Page 6 of One Christmas Disaster (Singular Sensation #10)

December 17, 1818

Unfortunately, her father wasn’t having a good day, and it made Samantha quite harried as she joined him in the drawing room to stand sentinel at the window that overlooked the street. For whatever reason, Lord Timelbury had sent round a note this morning asking to take her driving today, since it looked to be fair weather-wise.

And she couldn’t refuse since the impromptu and quite false engagement had made her father so happy yesterday.

“Annie, we need to plan our Christmas meal soon. The housekeeper will need to go to the market, and then there is a gift for Samantha to procure,” he said as he stared into the flames in the hearth. “So much to do for the season.”

Her heart squeezed with an ache she hadn’t experienced since her mother died. It was quite difficult to be in the same room with him when he didn’t even know who she was. Shoving the assorted emotions deep down to sob over later, she nodded but kept her attention on the outside world where random snowflakes drifted through the air.

“I shall put those items on the list to discuss with Mrs. Fredrickson.” How long would his mind be gone this time? Would he be her father when she returned from this ill-timed drive with her fiancé? Swallowing past the ball of emotion in her throat, Samantha finally turned around and looked at her parent. “Papa, Lord Timelbury is coming to take me driving then we intend to walk in Hyde Park for some exercise.” And no doubt talking, which was sorely needed after the shock of yesterday. “I shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours.”

A hint of panic went through his expression. “Are you leaving me, girl?”

Since she couldn’t determine if he was speaking to her as his daughter or his wife, Samantha nodded. “Yes, just for a little while. Do you remember Lord Timelbury from yesterday?”

His face brightened. Excitement twinkled in his eyes, which hadn’t been there for a long time. “Your fiancé.” It wasn’t a question. “Want to spend more time with him.”

“Of course.” With a sigh, Samantha glanced again through the window. The shifting back and forth of his mind was a difficult thing to navigate. “In any event, he is taking me driving, and since we are engaged—” allegedly “—there is no need for a maid.” Which wasn’t such a hardship, for she could talk to the man without being under constant supervision. The freedom in that almost made her breathless. And suddenly, she welcomed the distraction of having someone as a captive audience, so to speak, that she could voice her concerns with. It was a challenge not having friends in Town, who she only heard from when a letter arrived from the country. “Once the outing is over, if he’s of a mind, I’ll ask him in for tea. The two of you can have a conversation.”

Then movement on the street below caught her attention. She sucked in a breath, for once the closed carriage came to a halt at the curb, Lord Timelbury sprang out before the driver could leave his perch, and once more she was struck with how tall and attractive he was even though the gray greatcoat hid his form, and the top hat covered his dark hair prone to curling.

“Lord Timelbury is here, Papa. I’m going down. Will you be all right until I return?”

“Dear Annie, stop the incessant worrying over me. I can look after myself.” He waved her off then resumed peering into the flames of the fireplace.

As tears filled her eyes, Samantha fled the room as best she could with her limp and didn’t stop running until she’d reached the entry hall, though she made slow progress. When her gaze connected with Lord Timelbury’s, the look of confusion he shot her worked at her undoing, but she ignored the emotions and joined him. “Good afternoon, Lord Timelbury,” she greeted in a tight, choked voice. Then she looked closely at him. Where had he gotten the bruises on his face?

“Good after, Miss Marchington.” He gave her a subtle nod as she accepted her cloak and bonnet from the butler. Once she’d donned them, the butler handed her a pair of ivory kid gloves. “Are you ready for our outing?”

“I am.” Hoping she’d been able to hide her emotions successfully, she pulled on her gloves. “It will be lovely getting out of the house just now.” To the butler, she said, “Papa’s not quite in the present at the moment. Will you please keep an eye on him?”

“Of course, Miss Marchington,” that man said as he pulled open the front door.

“Thank you.” Then she preceded Lord Timelbury out of the house, down the short walkway, and through the wrought iron gate. At the closed carriage, when he handed her into the vehicle, a brief tingle danced up her arm to the elbow. She sat on a bench and watched in silence as he occupied the other.

“To Hyde Park, if you please, Jenkins,” he said as the driver put up the steps.

