A Regency Christmas Pact Collection Page 4

  “I hardly thought Harry and I would suit. He was rather arrogant when we met.”

  Tessie laughed. She couldn’t help it. She’d heard all about the unorthodox way Miranda had met Lord Harrison. “And I’m certain you weren’t arrogant in the least.”

  The mischievous twinkle was once again in her friend’s eyes. “Not comparatively.”

  Tessie laughed harder. “Then he must have been in rare form that evening.”

  “He has his moments.” Miranda shrugged. “And so does Berks. He’s not really such a grump all the time. I think Pippa’s right. It must be that funeral.”

  It had more to do with the fact that he knew what sort of woman Tessie really was, she was certain. But she didn’t want to say those words aloud. “I don’t find him appealing in the least,” she said. But even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

  Lord Berkswell wasn’t her sort, that bit was true; but even through his grumpiness, she could tell he was of strong character and was devoted to his family. Both were quit admirable qualities.

  “You don’t find him handsome?” her friend asked hopefully.

  He was more than handsome, but that was beside the point. “We won’t suit. So stop all of your attempts at matchmaking.”

  Miranda’s lips pursed in annoyance.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I know.” Miranda pouted. “But if you’d just give him a chance. Just the tiniest chance…”

  To do what? Remind her once again of the sort of woman he knew her to be? Tessie thought not. She was well aware of her past and didn’t need any reminders. “We won’t suit,” she repeated. “And as my dearest friend, I’ll ask you to honor my wishes.”

  “You are stubborn,” Miranda sulked.

  Coming from Miranda that was saying something. But Tessie wouldn’t let her friend bait her. “Does his lordship possess a nice library?”

  “Probably,” Miranda replied, her voice tinged with regret. “I haven’t gone looking for it.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to find out on my own then.”

  Pippa St. Austell smiled at her great aunt Eugenia, who seemed to glow with happiness. Aunt Eugenia had always been the happy sort, but never as much as she was this holiday. Pippa reached across the settee and squeezed her aunt’s hand. “It is good too see you again. I’ve missed you. You’ll have to come visit Jason and me in Cornwall next summer.”

  Aunt Eugenia grinned in response. “It’s so good to have all of you under one roof again, almost like it was when you were children. And now with Jason and Miranda here too… Well, there’s more life at Wellesborne than there has been in years.” She touched a frail hand to her heart. “And little Edmund is simply precious, Pippa. I am so happy everything has turned out so lovely for you.”

  So was Pippa. “Thank you.”

  “And next year we’ll have another little one to celebrate.” Her aunt beamed. “I wish your father could see all of you now. You and Harry both so happy.”

  Pippa barely remembered Papa. She’d been so young when he’d passed. But Berks had been there for her, making certain she was well-cared for and wanted for nothing. It was only fair she return the favor now. “I wish we could say the same for Berks.”

  A sniff from the doorway caught Pippa’s attention and she glanced over to find Miranda stepping into the drawing room. “I could strangle that husband of yours,” she complained. “He’s ruined everything!”

  Oh dear, her sister-in-law’s eyes were red and slightly puffy. Again. “What did Jason do?” Pippa asked, rising to her feet.

  Miranda shook her head in frustration. “He told her. He told Tessie everything.”

  “Everything?” Aunt Eugenia echoed. “Everything about what?”

  Pippa frowned in response. “Everything about…”

  “Yes!” Miranda nearly wailed. “Everything about Berks, everything about our plans. Why did you even tell him? I would never tell Harry. He’d just try to control everything.”

  Pippa wasn’t certain how Jason knew of their plans. But he was most definitely a crafty man when he put his mind to it. “Honestly, Miranda, I didn’t say one word to him.”

  Miranda sniffed once more. “I’m not sure how you tolerate that man, Pippa. I really don’t understand it.”

  Because she loved him with all her heart. But no one else understood Jason the way Pippa did, no one ever had. “He must have had a good reason if—”

  “That he doesn’t like interfering females?” Miranda suggested waspishly. “And now she’s made me promise to stop all matchmaking efforts.”

