The Unexpected Guest by Susannah Carleton
Chapter 1
"Well, hell."
Michael Cameron, Colonel in the 10th Hussars and
Earl of Dumfries, swore softly as the grey clouds, which had threatened
snow since he rode out of London, honored their promise. Squinting against
the blur of white created by the whirling flakes, he searched for the lane
the innkeeper vowed would cut several miles off his journey. Cold, muddy,
and weary to the bone after ten days of hard travel, Michael wished General
Armbruster had chosen to spend the holiday in London. But he hadn't, and
since the colonel's orders were to place the dispatches in Armbruster's
hands, it appeared Michael would celebrate Christmas in Derbyshire, too.
Finally espying the path, he turned his horse.
Letting his mind drift, he imagined a blazing fire, a steaming bath, a
hot meal, and a warm, loving woman. He would, no doubt, find the first three
at Oakwood Manor. The latter was merely a dream. An image that had sustained
him through years of battle and lonely nights, but ephemeral as the morning
mist.
"Come down, Will, before you fall." The voice
roused Michael from his reverie. Glancing about, he spied three men,
two standing at the base of an oak tree, the third high up in its branches.
The climber's goal appeared to be a bunch of mistletoe, but Michael did
not believe the nearby branches would support the man's weight.
A limb snapped, the sound echoing loudly in the
clearing, producing a moan from the climber, renewed exhortations from
his companions, and a command from the colonel. "Come down before you
break your neck!"
The man responded as obediently as a trooper,
descending quickly but carefully. When he reached terra firma, the older of his companions
heaved a sigh of relief, then turned to the officer. "Thank you, sir.
Lady Sophie wished for a bit of mistletoe and Will was determined to get
it for her."
"Does Lady Sophie always get what she wants?"
Michael kept the sneer from his face, but not quite from his voice.
"No, sir, she doesn't. Her wishes are rarely considered."
Michael felt a cad. It was obvious from the man's
tone that Lady Sophie, whoever she was, was highly respected. "Well,
then. Perhaps I can help."
"But you're bigger'n me, sir," protested Will.
Michael dismounted. "So I am, but I don't intend
to climb the tree."
The two younger men goggled. The older asked,
"What do you intend, sir?"
"If you can assure me that no one else is nearby,
I will shoot the mistletoe from the tree. I won't get it all, but it
should be enough to please your lady."
"The others took the greenery back to the house.
And aye, Lady Sophie will be very happy with a small bit."
"You are certain no one else is out here?" Michael
probed.
"Yes, sir. But if you like, we can search the
wood for any stragglers." At his nod, the two younger men left, one walking
north, the other east. Michael heard them calling out the names of, he presumed,
their departed comrades.
"'Tis very kind of you to help, sir."
"I hope, in return, you will give me directions."
"Gladly, sir. Where are you going?"
"Oakwood Manor."
The man gestured broadly. "This is Oakwood.
I...er...I didn't realize other guests were expected."
"I am neither expected nor a guest. I carry dispatches
for General Armbruster."
"I am sure--"
Will rejoined them, slightly breathless from running.
"No one about that I could see, sir. Well, exceptin' that Jem is out
there now."
"When he returns we will proceed."
Two minutes later, they were ready. With the three
men standing some fifty feet behind him, Michael narrowed his eyes against
the swirling snow, aimed his carbine, then fired. A large clump of mistletoe
-- and a small oak branch -- fell to the ground.
"An excellent shot!" Will, grinning broadly, retrieved
the prize. "On behalf of Lady Sophie, I thank you."
Michael bowed slightly. "I am happy to have been
of service."
The older man gestured to the west. "The carriage
drive is about fifty yards down the lane, sir."
Michael remounted his horse with a grace that
belied his fatigue. "Thank you."
"A happy Christmas to you, sir."
"And to you."
As he rode toward the house, Michael contemplated
the date. He'd left Lisbon on the fourteenth and reached London on the
twenty-first, so today was Christmas Eve. Would Oakwood Manor, like the
inn in Bethlehem, be full to the rafters? Perhaps he wouldn't have a blazing
fire and a hot meal, but a bed of hay in the stable.
"Good afternoon, sir." The butler studied him
from shako to mud-splattered boots before allowing him inside. Michael
knew he made a strange sight wearing a greatcoat instead of his cape, but
it was too damned cold to do otherwise.
