By Winter's Light: A Cynster Novel E-Book

Stephanie Laurens

• Herausgeber: NYLA
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 381

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

#1 New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Laurens returns to romantic Scotland to usher in a new generation of Cynsters in an enchanting tale of mistletoe, magic, and love. It's December 1837 and the young adults of the Cynster clan have succeeded in having the family Christmas celebration held at snow-bound Casphairn Manor, Richard and Catriona Cynster's home. Led by Sebastian, Marquess of Earith, and by Lucilla, future Lady of the Vale, and her twin brother, Marcus, the upcoming generation has their own plans for the holiday season. Yet where Cynsters gather, love is never far behind—the festive occasion brings together Daniel Crosbie, tutor to Lucifer Cynster's sons, and Claire Meadows, widow and governess to Gabriel Cynster's daughter. Daniel and Claire have met before and the embers of an unexpected passion smolder between them, but once bitten, twice shy, Claire believes a second marriage is not in her stars. Daniel, however, is determined to press his suit. He's seen the love the Cynsters share, and Claire is the lady with whom he dreams of sharing his life. Assisted by a bevy of Cynsters—innate matchmakers every one—Daniel strives to persuade Claire that trusting him with her hand and her heart is her right path to happiness. Meanwhile, out riding on Christmas Eve, the young adults of the Cynster clan respond to a plea for help. Summoned to a humble dwelling in ruggedly forested mountains, Lucilla is called on to help with the difficult birth of a child, while the others rise to the challenge of helping her. With a violent storm closing in and severely limited options, the next generation of Cynsters face their first collective test—can they save this mother and child? And themselves, too? Back at the manor, Claire is increasingly drawn to Daniel and despite her misgivings, against the backdrop of the ongoing festivities their relationship deepens. Yet she remains torn—until catastrophe strikes, and by winter's light, she learns that love—true love—is worth any risk, any price. A tale brimming with the magical delights of a Scottish festive season. A Cynster novel – a classic historical romance of 71,000 words. "Stephanie Laurens' heroines are marvelous tributes to Georgette Heyer: feisty and strong." Cathy Kelly

Leseprobe

BY WINTER’S LIGHT

A CYNSTER NEXT GENERATION NOVEL

STEPHANIE LAURENS

This e-book is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be sold, shared, or given away.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BY WINTER’S LIGHT

Copyright © 2014 by Savdek Management Proprietary Limited

ISBN: 978-0-9922789-6-0

Cover design by Savdek Management Pty. Ltd.

Cover artwork © 2014 Doreen Minuto

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

First electronic publication: November, 2014.

Reissued electronic publication: February, 2019.

Savdek Management Proprietary Limited, Melbourne, Australia.

www.stephanielaurens.com

Email: [email protected]

The names Stephanie Laurens and Cynster, and the SL Logo, are registered trademarks of Savdek Management Proprietary Ltd.

Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

About By Winter’s Light

Cast Of Characters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Also by Stephanie Laurens

About the Author

ABOUT BY WINTER’S LIGHT

#1 New York Times bestselling author Stephanie Laurens returns to romantic Scotland to usher in a new generation of Cynsters in an enchanting tale of mistletoe, magic, and love.

It’s December 1837 and the young adults of the Cynster clan have succeeded in having the family Christmas celebration held at snow-bound Casphairn Manor, Richard and Catriona Cynster’s home. Led by Sebastian, Marquess of Earith, and by Lucilla, future Lady of the Vale, and her twin brother, Marcus, the upcoming generation has their own plans for the holiday season.

Yet where Cynsters gather, love is never far behind—the festive occasion brings together Daniel Crosbie, tutor to Lucifer Cynster’s sons, and Claire Meadows, widow and governess to Gabriel Cynster’s daughter. Daniel and Claire have met before and the embers of an unexpected passion smolder between them, but once bitten, twice shy, Claire believes a second marriage is not in her stars. Daniel, however, is determined to press his suit. He’s seen the love the Cynsters share, and Claire is the lady with whom he dreams of sharing his life. Assisted by a bevy of Cynsters—innate matchmakers every one—Daniel strives to persuade Claire that trusting him with her hand and her heart is her right path to happiness.

Meanwhile, out riding on Christmas Eve, the young adults of the Cynster clan respond to a plea for help. Summoned to a humble dwelling in ruggedly forested mountains, Lucilla is called on to help with the difficult birth of a child, while the others rise to the challenge of helping her. With a violent storm closing in and severely limited options, the next generation of Cynsters face their first collective test—can they save this mother and child? And themselves, too?

Back at the manor, Claire is increasingly drawn to Daniel and despite her misgivings, against the backdrop of the ongoing festivities their relationship deepens. Yet she remains torn—until catastrophe strikes, and by winter’s light, she learns that love—true love—is worth any risk, any price.

A tale brimming with all the magical delights of a Scottish festive season. A Cynster Next Generation novel – a classic historical romance of 71,000 words.

