A Christmas Reunion Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Donna Hatch

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  A Christmas Reunion

  by

  Donna Hatch

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  A Christmas Reunion

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Donna Hatch

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First English Tea Rose Edition, 2014

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-525-8

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Donna Hatch

  Donna Hatch is a two-time winner of

  the Golden Quill Contest.

  ~*~

  “No one creates chemistry between Regency Historical characters better than Donna Hatch. If you want a ‘sweet’ read, but with lots of sizzle, you have to read her books.”

  ~Carol A. Spradling

  Dedication

  To Vicki, Jennifer, and Joyce,

  who remind me why I write.

  Chapter One

  England, December 1813

  Emily unfolded Bennett’s last letter, tempted to burn the harbinger of such sorrow, and read it yet again, as if some vain hope still remained in her heart that the cruel writing would magically transform into words of love.

  May 28, 1813, Badajoz, Spain

  Emily,

  That bare salutation should have been her first clue something had gone horribly wrong. All Bennett’s other letters began with My Dearest Emily, or My Darling Emily, or My Love.

  Emily sighed and continued re-reading the tattered letter with the same morbid fascination one watches a serious carriage accident, knowing ahead of time people will suffer.

  I will always be grateful to you for your kind letters…

  Kind letters. Such a bland description of her loving letters should have been her second clue, but the first time she’d read his letter, she never imagined it would inflict such heartache.

  …and the knowledge that you were praying for my safe return. You gave me the encouragement to face a new day, no matter how brutal the battles, or how much suffering I witnessed. However, I regret I must inform you that I can never see you again.

  The first time she’d read his letter, she realized at this point something was terribly wrong.

  During my stay in a hospital here in Spain, I met someone, a local lady who helped the nuns with injured soldiers. We fell in love.

  Emily’s heart squeezed so tightly she could hardly breathe. Dismay and disbelief flooded her as sharply as the first time she read those words three months ago.

  Since I have no idea when or if I’ll see you again, and she is here with me now, willing and able to follow the drum, I have taken her to wife.

  He took this other woman to wife because she was convenient, never mind that Emily had been willing to marry him and accompany him to the continent while he served king and country in the war. He’d been the one to insist she remain safely at home while he faced all manner of danger and hardship.

  I deeply regret the hurt my actions may cause you, but I also hold to the belief that you may feel some relief at your newfound freedom…

  Freedom. Freedom from love? What idiotic notion was this?

  …from the rash promises…

  Humph. There was nothing rash about them.

  …we made in our youth.

  Two years ago, they weren’t exactly children.

  I hope you can find someone else and be happy.

  She’d never find someone else. She’d rejected three marriage proposals and knew the moment she met Bennett that she had found her true love. There was no one else. There never would be anyone else. Surely he knew that.

  I remain

  Your obedient servant,

  Captain Bennett A. Seton

  Emily glared at the letter in her trembling hands. She should have burned it. She should have burned all his letters. Instead, they remained carefully stored in a box in her nightstand to taunt her that she’d found the man of her dreams, and he’d dismissed her like so much unwanted baggage.

  With a sob lodged in her throat, she let go of the letter. It fluttered down to her bedroom floor, a stark white against the blues and greens of the carpet. Firelight from the nearby fireplace flickered on the paper, sending alternating shadows and light in an attempt to chase away winter’s chill. Outside the window, a bank of clouds suffocated the morning sunlight, reducing sunrise to a bleak gray. Ever since the letter arrived, all of Emily’s world had faded to a bleak gray. Bennett’s words still mocked her from the paper on the floor.

  Bennett. The cad. The bounder. The scoundrel. He’d broken her heart completely in two and squeezed the life out of it, and yet had the audacity to say he hoped she’d be relieved she was free.

  Her so-called freedom had made her a captive of grief for over three months. Today she would break out of her prison of suffering. Resolute, she wrenched open the door and marched down the corridor to her mother’s bedchamber.

  Wearing a burgundy carriage costume, her mother sat at a dressing table fidgeting with her favorite traveling hat. A maid stood arranging Mama’s dark hair in a low chignon.

  Emily drew herself up. “I’ve decided I want very much to go with you to Aunt Ruby’s house for Christmas after all.”

  Mama’s smile warmed the entire room. “Oh, darling, I’m so glad. What changed your mind?”

  Emily perched on the edge of the bed. “I’m tired of grieving. I need to stop wishing for what might have been and start living again.”

  “Very sensible of you. We’ll delay our departure until you are ready to leave with us.” Mama smoothed her hand over her hair before giving a nod of approval to the maid.

  To her credit, her mother made no suggestion of who might be attending the party that she deemed a good match for Emily, nor suggested she make herself available for courting. She simply smiled as if she were truly happy to have Emily’s company during Christmas.

  Emily pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “Thank you.” With renewed energy, she rushed to her room and pulled the bell.

