Page 71 of A Winter Scandal

Daniel, too, appeared somewhat wary as he greeted Rawdon, but when the man offered him a bottle of the inn’s best brandy, Daniel thawed a good deal and invited Rawdon back to his study to sample some of the drink. Thea took Damaris’s pelisse and muff and led her into the sitting room, where the Yule log was still burning merrily.

“I nearly swallowed my tongue when Lord Rawdon told me he was coming here,” Damaris said quietly, leaning in closer to Thea. “Whatever possessed you to invite him?”

“I’m not sure. Daniel was rather taken aback by it as well. But I—it just seemed the proper thing to do on Christmas. Was he rude to you?”

Damaris considered the idea for a moment, then shook her head somewhat tentatively. “Not rude, really. It’s just—his eyes are so cold and, I don’t know, watchful. I haven’t the slightest notion what he’s thinking, which is a bit annoying. There is something about him that makes me want to take him down a peg.” She chuckled. “Terrible of me, I’m sure.”

“He is arrogant, there’s no denying that. But I think perhaps he may not be quite the villain Gabriel believes him to be.” Thea related the story of Matthew’s abduction and Lord Rawdon’s attempt to help.

“He rode out in that storm to look for him?” Damaris raised her eyebrows. “That is impressive, especially given the way Lord Morecombe feels about him.” She paused. “Do you think he is not the baby’s father?”

“I don’t know. It is hard to escape the similarity of their coloring, but, as he pointed out, there are other men with blond hair and blue eyes, and Matthew’s hair is not quite as pale as Lord Rawdon’s. Nor are his eyes the same shade of blue.”

“Few are. Rawdon’s are like ice.” Damaris gave a little shiver. “And, of course, babies’ eyes often change color as they grow older.”

“Last night, when Lord Rawdon looked at the baby, there was something in his eyes. Not affection, really, but more sorrow, perhaps, or loneliness. I’m not sure; it was quite fleeting, and perhaps I am refining too much on it. But I felt it would be wrong of me to let him sit at the inn alone on Christmas after he had tried to help us find Matthew.”

“Quite right, I’m sure. But tell me the rest of it. I presume you must have found the babe.”

“Yes, and took him away from the dreadful man who abducted him. But the man escaped.”

“Thank heavens you were able to find him and bring him back in that storm.”

“Yes, it was quite fortunate.” Thea decided not to correct her friend’s assumption that they had returned with the baby during the storm. She trusted Damaris to keep her secret; there was no one she trusted more. But she found that she did not want to reveal anything about her time with Gabriel, not even to her dearest friend. She simply wanted to keep this close to her heart.

The meal went off more smoothly than Thea had expected. While the two men had been sampling the brandy and the wassail, Daniel had discovered that Lord Rawdon’s ancestral home was not far from Hadrian’s Wall. There were, Daniel told them, his gray eyes sparkling, even remains of a Roman fort on Rawdon’s property. That had been enough to establish the Earl as a valued guest in the vicar’s eyes.

They had barely finished eating and were still sitting at the table, talking, when a cannonade of noises erupted in the street outside.

“What in—” Rawdon’s eyebrows arched.

Thea chuckled. “I think the children must be parading.”

“The children?”

“Yes. Do they not do this in your town? On Christmas, all the children go through the streets banging on drums—or pots or whatever they can get their hands on to make a fine noise. Usually they do it earlier in the morning. Perhaps the weather slowed them down.”

She went to the window, and the others joined her to watch the children rattling by in a ragged procession. The boy in front carried a much-worn little drum strapped around his neck, and he beat it with more enthusiasm than rhythm. Behind him, in more or less a line, children hopped and skipped, some tooting little horns, others banging away on drums and pans with sticks or their hands or whatever they happened to have. They made their way down to the church and started back up the road.

“It is almost time for the morris dancers,” Thea said.

“Do they dance here?” Rawdon asked.

“Yes, on the road in front of the church. There’s room, you see, for people to stand and watch here by the churchyard,” Daniel explained.

“Well.” Lord Rawdon offered a faint smile. “We certainly should not want to miss this.”

They all bundled up and went outside, including Lolly and the baby and their guard, Peter, who had been having their own Christmas feast in the kitchen with Mrs. Brewster and her husband. Outside they found a number of villagers who had already congregated in the area in front of the bridge to the church, and more people were arriving by the moment, gathering on either side of the road. Thea greeted several people she knew and waved to others who were too far away to speak to.

Thea glanced over at Lord Rawdon, who was standing a little apart from the rest of them, a faintly bemused look on his face. Thea wondered what he was thinking. Thea turned to check on Lolly and Matthew, as she had been doing every few minutes since the family came outside. She wondered how long it would take for her to get rid of the worry that Matthew would suddenly disappear.

A ragged cheer arose from the crowd, and Thea glanced up the road toward the center of town. A group of men were marching toward them along the road, all wearing white, full-sleeved shirts and bright green vests. Green ribbons were tied around their upper arms, the loose ends fluttering. More green ribbons, as well as a band of jangling bells, were tied just above the knees of their breeches. Each man carried a short staff. Despite the cold, none wore jackets. They had been, Thea was sure, fortifying themselves with alcohol at the inn and perhaps at homes along the way, and they were well warmed. When the dance was over, Thea knew that Daniel would offer them refreshment from his own wassail bowl.

The dancers acknowledged the crowd’s cheers with friendly shouts and waves of their cudgels. They formed two lines, and as three of their compatriots played a lilting tune on pipes and a drum, the men started their traditional dance. They danced forward and back, stamping their feet and knocking their staffs against the ground and against each other’s staff, all in an intricate arrangement of steps. The infectious enthusiasm in their movements, cheerful and noisy, was hard to resist. When Thea glanced at Lord Rawdon, she saw that even he was smiling.

She was glad she had invited him. The day was turning out better than she had hoped. If only … but, no, she told herself firmly, she would not take away from her happy mood by thinking about how Gabriel was not here to share the day with her.

Just as she thought it, Thea glanced up and saw an elegant carriage making its way down the street, driven by a coachman in full livery. Only one party around here could be arriving in such a fine equipage, she knew, and Thea’s heart swelled in her chest. Gabriel was here.