Praise for the works of Stephanie Laurens

“Stephanie Laurens’ heroines are marvelous tributes to Georgette Heyer: feisty and strong.” Cathy Kelly

“Stephanie Laurens never fails to entertain and charm her readers with vibrant plots, snappy dialogue, and unforgettable characters.” Historical Romance Reviews

“Stephanie Laurens plays into readers’ fantasies like a master and claims their hearts time and again.” Romantic Times Magazine

Praise for By Winter’s Light

"Scents of pine, cinnamon, and yule log smoke (plus some nostalgia and a dash of magic) waft from the pages of this heart-warmer that adds another chapter to this popular, long-running series." Library Journal.

"Laurens introduces young Cynsters within the context of a lovely, touching romance. Many characters and several plot lines will keep readers engaged and - best of all- this is an opportunity to catch up with all your favorite Cynsters. An enjoyable, warm-hearted holiday story." Romantic Times.

"Details of the customs and traditions of the time enrich this delightful tale that includes a dash of adventure and an intriguing glimpse at new romances in the offing. Observing this very popular dynasty enjoying themselves and the sea on makes for wonderful, heart-warming holiday reading." Bookpage.com

"As usual, the warmth and caring, and the affection as well as passion that characterizes this phenomenal family is beautifully conveyed and it was delightful to see where some of my favorite Cynsters are at this stage of their lives. Intriguing tendrils have been dangled for future interactions between several of the younger generation and I look forward to reading more about them. A delightful seasonal tale that provides the reader with both a lovely romance and a vivid look at the traditions of the time." NightOwlReviews.com

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Richard and Catriona Cynster’s household at Casphairn Manor, December 1837:

Lord Richard Cynster, aka Scandal - married to Catriona, half-brother to Devil, Guardian of the Lady.

Catriona, Lady Cynster, Lady of the Vale - married to Richard, mother of their five children

Lucilla Cynster - eldest child of Richard and Catriona, twin to Marcus, future Lady of the Vale - 17years old

Marcus Cynster - eldest son, twin to Lucilla, future Guardian of the Vale -17 years old

Annabelle Cynster - second daughter of Richard and Catriona - 14 years old

Calvin Cynster - second son of Richard and Catriona - 11 years old

Carter Cynster - third son and youngest child of Richard and Catriona - 10 years old

Oswald Raven - tutor to Richard Cynster’s sons, confirmed bachelor

Melinda Spotswood, Miss - governess to Richard and Catriona’s daughters, confirmed spinster

Algaria - Catriona’s ageing mentor

McArdle - ancient retired butler of the manor

Polby - current butler of the manor

Broom, Mrs. - housekeeper at the manor

Cook - just that

Cynster families visiting for the holidays:

Lady Helena Cynster, Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, Her Grace - matriarch of the clan, Devil’s mother

Lord Sylvester Cynster aka Devil, Duke of St. Ives, His Grace - married to Honoria

Lady Honoria Cynster, Duchess of St. Ives, Her Grace - married to Devil, mother of their three children

Lord Sebastian Cynster, Marquess of Earith - eldest son of Devil and Honoria - 18 years old

Lord Michael Cynster - second son of Devil and Honoria - 17 years old

Lady Louisa Cynster - only daughter, third and youngest child of Devil and Honoria - 14 years old

Spencer Cynster, aka Vane - cousin of Devil, brother of Demon, married to Patience

Patience Cynster - married to Vane, mother of their four children, sister to Gerrard Debbington

Christopher Cynster - eldest son and eldest child of Vane and Patience - 17 years old

Gregory Cynster - second son of Vane and Patience -16 years old

Therese Cynster - third child and only daughter of Vane and Patience - 14 years old

Martin Cynster - third son and youngest child of Vane and Patience) - 11years old

Samuel Morris - tutor to Vane and Patience Cynster’s sons, confirmed bachelor

Harry Cynster aka Demon - brother of Vane, cousin of Devil, married to Felicity

Felicity Cynster aka Flick - married to Demon, mother of their four children

Prudence Cynster - eldest daughter, eldest child of Demon and Flick - 16 years old

Nicholas Cynster - eldest son of Demon and Flick - 15 years old

Tobias Cynster aka Toby - second son of Demon and Flick - 11 years old

Margaret Cynster - second daughter and youngest child of Demon and Flick - 10 years old

Rupert Cynster aka Gabriel - brother of Lucifer, cousin of Devil, married to Alathea

Alathea Cynster - married to Rupert, mother of their three children

Justin Cynster - eldest son, eldest child of Rupert and Alathea - 16 years old

Juliet Cynster - eldest daughter and second child of Rupert and Alathea - 14 years old

Henry Cynster - second son and youngest child son of Rupert and Alathea - 13 years old

Claire Meadows, Mrs.aka Medy, - widow, governess to Gabriel and Alathea’s daughter, has turned her back on marriage

Alasdair Cynster aka Lucifer - brother of Gabriel, cousin of Devil, married to Phyllida

Phyllida Cynster - married to Alasdair, mother of their five children

Aidan Cynster - eldest son and eldest child of Alasdair and Phyllida - 16 years old

Evan Cynster - second son of Alasdair and Phyllida - 15 years old

Jason Cynster - third son of Alasdair and Phyllida - 11 years old

Lydia Cynster - eldest daughter and fourth child of Alasdair and Phyllida - 10 years old

Amarantha Cynster - second daughter and youngest child of Alasdair and Phyllida - 8 years old