  By the time her maid answered the summons, Emily had already begun throwing gowns she wished to take onto the bed. Within a matter of minutes, Emily and her parents settled themselves in the family coach heading for Aunt Ruby’s house in Cornwall.

  “I look forward to the Christmas pudding,” Papa said with a twinkle in his eye.

  Mama nudged him with her elbow. “And the extra helping of rum, no doubt. I, for one, love singing carols while Aunt Ruby plays the pianoforte.”

  Emily smiled. Yes, spending time with family would do her good. Anticipating the warmth of family love and Christmas traditions lifted her spirits. They began exchanging memories of the joys and foibles of past Christmas parties, laughing as Emily hadn’t laughed in months.

>   The coach bumped over roads rutted by alternating snowfall and rain but made surprisingly good time. With luck, they would reach Aunt Ruby’s house in time to light the Yule log.

  That evening, they stopped at a posting inn for the night. When Emily and Mama arrived inside, the fragrances of fresh bread, beef, and onions greeted them. Emily’s stomach rumbled in response. Noisy diners squeezed into crowded tables, and a plump woman served plates of food to the patrons.

  Father stood, his shoulders squared, and the lines around his eyes deepened as he engaged in a sober discussion with a man wearing an apron and wringing his hands.

  “Is something amiss?” Mama asked.

  Father made a gesture toward the distressed innkeeper. “He says his private dining room is already occupied.”

  “Oh, dear.” Mama glanced about the main room at the diners tossing back their drinks, shoveling in their food with the manners of street urchins, and laughing raucously. “Well, I suppose we have no choice but to dine in here.” She fidgeted nervously with the top fasteners of her pelisse.

  Emily glanced between the innkeeper and Father. “Perhaps we could dine at a table near the fire, somewhat removed from the others.”

  Father glared at the innkeeper as if he’d personally slighted them before he answered. “It gets worse. He has no rooms, either, unless we want to share beds with strangers.”

  Emily shivered at the thought. “Is there another inn up the road?”

  The innkeeper tugged at his collar. “Th’ next posting inn is at least ’nother two hour drive from ’ere.”

  Father let out a long-suffering sigh. “We’ll have to eat here, then move on to the next place and hope they have a private room for us.”

  “Oh.” Mama’s shoulders slumped. “It’s already so late, and I’m quite fatigued.”

  Father made a gesture. “I don’t mind sharing a bed with strangers, but I won’t subject the two of you to that—you’d be out of my protection.”

  Emily put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. “I suppose there’s nothing for it.”

  A closed door nearby opened, and a finely dressed gentleman stepped out. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I couldn’t help but overhear your difficulty.”

  Emily let out a gasp.

  It was Bennett Seton.

  Dressed as impeccably as a Corinthian in his Cambridge blue frockcoat, skin-tight, buff-colored breeches, and gleaming black Hessian boots, Bennett gripped an ornate cane in one hand. His hair was as thick and dark as ever, and his face, though thinner than before, was even more handsome. A scar bisected his chin, adding to his aura of ruggedness. He drew himself up as his gaze swept over her. His eyes, the color of a stormy sky, narrowed.

  “Emily.” His voice dripped displeasure.

  Chapter Two

  Bennett stared at the vision standing before him and barely managed not to drop his jaw. Or his cane. He’d recognize Emily anywhere. The years had nourished her beauty. Her figure had ripened from a slender girl to a voluptuous woman. Though a bit rumpled from travel, she looked charming and lovely with her raven-black hair falling out of her chignon to frame her face. As she gazed on him, blinking her leaf-green eyes as if she couldn’t quite believe what she saw, he had to clench his fists lest he march to her and sweep her into his arms. He stood trembling with restraint and drank in the sight of the only girl he’d ever loved.

  Stepping back a pace, she pressed her mouth closed and laid a gloved hand to her chest, virtually recoiling from the very sight of him. He’d hurt her. And she hadn’t gotten over it yet.

  He drew in a ragged breath, taking in her familiar scent of lavender and violets. He had to remind himself that it was better that she suffer briefly now than endure a lifetime of misery with him.

  Drawing his dignity around him like a cloak, he dipped his chin in a curt nod. “Mr. Annesley. Mrs. Annesley.”

  Emily squared her shoulders, donning a cool reserve he’d only seen her use with a person she despised. “Captain Seton.”

  A defensive measure, surely, but encouraging. If she could hate him, she could eventually forget him and move on. Perhaps she already had. Though the thought of her in the arms of another man made him want to skewer the faceless blighter, it was the best for her. For them both.

  Bennett remembered why he’d come out of his private dining room and turned to Emily’s father who glowered at him as if he were a poisonous insect. Bennett couldn’t blame him. He’d jilted the man’s daughter and probably caused tongues to wag. If she were sensible about it, she had claimed that she cried off. Such an action would label her a jilt, but spare her the embarrassment of being thrown over, a much worse fate.

