Page 25 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

Silas bolted upright, breathless. Memories of those solitary graves still clung to his mind with cruel tenacity. He tore away the blanket’s smothering weight, heart drumming, pulse wild.

Is it too late?

He needed to know. Leaping from the bed, he stumbled to the window, shoving the drapes aside, allowing the day’s first light to slash through the dimness. His hands trembled against the icy pane, hope building within him as the realization that it was Christmas morning dawned.

His father and the three ghosts wouldn’t have come to him if there wasn’t still a chance for him to do right by the family he hadn’t even known he had. Why show him what they had if there was no way to change it?

He jerked away from the window, his breaths ragged and sharp. He had to move. Had to do something, anything. His mind was churning with all he’d seen during the night. The light. The spirits. Those final, dreadful graves.

No. I won’t accept that outcome.

He had been given time. A luxury. A miracle. What would he do with it? The morning light bathed him, and he stood there, letting a strange feeling—hope?—settle over him.

Warmth kindled and spread through him, easing the tightness in his chest. And then… he smiled. The fragile thread of hope twisted itself into something solid, something real.

The darkness receded with each breath, with each beat of his heart. The room, once oppressive in its silence, now hummed with the raw, fierce possibility of change.

Is it too late?

No. His spirit soared with the knowledge, new and exhilarating. No. I can change this. I can change all of it.

He rushed to his dressing room, where his valet stood silent and ready.

“Merry Christmas, Harris,” he said, startling the man, who wasn’t used to Silas saying anything to him other than terse instructions. “Find me something warm, for I am going out this morning.”

“Merry Christmas to you as well, my lord,” Harris said with a tentative smile. “Will you be celebrating with your nephew?”

Silas almost said no, but then he thought about Benedict standing by that cold, lonely grave, the only one who’d given a damn about him, and changed his mind.

He needed to do better by Grace and Emmaline, it was true, but he also needed to do better by the man who had never given up on him, even when he’d given up on himself.

“Yes, I believe I will, but I’ll also be going to the East End, so set out an older pair of my boots. ”

“Right away, my lord,” Harris replied, his smile growing.

“Will you send one of the maids to tell everyone to gather at the foot of the stairs? I need help with a few things.”

“Right away, my lord.”

Ten minutes later, he was warmly dressed in a tailored coat of deep emerald and a red scarf to honor the spirit of the day.

He headed downstairs, each stride fueled by his new purpose.

His eyes missed nothing: the neglected portraits of ancestors watching him with empty stares, the cold fireplaces mantled in dust, the austere furnishings stark against the wooden floors.

How had he endured such loneliness, year upon year?

How had he allowed himself to become as hollow and devoid of warmth as these rooms?

The servants were gathered near the stairs as he descended among them, their eyes wide with confusion and fear that he’d summoned them.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” he told them all, looking each of them in the eyes, knowing it had probably been years since he’d done so. “This morning, I have a few tasks I’d like your assistance with accomplishing.”

The staff exchanged hesitant glances. The master they knew was a shadow of the man who stood before them now. They obviously didn’t know what to make of this new version of him.

He turned his gaze to the footmen. “Ready the carriage. Gather hot bricks, blankets, and gloves for several people. I’ll also need a few outriders.”

They nodded without comment and hurried away.

“I’ll also need a bottle of my finest wine brought up from the cellar and a basket of cakes and biscuits packed into the carriage,” he told the butler, Curruthers, who could barely contain his smile as he rushed off to do Silas’s bidding.

“I’ll also need the countess’s rooms aired out and made ready, along with the nicest guest room.

It will be for a child, a girl of ten, so bring down a few dolls and toys from the old nursery,” he told the housekeeper, whose eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

“Also, try to make this place a little merry. Do we have anything that might be used as Christmas decorations? I know it’s short notice but do the best you can. Anything is better than nothing.”

Finally, he turned to Cook. “Can you arrange a Christmas dinner? The best you can manage with what we have on hand. And when it’s done, I want all of you to feast. Make merry tonight after your work is done.

Bring your families, if you like. And on the morrow, I will give you all Christmas bonuses for your hard work. ”

They looked at Silas as if he’d gone mad, but they smiled tentatively, and he realized he’d failed not only his family but also the people who depended upon him for their livelihoods.

He left them scrambling, the shock of his strange demands having rattled them. He doubted he’d ever said that much to any of them in total, let alone at one time.

As he reached the threshold, he paused only to gather breath, to let his determination take hold, pushing back his misgivings. Then he was out the door into the clean, cold air.

Christmas morning.

It had once been beautiful and magical, something he looked forward to all year round, and he was determined that from this moment forward, it would be again.

The spirits had been right. It hadn’t been Christmas that had taken all the people he loved.

He would have lost them anyway, through illness or his own bad choices.

Christmas was a time for people to come together, to be thankful for what they had.

And the events of the night had shown him that he had far more than he’d ever imagined.

His carriage was readied with remarkable speed, the team of horses restless in their traces, as eager to be off as he.

He climbed in, giving one last glance at the place that had been his self-imposed prison for so long.

When he returned, he was certain his staff would have worked the miracle of turning Coldharbor Manor into someplace warm and inviting.