Daniel Crosbie - tutor to Lucifer and Phyllida Cynster’s sons, intent on wooing and winning Claire Meadows

Others in the locality:

Carrick, Thomas - nephew of the neighboring laird, Mad Manachan Carrick - nearly 20 years old

Hesta - Thomas’s very large and impressive deer hound, gray, shaggy, with a lot of teeth

Fields, Jeb - a crofter on Carrick lands, married to Lottie

Fields, Lottie - crofter-wife of Jeb

Fields, Lucy - new-born daughter and first child of Lottie and Jeb

Artemis - deer hound puppy gifted to Lucilla by Thomas Carrick, Hesta’s daughter

Apollo - deer hound puppy gifted to Marcus by Thomas Carrick, Hesta’s son

Others mentioned but not present:

Manachan Carrick aka Mad Manachan - Laird of the Carricks, a neighboring clan

Nigel Carrick - son and heir of Manachan, cousin of Thomas

Lady Antonia Chillingworth - daughter of Gyles and Francesca, best friend to Lucilla and Prudence

Lady Francesca Chillingworth - wife of Gyles and mother of Antonia, referred to by Cynster children as Aunt

Lady Celia Cynster - married to Martin, mother of Rupert and Alasdair

Lord Martin Cynster - married to Celia; father of Rupert and Alasdair

Debbingtons, the - family of Gerrard, artist, brother of Patience Cynster, and his wife Jacqueline

Randall Meadows - deceased, Claire’s late husband

Lady Mott - Claire’s chaperone when she was presented to the ton

Therese, Lady Osbaldestone - grande dame, close friend of Helena and well known to all Cynsters

Titles and their meaning:

Lady, the - ancient Scottish deity worshipped in the Vale of Casphairn

Lady of the Vale, the - Catriona’s title as principal representative of the Lady in that region

Guardian of the Lady - title held by husband or male protector of the Lady of the Vale, currently held by Richard

Lady - honorific bestowed by locals on those they consider to be the Lady’s representative

Lady-in-waiting - refers to Lucilla as her mother’s ultimate successor

Lady-touched - denotes Her chosen who have heightened intuition and awareness of the land, and a degree of foresight

CHAPTER1

DECEMBER 23, 1837. CASPHAIRN MANOR, THE VALE OF CASPHAIRN, SCOTLAND.

Daniel Crosbie felt as if all his Christmases had come at once. Letting his gaze travel the Great Hall of Casphairn Manor, filled to overflowing with six Cynster families and various associated household members, he allowed himself a moment to savor both his unexpected good fortune and his consequent hope.

About him, the combined households were enjoying the hearty dinner provided to welcome them to the celebration planned for the next ten days—as Daniel understood it, a combination of Christmas, the more ancient Yuletide, and Hogmanay. Seated about the long refectory-like tables on benches rather than chairs, with eyes alight and smiles on their faces, the assembled throng was in ebullient mood. Conversation and laughter abounded; delight and expectation shone in most faces, illuminated by the warm glow of the candlelight cast from massive circular chandeliers depending from thick chains from the high-domed ceiling. The central room about which the manor was built, the Great Hall lived up to its name; the space within its thick walls of pale gray stone was large enough to accommodate the Cynster contingent, all told about sixty strong, as well as the families of the various retainers who worked in and around the manor, which functioned like a small village.

With no family of his own still alive, Daniel had spent his last ten Christmases with the Cynster family for whom he acted as tutor—the family of Mr. Alasdair Cynster and his wife, Phyllida—but this was the first time in that decade that the Cynsters had come north for Christmas. The six Cynster families present—the six families closest to the dukedom of St. Ives, those of Devil, Duke of St. Ives, his brother Richard, and his cousins Vane, Harry, Rupert, and Alasdair—invariably came together at Christmastime. They were often joined by other connected families not present on this occasion; the long journey to the Vale, in the western Lowlands of Scotland, to the home of Richard Cynster and his wife Catriona in a season that had turned icy and cold with snow on the ground much earlier than expected had discouraged all but the most determined.

Out of long-established habit, Daniel glanced at his charges—soon to be erstwhile charges—seated at the next table with their cousins and second cousins. Aidan, now sixteen years old, and Evan, fifteen, had passed out of Daniel’s immediate care when they’d gone up to Eton, yet Daniel still kept an eye on the pair when they were home—an action their parents appreciated and which the boys, at ease with him after all the years, bore with good grace. At that moment, both were talking animatedly with their male cousins in a fashion that instantly, at least in Daniel’s mind, raised the question of what the group was planning. He made a mental note to inquire later. Jason, the youngest son of the family and the last of Daniel’s true charges, was similarly occupied with the group of Cynster offspring nearer his age. Now eleven, later in the coming year, Jason, too, would start his formal schooling—a circumstance which had, for Daniel, raised the uncomfortable question of what he would do then.

Once Jason left for Eton and there were no more boys in Alasdair Cynster’s household in Colyton, in Devon, for Daniel to tutor, what would he do for a living?

The question had plagued him for several months, not least because if he was ever to have a chance at the sort of life he now knew he wanted, and, if at all possible, was determined to claim, he needed to have secure employment—a place, a position, with a steady salary or stipend.