  “Matchmaking?” Aunt Eugenia asked. “Who are we playing matchmaker for?”

  Pippa glanced back at her aunt on the settee. “Berks.”

  The old woman’s face lit up. “And that nice Miss Birkin?” She clapped her hands together with glee. “Oh, that is wonderful. She’s so kind to her uncle.”

  As Pippa nodded, Miranda wailed, “But it’s all for naught now. Tessie is quite adamant about the situation.”

  “She doesn’t like Berks?” Aunt Eugenia’s brow furrowed as her voice rose in disbelief.

  “He was far from charming today.” Miranda folded her arms across her chest. “But that is neither here nor there any longer. I gave her my word I wouldn’t interfere, and she’ll hold me to it.”

  “Well, I didn’t promise anything,” Pippa replied evenly. “Nor shall I.”

  “Neither did I,” Aunt Eugenia added.

  Miranda snorted. “Then avoid the library at the moment, or she’ll coerce one out of you too. She’s very stubborn when she sets her mind on something.”

  Pippa resisted the urge to say that Miranda was the most stubborn woman of her acquaintance. Such a statement would send her sister-in-law bolting from the room in a flood tears once more, and that wouldn’t do anyone a bit of good. She smiled supportively instead. “I’ll avoid the library at the moment then.”

  Theresa Birkin hadn’t looked at him even once over dinner. Not once. Berks had been certain that when she left the table with the other women, he’d catch her eye. But Miss Birkin hadn’t paid him the least bit of notice.

  Of course, she’d said she’d try to stay out of his way, and while he should have been relieved by that fact, he felt the furthest thing from it. He couldn’t quite get the image of her out of his mind, the look of pain when he’d maligned her character. His apology had been lacking. He’d realized that almost as soon as she left him alone in the drawing room. Though he was at a loss as to what to do about it.

  If he apologized again, more earnestly, he’d just be bringing the subject up once more. That wasn’t the best plan. He could tell her there was no reason to avoid him, but… Well, she’d have to actually notice him in order for him to do so.

  She would do so. Just as soon as the men rejoined the women. He’d pull her to the side and tell her that he was a terrible host and that she was welcome anywhere at Wellesbourne she wished to be.

  Like in his bed.

  For the love of God! Where the devil had that thought come from? In his damned bed, indeed! He’d made a pact to avoid women, and most certainly ones of questionable sanity. A sane woman wouldn’t take up with Stalbridge. Of that there was no doubt. She seemed sane, however. She seemed bright, even if she did stumble over Bach and had gotten herself involved with that ne’er-do-well.

  There was no mystery in what Stalbridge had found appealing in Miss Birkin, however. She was appealing. Almost like an angel sent from heaven. She had to be the closest to heaven that reprobate had ever been. What a fool to have tossed her away. Or… Perhaps she’d come at him with a fire iron. That would most definitely scare any man off, even a degenerate like Stalbridge.

  She didn’t seem the sort, though. When he’d insulted her, she hadn’t flown into a rage. She hadn’t ranted or even cried. Honestly, she’d handled herself quite admirably. And if anyone deserved to be beaten with a fire iron it was most definitely the Marquess of Stalbridge. The man’s list of sins was lon
ger than the Magna Carta.

  “You all right?” Harry said from further down the table, right beside the spot she’d sat all night.

  “Beg your pardon?” Berks returned.

  “You’ve been scowling at me the last ten minutes.”

  “Oh, I am sorry.” Berks sighed. “Just wool-gathering.”

  St. Austell winced. “About Arrington again? I must admit, I’ve had awful images of fire irons dancing about my mind ever since you mentioned that.”

  “What’s this about a fire iron?” Mr. Pratt asked, lifting a glass of port to his lips.

  St. Austell shrugged. “The Countess of Arrington murdered her husband with a fire iron.”

  The old gentleman’s brow furrowed. “That is awful.”

  “I had no idea women were capable of such things,” Berks put in.

  “Women, men.” Mr. Pratt shook his head. “I’d imagine we’re all capable of terrible things.”

