Page 1 of A Storme's First Noelle

Chapter One

December 21, 1818

Worchester Park

Cambridgeshire, England

“Baah!” A sheepby the side of the road protested his passage, much to the annoyance of his horse, who snuffled at the offending, fluffy animal with the short, stumpy legs.

The Honorable Trey Marsden—Captain if anyone asked—second son to the Earl of Worchester, blew out a breath as he manipulated the reins of the gig. He glanced at the sheep as he passed it. Generally, sheep didn’t travel alone, so if there was one, there must be others close by. In fact, he knew there were, for he’d seen the flock when he’d gone into the village earlier that afternoon. A few gifts were needed, for he hadn’t come alone to the country estate, and even though grief had touched his family, he wanted to mark the occasion with small tokens. Yet as much as he hated to admit it, this Christmastide wouldn’t feel the same as years past.

For many reasons. If he’d had his druthers, he wouldn’t dwell upon them, for plunging into the blue devils during what was supposed to be a festive time of year didn’t appeal. In fact, if he’d had a choice, he would have passed the holiday season by himself, for time alone was difficult to find now.

He glanced at the sheep. The animal hadn’t moved.

Ever since he and his siblings had become involved in the drama surrounding the Storme family and being sucked into the emotional vortex therein, Trey hadn’t known a moment’s peace. A brief grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Of course, if Major Storme hadn’t been a client at the clinic in London that Trey and his brother operated, the Marsden family would never have become intertwined with the Stormes…

But that was a story for a different day.

Suffice it to say, both branches of the Storme family had sprung from one of the oldest titles in England. No doubt the Earl of Hadleigh was spending the Christmastide holidays at his own estate, and it was well-deserved, for the man had a child to occupy his attention. If Trey remembered correctly, the infant was eight months old now.

He snorted. When one life left the world a new one came in. That was part and parcel of why a bit of melancholy attempted to bedevil him, precipitating his flight to Cambridgeshire.

And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; because he was of the house and lineage of David to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child…

Interesting that this time of year could make him recall words from the Nativity story in the Bible. How long had it been since he’d read anything from the Good Book in recent years?

As he passed yet another fluffy white sheep, he sighed. In the distance, the gray rooftops of Worchester Park met his gaze. The highest stood in contrast against the fat clouds swollen with rain. He blew out a breath. Why couldn’t the weather cooperate and be cold enough to encourage snow? Those rooftops belonged to his father’s country manor, but unfortunately, that austere man had succumbed to death in the spring, around the time when Hadleigh’s infant was born. The intervening months had been a morass of grieving from the suddenness of his death, sadness from missing him, and trying to put the pieces of life back together.

“Why must we even go through the motions of Christmastide this year?” It would have been easier to ignore the memories and the past. Easier still to trail about the townhouse he used to share with his brother Royce, but that wasn’t an option, for his sibling had married mid-year—to a Storme—which meant Trey’s departure, and it had left him feeling very much out to sea and lost.

Most of the time he bunked in a back room at the clinic, until he’d come out to Worchester Park at the beginning of November with the intent to puzzle out the next step of his future.

“Baah. Baah!” Another sheep glanced at him as his gig passed.

“Oh, do hush. I didn’t ask for your opinion, and no, my current ennui has nothing to do with Father’s death.”

Remembering his parent tightened his chest. He’d lost his mother years before, and now he was very much an orphan… except he was fully grown and hardly a waif.

Trey and his siblings had suspected their father’s health was in danger, for he’d shown particular signs, but none of them could have imagined his heart would have attacked him like it had. One minute the man was arguing on the floor of the House of Lords. The next, he was lying lifeless in front of his peers. Gone in a moment, but at least the death had been instant and without lingering pain.

However, it had caused quite the bubble on the rumor mill, for it meant his older brother now possessed the title of earl. Something Royce fought tooth and nail against, and it had nearly cost him the love of his life.

Of course, things had worked out. They always did with Stormes. Trey shoved those thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to dwell on his brother’s romantic life or the way he’d become more heavily embroiled into that family.

God, they’re in every aspect of my life, these people with big personalities and enough drama they could form their own Drury Lane acting troupe.

Onlysomeof that turmoil had been of their own making.

What he’d needed—craved almost—was a break from anything that smacked of that family, regardless of how much he’d come to admire and love them.

Again, his gaze fell on the rooftops of the manor and a niggle of sadness went through his chest. Due to the observance of the grieving period, the holiday season wouldn’t be as grand as it had been in years past. Would they decorate a few rooms? Perhaps. Certainly, they wouldn’t throw the annual Christmas ball, but what he wanted above all else was peace. He was mentally tired, but when he’d announced his intentions to remove to the manor, both Royce, who was now the earl, and his sister Jane had decided to come to Cambridgeshire as well, along with their respective spouses. They’d decided it was the best way to honor the old earl’s memory. Ordinarily, that would have been fine with Trey. Except for the fact that both his siblings were now married, and they had wed Stormes to boot.

That brought a quick grin to his lips, which soon turned into a grimace. Eventhisholiday, which should have been a respite from the in-laws, would be spent with a representation of the Storme family.

Damn and blast.

A flash of movement ahead on the road yanked his attention from his thoughts. As he watched with both mingled annoyance and amusement, a flock of sheep spilled out into the rutted road. When he assumed they would cross to the field on the other side, the gathering of white, fluffy animals halted. For lack of a better word, theyswarmedonto the road. Some chose to partake of the grass on the side of the lane while others, apparently having exhausted themselves by the movement, laid down and didn’t appear likely to move.

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