  He gripped his cane as if it alone protected him from a fall. “Sir, I overheard the innkeeper say that he has no room for you and your family. Apparently, I arrived in time to take the last one. Please, take mine. I would be happy to share accommodations with someone else.”

  The innkeeper started stammering. “Oh, cap’n, you wouldn’t jes’ be sharing a room wi’ other men—uh, men lower born than yerself—but you’d be sharing a bed wi’ them as well.”

  Bennett shrugged. “I assure you, I’ve slept in much worse conditions.” Nine years of war had ground his sensibilities to dust.

  Mr. Annesley eyed him as if expecting Bennett to name some kind of stipulation. “A generous offer…”

  “Not at all. I couldn’t enjoy my fine room knowing ladies were in discomfort. Please.” He handed a key to Mr. Annesley.

  Emily lifted her chin, and a challenging glint sharpened her green eyes. “Won’t your wife be unhappy with the change?”

  Wife. Right. “I am traveling alone at present, Miss Annesley.” He addressed Mr. Annesley as he gestured behind him. “I insist you take the dining room as well. I’m finished and can pass the rest of the evening out here.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Bennett held his posture as erect as possible and strode carefully to the nearest vacant chair. His footman/valet followed, eyeing the common room as if he expected a thug to attack them both.

  Bennett gestured to him. “Stanley, move my things out of my chambers and into wherever the proprietor says I may stay. Then bring my writing desk. I have some correspondence to catch up on.”

  “Right away, sir.” The footman dashed upstairs and disappeared.

  “This way, sir,” the innkeeper said to the Annesleys as a lad dashed into the private dining room and cleared away the dishes. “We’ll ’ave it set t’ rights in no time.” He shot a grateful smile at Bennett.

  As the Annesleys entered the dining room, Emily paused at the doorway and looked over her shoulder at Bennett. For a moment, the shields around her collapsed. His heart ached at the anguish and confusion roiling in her eyes, eyes that were once filled with such innocence, such trust, and often that mischievous zest for life. She’d been enchanting and loving and happy.

  And he had hurt her. She probably hated him.

  But that was for the best.

  She swept away with all the dignity of a duchess. The double doors closed behind her, shutting her off from him.

  Barely forcing breath into his lungs, Bennett collapsed into the chair and rested his walking stick against his leg. He pressed his hands over his eyes. He’d been cowardly to hope he’d never see her again, and the encounter had been worse than he’d imagined.

  “Your writing desk, sir.” Stanley appeared and set the desk on the table in front of him. Bennett ran his hands along the outer edge of the carved wood as the hurt and accusation in Emily’s eyes haunted him.

  A tankard spilling foam appeared in front of him. Bennett blinked up at the innkeeper.

  The man quirked a smile. “My thanks fer yer willingness t’ move to ’nother room. This is me own special brew. I ’ope you like it.” With a quick smile, he stepped back to serve customers calling for another round.

  Bennett sipped the drink and raised his brows in appreciation. One of the finest beers he’d ever tasted. He hel
d up the tankard as a salute to the innkeeper, almost wishing he had an entire bottle of something much, much stronger. But no amount of drink would make him forget that the girl he loved sat only a few feet away, forever barred from him.

  What could he offer her now? She enjoyed riding horses, going for long walks, exploring caves by the seashore. And dancing. How she loved to dance. None of those activities they once shared were a part of his life any longer. She deserved a whole man.

  If only he could change the past and have Emily in his heart and in his arms!

  Chapter Three

  Lying on a comfortable settee in the inn’s best bedroom, the room Bennett had given up for them, Emily stared up at the rough-hewn ceiling. Father and Mama slept peacefully on the bed, their breathing loud and even.

  Though he probably slept in another bedroom, Bennett’s presence permeated the very air. Tangled thoughts tripped over memories—their first meeting and the way he’d smiled as if he’d been searching for her all his life, his endearing nervousness when he’d asked her to marry him, the tearing of her heart when they’d had to part so he could resume his duties as an officer. And most painful of all, the memory of his promise that he’d return soon and make her his wife returned with incisive clarity.

  Every nerve tingled and her muscles bunched as if preparing to take a mighty leap. What pitiless twist of fate had brought them both to the same posting inn on the same evening? It was just too cruel. And what about his precious little wife? He shouldn’t be traveling without her, especially so close to Christmas.

  It was possible, as a Spanish woman, his wife felt she didn’t fit in here in England and she had refused to travel with him. Perhaps he didn’t want to introduce her to any of his acquaintances. No, that didn’t sound like him. He’d stand by her because he was loyal and honorable.

  But not loyal and honorable to Emily nor the promises they’d made.

  Maybe his wife couldn’t travel because she was with child. Emily wanted to leap out of bed and run until she collapsed. Tears leaked out of her eyes in a steady trickle. She wiped her cheeks and flopped over onto her stomach. Sleep remained far away. She punched her pillow and laid down her head. Agitation built up until she could lie still no longer.