He’d been wracking his brains, trying to think of his options, of what might be possible, when Mr. Cynster—Alasdair—had called him into the library and laid before him a proposal that, in a nutshell, was the answer to all his prayers.

On several occasions over the years, Daniel had assisted Alasdair with his interests in ancient and antique jewelry, with documenting finds and establishing provenances, and also with cataloguing and adding to the collection of rare books Alasdair had inherited from the previous owner of the manor. Alasdair, supported by Phyllida, had suggested that, once Jason had departed with his brothers for Eton, if Daniel was happy to remain in Colyton as a member of their household, they would be delighted to engage him as Alasdair’s personal secretary, an amanuensis to assist with Alasdair’s ever-expanding interests.

The suggested stipend was generous, the conditions all Daniel could have hoped for. Not only would the new position suit him, it would solve all his difficulties.

Most importantly, it cleared the way for him to offer for Claire Meadows’s hand.

He glanced along the board to his right. Clad in a soft woolen gown in a muted shade of blue, Claire—Mrs. Meadows—was sitting on the opposite side of the table, two places down. She was the governess in Rupert Cynster’s household; as Rupert and Alasdair were brothers, Claire and Daniel were often thrown together when the families gathered. It was customary in such circumstances that the attending tutors and governesses banded together, sharing responsibilities and each other’s company, as they were at present. The manor’s governess, Miss Melinda Spotswood, a comfortable matronly sort with a backbone of forged iron, was chatting to Claire. On Melinda’s other side, opposite Daniel, sat Oswald Raven, tutor at the manor; a few years older than Daniel, Raven projected a debonair façade, but he was hardworking and devoted to his charges. Raven was chatting to Mr. Samuel Morris, who was seated alongside Daniel and hailed from Vane Cynster’s household in Kent; the oldest of the group, Morris was slightly rotund and had an unfailingly genial air, yet he was a sound scholar and very capable of exerting a firm hand on his charges’ reins.

All five had met and shared duties on several occasions before; the rapport between them was comfortable and relaxed. Over the coming days, they would, between them, keep an eye on the combined flock of Cynster children—the younger ones, at least. The oldest group, the seventeen-year-olds led by eighteen-year-old Sebastian Cynster, Marquess of Earith and future head of the house, could be relied on to take care of themselves, along with the large group of sixteen- and fifteen-year-old males. But there were six boys thirteen years and under, and seven girls ranging from eight to fourteen years old, and over them the tutors and governesses would need to exert control sufficient to ensure they remained suitably occupied.

There was no telling what the engaging devils would get up to if left unsupervised.

Being governess or tutor to Cynster children was never dull or boring.

Daniel had managed to keep his gaze from Claire for all of ten minutes. Despite the color and vibrancy, the noise and distraction—despite the many handsome and outright stunningly beautiful faces around about—hers was the shining star in his firmament; regardless of where they were, regardless of competing sights and sounds, she effortlessly drew his gaze and transfixed his attention.

She’d done so from the moment he’d first seen her at one of the family’s Summer Celebrations in Cambridgeshire several years ago. They’d subsequently met on and off at various family functions, at weddings in London, at major family birthdays, and at seasonal celebrations like the current one.

With each exposure, his attraction to Claire, his focus on her, had only grown more definite, more acute, until the obvious conclusion had stared him in the face, impossible to resist, much less deny.

Utterly impossible to ignore.

“If the weather holds,” Raven said, commanding Daniel’s attention with his gaze, “and the older crew go riding as they’re planning, then we’ll need to invent some suitable pastimes to keep our charges amused.”

Seated with his back to the table at which the Cynster children were gathered, Raven had turned and asked what the animated talk had been about. Riding out to assess the position and state of the deer herds had been the answer.

Daniel nodded. “If at all possible, let’s get those left to our care out of doors.”

“Indeed,” Melinda said, turning from Claire to join the conversation. “We need to take advantage of any clear days. If it is fine enough tomorrow, I was saying to Claire that the fourteen-year-olds—the girls—might like to gather greenery to decorate the hall.” Melinda gestured to the stone walls hosting various fireplaces and archways, all presently devoid of any seasonal touches. “It’s customary to decorate them on the twenty-fourth, which is tomorrow.”

“I’d heard,” Morris said, “that there’s some tradition about the Yule log that’s followed hereabouts.” He looked to Raven for confirmation.

Raven, his hair as dark as his name would suggest, nodded. “Yes, that’s an inspired idea. Not only is it necessary to collect the right-sized logs, but the logs have to be carved. That should keep the boys amused for hours. I’ll speak to the staff about organizing whatever’s needed.”

Daniel nodded again, and his gaze drifted once more to Claire; she’d been following the conversation, her calm expression indicating her agreement with the suggestions. With her glossy mid-brown hair burnished by the candlelight, with her delicate features and milky-white skin, her lips of pale rose, lush and full, and her large hazel eyes set under finely arched brown brows, she was, to his eyes, the epitome of womanhood.

That she was a widow—had been widowed at a young age—was neither here nor there, yet the experience had, it seemed, imbued her with a certain gravitas, leaving her more reserved, more cautious, and with a more sober and serious demeanor than might be expected of a well-bred lady of twenty-seven summers.

