A Bride for Christmas (Regency Novella)

  Chapter Six

  Wishing to spend time with her namesake niece, Julianna made her way to the nursery after breakfast, stopping by her room to pick up a book. She noticed a sheet of paper on the table beside the chair. Obviously a child's drawing, the sketch was a rather detailed depiction of a dragon in flight. Flames shot from the open mouth.

  She had no question as to who had placed the drawing in her room.

  She set the paper down and hurried to the nursery, not wanting to think about why Mr. Sinclair would give her such a gift, nor the implication giving gifts implied. Was he courting her?

  Little Julie came running into her arms when she entered the room. Julianna's heart filled with joy at the tiny arms stretching to reach around her. "You play with me?" her niece asked.

  "How could I not? I must make up for all the months I have to be away from you."

  "Why can't you live with me and Mama and Papa? You may share my bed."

  "May I sleep there when I visit? Aunt Phillips would be very sad if I didn't return home soon. She lives all alone."

  Little Julie struggled to free herself and took Julianna's hand. "Come read to me."

  Following her niece, Julianna chose a book from the shelf and curled into the window seat with the little girl beside her. She turned to the last page she'd read and began to recite. After a few pages she realized the room was unusually quiet for morning. Glancing about, she noticed the older children were missing. She asked the governess where they were.

  "They've gone off with their uncle, my lady."

  Which of the gentlemen had taken them away? And why did she care? As much as she enjoyed each and every child, she spent little concern on how they were entertained each day. There were simply too many to keep track of. The poor young woman given their charge deserved an extra month's pay for the number of children in her care during this visit. Clemmie's nursemaid had her hands filled with Edward, and Julianna wasn't quite sure why Mr. Peter Sinclair's governess was not present. But it was none of Julianna's concern.

  About the time she began to notice the chill of sitting by the window, the nursery door opened and the six older children rushed in, screaming and bouncing in their excitement. Little Julie, whose head was resting on Julianna's shoulder, sat up, suddenly more awake. "I play with Frankie now."

  Julianna smiled, wondering how the wild boy felt about his cousin wanting to follow him around. "Go ahead."

  Frank waved a wooden sword in the air. "I'm Captain Sinclair. Give up your arms!"

  Mr. Sinclair walked up behind the boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Not in front of the little ones, my boy. You'll give them a fright."

  Was Mr. Sinclair's rank that of captain? How like him to not use his rank now that he'd left the army. As the two oldest boys ran off to find something, she spoke to their uncle. "You didn't keep them outside long enough. They can still run."

  He chuckled. "I believe I understand why the Lord gives us babes to practice on. Nine-year-old boys require all-together too much energy."

  "I discovered the drawing in my room this morning. I assume you put it there?"

  Mr. Sinclair walked up beside her. "Guilty as charged. I thought it might keep your Mr. Pulk in mind."

  "You're afraid I might forget him?"

  "No, no. I merely wish you'll be certain what it is about him you admire. Have you been out in the park at all today? There's a bit of warmth now that the clouds have cleared."

  "I would enjoy a stroll. Let me put on my pelisse and bonnet."

  When she met him at the top of the stairs she realized he smelled of fresh air, and it struck her as much more attractive than the colognes often doused too heavily on the gentlemen of the ton. She shook off the thought and followed his lead on the path around the house.

  "We can sit in the walled garden. It's almost pleasant there."

  "Almost?" She laughed. "You make it sound most tempting. I long to be almost comfortable."

  "Are you not, here?"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Are you not comfortable here? Away from anything familiar. So far from your home. Do you prefer to stay at home?" He shook his head. "But no, you've said you would enjoy traveling, visiting new places. So it isn't the unfamiliarity giving you discomfort."

  Mr. Sinclair stopped at the stone bench near the bare skeletons of rose bushes and motioned for her to sit. She did, turning to face him slightly. "I was making fun. I am quite comfortable in your family's lovely home. My sister and parents are here, as are my niece and nephew. I've known your family these past five years."

  "Well, then. I'm relieved to know it."

  "What were you and the children doing when you had them outside?"

  He gazed off in the direction of the water fountain which was dry for the winter. "Oh, you know how they are. We battled the enemy, ran with the hounds, and defeated a warlord. A typical day's work for younger sons."

  "My, you're a very accomplished lot. Julie and I merely read a book."

  "She is rather young still. I'm certain before long you'll have her painting and singing and working on her stitches."

  He was right. One day, Julie's father would be the earl. Her life would be preparation for finding a suitable husband, running a large household or estate. Just as Julianna had been taught. How would Julie feel about her fate when she made her come out?

  Julianna bit her tongue. She must stop bemoaning the fact she'd had a privileged upbringing. When she tried to think of polite conversation, her thoughts went directly to Mr. Sinclair, himself. "Were you a captain before you sold out?"

  "Yes. I was in the 13th Light Dragoons."

  "Evie told me about the battle where you were injured."

  "Did she? I'm surprised. My family avoids the topic, at least when I'm around."

  She straightened the closure of her pelisse, feeling a draft on her limbs. "As she told it, you weren't comfortable discussing it. Perhaps they simply try to respect your feelings." Realizing how that sounded, she took a deep breath. "Which is not to say I don't respect them."

  He turned his head, catching her gaze. "I would never think that of you."

  "There is more to you than the witty dandy you present yourself to be."

