Chapter One
Christmas had never been one of his favorite holidays, Sir Lucien Blakewell mused as he gazed out the carriage window at the snow-covered poplar trees lining the drive to his cousin Jeremy, Lord Hurst’s, country house.
For one thing, it took place during the dreariest month of the year (though he did think January was quite close in the running) and, for another, it always seemed to fall short. When he was a child he’d looked forward to sweets and gifts, but once he’d become an adult there didn’t seem to be much about the holidays to recommend them. In town it was just an excuse to overindulge, and in the country—especially in Yorkshire—it was often too dashed cold to leave the house.
Not that he had anything against being indoors. There were any number of indoor activities he enjoyed. It was just that most of them did not involve idle chatter in the drawing room.
Indeed, he’d spent many a happy afternoon ensconced in the music room at his country estate composing short pieces for his own amusement, the only sound his occasional humming or the playing of a few bars over and over until he was quite sure anyone listening would have run mad.
No, he preferred to spend the holidays in his own home, where he could do as he wished without fear of offending his hostess. Where he could wander over to Trevor’s house for a game of cards or a bout of fisticuffs or a ride over the estate (weather permitting). It was a pattern he and Trevor, Duke of Ormond, had established long ago, and it seemed they’d go on like that for years to come.
This year, however, was different.
His friend and neighbor, the Duke of Ormond—Lucien’s companion for many of his athletic pursuits—had wed recently, and as such had suddenly become unavailable for fencing and boxing and the like. The newlyweds had invited Lucien to partake of the holidays with them and the duke’s younger sisters, and the invitation was tempting. But—if he were truly honest with himself—he’d decided to accept Jeremy’s invitation only when he learned that a certain lovely governess would be away for the holidays.
He could hardly have predicted it, given how stiff-rumped the woman had seemed when they were first introduced, but over the last few months he and Miss Winifred Nightingale—or Winnie as she had given him leave to call her—had developed a friendship of sorts.
If he’d come to think of her as something more than a friend, well, there was time enough to do something about that. It had been some fifteen years since he’d proposed marriage to a woman. And since, through no fault of his own, the last time had gone so abysmally, he was perfectly content to be sure of things before he embarked upon such a task again.
Besides, she had gone to spend the holidays with her family not long after he sent his acceptance to Jem. But once the holidays were over …
“We are so pleased that you accepted our invitation, Sir Lucien,” Lady Helen said, breaking into his reverie, a pretty smile on her handsome face. “After so many years of having you cry off,” she continued, with mock severity, “I was quite shocked when you said you would come this year.”
Lucien and Jeremy bore a striking resemblance to one another, both with the dark hair and blue eyes of the Chases, their mothers’ family. But, while Jem was short and solidly built, Lucien was tall and rangy, his muscles honed with years of fencing and riding the acres of his estate. Even so, it was apparent to anyone upon first seeing the two together that they were related.
“I daresay he has finally had enough of the bachelor life,” Jem said, clapping his cousin on the back jovially. Then in a more serious tone he added, “About time you put all that business in Brighton behind you, old chap.”
“My lord,” Lady Helen chided her husband, “your cousin will climb back into his carriage and leave, if you do not hold your tongue.” To Lucien, taking his hands in hers, she added, “I hope you will forgive him and agree to stay, Sir Lucien, for I promise you that we have a very pleasant holiday planned.”
But Lucien was used to Jeremy’s plain speaking—it was one of the reasons he’d been so reluctant to come. He was quite able to recall his own past mistakes without being reminded of them by family. That was what his aunts were for, and he saw them only when absolutely necessary.
“Never fear, my lady,” he told Helen as he kissed her cheek. “The weather is far too inclement for me to retrace my drive. So it would appear that you are stuck with me for the time being.”
“I’d hardly call your company a hardship,” Helen said with a laugh. “And you will enjoy yourself, I promise.”
“Sorry, old fellow,” Jeremy said, cuffing Lucien on the shoulder. “Forgot I’d promised not to bring it up. But I meant what I said about marriage.” He grinned. “We’ve got quite a few lovely ladies in attendance. Quit a few.”