A Berkshire Christmas Page 3

  Maybe, this next year will be different. Here's hoping.

  The door opened and his butler, Giles Bigsby, stood in the door a moment before he spoke. “My lord, Sir David Chambers, the Earl of Markham, is here to see you.”

  Simon barely had time to remove his feet from his desk before his friend appeared. “David, what brings you out on such a day?”

  David plopped a copy of the latest newspaper on Simon’s desk. It was open to the betrothal announcements. “What the hell is this?”

  Simon could see his friend was angry so he glanced down at the betrothal announcements. “I believe, my friend, this announces my betrothal to Clarissa Barrington. Pour yourself a brandy. You look like you could use it.”

  Without another word, David strolled to the sideboard and poured himself a full glass of brandy. He took a sip before he settled in a seat by the fire. “Why?”

  Simon left his desk and sat down in a chair next to David after he refilled his glass. “Why what?”

  “Of all the women in London you had to pick Clarissa Barrington.” David sounded dumbfounded.

  “Why not Clarissa? She is a Baron's daughter and beautiful.”

  “What happened to your search for the love of your life? Kathleen Richards?”

  Simon sighed. “If I have not found Kathleen Richards by now I am not going to find her. It's been nearly two years since I started my search, David.”

  “So, you are giving up just like that?” David finger-combed his straight blond hair.

  Simon’s jaw dropped. David knew more than any to what lengths he went to in order to track down any lead. “I have done everything I could think of to find her. I hired a Bow Street Runner and private detectives. I put ads in all the papers. I traveled the entirety of England following every promising lead.” Simon sighed. “Nothing! I found nothing!”

  David grinned. “It is not like you to give up.”

  “I would not give up if I had the slightest hope of finding her. I will turn thirty the day after Christmas. You know, I promised my mother I would be wed or at least be betrothed by my thirtieth year. I've run out of time, David. Plain and simple.”

  “Perhaps you have, but surely you could choose someone better than Clarissa Barrington,” David said.

  “I am just tired of looking for Kathleen Richards, so it does not really matter who I marry.” Simon swallowed the rest of his brandy.

  “Clarissa will make you a terrible wife.” David finished off his brandy and rose from his chair. “Are you going to the Effingham Ball?”

  “I suppose I will have to,” Simon said. “Will I see you there?”

  “Count on it, my friend.”

  ❄

  Simon didn't want to attend the Effingham Ball. It was certainly a sad crush despite the fact that it was only three weeks until Christmas. Lords and ladies had returned to London for this event and he supposed it was worth it, but he hated crowds. The Braxton Ball was only a week away and it will even more crowded.

  He was on the hunt for his betrothed, Clarissa Barrington, the daughter of Baron Steven Barrington. He had danced with her only once, and then she had disappeared from the ballroom.

  David had set second thoughts about this marriage in his head. Asking Clarissa to marry him was probably the biggest mistake of his life. She was the most beautiful woman to grace the Haute Ton this past Season and for several Seasons.

  His deal with his mother was about to expire. Despite their agreement, she reminded him in her most recent letter of their deal and that he was about to reach his thirtieth birthday.

  His mother never came to town anymore, so she received her news second and even third hand from her friends and questionable newspapers.

  So he asked Clarissa to marry, but he never expected her to accept him. After all, she had a multitude of suitors from viscounts to marquesses and she accepted a lowly earl from Berkshire.

  Simon spotted his friend, David Chamber. They had been friends since they were lads. In their younger days, they got up to all sorts of mischief.

  Now, it was merely frequenting the gaming hells and an occasional bawdy house. Once in a while, a curricle race for sport or attending a horse race at Newmarket.

  “David, have you just arrived.” Simon slapped his friend on his back.

  David turned with a big smile on his face. “No, my friend, I’ve been here for a while,” David answered. “With such a crush it is a wonder a man can find anybody.”

  “You got that right,” Simon returned. “Have you see Clarissa? We danced once and then she disappeared.”

  “No, I’m afraid not. Have ye checked the other rooms? Maybe she needed relief from the crowd and since it is snowing outside ...”

  “She could not have gone onto the terrace. It is much too cold,” Simon finished for his friend. “Thanks. I’ll check some of the rooms.”

  David stopped his friend from moving away. “Have you thought any more about what I said earlier?”

  “I have and I think you might be right, David. I may have made a mistake in my eagerness to please my mother, but it too late now. I cannot cry off.”

  David gave his friend a meaningful look. “Unless she gives you cause.”

  Simon had nothing to that so he began his search in the room set aside for refreshments. Although the room was crowded his betrothed was not present. So he moved to a more private rooms.

  ❄Chapter Seven ❄

  The music room was empty except for a couple who were too engrossed in each other to know their trysting spot had been violated. He next tried the library.