  Mr. Sinclair rose, tugging at his waistcoat, and then lifting a foot and buffing a spot on the toe of his highly-polished hessians. "Me, a dandy? Is that truly how you see me?"

  "No, silly man. I said there is more to you than that."

  "But you believe me to spend too much time on my appearance?"

  Was this his way of changing the subject? Should she let him do so, or ask him her questions about his time in France? She didn't wish to be rude. Yet she couldn't contain her desire to know him better. "I—I'm not quite certain how I see you, if you must know. You have me quite addle-pated. I only sought to sketch your character, much as you've been doing mine. It's only fair you answer my questions as I have yours."

  He straightened and turned away, as if studying the maze in the distance. The air seemed to grow colder, and she wondered if the congeniality they shared had suddenly fled. Had she pushed too hard? This very situation was what she had avoided by remaining in Lyminster when invitations to house parties arrived. Not that she ever expected to meet a gentleman such as Mr. Sinclair, but she didn't know how to speak with him beyond the pleasantries of the drawing room.

  "I'm not a war hero, you understand."

  "I think all men who go into battle are heroic."

  "They're not. Some might have dreams of glory, but they lose them very quickly. The battles are interminable, broken by monotonous days of travel through muddy fields. The water in our canteens was filled with grit, and I won't subject you to the details of our rations. Men fall on one's right and left and when the shooting halts, one can't be certain if the blood on his uniform is his or another's."

  He bit his tongue. "I am so sorry. A lady shouldn't have to hear such descriptions."

  Lady Julianna shook her head, and Nash wasn't certa
in if the glassiness in her eyes was from the cold, or tears. At least she wasn't growing faint at the mention of blood. She watched him for a short time before speaking. "I asked about the war. I can't very well expect you to censure your response. I once heard my aunt's friends speak about a woman who'd gone into battle with her husband. I couldn't determine whether that was the most selfless act, or selfish."

  It surprised him she could see beyond the woman's viewpoint. "How so?"

  "Of course it would be selfless to be there to take care of him. But can her husband turn his attentions fully to the fight when he must watch to see she is not injured in the volleys?"

  Nash tipped his head to the side. Daily, Lady Julianna surprised him with her insights and thoughts. Did his sisters have discussions such as this? Since they'd grown old enough to leave the nursery, he'd only been privy to the light chatter suitable for polite society. Perhaps it wasn't too late to get to know them better. "I cannot say what makes a man permit—" he held up a hand to stop the retort he expected. "Yes, in this case I say permit. His job is to protect her, and allowing her to risk her life beside him can't be a hasty decision."

  "Would you have allowed your wife to accompany you into battle?"

  "I always assumed the woman I would marry would know her place and not even consider such a thing. If she had particular nursing skills I might have considered it."

  He continued to think, and walked a few paces away before turning back. Looking out at the treetops over the garden wall, he searched for his deepest thoughts. "I would not have married while I served, even had I found a woman who suited. Leaving my mother and sisters to mourn me was enough; I didn't need a wife and children left behind if I died."

  Lady Julianna showed little expression as she studied him. Not the usual polite, pleasant smile, but a smaller, understanding softness to her mouth. "I think many men waited to marry until the war ended."

  "But some men were married when the war began, and I can't judge them their choices. The women who accompanied us provided a great service to many of the men. Some even remained when their husbands were killed, and on occasion remarried."

  He noted a slight lifting of one of Lady Julianna's eyebrows and shook his head. "I'm not speaking of the light-skirts, who were always to be found nearby. No, I refer to the ones who cooked, mended, washed the laundry. A few in our company were rather motherly to the younger men."

  "I imagine it is a comfort to have the gentler sex among your numbers after a battle."

  At times he would have agreed. But not after Toulouse. Or rather, not after the laudanum had worn off and he'd heard the full details of the days leading up to that advent. "Even they couldn't ease what I felt after hearing Napoleon had surrendered."

  "Weren't you joyous that the war had ended?"

  "The war should have ended before that battle began. I can't give back the lives of those men I killed that day." He raked his fingers through his hair, remembering the feel of blood on his hands.

  "But you didn't know. No one knew."

  He offered her a wry smile. "Those words ease my mind, but nothing can cleanse my soul."

  "Please don't think that. It's an entire world I could never comprehend. I'm not certain I would wish to fully do so. But I wondered about the shadows that come over you at times."

  Nash drew in a deep breath, and then smiled from his heart. "They are passing melancholies, nothing to concern you. But I thank you for that concern." He offered a slight bow.

  She stood, adjusted her pelisse, then closed the small space between them. "I can't call it concern, as I knew you would recover your humor. I simply couldn't comprehend what haunted you so. And at some point I came to feel as if, by understanding it, I could take it from you."

  Her words, spoken softly but assuredly, hit him like no declaration of fondness ever would. A small bit of the ice he carried inside him melted. If he stood closer, would he be able to melt it all? She drew him like a brightly burning hearth. Tempted him as no woman ever had. The desires he'd felt for the women he'd slept with in the past were merely shallow urges in comparison.

  A kiss from Lady Julianna would never be enough. He struggled against the longing to take her into a small room somewhere, or even the garden shed, and run his hands over her bare skin.

  Suddenly recalling his entire family, and hers, roamed the walls of the house behind them, he offered his arm before he could offer anything more. "I've kept you outside much too long. You must be quite cold. Shall we go inside?"