Page 11 of The Dare Before Christmas

Barnaby shrugged. “From what I heard, the old duke and duchess stepped in and told Axton Hester was beneath him and he needed to remember his duty. Axton’s pa had betrothed him to some other duke’s daughter from the cradle, by all accounts. So they forced him to marry his father’s choice of bride. The lady in question didn’t like the arrangement any more than Axton did as it turns out. They were at daggers drawn until the day she died, and Axton and Hester never spoke again.”

“And he has loved her all these years,” Louis mused, considering Axton, who was snoring gently in the chair by the fire.

Aunt Hester was stabbing a needle into an embroidery hoop with rather more violence than was perhaps necessary, glowering at the duke at intervals.

“Well, now I don’t know about that. She’s only just begun speaking to him again and the two of them fight like cat and dog these days,” Barnaby said, shaking his head. “I don’t reckon my aunt ever forgave him. Can’t say I blame her, either.”

“Ah, but Barnaby, do you not remember hearing what Lady Bainbridge had to endure when she encountered her husband’s grandmother? The old harridan treated her most cruelly. I can only imagine how she would have dealt with her own son. I think perhaps you underestimate the pressure brought to bear upon Axton.”

“But if he loved her….” Barnaby protested.

Louis raised an eyebrow at him and smiled in such a way that Barnaby paused.

“What?”

“Mon ami, I think perhaps you should listen to your own advice before you make a terrible mistake.”

Barnaby scowled at Louis. “It’s not at all the same thing. I am not in love with the lady, nor her with me. I am being sensible and ensuring we do not get ourselves in such a… a bind, by stopping things before they begin.”

Louis sighed, giving him a look of such fond exasperation that Barnaby only felt increasingly irritated. “But the heart is not a sensible organ, Barnaby, and you cannot force it to do something it does not wish to. Perhaps this is something you must learn for yourself, though.”

“Oh, pack it in, Louis,” Barnaby said with a huff. “I’m not some green boy, you know. I promise you, I’m happier for you and Evie than I can say but I’ve had about all the romantic nonsense I can take for one day, thank you very much. I’m going to bed.”

With that, Barnaby downed what remained of his cognac, handed the empty glass back to his host, and bade everyone goodnight.

Chapter 3

Dearest Aggie,

I have finally been allowed to write to you again. You cannot know what agony it has been not to correspond with you or anyone else. Thank you so much for the letters you sent. I was even forbidden to read those for the first sennight after the ‘incident’, such was the depths of Papa’s fury. I have never seen him so angry, though I know of course it was because I scared him half to death. Unfortunately, it coincided with a rare visit from Pip, where he and Papa had rather a fierce row. We have hardly seen my brother of late, and he is so secretive I know my parents fear he is in trouble, but Pip will not ask for help, nor confide in Papa. I think this hurts Papa very deeply, but I hope he understands it is not a lack of trust, it’s just that none of us can bear to disappoint him. I can well imagine if Pip is in a fix, telling Papa will be the last thing he wants to do. Oh, Aggie, it is such a terrible thing to see that look in his eyes, far worse than his anger, which is always short-lived. Of course, Mama was upset—which makes Papa wretched too—and she begged Papa to intervene, which he will not do. He says Pip is a man and if he does not ask for help, he cannot take matters into his own hands, much as he would like to.

So, you see, my little adventure only added fuel to a fire already burning, and the results were hardly surprising.

Yet, for all the trouble I have caused, I do not regret it. The talking machine was so fascinating, but that was not the most thrilling part of my adventure, and it was an adventure, Aggie, but I dare not write it in a letter, dear friend. If ever I am allowed out of the house again, I shall tell all, but for now, I wish you the merriest of Christmases and a happy New Year.

―Excerpt of a letter to Miss Agatha de Montluc (adopted daughter of Louis César and Evie de Montluc, Comte et Comtesse de Villen) from Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington (daughter of The Most Hon’ble Lucian and Matilda Barrington, Marquess, and Marchioness of Montagu).

17th December 1844, Heart’s Folly, East Sussex.

The next morning the wind had dropped, and the residents of Heart’s Folly woke to a glorious winter’s morning. After breakfast, Torie stood on the front steps next to the dogcart and helped little Oscar feed a lump of sugar to the sturdy pony that was waiting patiently for the guests to gather. Though they weren’t going far, they would need the cart to bring back the Christmas tree and the larger boughs of greenery that would decorate the fireplaces. They had provided smaller baskets for gathering the mistletoe and holly. Torie brushed the lingering grains of sugar from her gloved fingers and picked her basket up as Henry gathered up his son.

Louis and Evie stood on the steps, dictating who was going with whom to gather what. Most everyone had already set out, and Torie’s heart fluttered as she still had not been directed and Mr Godwin had not yet appeared. Though they stood a little distance apart, with the pony between them, Victoria could still hear the conversation when he finally arrived outside.

“Barnaby, at last. I had almost given up hope,” Louis said, greeting his friend. “As you are finally here, you will collect mistletoe, please, and escort Lady Victoria.”

Torie’s heart skipped until she heard the gentleman’s response to this idea, which she ought to have expected. His irritation was quite audible.

“Louis, pack it in, now. You are not helping. There is no way on God’s green earth I am escorting that woman through the woods alone.”

“You’re not alone, Barnaby,” Evie protested. “We’re all going down there. Indeed, we shall walk with you, we were only waiting for you—”

“No.” His response was firm and unequivocal. “I do not wish to accompany the lady and that’s an end to it.”

Torie could not help but glance over at them, to see his expression as he said such a thing, and at that moment Evie noticed she was there.

“Oh, Torie, love,” she said, clearly horrified that Torie had overheard the exchange.

Torie’s cheeks burned. It was obvious Louis and Evie knew of her feelings and had been trying to help, which was sweet of them, but nonetheless mortifying in the circumstances. However, she was a duke’s daughter, and she knew how to behave in the face of embarrassment. She put up her chin and buried her hurt feelings.