Her station—gentry-born but fallen on hard times—was similar to, or perhaps a touch higher than, Daniel’s; he didn’t really know. Nor did he truly care. They were both as they were here and now, and what happened next … that was up to them.

He’d come to Scotland, to the Vale, determined to put his luck to the test—to seize the opportunity to speak with Claire and plead his case, to learn if she shared his hopes and if she could come to share his dreams.

A gust of laughter and conversation drew his gaze to the high table.

The six Cynster couples were seated about the table on the raised dais along one side of the room, a traditional positioning most likely dating from medieval times. In addition to those twelve—middle-aged, perhaps, yet still vibrantly handsome, articulate, active, and engaged—there were three of the older generation at one end of the board. Helena, Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, mother of Devil and Richard and elder matriarch of the clan, was seated at the end of the table closest to the hearth, and had chosen to summon Algaria, Catriona’s aging mentor, and McArdle, the ancient butler of the manor, now retired, to join her there. The three were much of an age and, judging by their glances and gestures, were busy sharing pithy observations on all others in the hall. Having met the dowager and been the object of her scrutiny on several occasions, Daniel didn’t like to think of how much she, let alone black-eyed Algaria, was seeing.

A comment in a deep voice, followed by laughter, drew Daniel’s gaze back to the twelve Cynsters of the generation that currently ruled. Their children might have been growing apace, might already have been showing signs of the forceful, powerful individuals they had the potential to become, yet the twelve seated about the high table still dominated their world.

Daniel had observed them—those six couples in particular—for the past ten years. All the males had been born to wealth, but what they’d made of it—the lives each had successfully wrought—hadn’t been based solely on inherited advantage. Each of the six possessed a certain strength—a nuanced blend of power, ability, and insight—that Daniel appreciated, admired, and aspired to. It had taken him some time to realize from where that particular strength derived—namely, from the ladies. From their marriages. From the connection—the link that was so deep, so strong, so anchoring—that each of the six males shared with his wife.

Once he’d seen and understood, Daniel had wanted the same for himself.

His gaze shifted again to Claire. Once he’d met her, he’d known whom he wanted to share just such a link with.

Now he stood on the cusp of reaching for it—of chancing his hand and hoping he could persuade her to form such a connection with him.

Whatever gaining her assent required, he would do.

Now Fate in the form of Alasdair Cynster had cleared his path, it was time to screw his courage to the sticking point and act.

Hope, anticipation, and trepidation churned in his gut.

But he was there and so was she, and he was determined to move forward. He knew how he felt about her, and he thought she felt similarly toward him. His first step, plainly, was to determine whether he was correct in believing that—and whether with encouragement, “like” could grow into something more.

* * *

Claire was very—not to say excruciatingly—aware of Daniel Crosbie’s gaze. Of his regard. Of the steady, focused way in which he looked at her.

She wished he wouldn’t—or, at least, her mind told her that was what she should wish. Her emotions—stupid giddy things—were more inclined to be flattered and interested…as she’d said, stupid and giddy. And reckless, too.

Yes, Daniel was a handsome, personable, honest, and honorable man; she wasn’t silly enough to imagine she was in any danger of receiving any indecent or illicit proposal from him.

Which was the point. With his dark brown hair, thick and straight, his lean face that so fitted his long, lean, athlete’s body, and his gentle, intelligent, brownish-hazel eyes, he was too nice, too gentlemanly, too kind—she didn’t want to hurt him by peremptorily depressing any pretensions he might harbor. That she greatly feared he was, indeed, intending to voice.

She liked him and valued the quiet friendship that had sprung up between them too much to want to see it damaged, as it would be, quite definitely, if she was forced to say him nay. If she was forced to dismiss the offer she had a dreadful premonition he was intending to make.

There was no future for her with him—or, more accurately, for him with her. For either of them together. But convincing a gentleman like him of that…

Just the thought made her head and chest hurt.

Avoiding him seemed her only real option, but they were fixed at the manor for the next ten days; she would need every bit of ingenuity and quick thinking she could command to successfully keep him at a distance for such a long time.

She didn’t like her chances, but what else could she do?

Live through one day at a time. That had been her motto during the days immediately following her husband’s death; it was all she could think of that might serve her now.

Turning to Melinda, she said, “Alathea asked me to keep an eye on Mrs. Phyllida’s two girls—Lydia and Amarantha—especially, given they’re the youngest here. If I’m to take the older girls out to gather greenery, do you have anything planned for the younger lot, or should we combine the two groups?”

Melinda shook her head. “The four fourteen-year-olds are too close-knit a clique—and there’s Louisa in the lead, too. No need to give her more troops to command.”

All the tutors and governesses knew that Devil Cynster’s daughter was a handful—too clever, too persuasive, and far too adept at getting her own way.

“I was going to suggest,” Melinda continued, “that I take the three younger ones—Margaret, Lydia, and Amarantha—into the kitchen. Cook said she would be making mince pies, and they’ll enjoy helping.”

Claire nodded. “That they will. All right—I’ll take the older four.” Surrounding herself with four fourteen-year-old girls should at least keep her safe through the next day. “What sort of greenery is customarily used for the decorations here, where do we get it, and how much are we likely to need?”

