A Christmas Spirit of Forgiveness Read online

  She scoffed. “Now you’re being purposely obtuse. I see no need to continue this conversation.”

  That suited Phillip. He was growing increasingly worried. The fog had now thickened past anything he’d ever experienced, and he’d let the reins grow slack, trusting his horse to keep to the lane. There was always the possibility, of course, that the nag could veer off onto a path leading into the forest, in which case Phillip wouldn’t hold out much hope of any of them living through the night.

  He wished he knew what time it was. Strangely, perhaps due to the fog, he’d lost all track of the hour. Thinking back, he realized it must have been just past eight that evening when his footman interrupted him in his library to report that a strange woman had come to the front door saying that a girl needed help somewhere near the old gatehouse and asking Phillip to ride that way to see if he could find her.

  He’d been surprised that anyone in the neighborhood would come to him for help, so he’d put his book down and hurried to the front hallway to question this woman himself. She was gone by the time he got there, but based on the footman’s description of her, Phillip decided she was no one he knew. Perhaps the beautiful blonde lady was new to the district and wasn’t aware that the neighbors generally left Phillip alone when he was in residence at Ashworth.

  Not that he was in residence all that often. He wouldn’t be here now were it not for Rachel sending him that message saying she was coming down a couple of days early this year and asking him to join her. Apparently, she’d changed her mind because when he arrived earlier today, expecting his younger sister to be there waiting for him, the housekeeper said Rachel wasn’t due until tomorrow.

  Phillip had been less than pleased. He never liked leaving London to travel to the country, particularly this time of year when the roads were likely to be bad. However, for some reason, spending Christmas at Ashworth was very important to Rachel and had been for years.

  He couldn’t understand her fondness for the old traditions, the ones most often celebrated in the country. After all, neither of them had been especially happy when they’d lived here all those years ago. Rachel couldn’t even recall the days when their mother had been alive. Phillip, a mere two years older, could barely remember her. Their mother had passed away when he was six.

  What he did recall with great clarity was the day two years later when word had come from London that the eighth Earl of Ashington was dead. Phillip had felt no particular grief at the demise of his grandfather. He hadn’t met the old gentleman more than a couple of times because Phillip was not considered important by the other males in the family. After all, upon his grandfather’s death, he was merely third in line to inherit the earldom, coming after his father, Howard, and then his older half brother, Jack.

  Phillip had overheard enough talk over the years to understand that his father’s first wife had been the love of his life and that when she died giving birth to Jack, Phillip’s father had not wanted to marry again. But society decreed that every peer should have “an heir and a spare,” so another marriage had been arranged between Howard and Ruth Morgan, the third daughter of a baron who was thrilled to get her off his hands. Ruth had supplied the “spare,” Phillip, and two years later, a daughter, Rachel.

  Lost in his thoughts about the past, Phillip was startled when his passenger suddenly shifted in the saddle. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Look! Is that a light up ahead?”

  Phillip gulped. Could that hideous fog be lifting slightly? He squinted, gazing past the girl’s shoulder and over the horse’s head. Sure enough, a faint light shone through the swirling mist. “You’re right. That has to be Ashworth.”

  The woman murmured something that sounded like, “This should be interesting.” He started to ask her what she meant, but the horse suddenly took it upon himself to break into a trot, and Phillip had to tighten the reins in order to regain control.

  In less than two minutes, his mount had trotted down the driveway leading off the lane, then stopped at the front of the house where the butler and two footmen stood holding lanterns aloft.

  The front portico and steps had been swept clean of snow. Following a sharp order from the butler, one of the footmen set his lantern on the stone floor and hurried down the steps. He held his arms up to help the female dismount.

  Phillip was amazed at his reluctance to release her, but she was straining against his arm, so he forced himself to loosen his hold. When she slid into the waiting arms of the footman, Phillip felt strangely bereft.

