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The rain continued much of the afternoon, and since Colin didn’t fancy attempting muddy, rutted roads and perhaps rendering the coach stuck or breaking a wheel, he consented to linger, making use of their private dining room to relax. If they continued on later in the evening, they could still reach the next posting inn at midnight and remain on schedule to reach Lancaster Hall by Christmas Eve night.
Plenty of time to still win his father’s wager.
But the biggest surprise of the day was the congenial companionship the three of them enjoyed that afternoon, almost as if after clearing the air of his excess emotions it had somehow started them over with a fresh slate. He marveled, even speculated when, upon the times he’d caught Lucy’s eye, she offered him tentative smiles. Perhaps she didn’t hate him or think less of him as he’d previously thought she might.
He didn’t know how to feel about the change, but he wasn’t going to argue with it.
Colin sat reading a copy of The Times by the fire while Lucy taught Ellen how to embroider, which had required him to sacrifice another handkerchief. He hadn’t minded, for it afforded him the opportunity to see the ladies interact.
With their heads together and the firelight flashing off the embroidery needles and the ring of their laughter rendering a cheerful atmosphere to the shabby room, the walls around his heart cracked and began to crumble. This is what Ellen needed in her life, this gentle guidance and leading, this subtle encouragement on how to be an effective and helpful member of society, for among the conversation, Lucy provided quiet instruction on how a young lady should deport herself and act once achieving her Come Out.
Then his mind jogged to unmet dreams. Ellen could have been their child if fate hadn’t become skewed. Colin laid down his paper and stared at the two ladies, unseeing. What were Lucy’s children like? Did they resemble her or Jacob? An ache in his heart flared and he absently rubbed the skin above that organ. Jacob, his best friend and the man he’d never forgiven. What an arse he’d been over the years. It hadn’t been Jacob’s fault Lucy fell in love with him after Colin had acted like a spoiled fool.
If he had the opportunity to live those years differently, would he? In all honesty, probably not, for his stubborn determination had gained him a fortune in his own right. Those risks Lucy couldn’t envision sprouting into solid investments had landed him on solid footing, and he’d never once needed to rely upon his father’s coffers or his charity.
When Ellen’s trill of laughter echoed, followed by the more rich and full chuckles from Lucy, a sigh escaped him. He glanced at her, caught the gay flash in her eyes, the flush of the fire on her cheeks, the curve of her lips as she smiled at Ellen’s handiwork, he stifled a sigh. Lucy had grown into beauty as the years had marched on. Instead of the young, innocent girl’s body, she’d acquired womanly curves and experience, and she was no less appealing to him than she’d been all those years ago. In her laughter, she was the same lady he’d fallen in love with.
What would a child of theirs look like? All those years ago, when they’d innocently explored together in the forgotten garret of Lancaster Hall and had spoken of their dreams, they’d talked of children and of having a family. They’d built castles in the air before they’d known better, before the realities of life had intruded and made a mockery of those dreams, but Colin remembered. Did she? Perhaps it was pointless to wonder, for they were here, and though they both had children, they weren’t a family, but were merely traveling companions. Lucy had her life; he had his.
And he loved her still, but she’d made it clear there was nothing for them in the future.
The rain had let up in the early evening, and when Colin roused himself enough to tell the ladies to prepare for travel, Ellen surprised him.
“Papa, when I was in the common room earlier, I heard some of the guests talking of a winter festival in the village tonight—through Christmas actually—and I think it would be ever so much fun to attend.” She stared up at him with excitement roiling in her soft brown eyes. “May we go? There’s a band, and dancing, and food.”
“We really should return to the road...” He began in dubious tones, but when he glanced across the room and met Lucy’s gaze, and a spark of interest lit those depths, his resolve weakened. “Although, I don’t see the harm if we linger for another hour or so.” Ellen clasped her hands and gave a hop of glee. Colin smiled. “We shall resume our trip after that.” Surely the delay wouldn’t affect their arrival by the time demanded in his father’s letter. After all, he’d made certain there was an extra day to allow for travel complications.
“Truly?” Ellen asked with an expression of shock and pleasure.
“Yes, truly. Am I such an ogre, then, that this little thing gives you so much joy?” He tweaked her nose, much as he’d done when she was small.
Her giggle squeezed his heart. “No, but you haven’t been fun for a long time. This is surprising.”
Heat snuck up the back of his neck. “I vow to do better, my girl.” And he would, after his emotional-laden conversation with Lucy.
“I’m glad to hear it.” Then Ellen’s countenance grew concerned. She tilted her head to one side. “Are you feeling better?”
“Absolutely.” He gave the top of her head a gentle pat. “Do not worry over me. I am working toward being a better father for you, but you must practice patience. Miracles do not happen overnight.”
She rolled her eyes. “It is the Christmastide season. They surely do.” Then she left him to join Lucy who lingered near the fire. “We’re going to the festival in the village. Isn’t that amazing?”
