.”
Bentley realized she was watching him closely, and he laughed. “I assure you, my lady. I am fine.”
“Bentley let us be off soon. I have much to purchase and time does not stop.”
Smiling, he bowed and left the room. There had been no bolts of lightning to his knowledge. Damned if he could fathom what had caused such a transformation. However, he knew better than to question Providence, and instead, sent a small prayer to Heaven that she not change back. He gave instructions to have the carriage brought around and directed Mrs. Stone to see Cook.
Less than an hour later, Bentley and a footman were driving Lady Agatha into the village. A light snow had fallen the evening before, blanketing the village and making it appear festive as people bustled up and down the streets. The carriage pulled up in front of Nick’s Toys, and he assisted Lady Wendt from the conveyance. This trip to town was as much a treat for him as it would be for the children. Charles had been one of the luckier orphans. He had been adopted as a young boy—by a baron, no less.
He was pleased she had requestedhimto attend her, even though a footman would normally have taken on the duty. Walters, the under butler he had been training, was doing a fine job which had been an immense help with the additional duties she was fond of creating. Hiring Walters had been an unexpected boon.
“Bentley did Mr. Hanson mention the number of children with the orphanage,” Agatha asked, breaking his reverie.
“No, my lady. But I recall his mentioning that ten children share a room. I figure, with the size of the building, there could not be more than three such rooms. ’Tis rather small.”
“Ahh,” she nodded. “Then, let us procure a large assortment of toys. And books. There should be books.”
Nick Clawes, the proprietor, was thrilled to see Lady Wendt enter his establishment, and hastily made arrangements to deliver all the gifts to Lady Wendt’s home that evening, so the staff could begin wrapping them. “Ho! Ho! I will add a stick of candy for each child,” he said as they concluded the purchase.
“Thank you, Mr. Clawes.” A giggle escaped her. “This is the most fun I can remember having at Christmas time in an age!” Lady Wendt placed her hand on Bentley’s outstretched arm.
An immediate bolt of awareness shot through his body. It was not unlike the feeling he had when they danced. Her face told him she felt something, but she stayed quiet.
An hour later, they had accomplished the shopping. Charles and the footman loaded the carefully wrapped yards of cloth and fripperies into the corner of the carriage. He noticed the satisfied grin on Agatha’s face. “This will be a delightful Christmas for these boys and girls. Mr. Hanson will be astounded.”
“Yes, I should think so,” she answered gaily. She smiled, yet she seemed pensive. “Mr. Bentley, would you mind accompanying me in the carriage? There is something that needs be discussed,” she added.
“Not at all, my lady.” He assisted her into the conveyance and sat on the bench opposite her, taking the remainder of the room not already claimed by the pile of fabric.
His hands felt clammy, and he realized his nerves had taken charge.
Lady Wendt adjusted her pose and fussed with her pelisse and her skirts, wearing a look of impatience as they both waited for the carriage to move. Gazing at him, she took a calming breath. “I think you may have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Bentley. I have just... become aware that we knew each other once upon a time.”