  But it had been a peculiar evening, after all, and he was suddenly tired. He dismounted and handed the reins to the second footman. “Take my horse to the stables and tell the groom to treat him well. He carried us back here safely and for that, he deserves an extra measure of feed.”

  The butler hurried down the steps. “Are you all right, my lord? We feared the worst when the temperature kept falling and that fog rolled in.”

  Phillip nodded. “I’m fine, Gunther.” He looked toward the front door and watched the footman escort the female inside. “Obviously I found the missing woman, but there’s no way to return her to her home until the weather clears. Is Mrs. Ballard available?”

  “She is, my lord. I believe you’ll find her waiting just inside.”

  Phillip strode across the portico. A footman opened the door, and he stepped inside. He was relieved to see the housekeeper standing in the entrance hall with the girl at her side.

  “Ah, Mrs. Ballard. As you see, we have a guest for the evening. I’ll ask you to see to the lass’s care. Make sure she’s fed and given a warm place to sleep.”

  He turned back to the butler. “Have you checked to make sure all the servants are safe and accounted for?”

  “Yes, my lord. Everyone is inside and warm.”

  “Thank you, Gunther. Do we have sufficient food and fuel in case we are snowed in here for a few days?”

  “We do, my lord.”

  “Very well.” Phillip glanced up to find his housekeeper standing quite still and regarding him with a puzzled frown. But then his gaze fell on the girl beside her, and he forgot that anyone else was in the entrance hall.

  She was lovely in an unconventional way. Her face was long and slender. Her large eyes were an unusual color that resembled the aqua of the estate’s lake with the sun shining on it. Dark brows and lashes contrasted with her creamy complexion. She’d removed her hat, revealing blonde hair highlighted with a reddish cast that shimmered in the candlelight, almost as though it had been touched by fire.

  For a few seconds, she returned his gaze, her eyes wide, but suddenly she twisted her head to one side as though to escape his scrutiny. Then she pulled her cloak open, reached inside and pulled out a kitten that was as white as the snow they’d just escaped.

  Phillip watched as she held the kitten up for the housekeeper’s inspection. Mrs. Ballard smiled, then wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders and gently turned her toward the back of the house.

  Phillip watched them walk away. It was apparent that his housekeeper and this girl were acquainted, but he supposed he should have expected that. Surely the girl was from the nearby village, which meant he could safely leave her in the hands of Mrs. Ballard, who would see that she was properly fed and then put to bed in the servants’ quarters. No doubt the kitten would receive a dish of milk and a soft rag to sleep on near the fireplace in the kitchen.

  Perhaps he would not come in contact with the girl again. The servants should be able to handle the situation from here on, contacting her people as soon as the weather allowed. Or perhaps when the snow melted, they would hitch up a cart and transport her as far as she needed to go.

  What he didn’t understand was his deepening sense of loss at the thoughts of never seeing her again.

  With a sigh, he shrugged out of his coat and hat, handed them to a footman, and headed back to the library with the intention of pouring himself a warming glass of brandy. Then he could go back to his reading, which he’d in
terrupted to rescue that bothersome female who was far more appealing than she ought to be.

  Chapter 2

  When Anna awoke the following morning, she lay for a few seconds, trying to figure out where she was. Certainly the ornate bed-hangings were not familiar. At home, the bed-hangings that had once graced her bed had long since deteriorated, and there was no money to replace them.

  And certainly she never awoke at home to a blaze crackling merrily in the fireplace and a cup of something that smelled amazingly like hot chocolate sitting on her bedside table.

  Slowly she lifted her head off the wonderfully soft feather pillow and looked around the room. Ah yes, now she remembered. She was in a guest room in Ashworth. She pushed herself up in bed just as a light tap sounded on the door leading from the hallway.

  “Come,” she called. The upstairs maid, Betsy, pushed the door open and greeted Anna with a friendly smile. The two had known each other for years.