“It certainly is... surprising,” she agreed with a look at him.
Colin grinned. He executed a half-bow. “I live to serve, and if I can make my girls... er, make my daughter smile, then all to the better.” What a green mistake, that slip of the tongue. He hadn’t any right to Lucy or her smile, but he’d damn well show her a good time in the hopes that something he did brought amusement to her.
Perhaps she’d remember...
Ellen gave him an inscrutable look, but finally, she nodded. “Are we dressed well enough?” She smoothed her hands down the front of her emerald green dress. “It’s hopelessly wrinkled, but I suppose you can order the luggage out...”
And have them changing become an hour-long production? Oh, no. “You both are splendid, beautiful even,” he said quickly. “Shall we away and discover the holiday wonders that await us at this winter fair?”
His daughter nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh, I have a feeling this jaunt will be the start of something amazing,” she said with all the excitement a fifteen-year-old girl could bring.
“I suppose we shall see,” he murmured as he once more peered at Lucy, who was busy packing away her embroidery supplies. I’m not hoping for amazing, but I’d settle for friendship.
Thirty minutes later, Colin and his party walked about the village festival. Some of the grounds were muddy, but they avoided the worst of it in favor of drawing closer to the lively music played by a five-piece, rag tag band in a covered gazebo. Lantern light and candles provided soft illumination and spots of golden color. Laughter and the happy buzz of conversation filled the air. Delighted cries and shouts from children rang out to punctuate the holiday spirit that clung to the whole scene.
The only thing missing was snow.
Here and there, wheeled carts and their vendors offered roasted chestnuts, cups of mulled wine, and other holiday delicacies. Colin gladly gave Ellen the required coin and told her to indulge herself as much as she’d like. She thanked him with a kiss to his cheek and then scampered away to explore the fair with shining eyes and rosy cheeks, as long as she promised to stay within eyesight.
With nothing else to do, Colin offered Lucy his arm. She’d been rather subdued ever since they’d arrived, and he aimed to pull out a smile or two, if he did nothing else. “Walk with me, Mrs. Ashbrook, while we watch the young people and remember our own irresponsible youth.”
Her lips almost curved into a smile, but after a moment or two of hesitation, Lucy put her hand through his crooked elbow. “We were hardly irresponsible.”
“You were most definitely not.” He glanced about the area and the gay antics of the village jugglers they walked past. Ellen had paused to buy a pastry from a cart vendor, and from the looks of the blush in her cheeks, the young man did his level best to flirt with her. No wonder, for she was a vision with her blonde ringlets and shining eyes. A sigh escaped him. “Ellen is nearly a woman. It happened so fast I’ve missed it.” How many times over the past years had he escaped into drink in an effort to numb himself to the memories and in the course of forgetting remained absent from the present?
“You are here for her life now. Don’t waste the second chance.” The hood of her navy cloak hid her face from his view. “She’ll need you more than ever during these years. Heaven knows my two keep me as busy as when they were young.”
“What are they like, your children?” Perhaps in learning about her life, he could find the key of rekindling that spark they’d used to enjoy.
“They bicker a good portion of the time.” A tiny smile curved her kissable lips. “I don’t suppose they’ll ever grow out of that.”
“Lord knows my siblings and I didn’t,” he said without thinking. “Or, we didn’t when I used to see them on a regular basis.” Surprisingly, he missed that aspect of his family, the friendly bantering, the good-natured teasing, the noise.
“I don’t know who was more horrible: your brother or your sisters,” Lucy agreed with a nod. “In my children’s case, Simon is the oldest, and since he considers himself the man of the house, he thinks it’s his duty to dictate what Beatrice should or shouldn’t do. For my daughter’s part, she’s too stubborn and independent for her own good, which vexes her brother.”
“She takes after her mother,” Colin said in a low voice. “Your father wasn’t best pleased when you developed a tendre for me, what he considered a wastrel with no future.”
Lucy remained quiet for long moments, and when he assumed she wouldn’t respond, she finally said, “Papa only wished to see me happy. He didn’t understand you.”
“Did you?” he asked softly, not daring to peek at her.
“Yes, I think I did on many levels.”
“But not the one that mattered most.” Instead of the bitterness that usually accompanied the remembrances of their past, a longing filled him, not for a return of those seemingly idyllic times, but for something more, something new.
Her hand tightened on his arm. “That was the past, and something I don’t wish to talk about at this time.”
“Fair enough.” He contented himself with escorting her through the festival grounds. When he offered to buy her sweets or foodstuffs, she refused every suggestion. Her smile never returned. Colin let her lapse into silence as he pored over how to give her back a portion of the happiness she’d returned to him after he’d bared his feelings. “You used to love Christmas, Lucy. It troubles me to see you so maudlin.”
“I do still enjoy the holiday, but now it’s shadowed by memories both good and bad. I...” She sighed. “I struggle with them all.”