* * *

Lucilla Cynster, eldest daughter of the house and future Lady of the Vale, listened while her twin brother, Marcus, seated beside her, explained the ins and outs of the local deer hunting season to her cousins Sebastian, Michael, and Christopher. The three were sitting on the other side of the table, forming a wall of broad shoulders and masculine chests that effectively blocked the rest of the room from Lucilla’s sight. Glancing down the long board beyond Marcus and Christopher, she saw her five fifteen- and sixteen-year-old male cousins—Aidan, Gregory, Justin, Nicholas, and Evan, all of whom intended to join the exploratory ride tomorrow—leaning forward, hanging on Marcus’s every word.

Sebastian, Michael, and Christopher were much more nonchalant, but as Lucilla could feel their eagerness radiating from them, she viewed their expressions of aloofness with skepticism.

Together with Louisa, they—the older six, including Prudence, who was sitting on Lucilla’s other side—had been principally responsible for convincing their elders to hold the family Christmas celebrations in the Vale. The girls had wanted to experience the magic of an assured white Christmas in the deep, undisturbed silence of the Vale, something they hadn’t known since the last family Christmas held there, when they’d been small children. All of them remembered that time with nostalgic pleasure. The boys, of course, had wanted to hunt, but although the season for does was open, the early snows had sent the deer deep into the narrow valleys in the nearby hills; it had been decided that the group should ride out tomorrow to scout around before mounting a proper hunt on the day after the Feast of St. Stephen.

Beside Lucilla, Prudence—Demon and Felicity Cynster’s oldest child and Lucilla’s closest cousin, friend, and sometimes confidante—leaned nearer and, as Marcus paused to answer a question from Aidan, said, “I’m for the ride—are you going to come?”

That Prudence would ride was the opposite of a surprise; she lived for horses and always had. Given her parents’ obsession with the animals, her fervor was perhaps understandable.

Lucilla thought about the ride, about joining the company. Her gaze drifted further down the table to Louisa—she of the lustrous black hair, pale green eyes, and infallibly engaging manners. If Lucilla remained at the house, Louisa would attach herself to Lucilla, which wasn’t a situation to be encouraged. Not because they didn’t get on—despite Lucilla’s flaming red mane, in temperament they were two peas in a pod—but because, courtesy of the Lady’s gifts, Lucilla saw in Louisa a woman who would one day wield great power.

Whenever they were together, Lucilla felt a strong urge to steer or guide Louisa—yet at the very same time, she knew she…shouldn’t. Louisa was supposed to find her own way without any help from Lucilla; the trials and tribulations Louisa would face were important, presumably in shaping her for whatever role lay in her future.

Explaining that to anyone who wasn’t Lady-touched was impossible. So…

The proposed ride would keep her away from the manor for most of the day. Lucilla nodded. “Yes, I’ll come, too.” As she always did, she consulted her connection to the Lady—her inner compass—and felt her eyes widen slightly in surprise.

She was supposed toride out with her cousins. As to why… As usual, that wasn’t forthcoming.

* * *

Up on the dais, at the end of the long table closest to the warmth thrown out by the blaze in the fireplace nearby, Helena, Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, looked out on those gathered with an indulgent eye. She smiled, more to herself than anyone else, at the sight of her grandchildren, grandnieces, and grandnephews. “They are growing up.”

There was immense satisfaction in her tone.

Beside her, Algaria twitched her shawl over her shoulders. “Up, certainly. Older, indubitably. But wiser? I believe I’ll reserve judgment.”

The third of their number, old McArdle, quietly laughed. “They’re like youngsters anywhere—they’ll learn.”

Algaria stilled, then she murmured, “You’re right—there will be hurdles and challenges for each of them, but as to what those might be… We can only guess.”

Helena refused to let Algaria’s mysterious allusions derail her pleasure. “In truth, it is what amuses me most these days, watching them stumble and fall, then pick themselves up—watching their lives evolve.”

Algaria and McArdle looked out at the children. Although neither made any reply, eventually, both inclined their heads.

Helena allowed her smile to deepen, content that, at least on the philosophical side, she had had the last word.

* * *

“So!” Prudence thumped her curly blonde head down on the pillow she’d arranged at the foot of Lucilla’s bed. She and Lucilla were sharing the bed, top to toe, while the three youngest girls—Prudence’s sister, Margaret, and their cousins Lydia and Amarantha—had settled on pallets before the fire. “We’ll spend most of tomorrow riding with the others, and then Christmas Day will be full of all the usual eating, drinking, and being merry.” Wriggling into a more comfortable position, Prudence went on, “I can’t remember—do you do St. Stephen’s Day up here? The boxes and all?”

“We most certainly do.” Already settled beneath the covers, Lucilla angled her head to look down the bed. “But here it’s called the Feast of St. Stephen, and for good reason, so be warned. Mama will almost certainly want our help either tomorrow evening or, more likely, on the morning of Christmas Day for making up the boxes. It’s more or less the same as Uncle Sylvester and Aunt Honoria do at Somersham—gifts to all the workers and their families. Here, of course, it’s even easier, as even our shepherds live at the manor, and so everyone will be here—in the Great Hall, anyway.”

