A Very Scandalous Fairbanks Christmas (Those Very Bad Fairbanks #14)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

D aniel Hadley, the Earl of Walcott, emptied his third glass of brandy for the night. A pair of green eyes had been lingering in his thoughts, irritating him. Most astonishing, they had remained with him since his encounter with the unknown woman in the little shop on High Holborn. She had been remarkably pretty, all golden hair and defiant smiles, and the manner in which she had scolded him had been … oddly appealing.

Daniel scowled at his empty glass. He had spent years building a formidable reputation—detached, unshakable, coldly rational. No one dared scold him.

And yet she had. And he had liked it.

The mere thought was so intolerable that tonight he had done something reckless—visited the Glendevons’ club, where the gaming hell remained open until dawn. It had done nothing to clear his thoughts, so in an even greater lapse of judgment, he had brought home a lover for the first time in over a year.

He had expected passion. Or at the very least, distraction. Instead, he had felt nothing. Not even a flicker of desire. Emptiness slammed into him with a force that left him reeling. He wanted more. A wife. A son to carry on the title. Perhaps a family who would bring warmth to his life instead of this piercing loneliness.

Daniel scoffed. Christmas did this to him. Every damn year. The dull ache in his chest was a constant companion, a reminder that he had lost his mother, father, and older brother in a carriage accident on Christmas Eve fifteen years and several months ago. Daniel had once loved Christmas. It had been a time of laughter, warmth, and cherished traditions. Every year, his family—his father, the formidable Earl of Walcott, his mother, the gentle yet sharp-witted countess, his younger sister Catherine, and his older brother, Charles, who was barely a year his senior—embraced the holiday with a sense of joy that seemed to make the world brighter.

In the mornings, after breakfasting, they would bundle into their winter coats, don thick gloves, and venture onto the vast frozen lake on their estate. Skating had been their favorite pastime, a tradition passed down from their father, who had learned it from his own father before him. Daniel could still recall the way his mother had glided effortlessly across the ice, her laughter echoing across the crisp winter air as she tried to outpace his father.

Charles, always competitive, would challenge Daniel to races, daring him to keep up as they cut across the lake in swift, powerful strides. Their father would join in, his deep voice booming with encouragement when Daniel managed to beat his older brother—something that didn’t happen often, but when it did, the satisfaction had been unparalleled.

Afternoons were spent gathering pinecones and holly, which their mother and the housekeeper would use to decorate the great hall and drawing rooms. The scent of roasting meats, cinnamon, and mulled wine would drift through the corridors as the kitchen prepared the great Christmas feast. The three of them would chop wood for the fireplaces, a task their father insisted upon despite the many servants available, for he believed it was a lesson in discipline and self-reliance. Afterward, they would collapse in the smaller drawing room, warming their hands by the fire, drinking steaming mugs of cider, and listening to their mother read Dickens and Shakespeare’s tales.

In the evenings, when darkness crept over the estate and the candlelit glow of the manor felt cozier than ever, they would gather in the music room. His mother would play the pianoforte, his father would sing in his rich baritone, and Charles would tease Daniel about his reluctance to sing along. Sometimes, they would play parlor games or gather around the massive oak table in the library to play whist, his father feigning frustration whenever his mother won.

It had been perfect. Whole.

And then …

It had all been taken from him.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

Enough .

Shoving the memories aside, he turned toward the staircase, ready to retire for the night, when a knock sounded at his study door. His butler, Mr. Edwards, stepped inside with his usual stoic demeanor.

“My lord, you have a late-night visitor,” he intoned. “The Marquess of Camden.”

Daniel raised a brow. Jason? At this hour? With a sigh, he set his empty glass aside. “Send him to the smaller library, Edwards.”

His butler bowed and retreated. Daniel was waiting in the smaller library when his friend strolled in, looking as unbothered as ever. Jason, the Marquess of Camden, was the sort of man who never took life too seriously—a stark contrast to Daniel’s own temperament.

