Ordered Home for the Holidays

Chapter One

“Shall we go in, my lord?” Lord Anthony Webster’s friend and business partner, Jonathan Tilly, questioned.

He scowled at the man who’d been by his side since he’d left England for the Kingdom of Bohemia five years ago. It was a region that had gone through sporadic turmoil, but Anthony had found himself there. “Don’t call me that, Jon.”

His friend smirked. “My father is the land steward for your brother. Our places in society are very different now that we are home.”

Anthony had once cared about titles, but years of traveling abroad and working side by side with Jon and the men they employed in their overseas investments changed that. “Not any longer. I’ve informed my mother that your family will be joining us for the Christmas festivities.”

A chuckle escaped Jon. “We’ve not even arrived, and you are scandalizing your family.”

“We are friends. Bloodlines matter not to me.”

Truthfully, Anthony once believed his family lineage had somehow made him superior. Now he realized how foolish such notions were. He’d changed so much since his departure. He swallowed, wondering if she’d changed too.

“We can leave. You owe your brother and Lillian nothing.”

He knew Jon was right. Still, Anthony, over the last year, had missed England.

Hell, he’d missed his family. His square jaw clenched.

He even missed the brother who’d betrayed him.

Anthony frowned. Was it a betrayal? Or had his pursuit of Lillian been foolish all those years ago?

Memories of his childhood hadn’t been far from his mind of late.

Yet, he seldom thought of Lillian, the woman who influenced his departure from England.

“No, I want to see everyone.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell them about the investments?”

He shook his head. Anthony preferred to let his family assume he was a rake living a life of vice on the Continent. “It isn’t their business.”

Jon sighed. “As you wish.”

Anthony's gaze turned back to the enormous estate that he and his brother had spent their childhood at. Now, his brother, the Duke of Webster, controlled it all. He tried to remind himself that he and Philip had been close once. He shouldn’t despise him.

He took the woman you thought you’d wed, his mind taunted.

A phaeton carriage turned towards the estate on a road further up, careening down the dirt road as if being chased by the hounds of hell. The woman driving the open-top carriage laughed as she raced onward, her unruly brown hair blowing in the wind.

Anthony would know that laughter anywhere. Some things apparently didn’t change. Jon chuckled. “It is good to see Harriet is still her normal self. I’d assumed she’d be married by now.”

“No one would marry that hellion,” he muttered.

Jon grinned. “It is strange how different she and Lillian are.”

Anthony supposed, but he imagined people could say the same about him and Philip.

Still, seeing Harriet being her usual self at least partially broke the black mood he was in.

She’d been a nuisance growing up. The woman, at least as a child, didn’t know how to avoid causing trouble.

Wherever she went, chaos occurred—spilt tea at her mother’s garden party, a shattered ice sculpture at her first ball, and a stampede of hogs through his family’s country gardens were only a few he remembered.

Anthony rubbed at the scar along his chin. The damn hogs had nearly killed them all. He’d pushed Harriet out of the way when one charged her in the Webster’s expansive gardens. He'd struck his chin on a statue, leaving a scar.

He surveyed the entire area around Webster Hall.

Anthony had missed this place, confirming it had been time to return home.

Memories of him, Philip, Jon, Lillian, and Harriet racing through the fields flashed in his mind.

They’d all grown up together. Philip had been the oldest, but only by a year.

He and Jon were the same age. Lillian had been two years younger than them, and Harriet a year younger than her.

They were all much older now. Anthony was twenty-nine and a bachelor.

His mother had written that Lillian was with child after many years of uncertainty for her and Philip about whether it was possible.

That had been one reason Philip constantly asked him to return.

He wanted him to be prepared to succeed him as the heir.

Anthony didn’t want any part of the dukedom. Jon smacked him on the back, taking him away from his thoughts. “I will go visit my father and mother, but I will see you later in the week.”

He nodded and watched his friend ride off. Anthony was finally home. He would stay for Christmas and be happy for Philip and Lillian. He could do that. A sigh escaped him before he galloped towards his brother’s ducal estate.

***

Lady Harriet Barstow smiled at the butler as she stepped through the front doors of Webster Hall. “My ride was so refreshing, Smith.

He smiled back at her in amusement. “Your mother caught sight of you in your phaeton.”

She grimaced, knowing that meant a lecture was in her future. Harriet winked at the older man. “Thank you.”