“Good day for a walk, hmm?” Then the driver closed the door and left her alone with her make-believe fiancé.

And it was exceedingly awkward.

“Where you in a fight?” As a conversation starter, it wasn’t the best.

He grunted. “Not exactly. Attacked and threatened, but it was hardly a fight.”

Which only had more questions bouncing around her head like soap bubbles, but she kept her own counsel on that subject. “Are you anticipating the Christmastide season with joy?” she asked as she watched the world go by through the window glass.

He snorted. “If anything, I am anticipating it with dread or a bit of resentment. All due to a woman.”

“Why?” Samantha frowned. She glanced at him, but he was quite serious as he looked back. “Is it the holiday you hate or women in general?” It would be a fascinating peek into his life and perhaps she could understand him better.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward into a half-grin, and remarkably, that gesture made him infinitely more approachable. “Suffice it to say, this time of the year doesn’t exactly make me remember the other years with fondness.”

“And?” One of her eyebrows rose in inquiry.

“That is all you need to know at this time.”

Ah, so he wasn’t comfortable sharing feelings. How very Neanderthal of him. Well, she had no intentions of spending the rest of her life—or until she could somehow break the engagement—with a man who couldn’t talk about anything. It would make for a silent, and interminable future.

“Very well, then perhaps you can tell me if we are truly engaged, or was that just a bit of fiction for my father’s benefit?”

“It is… complicated.” As an expression of concern crossed his face, he blew out a breath and then found her gaze with his. “I know what you’re going through with your father’s health challenges. My father suffered from an illness before his end, and quite frankly, I felt bad for him.” He shrugged. “The man is worried for his daughter. It will be the Christmastide season shortly. Where is the harm in having a sham engagement through Twelfth Night?”

At least now she had more information. “So, then we must endure a Drury Lane production of an engagement for several weeks. What happens after Twelfth Night? Don’t you think my father might start pestering us to set a wedding date?”

“Not at all, for I’ve already laid the groundwork. I told him the engagement would be a long one while I sort myself.”

“And then what, Lord Timelbury? Hope his disease will have progressed to a point that he’s no longer coming back to the present?” How could anyone be so cruel?

“I… No, of course not.” With a sigh, he sat forward on his bench and rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands dangle between his splayed legs. “It is not my intention to hurt your father. As I said, I understand the pain and struggle you are going through. And Christmastide might not be my favorite time of the year, but I’m not adverse to making it into the best one your father will ever pass.” He cleared his throat. “When one is losing one’s mind, it is a terrible endeavor.”

How very… odd. Just what did his personal experience entail? She didn’t know how to interpret his offer. A queer little thrill went down her spine and into her lower belly. “Um, thank you, but truly, you don’t need to do this. I’m certain there are other things you might want to do this month than playing fiction with me.”

“Consider it a gift to both you and your father.” Yet there were shadows in his eyes she couldn’t quite understand. “And due to our engagement, you will be under my protection. No one will harm you while I’m around.”

Her frown deepened. “Why would anyone want to harm me?”

“Who can say? The world is a horrible place, at times.” The answer was vague enough, and as he sat back against the squabbed bench, he turned his head to peer out the window without saying anything further.

Well, she did enjoy solving a problem, though it was difficult to know just how large his would be.

A quarter of an hour later, the driver rapped on the roof of the vehicle. “Approaching Hyde Park, Lord Timelbury.”

By the time she let him hand her out of the carriage, she’d had a bit of time to think about what he’d told her. On the one hand, he was adorable in his wish to give her father what would probably be his last semi-coherent Christmastide, but on the other hand, he obviously didn’t comprehend how having to spend each day in his company would complicate her own life.

“Uh, Lord Timelbury, please remember to adjust your gait. My limp rather works against a fast pace.” She hated to call attention to her shortcomings, but he seemed a tiny bit distracted. “It is why I haven’t danced in years.”

“Thank you for reminding me. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” As he spoke, he offered her his arm, bent at the elbow.

