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Keyworth House

Mayfair, London

23 December 1820

Half of four

One hand holding the lace curtain to the side, Lenora turned from the bay window as Teeven entered the drawing room with a tea tray. Though Christmas was but two days away and nearly every room in Keyworth House had been beautifully decorated to celebrate the holiday, she couldn’t summon an ounce of Christmas spirit.

“Come, Lenora,” Mama coaxed, holding up a plate of gingerbread. Her bright smile didn’t eliminate the troubled crease between her eyebrows. She was worried about Lenora. “I asked Mrs. Cox to make your favorite.”

The mouth-watering aroma of warm gingerbread cake—spices and molasses—wafted across the room. Mama, Landry, and Celestia had done their utmost to lift her spirits since the ball when she’d bid Jason farewell.

She’d nearly blurted her love for him while they danced.

Thank God she had not.

Lenora still believed it was for the best that they go their separate ways. That didn’t mean every breath didn’t cause a stab of pain to her heart or that this was the first Christmas in her memory—even when she and Mama had been poor as paupers—that she didn’t anticipate the holiday.

“I’ve heard whispers of a Frost Fair in January,” Celestia said as Landry helped her onto the settee. The child within her grew, and she struggled to sit and stand, so large was her tummy.

“I have too.” Giving her a stern look, he said, “You’ll be permitted nothing more strenuous than a docile sleigh ride.”

Landry took the seat beside his wife and snatched a Shrewsbury cake. He made short work of the sweet.

“Lenora, come away from the window. It’s too cold,” Mama prompted.

The temperature was biting, but they were snug inside the house, and the cold affected them little. Of late, Mama’s protective tendencies had become almost cloying. More than once, Lenora had bitten her tongue against an urge to tell her mother to stop fussing so much. In a fortnight, she’d be one-and-twenty.

It was time Mama and Landry allowed her more autonomy. After all, if she was strong enough to permit the man she loved his freedom, then she was assuredly able to assert more independence.

Now, however, wasn’t the time for that discussion. Not with Christmas looming in a couple of days. Marshaling a smile for the others, Lenora let the curtain fall into place once more. It was snowing again.

“You must permit me to teach you to skate.”

Not so very long ago, she’d believed she and Jason might, somehow, make a life together. Foolish her. Jason had never declared himself. He’d been a charming and deucedly handsome companion, and she’d foolishly imagined there was something more between them.

Even if there had been, Lenora loved Jason too much to ask him to give up his life upon the sea or live in England. His happiness meant more than her own.

She’d just settled onto the cushion beside her mother when a ruckus in the corridor had them all looking toward the drawing room’s entrance.

“Are we expecting anyone for tea today, darling?” Landry asked Celestia.

Creases puckering her brow, she shook her head. “No. The weather is too foul for anyone with any sense to venture outdoors.”

“I say, you cannot!” Teeven declared, just short of a bellow.

The distinct sound of flesh upon flesh filtered into the room.

What in heaven’s name?

Her face pinched with worry, Mama brought a hand up to her neck. “Whatever is happen—?”

Jason burst through the doorway, fists balled, his coat disheveled, and his face flushed. His chest rose and fell swiftly, and he panted slightly as if he’d sprinted from the front of the house, up the stairs, and to the drawing room.

Halfway into the room, he swung about to face the door.

Teeven, sporting a bruised cheek and eyes flashing with outrage, charged inside. He stumbled to a stop upon seeing Lenora and the others gaping, open-mouthed.