Chapter 10 #2
“If he was, Jacob never spoke of it. He cheerfully did his duty to King and country without complaint.”
“You and he exchanged letters during that time?” Though his chest still twinged with jealousy, it wasn’t as acute as it once had been.
“Yes. Jacob’s letters were as vibrant and entertaining as Simon’s stories now. In many ways I came to know him more intimately through those letters than in all the years of Christmases at Lancaster Hall.” Her lips curved with a small smile. “I miss him.”
“Understandable.” Colin remained silent in the event she might open up and tell him what sat heavily on her heart and mind, but she didn’t expand her story. In the awkward silence, he drained the remainder of the liquid from his cup.
She drew in a breath and let it shudder out. “I miss Christmases that were uncomplicated, holidays that weren’t marred by so many sad memories.”
For once he and she were in perfect agreement. “Let us talk of the here and now. Perhaps we can infuse this Christmas with new, happier memories for the years ahead.”
She nodded, and when she lifted her limpid gaze to his, his chest tightened with the need to protect her, offer her solace from all the ills of the world. “I am giving Ellen the handkerchief I’m working on. It will be her Christmas gift.”
“Why?” Surprise hung on that one-word question. “You barely know her.”
“Except I’m beginning to know her through our trip together.
” This time Lucy’s smile widened. “She’s your daughter, and I’ve grown fond of her.
” Her gaze twinkled as it had in years’ past. “I shall see her on Christmas with you and your family, so it’s only natural I give her a little something to remember me by. ”
“That’s wonderful. Thank you for such a nicety.
Perhaps Ellen will learn a few of them from you before the holiday ends.
” He refrained from rubbing his chest over his aching heart.
Once they reached Lancaster Hall, would fortune shine upon him and gift him with time alone with Lucy?
Probably not, for his siblings and their broods would descend and he’d never have a moment to himself, Lucy notwithstanding.
He glanced at Ellen, who paged through her magazine.
Then he looked again at Lucy, who peered into her teacup. His heart squeezed.
I must make the best use of the time I do have with her.
For in the back of his mind, he hoped for a renewed chance.
“What of you?” he asked softly. “You spend so much time making certain everyone around you is taken care of. What is your hope for this Christmas?”
Emotion clouded her eyes, unreadable in the low light. “I wish to find peace, to find happiness in this new world I’m about to enter, one so different than what I’ve ever known that it leaves me breathless with fear every time I think about it.”
Daring much, Colin laid a hand over hers atop the simple pine table. “If anyone can do it, you can. You’ve always been strong, Lucy. It was one of the things that attracted me to you in the first place.”
Tears sprang into her eyes. “Oh, Colin…”
He rushed to provide her with a good memory to replace any bad ones she might be fighting with. “Remember when we all snuck copious cups of wassail punch that last Christmas we were all together?”
A snippet of laughter escaped her. “We were so tipsy we could hardly climb the stairs to our rooms.” She snorted. “You and Jacob held your liquor better than the rest of us though.”
“Practice, my dear.” But he hadn’t felt the urge for a drink since he’d purged his soul to her earlier that day. He and his friends and siblings had found everything funny that night, while the adults had been occupied at the ball.
The smile Lucy bestowed upon Colin warmed him through and through. “We were all a horrid handful back then.”
“And the best of friends.” How had he let that aspect of having siblings slide into rack and ruin after all these years?
“Yes. You and Jacob were the foundation of my life. When I lost you, I felt I would die, but when I lost Jacob…” The delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “…I wanted to do just that. These five years have been truly difficult because I no longer had a best friend.”
“I am here now.” Oh, but he wanted a return of that vaulted position in her life.
“Yes, perhaps you are.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. What exactly was she remembering? “You held my hair when I cast up my accounts in an antique vase on one of the staircase landings,” she finally said with a laugh that slid over his skin like satin.
Awareness of her prickled the hairs at his nape. He shared in her mirth. “Mother sacked a footman, thinking he’d committed such an egregious act.”
“Oh, poor man.” She placed her free hand atop his and gave his fingers a squeeze. Then she held his gaze. A trace of mischief lingered briefly in those icy depths. “You kissed me that night at my bedchamber door despite how vile I must have been.”
“You were upset.” He shrugged. “That kiss calmed you.” Though he’d brushed his teeth—twice—soon after.
“All of those memories aren’t so bad,” she finally said with a sigh.
“No.” Gently, he tugged his hand away and thereby removing some of the temptation she offered. “The trick is to pull out the good ones and let them temper the rest. Time will eventually remove the bad ones from circulation.”
“Thank you.” With a look of regret, Lucy stood. “I’m quite tired, so perhaps it’s best that I retire. We should probably set out as early as we can tomorrow morning.”
Colin rose as well. “Sweet dreams, Lucy.” For long moments after she’d left the room, he stared into his empty teacup. What to do now?