  Simon opened the door quietly. At first, he thought the library was empty, but then he heard a moan. He was about to close the door again when he saw the couple in the light of a single candle.

  The man had the woman pushed up against a bookcase. When he moved slightly Simon could see that the woman's ample breasts were free from her bodice and her skirts were up around her waist.

  There was something familiar about the woman’s dress so Simon stepped into the room. He finally realized the woman was Clarissa Barrington, his betrothed.

  Simon stood there spellbound as he watched the couple. He heard Clarissa gasp when she looked over the man’s shoulder and saw him watching them. She pushed the man off her and slapped his face.

  “How dare you?” She screamed.

  The man, Viscount Rodderly, raised his eyebrows in confusion until he turned his head and spotted Simon. The viscount quickly buttoned his fly before he spoke. “I suppose you want an explanation?”

  “Not necessary, Rodderly, old boy. This scene, ah, … speaks for itself,” Simon replied dryly.

  By this time, Clarissa had pulled up her bodice and smoothed down her skirts. She took a few steps towards Simon before he held up his hand to stop her.

  “Darling, he forced me!”

  Simon’s laugh was not in any way humorous. “It didn’t look forced to me.”

  “Thank you for that,” Viscount Rodderly said. “I suppose you and I will meet on the field of honor.”

  “I don’t fight a duel over a woman’s honor when she has none,” Simon answered. “I suggest you leave the room now. I wish to have a word with my … betrothed.”

  Viscount Rodderly straightened his cravat and buttoned his jacket before he quickly moved around Simon to the door. He stopped and turned to Clarissa. “Good luck, my dear. You are going to need it.” He left the room quickly with that one parting remark.

  Clarissa slithered closer to Simon. ”Darling, it is true. That vile man forced me in here and had his way with me.”

  She was close enough now to touch him. He took a step back. He could smell her arousal from several feet away. The whole room smelled of sex. How could he have possibly thought he could marry this—creature.

  “As I said, it didn’t look that way to me. And there are the rumors that I have tried to ignore.”

  “Rumors! What rumors?’ Clarissa asked, with innocence dripping from her voice.


  “Ask your friends. If you have any. I am sure they would be eager to tell you,” Simon retorted. “You will place an announcement in the Times stating that our engagement is over. Is that understood?”

  Clarissa forced tears to fall to her cheeks. “Darling, I love you. I will be so humiliated. I will be called a jilt.”

  “Better a jilt than a strumpet. I will not marry you, Clarissa, so just move on. Maybe you will have better luck with next bastard you hook.” Simon left her in the library.

  Simon left the Effingham Ball without saying goodbye to David or anyone else. All he wanted to do was get roaring drunk and forget about his disastrous betrothal or now ex-betrothal.

  Simon's thoughts turned to his Kathleen. Where was she? Was she all right? She had taken at least two and possibly three positions as a governess. At least, she wasn't somewhere on the streets of London or dead in an alley somewhere.

  He had high hopes two years ago when he returned to London. Simon was sure he would find the woman he loved. And quickly! Two years later I’m in the same position as when I started. Hopeless! Everything is hopeless!

  “How can I love a woman after a brief meeting of a second or two? Easily!”

  ❄

  Simon sat at his desk with a glass of brandy in his hand. He had already had several, and he knew he should stop. He glanced at the clock and was surprised it was already one in the morning.

  He left his valet, Rogers, upstairs packing for the trip to Berkshire tomorrow or rather later this day. Simon wasn't looking forward to this journey anymore.

  Not that he didn't want to see his mother and the rest of the family for he did. Simon planned to leave in a week or so, but why wait?

  He hated to disappoint his mother again. He was neither married nor betrothed and waiting another week wouldn't change that fact.

  Simon had one more thing to do before he went to bed. He didn't trust Clarissa to send the notice to the papers, so he decided to do it himself. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. He began to write the short, but sweet notice to the papers.

  When he was done, he folded and sealed the missive. After a moment of thought, he rang for his butler.

  His butler answered quickly despite the late hour.

  The butler bowed. “My lord.”

  “Be sure to send this letter first thing in the morning or rather this morning.” Simon handed the butler the missive.

  The butler bowed again after he had taken the letter. “Of course, my lord.”

  After the butler left the study, Simon made his way up the stairs to his bedchamber. He wouldn't get much sleep, but he could sleep in his carriage or try to.

  His life was a disaster. After the Holidays, he would have to start all over again in his search for a bride.

  Maybe I should let my mother choose my wife. I shouldn’t have given up so easily on my search for Kathleen. Who am I kidding? I have never given up hope of finding her one day. Blind hope? Maybe! Hope nevertheless.