  “All of us?” St. Austell grinned at the old man. “I can’t image you ever doing anything untoward, sir.”

  “Don’t let my scholarly demeanor fool you, Lord St. Austell.” Mr. Pratt pushed his spectacles up the brim of his nose. “I’ve been tempted to do bodily harm before.”

  Most likely, he’d been tempted to take revenge on Stalbridge for ruining his niece. Berks couldn’t blame the man. If someone had ruined Pippa, he’d have… Well, the fellow wouldn’t be left to tell the tale.

  But Stalbridge was still walking around, still able to blithely ruin the lives of his sisters, mother, and other unsuspecting women. Pratt had more self-control than Berks would have had. Miss Birkin did too, for that matter.

  Miss Birkin. What the devil had she seen in that wastrel?

  “On that note,” Harry began, “why don’t we return to the ladies? You never know what Miranda will do when left to her own devices too long.”

  Considering the circumstances under which Harry met his now-wife, Berks was in complete agreement. Besides, the faster they rejoined the ladies, the faster Berks could speak with Miss Birkin.

  As soon as the men filed into the drawing room, Berks scanned the room, searching for his lovely, uninvited guest. Pippa and Aunt Eugenia sat together on a gold brocade settee, and Miranda stood, chewing her lower lip near the hearth, closer to a fire iron than was most likely healthy for anyone, but Berks brushed past the thought. There was no sign of Miss Birkin anywhere. He couldn’t have missed her, could he? He glanced around the room once more.

  “Where’s Miss Birkin?” he asked before he thought the better of it. When all sets of eyes landed on him, he cleared his throat. “That is, I—” Well, he didn’t know what to say, not with everyone staring at him like that.

  Fortunately, Aunt Eugenia replied, “Poor girl wasn’t feeling her best and retired for the evening.”

  She’d retired? Berks would wager half his fortune that she felt perfectly fine, she was just doing her best to stay out of his way, as she’d promised to do just a few hours before.

  “She might be in the library,” Pippa suggested quickly. Then she shrugged. “At least she said something about the library to Miranda.”

  For once, however, his adventurous sister-in-law appeared to be tight-lipped on the matter. Miranda shrugged slightly and said, “I really couldn’t say.”

  “Why don’t you go check on the girl?” St. Austell suggested to Berks. “I mean you are the host. You should make certain all of your guests are all right, shouldn’t you?”

  Berks had no idea why St. Austell, of all the damned people, would be the one to help him in this matter. But he’d take any help he could get. “I should. I should make certain she’s all right.”

  Without waiting a moment longer, he turned on his heel and made a direct path down the corridor and around two corners until he reached his library. “Miss Birkin,” he began as he stepped over the threshold, but she wasn’t there. She had been, however, as the faint scent of gardenias still hung in the air.

  Berks dropped onto a divan and leaned his head against the wall. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he knew he’d made an enormous blunder that evening. He hated the feeling of guilt swirling around him. He’d tried all his life to avoid such feelings. He always tried to do the right thing, to make the correct decisions, to treat people well. But he’d failed miserably today.

  He could go to her chambers and apologize, not that doing so would be considered proper in any way. She’d probably slap him and would be well within her rights to do so. Or he could wait until morning, take a spot in the breakfast room and not leave it until she arrived. She’d have to eat at some point, wouldn’t she? Well, unless she instructed her maid to bring breakfast to her chambers, which was a distinct possibility considering how deftly she’d avoided him tonight. Still, there had to be a way. If he could just—

  “Oh, I am sorry.” Miss Birkin’s voice from the threshold brought Berks stumbling back to his feet.

  Tessie took a step backwards as Lord Berkswell started towards her. “I didn’t know anyone was in the library. I’ll come back late—”

  He grasped both of her elbows and the heavy tome in her hand dropped to the floor… Well, to his toes, actually.

  “Ack!” Obviously surprised, he dropped his hold on her and took a step backwards.

  “I—I’m so sorry.” Tessie bent down to retrieve the book. “I didn’t mean to drop it.”

