Page 25 of The Scoundrel's Christmas Challenge
“You’re a romantic.” She was surprised to learn Mama had kept a gift from another man throughout her marriage. “Do you want the vase as a reminder of my mother?”
He nodded, his hazel eyes glistening. “Ridiculous, I know. But having that piece in my own library, where I can touch it each day, knowing she had done the same, would give me comfort in my last years.”
Christiana went on her knees before the elderly man and took his gnarled hand in hers. “Lord Bentson, I had no idea the sentimental value attached to the vase.”
“It’s why I hope to win the next contest.” He removed his hand from hers and patted her cheek. “It gives me solace that you know our secret, and it didn’t turn you away from me.”
“It doesn’t matter who wins,” she disagreed. “With this knowledge, you have become a link to my past. Another voice who can share my love for her and my sorrow for her loss.”
“Lady Winfield, walking away from your mother was the biggest mistake of my life. When one finds the love of his lifetime, he should snatch it and hold tight, never let it go.” He gave her a sad smile. “Promise you won’t make the same mistake I did.”
Voices echoed in the hall. Christiana stood, smoothing her skirts as she returned to her chair, thinking on Lord Bentson’s words. Her guests spilled into the room.
“Lord Page beat me again,” announced Lord Elwood. “But I massacred Lord Frederick.”
“Where is he?” asked Christiana, not seeing the duke’s son with the others.
“He’s nursing his pride with a bottle of whisky in his chamber,” answered Lady Elwood. “That boy is monstrous spoiled.”
“Good riddance,” said Lucius, tossing a knee-weakening smile at Christiana.
“The score now stands Bentson two, Lady Winfield one, and Lord Page one.” Lady Elwood narrowed her eyes at Lord Bentson. “You have become the man to beat, my lord.”
“We’ll have to see what’s in store for us tomorrow,” said the older earl. “I know from experience how luck can desert a man as quickly as it favors him.”
CHAPTER 11
28 December
Lucius woke early. The previous night, during his private archery session with Christiana, he had gained him another point. Two-one in his favor. While he wanted to win the daily challenge for Charles Wilkens and his uncle, to thank them for this opportunity with Christiana, the midnight contests were the most important. If he won, it gave him more time to woo the woman, to convince her that destiny had brought them back together.
He wrapped his greatcoat around him, the wind whipping up tiny snow swirls that wrapped around his boots as they crunched through the thin layer of snow. A storm was brewing; he could feel it in his bones. The devil if I don’t sound like my father.
The dim light coming from the stable window didn’t surprise him. The youngest stable boy had picked up on Lucius’s habit and met him now with his horse, Boots, ready for a morning ride. Of course, the lad received a coin for his trouble. But Lucius appreciated the boy’s ambition.
This morning, he was met with a saddled horse and a tear-streaked face. “What is the matter? Are you hurt?”
“One o’ the guests said to saddle Vengeance, said he had to try the horse out ‘fore he bought it,” sniffed the redheaded boy, his freckles shiny on his wet cheeks. “I tol’ ‘im no one could ride Vengeance without milady’s permission. If he would jus’ wait until the sun come up, the stable master would speak wi’ her.”
“You did the right thing,” soothed Lucius. “Did he hurt you?”
The lad shook his head. “He ordered me to fetch the saddle and bridle for when the stable master came. And when it was found I ‘ad denied a lord, he said I’d be beaten. So I did as I was tol’ and then he sent me back into the tack room. That’s when he locked me in.”
“He what?”
The boy nodded. “He locked me in, saddled Vengeance, and took ‘im.”
Lucius swore under his breath, not wanting to alarm the lad. “How did you get out?”
“I climbed out the window, but he was gone. So, I readied yer mount, knowin’ ye’d be here shortly.”
Lucius tousled the stable boy’s hair. “You did exactly as I would have done. What direction did he take and how much of a lead does he have?”
“South toward London and the village, about fifteen minutes ago, milord,” answered the boy, relief on his freckled face.
“Good. Lord Frederick isn’t a man used to riding in foul weather. Fortunately, I am and so is my horse.” He buttoned the top of his greatcoat, pulled up the collar, and wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck and mouth, yanking his leather gloves under his wool sleeves. “Go up to the great house and tell Cook what has happened, so she can tell Mr. Jensen, the butler. He’ll know what to do.”
Lucius swung onto the saddle and pulled back on the rein as his black gelding danced and pawed, feeling his owner’s urgency. “With luck, I’ll be back soon, leading Vengeance.”