Prudence nodded. “So we have all that filling up the day after Christmas, plus the hunt on the day after that. Then what?”

“We have three days to recover and prepare, and then it’s Hogmanay—the end of this year and the beginning of the next.”

Prudence was silent for several minutes, then she squinted up the bed and caught Lucilla’s eye. “I’m looking forward to next year precisely because it’s not our coming-out year.”

Lucilla nodded in understanding. “In a way, the coming year will be our last year—the last year of our girlhoods, so to speak.”

“We should make it count,” Prudence said. Warming to her theme, she continued, “We should make sure we do everything we’ve ever wanted to do, and make sure we leave nothing undone that as girls we can do, but that as young ladies we might find more difficult.”

Lucilla chuckled. “Like driving down St. James in an open carriage?”

“Exactly! And riding hell-for-leather in the Park. Isn’t it absurd that I’ll be able to do that next year—every morning we’re in London, if I wish—but the year after, me doing the same thing will be considered indecorous and unbecoming?”

“Society does love its rules, no matter how silly.” Lucilla paused. “In fact, now I think about it, next year is going to be the perfect year for doing all those slightly risqué things. The better part of society will be so focused on the Coronation and all the events surrounding it that no one will have any attention or disapprobation left over to direct at us.”

“Very true,” Prudence said. After a moment, she went on, “I have to say I feel for those girls who will be making their come-outs next year. I heard Mama say that it’s going to be bedlam with all the events planned in the lead-up to the Coronation, and that getting noticed is going to be next to impossible unless you’re foreign royalty.”

“Hmm.” Although she’d never said so aloud, Lucilla was not looking forward to the year beyond the next, the year in which she, alongside Prudence and Antonia Rawlings, would make her formal curtsy to the fashionable world. It was going to be a dreadful bore—and entirely to no purpose. A point she suspected that her mother appreciated, but she doubted her father did, or would, no matter that he usually accepted her mother’s Lady-inspired decrees on most subjects. It would be for him that Lucilla would go to London and be presented, and promenade around the ballrooms and in the Park…all to no avail. Her future, she knew, lay here, in the Vale, just as her mother’s had before her.

She didn’t know who, or how, or when, but she did know where he—whoever he was—would find her.

Here—somewhere in the lands the Lady ruled.

Prudence turned on her side and snuggled down. “It’s a pity Antonia and her family couldn’t join us.”

Lucilla settled, too, tugging the covers over her shoulder. “Aunt Francesca wrote. Mama said that they had wanted to come, but Antonia’s grandmama is poorly and they didn’t want to leave her at this time.”

Prudence mumbled in grudging approval, “Christmas is for families.” A moment ticked past. “Perhaps they can come and visit when you come south to stay in the new year.” She yawned.

Lucilla yawned, too. “P’rhaps.” A second later, she murmured, “Good night.”

She heard the smile in Prudence’s voice as she replied, “Sweet dreams.”

CHAPTER2

The following morning, along with the other tutors and Melinda and Claire, Daniel shepherded their combined charges—all those still in the schoolroom, plus the fifteen- and sixteen-year-old boys—down the stairs and into the Great Hall for breakfast.

He was sharing a room with Raven and Morris, and they all knew better than to leave their young charges to their own devices. They also knew that the promise of food was the most potent lure to get the lads out of bed, dressed, and ready to behave in a civilized fashion.

On ushering the noisy mob to the tables, Daniel was somewhat surprised to note that the three older members of the company—the dowager, Algaria, and McArdle—had beaten everyone down and were already partaking of rolls warm from the oven and the rich golden honey from the Vale’s beehives.

Seeing Daniel’s surprise, McArdle grinned wryly. “At our age, laddie, we don’t need much sleep.”

“And”—the dowager transfixed Daniel with her pale green gaze—“we take great pleasure in the small delights life yet affords us.” With that, she took a dainty bite of a pastry.

Finding her penetrating gaze unsettling, Daniel smiled, inclined his head politely, and turned back to his far-less-unnerving charges.

The girls, who were quartered in a separate wing of the manor, were led in by Melinda, with Claire bringing up the rear. She was surrounded by a trio—fourteen-year-old Juliet, Claire’s actual charge, along with ten-year-old Lydia and eight-year-old Amarantha. All four appeared to be deeply engrossed in some discussion.

When handling any such gathering of the families, the tutors and governesses habitually grouped the children by age and arranged activities for each group. Along with Raven and Morris, Daniel walked along the benches, ensuring that the various groups sat together—all six of the younger boys in one group, leaving the five boys aged fifteen and sixteen congregated toward one end of the long table.

Footmen, maids, and undercooks ferried out bowls of porridge and placed jars of golden honey in the middles of the tables. Jugs of milk and mugs appeared, along with racks of toast and marmalade. The boys dove on the food. Sharing a smile with Raven and Morris, Daniel retreated to the center of the long table and sat at the end of the row of boys. Raven and Morris sat opposite, and then Claire arrived. She’d been settling the girls along the bench; she paused when she reached the space beside Daniel, and he turned with a warm smile to give her his hand to help her step over the bench.