They sped down the lane, past the hedges draped in frost, trying to outrun the memories of his past selfishness. Would Grace and Emmaline forgive him? Could he make things right?

Am I too late?

No. The answer rang through him, so simple and true. He had today. He would not waste a second of it.

Half an hour later, Silas stood at the front door of Benedict’s modest yet elegant Mayfair townhouse. He’d been here a time or two, years ago, but it felt odd to be standing here now, after having refused his nephew’s invitations for so long.

The butler’s eyes widened when he saw him, but he quickly ushered him inside Benedict’s warm, festively adorned home.

“Right this way, my lord,” he said, leading Silas into the dining room, where Benedict’s family and friends had gathered for Christmas breakfast. The amber glow of candlelight reflected off polished wooden surfaces, and the aroma of spiced cider and roasting meats drifted in the air, making the large, bright space seem even more inviting.

A large Christmas tree stood in the far corner, its base surrounded with presents.

Silas’s nephew, dressed in a burgundy waistcoat, black trousers, and a silk cravat, met him at the door with an open, welcoming smile. “Uncle Silas,” Benedict said, his words as genuine as his outstretched hand. “We weren’t expecting you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

His wife, Theodora, busy arranging a centerpiece of evergreens and holly, offered a gentle nod of welcome. “Merry Christmas, Lord Coldharbor. It’s so good of you to have come.”

“Thank you,” Silas said, awkwardly thrusting out the bottle of wine. “I brought you this.”

Benedict’s eyes widened when he saw the label, and he laughed, pounding Silas on the back. “This is wonderful. Come, make yourself at home.”

The home’s warmth thawed his frozen exterior, each kind gesture another crack in his icy shell.

He stood just inside the room, caught between the cold emptiness of his own world and the promise of something different.

The tide of happiness and sincerity threatened to drag him under, his heart softening, his defenses wavering.

His natural inclination was to resist it, but he wanted to let it take hold of him.

He wanted this. He wanted it badly, but after all this time, he had no idea how to reach for it. How had he convinced himself that a cold, austere life was better? He’d let his fear of loss consume him and somehow made himself believe that it was better to be alone.

As Benedict led him farther into the room, Silas surveyed the decorations: lush green garlands entwined around the banisters and crimson ribbons spilling across the mantel.

Every corner of the house spoke of thoughtful festivity, a celebration that mirrored distant memories rather than his present.

He recalled the brightness of past holidays, a time when laughter filled the halls of Coldharbor Manor, and companionship was something he did not need to earn.

He thought sadly of the lone piece of greenery wrapped with a faded ribbon that Grace had managed to find that first Christmas they’d been apart. She’d had so little, but still, she’d tried to celebrate.

Three children, a boy and two girls, were playing tag amongst the older guests, and Silas realized they must be Benedict’s children, whom he’d never bothered to meet.

Elyse’s grandchildren.

She’d be so ashamed of him for the way he’d behaved since her death.

Benedict’s hand fell lightly on Silas’s shoulder. “It truly means a lot to us, having you here, Uncle,” he insisted sincerely. “You’re the only family I have other than my wife and children.” The earnestness in his nephew’s voice pierced Silas’s defenses.

“I’ve been a coward, Benedict,” he admitted, his voice breaking a bit. “A damned coward. But please, give me a chance to make it right.”

“You’re here now, and that’s what matters,” Benedict said.

Then he pulled Silas into an embrace that initially made Silas stiffen, but which he then returned wholeheartedly.

How long had it been since anyone had touched him?

Once his life had been filled with careless embraces that he hadn’t appreciated.

When they pulled apart, Silas decided that he would tell his nephew about his lost love and the child he’d only just learned about, though he knew he must keep the details vague in order not to sound mad.

Most members of the ton would have judged him, thinking Grace and Emmaline unworthy of joining their exalted circle, but he knew that Benedict was like Elyse.

He would be accepting and would love them, making them feel at home.

When he was done, Benedict only smiled. “I can’t wait to meet them,” he said simply, confirming that Silas had been right to trust him.

“I think Emmaline is very sick,” Silas admitted. “I hope I’m not too late.”

Benedict pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I know a wonderful doctor. If you’ll make it worth his while to come out on Christmas Day, I’ll send someone for him and have him waiting at your house when you bring her home.”

“Thank you,” Silas said, relief flooding through him.

He should have thought of that. He smiled at his nephew, a real smile that had been so long in coming it actually hurt his cheeks a bit.

“I promise to have you over for dinner soon, and I want you to know that I appreciate all the times you asked me, even though I behaved beastly.”

Benedict grinned. “I knew you’d give in eventually.”

Silas shook his head. “I believe that you did. But I honestly don’t know why.”

“Because I love you, just as my mother did,” Benedict said. “I know you’re a good man. You just lost your way somehow.”

Blinking back a sting of tears, Silas squeezed his nephew’s shoulder. “Thank you. I love you, too.”

“Now, go get your child and the woman you love,” Benedict said, his eyes suspiciously bright as well. “Send word when you’re home safely with them.”

“I will,” Silas assured him, glad for the chance to be on his way once again, but eager at the thought of spending next Christmas with his nephew and his family.

Hopefully, Grace and Emmaline would be at his side. But even if they weren’t, he resolved never to spend Christmas alone again.