So did he. There was small comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone. “That is life, though, don’t you think? It’s made more rich by all of those memories, more dear, and over time, the emotions attached will fade. They leave behind the lessons, the stories.”
She nodded. “Perhaps there has not been enough time, for the upcoming holiday will also come with its share of both.”
There was no more time for conversation, for Ellen joined them, just as the band prepared to play a new song. “Will you dance, Father?” Her eyes twinkled.
“I haven’t danced in years, love.” In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d danced. Certainly not with her mother.
She stopped short of stamping her foot. “How am I supposed to learn such a societal skill if you don’t show me?”
Colin tamped down the urge to roll his eyes. “I shall hire a dancing instructor you can learn from when you’re not in class.”
“That’s no fun,” she complained as the first strains of what sounded like a waltz sailed through the crisp winter air.
As the song continued, Lucy grew sadder until tears shone in her eyes.
Concerned, Colin peered into her face. “Why the need to become a watering pot? Have I said something untoward?”
“No.” She released her hold on his arm in order to dab at her eyes with the edge of her cloak. “This piece reminds me of Jacob. He gave me a music box after Simon’s birth. It played this waltz, but its springs cease to wind now. I...” The look she bestowed upon him shredded his heart. “I haven’t heard this song in many years.”
Inspiration struck. With a wink at Ellen, Colin gently propelled Lucy toward the gathering of people who danced as if on a grand floor of a ballroom. He encouraged the widow into his arms while his daughter looked on, her eyes wide, and without words he guided Lucy into the steps of the waltz while sliding one hand into hers and the other to the small of her back.
He’d lied before; he’d known exactly when he’d danced the last time. Seventeen years ago, that memorable Christmas with Lucy, they’d danced together in his father’s ballroom to a song very much like this one, and afterward, they’d slipped outside on the frost-gilded terrace, where he’d kissed her, uncaring if anyone saw them. In that moment only they two had existed.
He revisited that moment now, except they weren’t sharing a kiss.
Perhaps they didn’t need to. Lucy was in his arms again and for the moment, only they two existed as he twirled her around and around. They went through the steps of the waltz as if born to it, as if the years apart had never happened, as if it were still that magical Christmastide holiday and they had the whole of their future ahead.
Nary a word did he utter; Colin didn’t wish to destroy the fragile moment. She squeezed his fingers, tightened her hand upon his shoulder, and she held his gaze, all the while it felt as if she searched his very soul, for what he couldn’t fathom. Perhaps she’d find it in him this time. And finally, oh sweet heaven, finally her lips curved upward in a smile. She laughed and he did too. He continued to lead her through the steps of the waltz, their bodies fitting together like long-lost pieces of a puzzle, and with every movement, languid heat built from each point of contact.
By the time the song ended, they had stopped spinning and they rested near to Ellen’s position, he remained staring at her and she at him, and they’d yet to utter a single word between them.
There was something deep in Lucy’s eyes that called to him, that reminded him of the young girl he’d once known and loved, that invited him to discover the woman she was now. Colin had the sensation of falling, and he leaned closer to her, their lips nearly touching. It would be so easy to kiss her, claim that little victory, but he didn’t want it on the heels of her remembering her dead husband. At the last second, he pulled away, and Lucy lowered her lashes.
Ellen huffed. She looked at him with narrowed eyes, and he couldn’t fathom why she was so upset. Then her expression cleared and she bounced her attention between him and Lucy. “That looked ever so fun. It was so romantic.”
“It was a dance, Ellen,” he drawled, and affected a stance of nonchalance, but he knew one thing beyond every doubt: Lucy might think he was part of her past, but he wanted to find out if they have a future together. A woman didn’t look at a man as she’d done when the waltz concluded if she didn’t wish to explore that too.
And he’d do just about anything in this world to see a return of her smile, that tiny gesture that warmed him through and through, that made him think of snow and dancing and mistletoe... and hope.
“Well, if I ever am fortunate enough to dance like that, I’m sure you’ll spoil the whole thing and demand the boy looking at me as you did Lucy to leave the house,” Ellen said and yanked his attention back to the present.
He couldn’t help his grin even as heat crept up the back of his neck. The first few plops of raindrops hit his cheeks, but his ardor didn’t cool. “That is a discussion for another time, child.” Colin glanced at Lucy. A pretty blush had infused her cheeks and she offered him a tentative smile that tightened his chest.
“It was a lovely dance. Thank you, Colin. It improved my mood tremendously.” She lifted her face to the sky. A few drops of rain splashed onto her cheeks. “Perhaps we should start back to the inn. I don’t fancy getting soaked in this chill.”
“Agreed. If we can manage it, we’ll set out as soon as possible.” But part of him hoped the rain would keep on. More time in Lucy’s company outside the dratted confines of a traveling coach was all to the good.