Chapter 4
Acat startled and ran away when Alan stomped his boots upon entering the stable.
The thin blanket of snow that had fallen the night before seemed determined to stick to his feet.
One of the stable hands poked his head out of the stall he’d been mucking and quickly straightened and abandoned his pitchfork.
“Ho there, Owen,” Alan said, “where does your pa keep the saws and such?”
The boy’s nose crinkled. “I don’t think they be kept in here. Those’d be Mr. Lovell’s responsibility.”
Alan glanced over his shoulder toward the greenhouse. Of course the gardener would be the one with such tools. “I believe you are right.”
He turned to leave, but another thought struck him. “Owen, do you know if perchance the sleigh has been cleaned and greased for use?”
“That’s what me dah be doin’ just now. We need a bit more snow a for ye can use it though.”
“Indeed. I only meant to request its preparation if it had not been done, but it seems Mr. Ladd has preempted me as usual.”
Owen smiled and picked up his pitchfork. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again, his eyes darting to something behind Alan.
Snow crunched behind him and Alan whirled around, his arms up, hands at the ready. But at the sight of two tightly bundled ladies approaching, he lowered them.
“Lady Hamdon sent us to see if you are ready to hunt the best greenery.” Miss Prudence’s big grin and spry step indicated she was ready to be about the business.
It was no wonder Emma had sent the young woman to search him out.
In the time he’d known the younger Miss Lenning, he’d hardly seen her slow down.
She was in constant motion, flitting from one activity to another with not a care in the world.
Grace, on the other hand, stood perfectly still, waiting for his response. In the wake of her sister’s turbulent movements, she seemed to be the calming force. With a gentle hand to her sister’s forearm, Miss Prudence stilled.
He relaxed. “I am only retrieving the tools we need to cut the most festive branches. Then we will be off.”
“How will we carry them?” Grace asked.
Her question caught him off guard and he rubbed the back of his neck. He could not very well expect the ladies to haul so many heavy and awkward limbs back to Engalworth.
He spun around. “Owen, how do you feel about hunting holly?”
The young man tossed his pitchfork down and grinned. “I’d be happy to come along and help. Let me gather the hand sled and some rope.”
Alan rolled his lips inward and dropped his gaze to the ground.
Even Owen, a boy of fourteen, knew more of gathering greenery than he did.
In his defense, it had been nearly six years since he’d celebrated a Christmas at Engalworth.
Three years at war and another two spent at Lord Hamdon’s estate had kept him from facing the haunting memories of holidays past, joyful occasions when his father and mother had been alive and well.
Pain spread over his chest as it tensed at the thought of his father. He absentmindedly rubbed at the spot as he turned back to face the ladies. Grace’s head tipped to one side, and he dropped his hand.
“Are you feeling well?” she asked.
“I am. Only trying to remember if we have all that is needed.” It was not a complete lie, but it was the only part of the truth he was willing to share.
“I know everything we might need.” Miss Prudence bounced on her toes and clapped her hands. “A saw for the bigger limbs and whittling knives for the smaller. We also took along a set of shears for the smaller things such as mistletoe.” Her brown eyes danced at the last pronouncement.
Alan shifted from one foot to the other. Miss Prudence’s face held too much mischief for his liking. “Well, come along then. Let us find Mr. Lovell.”
After acquiring the needed tools from the gardener, they met Lord Hamdon and Mr. and Mrs. Lenning at the front of the house.
“Where is Emma?” Alan glanced back at the big oak doors.
Hamdon pulled at his hat until it covered his ears, then took his golden handled cane back from Mr. Lenning. “She decided to remain behind with George. He had a rough night, and she wished to give Nurse a respite.”
Alan nodded. Of course Emma would notice such things.
It was in her nature to think of everyone’s needs before her own.
His gaze traveled inadvertently to his brother-in-law’s bad leg.
They rarely talked about the hitch in his step, but Hamdon’s leg was not as stable as it had been before his accident two years ago. How would he handle the snow?
His brother-in-law glared at him, a challenge in his eyes. “Is there a problem?”
Alan decided not to question him. If Hamdon was comfortable walking in the snow, then he’d trust him.
“Not at all. Let us be off then.” He motioned for Owen to take the lead with all of their tools, hoping the young man would know the best places for gathering greenery.
Hamdon offered his arm to Miss Prudence and Mr. Lenning did the same for his wife, which left only Grace.
Odd how well that had worked out, but he’d not complain in the least.
Alan crooked his arm to her. With a small smile, she took it, and suddenly his day became a whole lot brighter.
Prudence led the way, dragging Hamdon in her wake. Thankfully, he seemed up to the challenge of keeping up with her exuberance. Mrs. Lenning covered a laugh as she whispered something to her husband.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Grace said as they followed the others.
He glanced down at her to see what she meant.
Her gaze wandered about the clearing in front of them.
The sun glinted off the pure white snow, hardly touched by creature or man.
Bits of ice clung to the bare branches of the trees beyond, except where a few evergreens dotted the grove.
The snow lay in heaps on their drooping boughs.
“It is indeed. Tell me, which season do you enjoy the most, Miss Lenning?”
“Whichever one it is at the time.”
He shook his head. “I suppose I should have guessed such an answer from you.”
“Why?”
“You seem to find delight in everything.”
“Not everything.”
“Really? Name one thing you do not find enjoyable.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it. Her nose screwed up in the most adorable way and her brow furrowed.
