Page 4 of A Lovely White Christmastide
Carswell frowned. “All right, if I am so miserable, what would you have me do about it?” Setting his right hand on the arm of his chair, he tapped his pointer finger—the only finger that seemed to obey his will.
“Go on a trip up north with me.”
“Why?”
“Because you can.”
Carswell raised an eyebrow. “Because I can, or because you need my carriage?”
Kaye shrugged. “What is the difference?”
A half laugh escaped before he could rein it in. “There is a great deal of difference to me. What would we do up north? You have no family up that way, and I certainly have no one of interest to visit.”
“Yes, but imagine how beautiful it must be this time of year with all the pristine snow.”
“And cold. Have I told you how much I detest being cold?”
Kaye leaned forward in his seat. “Too many times for me to count, especiallyon the battlefield.”
The finger he’d been tapping stilled. His conscience pricked. Not this again. “So you see my point. Would it not be better to stay in our own well-heated homes?”
His former lieutenant let out a little puff of air with his mirthless laugh that caused one of the papers to flutter out of place on his desk. Carswell lifted his left hand to fix it.
“Leave it, Captain.”
“Leave what?”
“Do not play ignorant with me. You know it is not normal for someone to be so obsessed with order.”
“I am not obsessed.”
Kaye folded his arms and the corner of his mouth quirked. “I bet you cannot leave that paper out of place for ten minutes.”
“A wager? And what do I get if I win?”
“You do not have to travel to Kendal with me.”
“And why would I ever want to travel to the brink of Scotland in the dead of winter?”
Kaye reached into his pocket and extracted an invitation. With a flick of his fingers, he spun it across the unoccupied part of the desk. Carswell reacted quickly, catching the flying piece of paper before it landed in his lap. Unfortunately the swift movement dislodged another paper, his elbow tapping his quill so it no longer lined up.
Setting the paper down, he reached for the quill, but Kaye’s lifted brow stopped him. It was not the piece of paper they had agreed on, but if he straightened one, he knew he’d not be able to resist fixing the others.
Carswell curled the fingers on his outstretched hand, fighting the urge to straighten things. Slowly he retracted his arm and placed it on the chair. He could do this.
Picking up the invitation, he read. With each sentence his eyebrows rose higher. “How did you, of all people, secure an invitation to spend Christmastide with General Waverly?”
Kaye reached out and flipped the paper over revealing two names. “We, my friend. We have been invited.”
What had possessed the general to send an invitation addressed to two men who lived in different houses—and to Mr. Kaye no less? Why not to him? He outranked Kaye not only by former command, but also in title. He’d never imagined himself a lord, not when his father and brother had stood between him and his uncle’s title, so he’d not been so full of conceit to think he was far loftier than the other men he served with. Still, it was degrading to have one’s former general send a mere country gentleman an invitation meant for oneself.
“So you see,” Kaye said, “we must go, if only to support a former commander.”
“You still did not answer my question. Why did General Waverly invite us to his estate for the Christmastide season?”
Kaye shifted in his seat, his eyes darting to the window. “Kindness.”
Not likely. Kaye never had been good at telling a falsehood. Thank goodness he’d never been captured by the enemy. He would have squealed like a stuck pig.