He was a handsome devil, with dark russet hair that always seemed artfully tousled, piercing blue eyes that saw too much, and an infuriating smirk that suggested he was perpetually amused by life. Jason had once been one of the most reckless rakes in London, but in the last few years, he had settled into a steady and respectable role—at least, respectable enough for a man who had once gambled away a carriage and a prized stallion in a single night.

Daniel gestured toward the decanter of brandy, but Jason waved him off.

“Still drinking at this hour?” Jason asked, nodding toward Daniel’s empty glass.

Daniel leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. “Fourth glass since I returned home from Glendevons.”

Jason arched a brow. “Ah. It must be Christmas.”

Daniel huffed a dry laugh but said nothing. Jason sprawled lazily into the chair opposite him, draping an arm over the side.

“I came to extend my yearly invitation,” he said casually. “The one you always refuse.”

Daniel’s lips twitched. “Your family still thinks they can fix me, do they?”

“They pity you, Walcott. Think you live too much in the past.”

Daniel’s jaw ticked. “I don’t need their pity.”

Jason tilted his head, studying him. “No. You need company, good cheer, good food and great tupping. My home can provide everything but the tupping.”

Daniel scoffed. “Staying at Camden estate with your three married sisters, their cherubic children, and your mother fussing over me would be … painful.”

Jason smirked. “It would certainly irritate you, which is entertainment enough for me.”

Daniel shook his head. “No.”

He always refused. His friends knew he was alone—knew he had no one—and every year, they extended their kindness. And every year, he turned them down.

Yet …

For some reason, this year, he hesitated.

Jason noticed. “You look … distracted,” he said, watching him closely.

Daniel exhaled, a smile hitching his mouth. “I was thinking about a pair of green eyes.”

Jason blinked, then grinned. “ Finally . A woman.”

Daniel ignored the teasing. “I don’t know who she is.”

Jason leaned forward with interest. “Tell me.”

So Daniel did. He described their encounter in the shop on High Holborn—the way she had scolded him without fear, the defiance in her stance, the spark in her voice. “The woman had the audacity to claim the rocking horse was hers,” he said dryly.

Jason’s lips twitched. “Was it?”

Daniel scowled. “I reached for it first.”

Jason chuckled. “And yet, here you are, drinking your third or fourth glass of brandy, still thinking about her.”

Daniel ignored him. “She was feisty. But … alluring. I can’t quite explain it.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. “She has vivid green eyes, blonde hair, and a small scar on her chin. Barely noticeable, but it was there. Deep dimples when she smiled even though that smile was faked politeness.”

Jason’s amusement dimmed slightly.

For the first time, he looked thoughtful.

“Green eyes,” he murmured. “A small scar on her chin …” Then, suddenly, his blue eyes widened slightly. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Daniel stiffened. “You know her?”

Jason hesitated, then exhaled. “It sounds like Miss Caroline Fairbanks.”

Daniel frowned. The name was vaguely familiar.

Jason sat forward. “You need to be careful, Walcott. That young lady belongs to those Very Bad Fairbanks .”

Recognition flickered in Daniel’s mind. The Fairbanks. A scandalous family.

“And Caroline Fairbanks herself?” Jason lowered his voice. “She was rumored to be the mistress of Viscount Dennison. And they had a public fight in Hyde Park.”

Daniel raised a brow. “A fight?”

Jason nodded. “She chased him down with her parasol. Beat him over the back with it.”

Daniel blinked. Then—unexpectedly—he laughed.

Jason looked at him, startled.

“Ah,” Daniel mused. “So that explains the fire in her eyes.”

Jason groaned. “You’re intrigued, aren’t you?”

Daniel did not answer. Instead, something else clicked in his mind. Rannulf, The Duke of Ravenswood. Ravenswood, one of their oldest friends, had married Elizabeth Fairbanks—another one of those scandalous Fairbanks. And hadn’t Ravenswood invited him to Penporth for Christmas these last couple of years? Daniel tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, his mind turning over the implications. He had refused the invitation, as he always did.

