Chapter 9
Yesterday was Hogmanay, and Amanda realized that as much fun as she’d had with her family during the last week, she was anxious to move on. The south of France? Quebec?
Could she go to either of those places without Hiro? Would Alistair allow it?
She was on her way to his study to find out.
Because truthfully, honestly…she didn’t want to go to either of those places. Not now. Not yet. Not without him, and not this particular week.
No, there was somewhere else she wanted to be by January sixth.
Would Hiro be there?
Had he received her messages?
Taking a deep breath, Amanda knocked on the door to her brother’s study.
No answer.
She knocked again, louder, knowing that Alistair’s condition which had kept him mute for so long hadn’t affected his hearing in the least.
Finally, the door was yanked open…by Olivia. Amanda’s sister-in-law was patting her hair, her lips looking plumper than usual, and her cheeks red as if scraped by…
Amanda raised a sardonic brow. She knew well enough the delicious damage a man’s unshaven jaw could do to delicate skin. “Apparently I’m interrupting something important.”
From across the room came the sound of a heavy breath being released, Alistair’s equivalent of a laugh, but Olivia just rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, well, I need to proof tomorrow’s stories anyway, and your brother can be very distracting.”
“Distracting,” Amanda repeated teasingly as she stepped through the door. “I’ll take your word for it.”
To her surprise, Olivia reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good luck,” she whispered before she slipped out of the room.
Which left Amanda staring across the study at her brother, who was scowling and readjusting his collar as he settled back into his chair behind his desk.
Amanda lifted her chin and marched to one of the chairs opposite him. “I need your help coming up with a way to send Hiro eight milkmaids.”
Her brother’s hand fell to the desk and he huffed out his laugh again, lips curling up on one side. “Cheese instead?” he rasped.
Amanda cocked her head to one side and slowly nodded. “Eight wheels of cheese? Yes, that sounds delightfully ridiculous. I’ll have Smithers arrange it.”
Yesterday, in increasing desperation, she’d sent seven swans, an outrageously elaborate gift.
The day before, it had been six goose eggs, the largest York had available.
On the twenty-ninth, she’d sent him a set of bronze rings, interconnected in a clever puzzle, all polished to a golden sheen.
The day before that had been a trained colly bird.
Yes, there was definitely a theme.
If she didn’t hear from him by tomorrow, she was going to have to set in motion the plans to surprise his family home with a ballet troupe of nine dancing ladies.
Each day closer to the Epiphany, each day closer to the end of the Christmas season, she became more desperate. More desperate to show Hiro what he meant to her, more desperate to elicit a response from him. Was he sulking? Or did he honestly not care for her the way she cared for him?
Drat.
When she didn’t rise from the desk, Alistair raised a brow slowly, and it was her turn to sigh and slump. “I am…not certain it is working.”
“Nae word?” Although it was difficult to hear, as his whisper rasped past his ruined throat, Alistair’s voice still held a trace of the Scottish burr their father had spoken with.
“No word,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to her hands. “I…I am afraid he does not want to return.” Her eyes flicked to her brother’s. “To us.”
Because while Hiro might be the most important person in her world, he was her brother’s best friend. And she knew it was eating Alistair up that Hiro hadn’t visited.
And, although it had been an awkward conversation, now he at least knew why.
Her brother studied her thoughtfully, all irritation about her interruption seemingly gone. Finally, he reached for one of the ubiquitous pads of paper he kept around, for when he had a lot to say, and began to scribble.
When he placed it in front of her, his callused fingers holding it open to the correct message, Amanda leaned forward to read it.
You are worried he doesn’t love you? But he DOES. He’s spent the last three years following you like a love-sick pup.
Amanda shook her head. “He’s followed me because you pay him to do it. He said you just gave him a raise.”
Her brother’s expression froze in surprise, then he shook his head and wrote, his penmanship sloppy with haste:
I gave him a gift. I know he keeps you happy, I know you’re happy. I know he keeps you safe. We have enough money, why not give it to you two to live the way you want?
