Page 9 of A Lady's Christmas
“From time to time, he would forget himself and be kind. When I was sixteen, I had a cat who had a litter of kittens and all were stillborn. I was devastated and cried for many long hours. Theo came to the barn and held me while I cried. He took the little babies away and dug a grave. He was warmer on that day than when we buried the duke.”
“He may have had his reasons for his treatment of you, Gwen. I don’t condone it, but the man I just met was charming and courteous. He looked at you with affection and you barely gazed at him. He did offer an apology. Perhaps you should try to get along with him at least while you’re working for him.” Honoria stands. “I’m going down for a glass of wine before dinner. Will you join me?”
Should she forgive him and forget all the times when they might have been friends? Should she also forget that it took him months to come after she wrote to him that his uncle was gravely ill? It would be the right thing to do, but she didn’t know if she was a good enough person to let all of that go. “Of course.”
ChapterFive
Mr. Green softens his expression the moment he sees Gwen. In fact, she gets the stoic farmer telling a long story about some wild dogs that have been terrorizing the area. No one knows where the dogs came from, but for the last six months, they’ve killed over forty chickens and fifteen piglets in the neighborhood.
Horrified that he’d known nothing about the problem and ashamed that he’d stayed away from his responsibilities, Theo listens to everything Mr. Green has to say.
With a brief look at Gwen, as focuses on Mr. Green, Theo gives the farmer his full attention. “I apologize for not being around more. I shall speak to the magistrate tomorrow and find out what recourse we have to deal with the dogs. I’m sure they were once someone’s beasts and have become feral. If you permit, I’ll return in a few days to discuss a plan of action. Perhaps we can resolve this problem together.”
Puffing up, Mr. Green gets up from the crate where he sits talking to Gwen. He’s a burly man with ruddy skin. His wife and twin sons stand, looking on from the back of the barnyard. He shakes Theo’s hand, and it’s a strong grip. “I appreciate you coming out to see us, Your Grace. I’m sure you have more important matters to deal with.”
“None that I can think of, Mr. Green. Your family’s well-being is vital for this community.”
Mrs. Green grins and pushes her blond hair back into her bun. The breeze forces it back into her eyes.
Gwen stands. “It’s good to see all of you. I hope to see you at the Christmas Ball next week.”
“We wouldn’t miss it, Miss Carter. It was very good news to hear that it would be back. We missed those parties while the duke was sick. We all prayed for him and for you when we heard he’d passed.” Mrs. Green takes Gwen’s offered hand and the two ladies exchange a warm look.
They walk back to the carriage and Theo helps Gwen up to the seat. Her hand is so strong, yet small and feminine. When had she become so lovely? Of course, he remembers when. She’d been sixteen and he’d returned from Oxford. He’d known for many years that his uncle wanted him to marry the duke’s ward. He’d overheard the duke say as much to Theo’s father. Of course, he’d only been a boy of twelve when he’d been eavesdropping. Hating that he was likely to be bullied into marrying, he rebelled, and ashamedly, Gwen had taken the brunt of that rebellion. It was inconceivable that he would marry at all, let alone the little girl who’d cried so pitifully the day she’d arrived.
After Oxford, he realized she was no longer a little girl and had a great many things to recommend her, not the least of which were beauty and brains. So, he stayed away as much as possible, and when he did show up, he was petulant and rude. After a while, it became a bad habit.
Those kinds of behavior needed breaking if he was going to be half the man his father and uncle were.
Climbing into the carriage, he takes the reins. “That was a good meeting. Thank you, Gwendolyn. It’s clear that family likes you very much.”
Her brows rise, wrinkling her normally smooth forehead. She opens her mouth as if she’s about to comment and closes it again. Once they’re underway, she says, “Would you mind stopping at the Pickering farm? I understand Mrs. Pickering is heavy with child, and I’ve packed some meat and bread for her and the family.”
“Is that the groom’s wife?”
“Yes. They married two years ago and this is their first child.”
Looking at his pocket watch, he nods. “We have an appointment with a new steward at three, but we should have time for a brief visit.”
A slight twist of her mouth tells him that again she wants to say something but is holding back.
“Gwendolyn, if you have something to say, feel free. I’m sure I can take any criticism you might have.” He braces for whatever she’s holding in. Despite his brave words, he wants her good opinion more than is natural.
Slowly she folds her hands on her lap and pulls her shoulders back. “I don’t trust you, Theo. You’re being very agreeable and gentlemanly, but I expect at any moment you will return to your natural state of judgmental and overbearing.”
“I hope to not be that man ever again. I have already apologized. What more can I do?” His chest tightens and if not for the need to guide the horse, he would rub away that ache.
“Nothing. It makes no difference. I’ll leave once you have a new steward who is up to date on all the workings of your estate. Then I see no reason for us to ever be in each other’s company again. After all, it’s unlikely a duke and an Everton Lady would cross paths in society.” The carriage bobbles, and she grips his arm, then releases it as if he were made of hot coal.
Slowing the horse to a stop at the edge of the farm where the Pickerings live, he ties off the reins and turns on the small seat to face her. “Once, we were friends. I hope to regain your good opinion.”
Worry or perhaps doubt darken her eyes. Her cheeks pinken. “I would like to believe you’re sincere, but…”
“You mistrust me. I shall endeavor to make amends.” Unable to stop himself, he touches her cheek. It’s even softer than he imagined. “I’m not a bad person, Gwendolyn.”
Eyes wide, she places her hand over his, though she doesn’t push him away. Fear and longing war in her eyes.
Hope blazes inside him.