She hesitated, her gaze on his hand. Her expression, as usual serious but calm, gave him no hint as to her thoughts, but just as his smile was about to wane, she gave a tiny, infinitesimal sigh and placed her fingers on his palm.

Closing his hand, holding hers, he felt something in him shift, which seemed odd, as he’d taken her hand before… Perhaps it was an outcome of his having made the decision to actively pursue her that gave the moment an extra edge, a deeper significance.

Hiding his reaction, he steadied her as she raised her dark blue skirts and decorously stepped over the bench. Slipping her fingers from his grasp, she murmured, “Thank you,” then smoothed her skirts and sat beside him.

She immediately gave her attention to the girls on her other side, making sure they were supplied with what they wished to eat and that all were satisfied with their lot.

Melinda climbed over the opposite bench and sat beside Morris, across the table from Claire.

Claire looked at Melinda, and under cover of asking “Are we proceeding as planned?” continued to lecture her unruly senses. Giddily dizzy didn’t begin to describe the whirl they were presently in, all because she’d taken Daniel’s hand, offered in the vein of an entirely polite, conventional courtesy. Yes, his long fingers had felt warm and strong when they’d closed so firmly around hers, but he’d just been helping her over the bench, for heaven’s sake. As far as her rational mind could see, there was no reason whatever for the silly bubbling warmth that had coursed through her.

And as for the sensitivity that, out of nowhere, had afflicted her nerves, leaving her intensely aware of his nearness as he sat on the bench alongside her—perfectly correctly, several inches away—she found it intensely irritating and could only hope that it would rapidly fade.

At twenty-seven and a widow to boot, her senses had no business behaving as if she was some giddy miss just out of the schoolroom.

In response to her query, Melinda confirmed their plans to Claire and the three tutors, who in turn fleshed out their ideas for the boys.

“The tradition of the Yule log differs somewhat in different locales,” Raven said. “Here, they’ve combined at least two different ceremonies into one. They cut and bring in the Yule logs on Christmas Eve, and the logs burn in all the main fireplaces from sunset on Christmas Eve to New Year’s Day. Because the logs are fresh and treated somehow, they burn slowly, but we still need plenty of logs. In addition, each log is carved with the face of an old woman—Cailleach, the spirit of winter.” Raven looked at Morris. “Two of the handymen will come out with us to cut down and help trim the logs, and the carpenter has volunteered his two apprentices to come with us and show the boys how to carve the faces.”

Morris looked resigned. “I’ll bring the bandages. We’re sure to need some.”

Raven chuckled, then he leaned forward and looked down the table at the older boys. “Aidan.” Raven waited until the eldest lad present looked his way. “Are you going riding, and if so, who else is going with you?”

Aidan looked around the group. “We’re all going—me, Evan, Gregory, Justin, and Nicholas.”

Morris fixed his charge, Gregory, with a firm look. “Just remember—don’t get out of range of your elders. You are released on that undertaking.”

They all grinned, but Gregory nodded, and when Morris directed his gaze around the others in the group, they nodded, too. By and large, they were a reliable bunch; all of them rode well, and with the older ones in charge, none of the tutors harbored any real qualms.

Daniel turned back to Melinda as she said, “Good. That takes care of the rapscallions. As for our ladies…”

Melinda met Claire’s gaze, then both governesses looked up the table to where Louisa sat, with Therese opposite and Annabelle and Juliet alongside. “Girls,” Melinda said, “we’re in dire need of some decorations for the hall. Are you four willing to see to it?”

Louisa glanced at Therese, then looked back at Melinda. “What do we need to do?”

“You need to collect evergreens,” Melinda said. “That’s the tradition here. I asked the gardeners and also McArdle. Apparently, ‘evergreens’ means holly and fir—you need both. The gardeners said they would leave a sled for the boughs by the side door, along with the right size shears and saws. They recommended boughs about a half inch in diameter or less, and look for longish, well-leafed specimens. For the holly, of course, you want the berries.”

“Where do we go to get the boughs?” Louisa asked.

“I know,” Annabelle, the younger daughter of the house and one of the fourteen-year-olds, said. “It’s not far—just across the bridge over the burn and into the wood on the other side.”

“So we get to explore the woods?” Therese grinned. She glanced at Louisa. “We can try out our new boots.”

Louisa considered Therese for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “Yes.” Raising her gaze, Louisa looked at the hall’s largely bare walls. “And it’ll be good to make this place look more festive.”

“Excellent!” Melinda said. “So we’re handing that task to the four of you.”

Claire smiled at the four girls. “We’ll be relying on you to make this place look wonderful for tomorrow.”

As Claire sat back, Melinda caught her gaze and, lowering her voice, said, “It’s not far, and there’s no chance of you and the girls getting caught even by a freak storm. You’ll be able to get back easily.”

Claire arched her brows. “Good. I have to admit that, coming from the south, I don’t tend to think in terms of freak storms.”

Melinda chuckled. “Live up here for a year, and you never forget to allow for Mother Nature.” She turned and regarded the three youngest girls, who were sitting closest to her and Claire. Raising her voice, Melinda said, “And that leaves us with you three. I checked with Cook, and she has sunburst shortbread on her list of things to make today, as well as mince pies.”

“What’s sunburst shortbread?” Margaret promptly asked.