Smith chuckled and shook his head. She’d known him forever. Her family’s estate was less than a mile from Webster Hall. Before Lillian became the duchess, Harriet and her sister visited often. Their mother and the dowager duchess were the dearest of friends.

Even though they were less than a mile away, she and her mother were currently residing at Webster Hall for Christmas. They did this every year since Lillian married Philip, but this time drama was afoot. The missing Lord Anthony Webster would be home for all the festivities.

He’d been gone for almost five years—since Lillian and Philip married.

Anthony had departed England with hurt feelings.

Her sister and Philip had been secretly in love for years, but Philip had insisted she have at least one Season.

Unfortunately, Anthony, during Lillian’s first Season, decided he fancied her.

Truthfully, most men who encountered her sister during her debut had immediately become smitten.

Lillian had been a smashing success in London. She suspected even Jon had looked at her differently for a moment. Harriet should resent Lillian for her looks and perfect bearing, but her older sister, by barely a year, was too sweet for her ever to feel that way.

Harriet stepped into the drawing room to find Lillian, her mother, and the Dowager Duchess of Webster, Sarah, enjoying tea and chatting. Her mother’s eyes immediately flared with annoyance. “I spotted you practically flying in that little buggy of yours. You could have been hurt.”

Harriet sat next to Lillian, who smiled at her apologetically. Again, her sister was a saint that no one, not even Philip, truly deserved. “I’m sorry, Mother. I will try to slow down. Sometimes the excitement of being able to go so fast gets the better of me.”

“It isn’t ladylike,” her mother said, exasperation laced in her words.

“Mother, I’m away from London and the gossipers; no one out here cares what I do. There are no suitors that I need to impress with my ladylike abilities.”

Her mother and Sarah glanced at each other guiltily. What were the two of them up to? Their gazes flicked back to her, both fidgeting nervously, and alarm-filled Harriet. She tried to push it away. It wasn’t as if they could drag her off to more balls or other society events during the holidays.

Not that it mattered, Harriet was twenty-six and firmly on the shelf. Lillian leaned forward, studying Harriet’s necklace. “When did you get that? It is beautiful.”

She grinned at her sister, grateful that she had changed the subject. “Thank you. I found it in a shop in London.”

Her mother sighed. “You love those garnets.”

“I do,” Harriet confirmed.

They were such beautiful stones. They were all the rage, but she didn’t like them for the same reason most of society did.

The gossipers were enthralled by the fact that an anonymous Englishman had invested in garnet mines in Bohemia and was making a fortune.

Yet, no one knew who it was. Adding more intrigue, the mystery man was also using some of his fortune to build a hospital and children’s home in Devil’s Acre, one of the most downtrodden, notorious neighborhoods in London.

The unknown do-gooder didn’t seem to want any gratitude or attention for it. The London papers had tried their best to discover who he was but had yet to learn his name.

“I wonder if Anthony will know who the King of Garnets is?” her mother pondered.

Harriet rolled her eyes at the silly name the papers called the mysterious man. Anthony’s mother, Sarah, sighed, “From what I’ve gleaned from Anthony’s letter, his focus is on entertainment, not business.”

Lillian looked down, wringing her hands. Harriet knew she felt bad for choosing Philip over Anthony. She shouldn’t. Her sister and Philip loved each other deeply. Harriet squeezed her sister’s hand reassuringly.

From everything she read in the gossip sheets, Anthony was enjoying himself.

No one should feel bad for him. Growing up, Harriet had always found Anthony a tad annoying, or rather, his amusement in what he called her antics.

Whenever she was around him, chaos seemed to happen.

He always acted as if it were her fault. It was not.

She couldn’t help but be curious. Sometimes, Harriet just had to touch something or understand how an object worked. It didn’t always end well. Still, he constantly watched her with alarm; it was insulting.

Smith entered the room and announced to Sarah, “A rider is approaching. I believe it is your son, Your Grace.”

Sarah rose excited. “Anthony is finally home. Where is Philip?”

Lillian rose. “He is in the study. I will fetch him.”

Smith attempted to protest, and she shook her head. “I’m with child, Smith; not incapacitated.”

The Webster rake was finally home. Harriet rolled her eyes as her mother, Abigail, and Sarah paced excitedly. She sat in a wingback chair, not nearly as elated as they were. Truthfully, she suspected it was going to be a long holiday.