Lady Sophie's Christmas Wish - By Grace Burrowes Page 0,59

Kit’s failing hands. “I cannot leave. I’m about to be taken prisoner.” He spoke with his nose in Kit’s grasp. “I promised the boy a pony when he learns his letters.”

“I’ll see to it. My brothers will aid me in this if I ask it.”

Vim straightened, gently tucking the child’s hand away. “I wish I could be the one providing that aid, Sophie.” He advanced on her, wrapping his free arm around her while he yet held the baby with the other. “I wish a great deal that isn’t very practical.”

She let herself be held for just a moment longer, for the last statement was marginally of more comfort than being told he cared for her. Sophie took one last whiff of the warmth and male fragrance of him. “Wishes can be quite inconvenient.”

Vim passed her the baby, kissed her cheek, and picked up his satchel. “Don’t see me out, Sophie. Stay here warm and snug, cuddle this baby, and know that I will never forget you.”

She nodded, willing herself not to cry. “We’ll be fine, but thank you so much for… for everything.”

He kissed her cheek again and withdrew, quietly closing the parlor door behind him. A moment later, she went to the window and watched his progress across the snowy expanse of the back gardens. He moved easily, a man used to dealing with the elements, a man very likely relieved to be on his way.

The sun was out, making the snow sparkle with painful brightness. When Vim got to the back gate, he turned amid all that sunshine, and his gaze sought out the parlor window.

Sophie waved, and emulating the idiot gesture of mothers everywhere, raised Kit’s hand in a little wave too. Vim blew them a kiss, slipped through the gate, and disappeared.

She could not stand there, staring at the gate, at the brilliant sunshine, and she could not remain in the parlor that held so many lovely memories. But then, there were memories in the kitchen too, and the bedrooms, and the pantries, and even the bathing chamber.

So she got the baby comfortable in the steamy confines of the laundry, where the windows did not look out on the garden, where she could boil up laundry until her shoulders ached and her hands were red.

Where she could cry in peace.

***

“There is no goddamned way we’re going to make London today, possibly not even tomorrow.” St. Just checked his horse’s girth and glanced at his brothers. For men who’d never been on campaign, they traveled well, even under the circumstances.

“Their Graces will worry,” Val said, patting his chestnut’s neck. “Sophie ought to be comfortable enough, though.”

Westhaven’s lips pursed where he sat on his horse. “My backside is not comfortable in the least. I tell myself to be grateful we’re not dealing with rain and mud, but a cold saddle is only a little less miserable.”

“You should have let me fit a sheepskin under the ducal arse,” St. Just said, swinging onto his horse. “Baby Brother wasn’t so proud.”

Val climbed aboard too, settling onto the sheepskin cushion St. Just had fashioned the night before. “It helps with that initial, ball-shriveling shock of cold when your backside first lands in the saddle. You ought to try it, Westhaven.”

“Perhaps tomorrow, if we’re indeed to be traveling another day.”

“We could push it,” St. Just said as they moved away from the inn where they’d eaten a luncheon of bread, cheese, and ale. “But everybody’s tale is the same: move south, and the snow is navigable. Move west, and the drifts are several feet deep in places.”

“So we give it another day to melt and continue working south.” Val’s gaze went to the perfect azure sky making the day appear much warmer than it was. “At least I got a violin out of it. A little Christmas present for having been a very good boy.”

This comment was too worthy of reply to be ignored, so St. Just, cheerfully abetted by Westhaven, spent the next five miles teasing their baby brother about just how good he’d been. This led the way to a lengthy discussion regarding Christmases past, naughty deeds, pranks, and family memories.

St. Just watched the sun sink and gave thanks that this campaign was so much more joyous than others he’d endured in the past. No, they would not make London in the limited daylight available, and they possibly wouldn’t on the next day, either, but he was with his brothers, traveling in relative comfort, and all was right with