"Good afternoon. I am Colonel Cameron with dispatches
for General Armbruster."
"The General is not here--"
"The War Office told me he was spending the holiday
at Oakwood Manor!" Michael's heart sank at the prospect of further travel.
"I beg your pardon, sir. I did not express myself
clearly. General Armbruster is a guest, but he is away from the house
this afternoon. Do you wish to leave the dispatches or to wait?"
"My orders are to give them directly to the General."
"Very well, sir." After taking Michael's whip,
gloves, shako, and greatcoat, the butler led him to a small but cozy parlor.
With a blazing fire. "Would you like something to eat or drink whilst you
wait?"
"Something warm would be most welcome, but I will
gladly eat whatever the cook provides." Michael sank into a chair in
front of the fire. "And some coffee, please, lest I fall asleep before
the General returns."
"Yes, sir."
Sometime later the sound of footsteps roused Michael
from a doze. The butler entered with a tray, from which steam and the
mouth-watering aroma of good English food wafted. With quiet efficiency,
he placed the contents of the tray on a small, round table next to the
window, then pulled out a chair. "Is there anything else I can bring you,
Colonel Cameron?"
"No, thank you. This will do me very well."
Michael enjoyed every delicious bite. Warm now,
and replete, he leaned back and stretched. And was caught, mouth open
and arms in the air, by a petite, attractive, not-so-young lady with merry
brown eyes and a wealth of dark, curly hair who entered the room.
As he scrambled to his feet, the woman spoke.
"Good afternoon, Colonel. I am Lady Sophie Herrington. Foster said that
you have messages for my uncle."
"Michael Cameron, my lady." He bowed over her
hand. "I carry dispatches for General Armbruster."
"Will you wait upon my uncle's return or shall
I take the messages, er, dispatches so that you can travel home to your
family for Christmas?"
"My home is in Scotland, my lady, but I have no
family awaiting me there."
She motioned him to a seat. "Then you must spend
the holiday with us."
"You are very kind and generous, Lady Sophie,
but I do not want to intrude upon your family's celebrations."
"Surely you cannot wish to spend the holiday alone!"
"Not at all, my lady, but neither do I want to
impose--"
"Pooh." Her brown eyes sparkled as she added,
"You must know, sir, that a handsome man is always a welcome addition.
My young cousins will be delighted."
Michael felt the flush rising to his cheeks. "I
have been a soldier for many years, my lady. My social skills are sadly
out of trim."
"I see no evidence of that, sir." Tilting her
head slightly to one side, Sophie studied their unexpected guest. Well
over six feet tall, his broad shoulders and narrow hips were delineated
by the uniform he wore. His features were, perhaps, more rugged than handsome
-- lean cheeks, a narrow nose, a strong jaw centered by a cleft chin --
but perfectly framed the emerald green eyes. The wings of silver in his
mahogany hair, as well as the lines radiating from those remarkable eyes,
indicated he was closer to forty than thirty, but he was, without a doubt,
the most attractive, distinguished man she'd ever met. And he was exhausted.
Sophie glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantle.
"Colonel Cameron, my uncle will not return for several hours. Would you
like to rest and refresh yourself? I will have you woken in good time
to meet him."
"I would like that very much, my lady, but I don't
want to interfere--"
"Nonsense! Truly, Colonel, we would be pleased
to have you join our Christmas celebration."
He rose and bowed. "Thank you, Lady Sophie, for
your extreme kindness and generosity. I accept your gracious invitation."
As they walked to the door, he scooped up his saddlebags and said, "It
has been so long since I spent the holiday here, I am not certain I recall
all the traditions. Tell me, please, what you have planned."
Sophie's curiosity overruled her manners. "How
long has it been since you celebrated Christmas in England -- or Scotland?"
"Eighteen years." With a rueful grin, he added,
"Nearly half my life."
"My word! We will have to do our possible to make
this one memorable for you."
From The Unexpected Guest
by Susannah Carleton in A Winter Holiday
Sampler, Regency Press, 2000, ISBN 1-929085-81-8 (e-book) & ISBN
1-929085-46-X (trade paperback).
Copyright © 2000 by Susan A. Lantz.
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