  “It’s fine, Miss Birkin. Truly.” The marquess didn’t sound like himself. He sounded warmer than he had before. Friendlier, even, which was more than surprising. “It was my fault. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  He had done that. He was the last person she expected to find in the library. Shouldn’t he be entertaining all of his other guests in the drawing room? “I just had a change of heart about my selection. But I can come back later.”

  The marquess shook his head. “Don’t be silly, Miss Birkin. You are free to help yourself to anything in my library.” Then he smiled as he retrieved the book from her hands. “Decided against Homer, hmm?”

  “It was a whim.” She shrugged. “But then I thought better of warfare and Greek tragedy.”

  He placed the book on a nearby table. “How about a truce and an English apology?”

  A truce and an English apology? A truce and an English apology? Which book could he possibly be referring to? Jonathan Swift, perhaps? Tessie blinked at Lord Berkswell. “Gulliver’s Travels?”

  A look of pure amusement twinkled in his eyes. Then he tipped back his head and laughed. He actually laughed. She hadn’t known he was capable of such a thing. Though it wasn’t fairly complimentary that he chose to laugh at her.

  “I don’t see what’s so amusing.” She folded her arms across her middle.

  He brought his levity back under control, but his eyes still danced with joy. “I meant us, Miss Birkin.”

  “Us?” she echoed. Her pulse began to race and her mouth went slightly dry. What in the world was he talking about?

  “I suppose I should apologize first.” He smiled, and when he did her heart fluttered.

  Heavens, that wasn’t good. “What are you apologizing for now?” she managed to ask.

  “For being an abysmal host,” he said. Then he glanced behind him towards the divan he’d been sitting on when she’d entered the library to return The Iliad. “Over here.” He offered her his arm.

  The most foolish thing she could do was accept his arm. Pure idiocy. For the last year and a half, she’d vowed to be a smarter woman in the future when it came to the male of the species. But something inside Tessie urged her to take his arm anyway. He wasn’t like Stalbridge. In fact, he was the exact opposite in nearly every way. Honorable, honest, moral.

  Before she even realized what she was doing, Tessie slid her arm around his, and tingles raced across her skin from the contact. Her stomach flipped just a bit, and she sucked in a breath. She was a complete and total ninnyhammer. Lord Berkswell was simply escorting her to the divan. There was no reason for
a flipped stomach or shortness of breath.

  “I realized that I owed you a better apology than I’ve given.” When she sat, he dropped onto the divan beside her. “You are most certainly welcome at Wellesbourne, Miss Birkin, and I am sincerely sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

  “My lord,” she protested, “there’s no need—”

  “There is every need. I have been an abysmal host,” he repeated, his brow furrowed in consternation. “I recently returned from an old friend’s funeral, you see, and I’m afraid the event has put me on edge. I’m not quite myself, it seems.”

  He was confiding in her? He certainly didn’t have to do as much. Tessie stared up into Lord Berkswell’s warm, brown eyes. He didn’t seem nearly as foreboding as he had earlier today. He actually seemed…kind. “I am sorry to hear about your friend.”

  A sad smile crossed his face. “Thank you. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but we’d known each other since we were boys. He’s the first of my friends to die. I haven’t really been comfortable in my own skin these last few days.”

  Tessie nodded. She knew what that felt like and it was a horrible feeling, one that couldn’t really be shaken free of. “I don’t believe I’ll ever get over the shock of Simeon Bartlett’s death.” Miranda’s oldest brother had always treated Tessie like a member of the family. He was kind and charming and by far one of the most honorable men Tessie had ever known. His loss was still felt in many circles.

  “Foot pads.” Lord Berkswell snorted, as he apparently knew Mr. Bartlett’s story rather well. “You never really think such a thing is possible.”

  “No, you don’t,” she agreed. Even after all this time, it didn’t seem possible that Mr. Bartlett had died so tragically and for no reason at all.

  “Well, here it is the holidays.” Lord Berkswell’s face lifted in chagrin. “And aren’t we a maudlin pair?”

  He did have a point. “I am sorry.” She probably shouldn’t have mentioned Miranda’s brother.