  “Good morning, Miss Anna. I hope you had a good night’s rest.” A dress lay across Betsy’s arm. “Here’s the frock you wore yesterday. Missus Ballard had it brushed and pressed. I’ll help you dress if you’d like. Breakfast will be served at ten o’clock.”

  Anna glanced toward the windows, but heavy green draperies shut out any light that would have helped her determine the time of day. Nor could she tell whether snow was still falling. She prayed it had given way to sunshine.

  “What’s the hour?” she asked.

  Betsy nodded toward a clock on the mantel. “Almost eight thirty, Miss. Are ye ready to get up?”

  “I’m ready.” Anna tossed back the covers and sat up on the side of the bed. “Did you come in earlier to light the fire?”

  “I did, Miss. And I brought you a cup of hot chocolate, there on the table, if you’d like a sip. It should still be warm.”

  Anna reached for the cup and took a hearty swallow of the rich, warm liquid. What luxury! She could quickly learn to enjoy living this way. At home the only servants around to serve her and Aunt Cora were the housekeeper and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Miller also served as all-purpose maid and cook, while Mr. Miller filled the roles of butler, footman, and gardener. Both worked for room and board and a pittance of pay. No doubt they could have moved on and found more profitable positions, but they were unfailingly loyal to Anna’s great aunt.

  She took another sip and smiled. “This is wonderful, Betsy. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Missus Ballard thought you would like it. She said to tell you that it snowed all night and you’ll not be able to return home today.”

  “Goodness!” Anna slipped her feet into the bedroom slippers that had appeared beside her bed and hurried over to the window. She opened the drapery to reveal a world of white. Snow covered everything so deeply that most of the landscape appeared composed of shallow mounds. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she murmured.

  “Nobody here has either,” Betsy declared. “The men are shoveling a path to the stables so the grooms can come to the kitchen to eat. But Missus Ballard says we’ll all be fine because there’s plenty of fuel and food in the house.”

  “That’s good to know,” Anna said. Then a frown pulled at her brow. “I hope the same is true at home.”

  “I wouldn’t worry, Miss. Knowing the Millers, I’m sure they’ll see that Miss Cora is fed and kept warm.”

  Anna turned her back to the window and sighed. “No doubt you’re right, Betsy. I believe I’m ready to dress now.”

  Half an hour later, Anna stepped into the small dining room that Betsy had pointed out when the two came downstairs. An array of fragrances greeted her, reminding her that she’d had very little for supper the evening before. The odor of fresh-baked bread warred with bacon as most enticing, and she was thrilled she didn’t have to choose between the two.

  A footman stepped forward and pulled out a chair for her near the head of the table.

  “Thank you,” Anna murmured. She knew most of the servants at Ashworth but not this one. He must have come down from London with the earl.

  He paused just to her left. “Would you prefer coffee or tea, Miss?”

  “Oh!” Anna hadn’t expected the question and had to stop and think. She usually drank tea but coffee might make an interesting change. She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted before she could speak.

  “For shame, James. You neglected to offer our guest a glass of ale. She might prefer that to either coffee or tea.”

  The voice came from behind her but Anna would have recognized it even if a dozen years had passed since she heard it. She turned her head enough to bring her host into view.

  He stood in the doorway staring at her. His expression was bland, but for some reason, her heartbeat accelerated. She had not seen much of him last night—just a few seconds when they stood together in the entrance hall—and she’d not realized how handsome he was. He had a high forehead, a straight nose, a head of thick dark hair, and narrowed eyes that appeared to burn with fury at finding her sitting at his breakfast table. She reminded herself that he was well known throughout the neighborhood as an extremely disagreeable man.

  Well, he could be as disagreeable as he chose, but she did not intend to allow him to upset her. She looked at him with as much hauteur as she could imbue into her expression. “Thank you, my lord, but I was just about to state my preference for coffee. However, if you prefer ale, you must not hesitate merely because there is a lady present.”

