Page 40 of Snowbound Regency Christmas
‘Does she?’ They were too far apart for Jane to hear Duncan sigh, but she knew he must have done by the movement of his shoulders. ‘Since having influenza, my mother sees illness round every corner. Charlotte seems well enough to me, but I suppose we can’t disobey a direct order.’
The little girl made a sound of protest but Duncan shook his head. ‘Your grandmama has spoken, I’m afraid. You’ll have to go along with Dinah. Miss Stockwell and I will follow once she’s finished gathering all the holly she needs. We won’t be far behind.’
With obvious reluctance, Charlotte took the maid’s outstretched hand, but not before looking up the slope to wave to Jane, who flourished a holly bough in return. The servant dipped a curtsey and she and Charlotte withdrew, two cloak-swathed figures cutting through the trampled snow to disappear into the woods.
Jane returned to her task. Her fingers were starting to hurt from snapping the tough branches and she was about to reach for her final leaf when Duncan’s voice came from behind.
‘Have you got enough?’
She started. She hadn’t heard him approach, despite the crunchy ground, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed how she’d jumped.
‘I think so. That’s all I’ll be able to carry in my cloak, anyway. I should have thought to bring a basket.’
Twisting off the last prickly sprig, she dropped it onto the pile. If she held up one corner of her cloak she’d be able to make a sort of pocket in which to carry them, although she didn’t have the chance to try before he spoke again.
‘The snow up here is still so pristine. Between Charlotte and the sledge, the stuff at the bottom of the bank is as churned up as a farmer’s field.’
Jane looked up. Duncan was gazing around, one hand shielding his eyes from the wintry sun. ‘It’s beautiful, really.’
‘I think so too. I love when snow is as deep as this.’ She pushed the toe of her boot down into it, her foot almost disappearing beneath the carpet of white. ‘It reminds me of making snow angels with my sister, when we were about the same age as Charlotte. Those were happy times.’
She hadn’t meant to sound wistful. It was supposed to be a mere passing comment, but she realised that more than a touch of sadness had stolen into her voice when Duncan slid her a quick, searching glance.
‘You could always make one now.’
‘What? An angel?’ Hurriedly, she forced a laugh. She didn’t want him to know how close to the surface sorrow lurked for her, the loss of both Deborah and any future with him pressing on her heart. ‘I couldn’t. Auntie would say it was beneath my dignity.’
‘I disagree. I think she would want you to take happiness wherever you could find it.’
For a split second he looked so serious that Jane felt her breath catch. He seemed so earnest in his concern for her that she wasn’t sure what to say, but then he smiled.
‘What if I made one too? Would that make a difference?’
‘You?’ To her surprise, she laughed again, albeit this time far more genuinely. ‘A lieutenant of His Majesty’s navy, rolling about in the snow?’
‘Why not? It’s Christmas, after all. If not now, when?’
As if to prove his intentions, he swept off his hat and hung it on one of the tree’s berry-laden branches. ‘Come on. We’ll do it together.’
He held out his hand, and in a dizzying moment of foolishness she was sure was a mistake Jane allowed herself to take it.
The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in the snow.
A damp chill seized her but she was too shocked to pay it much mind. The sky above was a perfect clear blue peeping through the skeletal treetops, a sight almost as beautiful as the unblemished snow, but it was Duncan’s chuckle in her ear that was the best thing of all.
‘I’m sorry. Weren’t you expecting that?’
She turned her head. Her bonnet had come off, she realised belatedly. Her veil lay on the ground beside her like a shadow but she couldn’t seem to make herself reach for it. Duncan was too close for that, lying next to her and his hand still very near hers, and when he looked over at her all such tedious thoughts of veils and bonnets instantly fled.
‘So?’ he asked her. ‘What now?’
Jane groped for the right answer, difficult to find when a pair of warm brown eyes were fixed on her face. ‘Now we move our arms and legs to make the shape of the angel’s skirt and wings.’
‘If you say so.’
They were too close together to fully outstretch their arms and she felt a thrill skitter through her when his hand accidentally brushed her waist. The snow scrunched up around them and her sadness of moments before faded into the background as she wriggled, the whole thing too ridiculous to allow any unhappiness to keep its grip.
‘Am I doing it right?’