She sighed. “I fell off a horse during a jump and broke my ankle when I was fifteen.” When she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow, he started them forward at a slow walk. “I suppose the surgeon either didn’t set the bones properly or my body just didn’t heal as expected, but here we are. Fourteen years later and I’ve had to cope with a limp that immediately sets me apart from all other women, and not in a desirable way.”

“Is that the reason you are what your father called a spinster?” There was no maliciousness in his voice, only polite inquiry.

“Yes, unfortunately.” The breeze carried the scent of him to her nose, and she nearly sighed with the deliciousness of it. “But there are more important things in life than dancing.”

“Perhaps, but was the exercise something you enjoyed?”

For the space of a heartbeat, she thought about it. “Yes. That and riding. It was one of the most lovely things, but I have since made my peace without it.”

Mostly.

It was rather peaceful strolling at his side with fluffy white snowflakes drifting lazily down, but against the overcast skies, the red of his muffler stood out as a cheerful splash of color. At no time did she feel rushed or pulled along the paths, and when they were forced to traverse down a hill, he was solicitous to her needs.

Eventually, they came to a small clearing with a handful of pine trees, a thin stream that went beneath a wooden footbridge, Lord Timelbury led her to a wrought iron bench not far away from the bridge and the walking path, which was too thin for horses to tread.

“Let us talk for a bit. There are things we need to know about each other in order for us to make this faux engagement to be successful in your father’s eyes.”

The deep rumble of his voice tickled through her chest, but she nodded and sat on the bench, ignoring the immediate chill of the metal that seeped through her clothing. “Thank you for the kindness, Lord Timelbury.”

He frowned as he sat beside her. “It’s Cornelius if you please. You made use of my Christian name before.”

Heat went through her cheeks. “Very well, Cornelius.” She enjoyed how saying his name felt on her lips and tongue. “You may call me Samantha, or even Sam if you wish. Sometimes my father refers to me with the shortened version.”

“It’s a beautiful name. Why the devil would anyone wish to shorten it?”

The warmth of him sitting so close to her on the bench had her craving more of that, but she didn’t dare move for fear he would spring away. She pulled the folds of her cloak more tightly about herself. “What would you like to know?”

“Since you asked me, I shall return the favor. How do you feel about Christmastide?”

“Oh, that’s an easy answer.” As she spoke, Samantha clasped her hands together in her lap. “I adore this time of year. To me, it means when family comes together. It means security, I guess, for lack of a better word.” When she met his intense gray gaze, she smiled. “Also, my parents were at their best during this time of year. And something I loved about them was the fact they never tried to hide their affection for each other.”

“I envy you that, for my parents did not have a union like that.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “My father… tried, I think. But he enjoyed drinking to excess and whoring more than he liked being at home with his family. But then, he’d been a military man and had demons to face.” When he focused on the stream, a muscle ticced in his cheek. “When I was a young man, I made a promise to myself to never walk in his footsteps even though I madly wished to know him better. I didn’t want that chaos for my life, and there were many times when I wondered what demons he struggled with that drove him to those vices.” His swallow was audible. “For I have them too.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment.” Instead of blaming his father for those things, he knew there was something else that provoked those behaviors. “I’m sorry all the same. When either parent isn’t present, it makes for sadness.” She followed his gaze and then was content to watch birds flit in and out of the evergreen trees. “My mother would decorate a few of the rooms. Sometimes in the evenings, my father would tell stories before the fire before my sister and I retired to our rooms for slumber.”

“I have a sister also. She’s younger than me, married in the past year, and I’m glad she’s finally settled and is enjoying her life as a wife.”

“I’m happy for you. My sister died just over three years ago.” Tears welled in her eyes, for it had been an age since she’d talked about her loss. After she cleared her throat, she continued. “There were also evenings where we would roast chestnuts in the fireplace. Papa was so pleased whenever he could bring those home for us.”

“Does he still do that?”

“Not as much in recent years since his mind started playing tricks on him.” Knowing he was in a quick decline, her chest tightened, and she focused her gaze on her hands in her lap. “I try to make his life as simple as possible for him now. If the nights are decent, we will go outside into the garden. If he’s agreeable, we’ll either watch the stars and talk or dance in the softly falling snow.”