  “I had intended to drink whatever I wanted considering that I am in my own home, but thank you for your permission.” He ambled into the room and took a seat at the head of the table, just to her left. Then he regarded her with lowered brows. “I’m going to guess that you’re not a village lass after all.”

  “How perceptive of you, my lord.” Anna glanced to her right as the footman placed a cup of coffee in front of her.

  “Coffee for me too, James.” He shot her a smile that was not at all friendly. “Am I permitted to know your name?”

  “I am Anna Marshall. You, of course, are the Earl of Ashington.”

  The corners of his lips, already curved in a sardonic smile, twitched as though he was genuinely amused. “Thank you for the reminder. It had almost slipped my mind. Now that we’ve confirmed my identity, may I ask again, who are you?”

  “I told you. I’m Anna Marshall.”

  “True but your name tells me very little. Obviously, since Mrs. Ballard seated you at the breakfast table with me, you are not the daughter of John the baker or Ned the village blacksmith. Perhaps I should phrase my question differently. Who is your father?”

  Despite the fact that she’d been enjoying their banter, Anna’s mood slipped with the mention of her father. She had been only eight when her parents died, but she missed them still. “My father was Arnold Marshall. When he and my mother perished during an influenza epidemic in London, I was sent to live with my mother’s aunt, Cora Benton.”

  “Ah yes, I think I remember the location of Miss Benton’s residence. It’s that older house sitting back in a stand of oaks about three miles down the road, if memory serves me correctly.”

  At Anna’s nod, he continued. “And what year did you come to live with Miss Benton?”

  “In eighteen hundred.”

  “That’s two years after my father moved Rachel and me to London, which explains why I wasn’t aware that you live in the neighborhood.”

  A voice sounded from just behind Anna’s shoulder. “Eggs, Miss Marshall?” Anna started. She’d been unaware that the footman had stepped to her side. He held a dish of scrambled eggs out for her inspection. “Yes, thank you.” Anna helped herself, then watched while the footman offered the dish to the earl, who also took a helping.

  Soon both had filled their plates with the various offerings from the footman, and Anna picked up her fork. Everything was delicious and she was hungry, so she didn’t continue her conversation with Lord Ashington for the next few minutes. By th
e time she’d taken the edge off her hunger, she was curious enough to rest her fork on her plate and pat her lips with her napkin before asking, “Who is Rachel?”

  The earl set his coffee cup down with a soft click of china on china. “Rachel is my sister.” His lips eased into a fond smile. “She’s two years younger than me and is the only person in the world who could convince me to spend Christmas in the country.”

  “Why is that, my lord?”

  “Are you asking me why Rachel is the only person in the world who could drag me to Ashworth in December? Or are you asking why I might resist the idea of spending Christmas in the country at all?”

  Anna cocked her head to one side while giving the question a few seconds of thought. “I suppose I’m wondering why your sister would go to the trouble of dragging you to Ashworth in December when from all appearances, neither of you has any strong ties here.”

  “You would have to ask her to explain her reasons, as I cannot. I only know she has been adamant about coming to Ashworth for Christmas ever since we were old enough to choose where we spend the holidays.”

  “I see. And when does she plan to join you?”

  The earl grimaced. “She wanted us to come early this year and I agreed. She was widowed about eighteen months ago and spent last Christmas secluded at her home in Lincolnshire. That’s the reason she gave for wanting to come to Ashworth early this year. But once I arrived, Mrs. Ballard informed me that she’d received a message from Rachel saying she’d been delayed and would not arrive until tomorrow.”

  “Oh dear! With this weather, she may not be able to travel even then.”

  “Speaking of the weather, will Miss Benton not be concerned that you didn’t return home last evening?”

  “Of course she will. She wasn’t even aware that I’d left the house. Fortunately, she knows I’m quite capable of taking care of myself under most circumstances. I’ve walked the countryside for years and know the forest as well as most people know their own gardens.”