Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection

Canforth gave his old nurse a lopsided smile. “My lady was just being polite. She didn’t marry me for my looks.”

“Of course she did. And your good, kind heart. She was smart enough to love you.”

Felicity was blushing like a tomato. “Biddy, give the poor man a chance to take a breath. He’s only just walked through the door.”

“And needs feeding up, I’ll warrant.” With visible reluctance, she released Canforth and mopped at her streaming eyes with her apron. “Don’t mind me. I’m just a foolish old woman. But it’s a red letter day indeed when the master comes home at last. A red letter day.”

He smiled at her. More of that easy kindness that Felicity had first noticed when she’d met him in a London ballroom eight years ago. She’d feared this sweetness might be an early casualty of the violence on the Continent. But miraculously, she already saw that it remained essential to the man she’d married.

“You’re not foolish at all, Biddy.” He laid a scarred hand on her shoulder. Both hands were burned, Felicity noticed with a pang. “And I’ve missed you like the devil.”

Biddy smiled through her gushing tears. “Oh, get away with you. I’m sure as sure you hardly gave me a thought while you were off teaching Boney a lesson. But heaven has answered all my prayers when I see you home now.”

“Back to stay, I hope.”

“I’m glad you’ve had enough of strange foreign parts. The Earl of Canforth belongs at Otway.”

“Indeed he does,” he said.

“Now get away out of my kitchen. This is no fit place for your lordship. Or your ladyship, come to that. Although I have to say there’s no airs about your countess, Master Edmund. You brought home a treasure there. While you’ve been away, she’s run this estate almost as well as you would. A fine wife you caught for yourself.” She made shooing motions. “But listen to me, rattling on. When you two haven’t seen each other in a donkey’s age. Go on upstairs and find out all that’s happened while you’ve been apart. And I’ll make a veal and ham pie for supper. That was always your favorite.”

Canforth leaned in and kissed Biddy on the cheek. Felicity couldn’t help but compare the affection flowing between him and the old servant with his constraint toward his wife. After the long separation, some awkwardness was inevitable. But in this case, the awkwardness between the earl and his countess dated back to their wedding.

“If you knew how often I dreamed of your cooking when I made do with stale bread and salt beef, on some freezing peak high in the Pyrenees.”

“Not right, just not right.” The old lady clicked her tongue in disapproval. “And look at you now, you’re too skinny. I swear you’re like a piece of string, you’re so thin. Leave it to me, and I’ll get some meat on your bones. You haven’t been looking after yourself. Anybody with eyes in their head can see that.”

He laughed. “I’ll be as fat as a prize pig by spring, Biddy. I promise you.”

A confident step on the staircase down from the great hall heralded the arrival of Joe, Biddy’s husband, stout and gray-headed and taciturn. At the sight of the new arrival, a rare smile creased his lined face. “Your lordship, by God, you’re home. This is a great day indeed.”

The old man, less demonstrative than his wife, embraced Canforth, but Felicity caught the shine of tears in his eyes as he drew away.

“Joe, will you please look after his lordship’s horse?” she said. “It’s out in the stable yard, if it hasn’t bolted.”

Joe bowed to her. “Aye, my lady. Although begging your pardon, but there’s no fear of that happening. No horse ever bolted that Edmund Sherritt rode. Putty in his hands, they are. Always have been.”

Once, women had been putty in his hands, too. Before his marriage, Canforth had had a reputation with the ladies. Felicity had been surprised that he’d been so diffident when he’d come to her bed. Since then, she’d struggled to avoid the thought of him being anything but diffident in some pretty senorita’s company.

So many years away, and a man would get lonely. After all, it wasn’t as if he loved his wife back in England.

Since he’d left her, she’d slept alone. But then, she loved her husband and always had.

Chapter 2

Felicity was pleased to see Canforth moving more easily, now he was out of the cold. Her silly, worried self wanted to fuss and question, help him with the stairs. But she made herself precede him slowly up to the great hall, so he wouldn’t be too self-conscious about his limping progress. Digby struggled after them even more slowly. It was clear he had no intention of parting from his master. Doggy panting accompanied them all the way. Felicity couldn’t help contrasting the easy conversation downstairs with the silence that now descended.

“Shall we go into the drawing room? Joe lights a fire in there each evening.”

When Canforth didn’t answer, she glanced back. He leaned on the doorway cut through the carved screen, and if she didn’t know better, she’d imagine him unchanged from the man she’d married. The gathering dusk hid that vicious scar, and his casual posture belied the way he favored his leg.

His expression wasn’t casual at all. Avidly his eyes took in every detail of this vast room, the heart of the medieval building around which the rest of the manor had grown. She read such a range of powerful reactions in his face. Love. Sadness. Joy. Relief. Curiosity.

“It’s just the same,” he said in disbelief.

“Of course it is.” Poignant emotion threatened to choke her once more. She’d better gain control of herself soon, or abandon any pretense that she and Canforth

shared a dispassionate marriage.