Her eyes had widened as she’d read—upside down—what he was writing, and now she sat back, her breath whooshing out of her. “A gift?” she whispered.
Alistair was scowling again when he glanced up and nodded sharply. “Aye,” he rasped as his pencil jabbed at the part about having enough money. “For both.”
Then, holding her gaze, he wrote in heavy letters, not even glancing at the paper:
Hiro is my friend.
And he loved him. Alistair was hurt by Hiro’s desertion, because he missed his friend, and wanted him to be happy.
Amanda’s breath had caught in her throat at the realization, and now she slowly pushed herself upright, eyes wide.
Alistair had been the one to help her think up all these ridiculous gifts she’d been sending to York, and since he was paying for them, couldn’t it be said the three chickens and seven swans and all the rest—those were gifts from Amanda and Alistair?
Trying to woo back a man who was important to both of them.
If he takes much longer, I might recruit nine of my colleagues and show up on his doorstep and start jumping around.
Ten lords a-leaping. Amanda felt her lips curl into a smile, knowing her brother would do no such thing. For one thing, he only had a half dozen friends, and it was impossible to imagine Demon or Kip jumping around, their kilts flapping in the winter breeze.
Thorne might do it, though.
But it was just an example of how much Hiro meant to Alistair. Time for Amanda to bare her soul.
“I love him,” she whispered. “I want a future with him.”
Her brother studied her for a long moment, then nodded, once.
“Good.”
Good.
Not You are a sister of a duke, and he is an immigrant’s son. Not You are worth so much more. Not even The two of you would not find a place to belong.
Just…Good.
Her brother, a man of few words, had given his blessing.
And Amanda’s heart soared.
“You mean it?” she whispered, her fingers curling around the arms of the chair, to hold her upright. “You would not be disappointed if I can talk him into marrying me?”
Alistair’s expression was hidden when he bent over the pad of paper, but she could guess what he was thinking from how deeply the pencil dug in as he wrote.
He should marry you because you’re wonderful. And because he cares about you.
“How do you know?” she whispered.
Her brother’s pencil paused, and when he lifted his gaze, one of his brows was cocked wryly. “Ye’re lovers.”
“Yes, but any man could…” Even as she said the words, Amanda was shaking her head. “No, not Hiro. Hiro does care for me, he must.”
Alistair nodded. “Too honorable. Too good.”
Hiro was too honorable to make love to her unless he cared for her.
Slowly, her expression eased into a smile. “He loves me,” she whispered.
“Aye,” her brother rasped, and tapped his pencil against the paper. “Get him…admit it.”
How? “Eight wheels of cheddar cheese?” Amanda asked dryly. “I imagine if the seven swans did not overwhelm him, then—”
A knock on the door interrupted her, but unlike her, Smithers didn’t wait for an invitation. “A telegram, Your Grace,” he intoned as he stepped through, carrying a silver platter.
Amanda’s brother sighed, holding out his hand impatiently, but the elderly man merely clicked his tongue. “A telegram for Lady Amanda, Your Grace.”
Her heart simultaneously leapt and froze in her chest, hope and fear warring for dominance.
The shaking of her hand was almost imperceptible as she reached for the paper, but when she opened it, the hard block in her ribs eased, melting into joy…for the first time in weeks.
FOR THE LOVE OF SHITE MANDY STOP. I’LL SEE YOU ON THE 6TH STOP
Her lips slowly curled.
It was unsigned, but there was only one person who called her Mandy.
For the love of shite, Mandy, stop.
Her—their—campaign of ridiculousness had finally convinced Hiro of her intentions. She wasn’t going to forget him just because she was among her family. She wasn’t going to stop loving him just because he’d hidden himself away in York.
I’ll see you on the sixth.
The sixth of January was the Epiphany.
The Epiphany was the end of the Christmas season
Hiro knew where she would be on the sixth, and now she had her brother’s blessings to go to him.
Hearthwell-on-Cozing.
Hearthwell, and the legend of the well which would grant them happiness.