He congratulated himself. “See. You cannot.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No. I simply am not sure I wish to share it with you. What if you find me odd or ridiculous?”
“Now you have me intrigued. Tell me, is it beets? Do you have a loathing for those utterly disgusting vegetables?”
“No.” She giggled.
“No? If you can find something to like in beets, then you must truly be a saint.”
“I do not have a particular affinity for the vegetable, but there are much worse things in life.”
“Like what?”
She let out a sigh. “People… all day, every day.”
He chuckled, but she did not join him. He stopped and turned to her. Her chin was tucked and her lips pursed. She glanced up, then returned her focus to the ground. Poor woman looked like a whipped puppy. What was so bad about having social limits?
He leaned to the side, trying to catch her gaze. “You forget. I already know how much you enjoy your daily solitude.”
She peeked up at him. “I know, but Mother insists it’s quite rude that I’m always running off to be by myself. It’s exhausting to be constantly called upon to fill every waking hour with conversation for someone else’s entertainment.”
“I quite agree.”
She frowned. “You do not find it odd?”
“I do not think it strange at all. If so, then I am just as peculiar, for I love hours of quiet repose.”
Her brown eyes lit up with appreciation.
“How do you enjoy spending your quiet time?” Gently he gathered her fingers and returned them to his arm right where he liked them.
They walked slowly. Books seemed the consensus when one needed to regroup, and it did not surprise him that Grace also found playing her harp and drawing worthwhile pursuits. He tended to enjoy tallying his ledgers and whittling small toys for his nephew.
The rest of the group stopped at a few holly bushes and began cutting branches. Alan led Grace in their direction, but her foot must have caught on something, for she stumbled. He kept a tight grip on her arm, steadying her so she would not fall.
She giggled. “My thanks. I’m grateful not to be starting out this adventure with a face full of snow.”
He patted her hand, glad he could be the strong arm for her to rely on. “You are quite welcome. I am happy to provide you with a strong ar—”
With his next step, he slipped. The momentum of his fall pulled her down with him. Instinctively, he curled his arm around Grace, pulling her in front of him. She landed with a thud on his chest. Between the cold, hard ground and her impact, it took him several moments before he could draw breath.
“Are you alright?” she said, eyes wide as she stared down at him.
“Fine,” he wheezed.
She pushed off of his chest and he could finally inhale deeply. Her hand came up to brush a curl away from his face. “Are you sure? You look quite pale.”
The tender caress did nothing to help steady his breathing. His eyes raked over her. Most of her clothes were powdered with the fresh snow, but she appeared otherwise unharmed.
Steady footsteps sounded as Miss Prudence bounded over, but Grace held up a hand. “It’s slick, Pru. You must be very careful. Here, help me get Lord Gladsby up.”
So much for being the strong gentleman who saved the fair maiden.
Grace looped one arm under his neck and helped him rise into a sitting position.
He had an impish urge to act far more injured if only to get such personalized help from the little snow fairy next to him, but when Miss Prudence took hold of his hand to pull him to his feet, the spell was broken.
“Hold on, Pru. I think it might be better if we lift from under his arms.”
Alan pulled his hand back. “I believe I can rise on my own, thank you.” No need to bring them both down if his feet landed on the slippery spot again.
Placing one hand to his side and bringing a leg up under him, he began to rise.
But instead of stepping back, Grace placed a hand under his unused arm. He smiled.
By nature, she could not stand by without helping.
He’d seen it time and again over this last year.
Whether it was a neighbor who needed a friend, a sibling who could use a listening ear, or even a pup who’d lost its mother, she’d stepped in to save them.
The last thought sobered him as he reached his feet.
She’d fed and nursed that poor baby for weeks, but in the end, it had grown sick and died.
He still remembered her tears. Oh, how he wished he could have drawn her into his arms and comforted her then, but it was not his place.
“Trying your hand at making snow fairies?” Hamdon teased as he joined them. “There are easier ways, you know.”
Alan’s lips quirked up against his better judgment. It was best not to encourage his brother-in-law in his teasing, especially not with a friend around. He and Lenning were a force to be reckoned with when it came to wit.
“I’m not sure which ruined it more, his chaotic approach or his dismount from the snow,” Mr. Lenning added. “Perhaps he needs better instruction on proper snow fairy making.”
“Stop it, you two,” Grace said with a giggle. “Neither of us meant to land in the snow. Don’t come any closer or you will hit the patch of ice we slipped on.”
The two men grinned and went back to helping their respective partners cut greenery.
Grace swiped snow from the back of his coat. “You’ll have to forgive my brother. Leave it to him to find some sort of drollery in our misfortune.”
Alan’s back ached from its personal acquaintance with the ground, but with each brush of Grace’s hands the tension magically fled, freezing him in place as he submitted to her ministrations. He didn’t want to shift for fear she’d realize the intimacy of such a gesture.
As she moved to the front, their eyes caught. She stopped, her cheeks growing rosier than the cold had already made them.
Alan wanted to protest when she stepped back and cleared her throat. However, while he had enjoyed her assistance, he really needed to remember not to encourage such closeness. She was leaving in a few weeks to find her happily ever after; it was best not to complicate things.
Then she shifted closer. Reaching up, she gently removed something from his hair. His heart picked up speed with her closeness, but his mind went completely blank. The smell of vanilla floated in the air between them as her hand came down.
Pinched between her fingers, she held a small white berry. Not just any berry, though. It was mistletoe.