  ❄Chapter Eight ❄

  Kathleen Richards was on her fourth job as a governess in two years. She was hoping to keep this job a little longer, but she was holding onto it by a tiny thread.

  Her charge was a sweet little girl of eight. Christine was very bright and eager to learn. It was her pimply-faced older brother, Stuart, that was the problem. He was all of fifteen and down from Eton for the Holidays. Stuart had decided to stalk her turning up in the most unlikely places. She even found him in her armoire when she returned to her room to change her clothes for bed.

  Lately, it had gotten so bad, Kathleen asked an upstairs maid to search her room before she entered. The girl thought she was crazy until she found Stuart under the governess' bed.

  That same maid stood at the door to the schoolroom. “Beggin' yer pardon, miss. The missus wishes to see you.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  Christine glanced up from the book she was reading with a question in her eyes.

  Kathleen smiled at the girl. “Finish a chapter or two. I will return soon. Your mother wishes see me for a moment.”

  Christine’s eyes turned sad. “You are leaving, aren’t you?”

  She couldn’t lie to the child so all she said was, “I don’t know.”

  Kathleen rose from her chair and followed the maid out the door. She stopped the maid in the hallway.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Really bad, miss. That Stuart boy has been tellin' lies.”

  “I thought as much. Can you pack my bag for me, Susan? If I'm fired, I don't want to waste any time.”

  “Oh, miss, we are goin' to miss ya, especially little Christine.” Susan had tears in her eyes.

  Kathleen hugged the maid. “I will miss all of you and my young charge. I hope the next governess is kind to that child.”

  Kathleen left Susan in the hallway to knock on the drawing-room door. She opened the door when she heard a faint command to enter.

  She slowly opened the door. Kathleen wasn't looking forward to this interview.

  Mrs. Bedford's husband made his money in trade. Apparently, he was so successful that he was able to buy this country house for his family. He was also able to get a highly placed Lord to sponsor his son at Eton and of course, hire a governess for his daughter.

  Kathleen hated to lose this job for it paid very well.

  Abigail Bedford sat on the settee. Kathleen didn't know where her charge has inherited her beauty and sweet nature. It certainly wasn't from her mother.

  “Come in, Miss Richards,” Mrs. Bedford said, with a smile.

  Kathleen stepped towards her employee. “You wish to see me, Ma'am?”

  “I do. I have been well satisfied with your work with my daughter, however, my son has told me some disturbing things.”

  Kathleen wasn't going to make it easy for the woman. “Oh, what sort of things?”

  “I think you know, Miss Richards.”

  “I’m sorry. I am afraid I don’t know what your son could have said about me. We rarely meet and speak even less.”

  Her employer sighed. “He said you follow him and when he is alone, you try to press kisses upon him. Stuart is a child. Why would you do such a thing?”

  “I would not, Mrs. Bedford.”

  The woman gasped. That was not the answer she expected. “Are you saying my son is a liar? I thought you were an honest person but to accuse my son …”

  “He is a liar. I am an honest person. I am more than five years older than Stuart so to me, he is a child. Did he tell you that I found him hiding in my bedchamber? First, in my armoire and then under my bed?”

  Mrs. Bedford gasped again. “My son would never do such a thing! I believe you are lying!”

  Kathleen shrugged. “That is your choice to believe your pimply faced son. I can only tell the truth.”

  I believe you are a liar, Miss Richards. Therefore, I have no choice but to terminate your employment without a character. Although the quarter has just begun, I will pay you half this quarter's wages.”

  Kathleen was expecting this so she didn't beg or plead to keep her job. She was only sorry the woman didn't wait until Spring. She didn't know what she was going to do now. Without a reference, she wouldn't be able to find another job.

  The agency, through which she found this job, informed her not to return if this job didn't work out. Kathleen was at a loss as what to do or where to go next. She did have a little money saved but it wouldn’t last long.

  Perhaps she could go back to Mrs. Ross' School and beg her for a job. Kathleen was reluctant to impose on the woman again. She didn't know what she would have done without Mrs. Ross' generosity.

  Kathleen knew she should say goodbye to her charge, but was reluctant to do so. She had become attached to the child and hated to leave her.

  In the end, she thought it best not to say goodbye, so she went to her bedchamber. Kathleen sat on the bed for a while contemplating her next move. She wiped the tears from her
cheeks.

  I have survived the last two years. I will continue to survive. So why cry about it?

  She didn't think she would make it through the first year after her father —

  Everything was sold, but she was allowed to keep her personal clothing and a few other things. Kathleen sold most of the clothing but kept the plainer things.

  Her father had given Kathleen a few pieces of her mother's jewelry and she sold those as well, except for one piece. Her father had given her a broach for her sixteenth birthday, so she kept it and a locket with a portrait of her mother inside.