But now …

Now he was reconsidering.

Jason groaned, leaning back in his chair. “I can see the wheels turning in your head, and I don’t like it.”

Daniel merely smirked, swirling his brandy. Perhaps it was time to accept Ravenswood’s invitation after all. Daniel stilled.

Something was … off.

His gaze flickered past Jason to the far side of the library, his mind taking a moment too long to register what was missing.

The rocking horse was gone.

His chest tightened as his head snapped toward the empty space in the corner near the hearth, his brow furrowing in sheer disbelief. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Jason, who had been reclining lazily in his chair, lifted a curious brow. “What?”

Daniel didn’t answer. Instead, he surged to his feet, striding toward the spot where the wooden rocking horse had stood just hours ago.

It was not there. Not tucked away in a corner. Not moved slightly out of place.

Just … gone.

Jason straightened. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

Daniel turned slowly, his voice flat with astonishment. “It’s gone.”

Jason blinked. “What is?”

Daniel dragged a hand through his hair, as if doing so would somehow restore his sanity. “The damn rocking horse.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then Jason snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

Daniel’s lips thinned. “Do I look as if I am jesting?”

Jason grinned. “I would never assume you were capable of jest.”

Daniel ignored him, his gaze sweeping the room. His gut twisted—not in anger but in sheer, stunned disbelief. Who in their right mind would steal a wooden horse from his study? Then, something caught his eye.

A slip of paper resting atop the his desk.

Daniel strode toward it, snatching it up, his sharp gaze taking in the words written in an elegant yet unmistakably bold hand.

I have taken back my horse. I have left you more money than you paid for it. Consider this a fair exchange.

– a lady whom you wronged.

A five-pound note lay neatly beside the letter. Daniel stared. Then, utterly without warning, he laughed.

Jason jerked back, eyes widening. “What the hell?”

Daniel shook his head, amusement tugging at his lips. “She stole it.”

Jason blinked. “Who—” he stopped, realization dawning in his sharp blue eyes.

“Miss Caroline Fairbanks.”

Jason released a low whistle. “I warned you about her. The family has no sense of proper behavior, conduct or sensibilities.”

Daniel’s mind spun, piecing together the audacity of the act. She had broken into his home, retrieved the rocking horse, and left behind a note and money as if she had simply purchased it outright.

Cheeky little minx .

“She actually stole it back,” Daniel muttered, more impressed than angry.

Jason, however, was watching him far too closely. “You are entirely too amused by this.”

Daniel smirked. “It is not every day someone dares to rob me blind and leave money on my desk in apology.”

Jason groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Don’t tell me you are planning some sort of retaliation.”

Daniel turned the note over in his fingers, contemplating.

“I shall have to pay a visit to her home in town,” he murmured.

Jason sighed. “And if she is not there?”

Daniel’s smirk deepened. “Then I suppose I will be making a trip to Penporth. It seems as if their family gathers yearly for Christmas.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is a terrible idea.”

Daniel arched a brow. “Is it?”

“Yes.” Jason dropped his hand and fixed him with a warning look. “You said that with the upcoming season, you would be seeking a wife.”

Daniel nodded. “That is still my intention.”

Jason exhaled. “Then recall that Caroline Fairbanks is not suitable to be your countess, and you do not need to be engaged with her in any regard, even if she is remarkably beautiful.”

Daniel didn’t respond.

Jason pressed on. “She is rumored to have been Viscount Dennison’s mistress. She had a very public row with him in Hyde Park. Even if half of it is untrue, the ton already believes it.”

Daniel studied the note once more, rolling the paper between his fingers.

Jason sighed. “A woman like that is not suitable for marriage.”

Daniel lifted a brow, his voice smooth. “I never said I intended to marry her.”

Jason stilled.

“I simply find her interesting when I do not find many things charming,” Daniel added.

Because the truth was …

He was undeniably intrigued. And that, perhaps, was far more dangerous than anything else.