“I thought you said you haven’t danced in years?” One of his dark eyebrows rose in question.

Another round of heat filled her cheeks. “It’s not true dancing, of course. Just moving in small circles in the garden.”

“Why?”

When she shrugged, her shoulder brushed his, and warm tingles went down her arm. “My mother always said life was found in the little moments, not the big ones. That I might remember the big moments more, but it was the little ones that built the foundation for everything.” Again, tears filled her eyes. “Those were the things that would be more valuable as the years went on, and she was quite true, I’ve found.”

“Sound advice. Something I should remember for myself.” They sat together in silence for a time, and it was rather companionable, which shocked her. Then he spoke again. “My mother simply harps on me to find a woman to marry or bosses me in other aspects of my life. She is nothing like Aunt Beatrice, who happens to adore Christmastide as much as your mother, I’ll wager.”

“I knew I liked her from that brief meeting.” But she didn’t want to invoke his anger, for didn’t the missing bracelet belong to that same aunt? “On Christmas Day, there was a present waiting for me and my sister, as well as one for her and Papa. Later, after breakfast, we would play a game or read aloud from a book we all favored.” Unfortunately, those things were just memories now, for her father would never be the same. “Dinner that night was always a gay affair, for the family—I don’t have many relatives left these days—would gather. It was lively, full of conversation and laughter. At the end of the meal, there was sort of pudding for dessert with a brandy sauce, and they allowed us girls to have a taste or two.”

“It sounds cozy. I’m glad you had that.” When he looked at her, peered into her face, there was a longing in his expression that resonated deep within her. “In my family, with the exception of my aunt, Christmas was merely another day. Every once in a great while, my parents would have a dinner party.”

“I’m so sorry.” Without thinking, she laid a hand over his. He froze, but then relaxed seconds later, even went so far as to grasp her fingers.

“These are things that have forged us into the people we are now, I suppose.”

“Agreed.” Briefly, she tilted her head to the sky, giggled when a fluffy snowflake landed on her nose. “There were even years when Papa would sing after dinner. He used to have the best voice! That’s since left him, and he can’t remember the words to many songs anyway.”

“Can I assume your mother is no longer with you?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Over three years ago. Mama perished with my younger sister. They were involved in a horrific carriage accident when someone recklessly drove a phaeton into their path. I wasn’t given the opportunity to say goodbye.” Tears once more welled up in her eyes. “They were gone in a blink, and life was never the same. Papa certainly wasn’t, and now his mind is betraying him. Less and less is he in the present day.” She brushed at the tears that escaped onto her cheeks. “I apologize for being a watering pot.”

“Never apologize for that. You have no doubt been at a breaking point for a while, I’ll wager.” Then he half-turned toward her. When their knees knocked together, heat twined up her leg. “Would it be all right if I comfort you?”

“I suppose.” Yet she eyed him warily. “But why?”

“For the moment, I am your fiancé.” Then he slipped his arms about her and simply held her close to his body. Desire might not have motivated the embrace, but a certain awareness washed over her before she relaxed into his hold. It was far too lovely to rest, however briefly, in a man’s arms. “I’m sorry that fate is sometimes fickle. We never know when the comfortable path we’re on will end.”

Samantha pulled slightly away and peered into his eyes. “Is that how it’s been for you?”

For long moments, he held her gaze. Again, the shadow lurked there but provided no answers. “Let us just say I didn’t come back from the war the same man as I was when I left. Because of that, other things collapsed. It has been a challenge recently.”

Did that mean his mind wasn’t completely right? It wasn’t ideal, but she didn’t blame him for having demons of his own. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not at this time.” When he released her, she immediately missed his warmth. “Perhaps later.” Miracle of miracles, he grinned, then, and the gesture took years from his face making him quite attractive. So much so that she forgot about the bruises that decorated his skin. “After all, won’t we be spending more time in each other’s company? And I did promise your father to help decorate your house. I might be many things, but I’m a man of my word.”

“There is that.” She couldn’t explain it, but a truce had somehow been silently declared. It was a start, into what she didn’t know, but oddly she looked forward to it, for it meant she wouldn’t be alone this year for the holiday season.