O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,160

man that demanded only duty and gave little of himself. I became bitter. These are not justifications for my nasty behavior. They are my truth.”

“Agatha, I do not think you nasty, nor mad.”

“Thank you,” she replied, swiping at tears.

When had he ever seen her cry? Never, he answered himself. Hope surged in his heart.

“While I feel free of the yoke of foolishness and pride, society’s yoke of propriety still exists, so I must do something that I hope you will accept and see with possibilities.”

He felt a thin sheet of perspiration spread over him. After all of this, was she going to fire him?

“I must ask you to step down from your position.” She paused, as if searching for the right words before rushing on. “We have feelings for each other, and we must set an example in our household. So, I am hoping you will accept a residence in the summer cottage and allow us to sort this out between us,” she finished, regarding him closely.

He did not miss that she said our household. Relief and anticipation flooded him, and he allowed himself to breathe.

“I accept, on one condition,” he said. “You allow me to court you.”

A smile as wide as he had ever seen filled her face, and unchecked tears rolled down both her cheeks. “I will do that.”

No longer compelled to ask, he leaned over and kissed her, reveling in her closeness. “I will do my best not to disappoint you. I love you, Agatha.”

“You love me?” she asked, her eyes full of wonderment.

“I do.” He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “All I ask is that you allow me to show myself as worthy of your heart.”

“If you promise me something,” she replied.

“And that would be?” he asked.

“I wish to take a carriage ride . . . and continue that conversation . . . the one from earlier.” She smiled seductively.

“Ahh…that sounds delightful, and very doable,” he said, before taking her into his arms.

Epilogue

Christmas Day

One Year Later

“Mama, wake up!” Tiny hands patted her face until Agatha finally opened her eyes. Henry, their two-year-old adopted son, stood in front of her, his eyes bright and his face stretched into a smile. Her husband and son stood dressed in front of her, smiling. “Good morning, Charles. You let me sleep too late again.” She smiled.

“Mama,” Henry said, tugging her hand as she sat up and reached for her robe.

“He has been up for a while, judging from the voices in the hall. I heard Mrs. Stone offer to take him to the kitchen—possibly for some biscuits,” Charles said, grinning.

“That sounds lovely,” Agatha said, cinching her robe. “I am quite ready for breakfast,” she added.

“Merry Chwithsmas!” Henry exclaimed, clapping his hands.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Please, come in,” Agatha called.

Miss Miles, Henry’s nurse, nervously stuck her head into the room. “I apologize, my lady. We have been playing games, and Henry took hide and seek a little too seriously. It will not happen, again.”

“It is quite all right, Miss Miles. It seems he is most eager to go downstairs,” Charles inserted.

The nurse’s face lit up with a smile. “You are right about that, sir!”

“We will be down in a thrice,” Agatha said, ringing for her maid.

Charles reached over and gave his wife a kiss and picked up his son. “I will take him back to the nursery for a few minutes until Lady Bentley is ready. We shall be right down. In the meantime, take time to break your fast and relax the rest of the day. We will take care of this little man.”

“I appreciate this so much. Thank you, Mr. Bentley. Thank you, my lady.”

As Miss Miles left the room, Mary, her lady’s maid entered. “We must ’ave you ready to face the day, my lady,” the older plump woman said, cheerfully.

“Yes! I think the burgundy velvet with the gold ribbon would be perfect for today.” Mrs. Spencer had delivered her new dresses only this week, and Agatha loved them all. “There is nothing like a new frock to help cheer a body.” She had also commissioned dresses and new trousers for the orphanage children. They should have been delivered yesterday, she thought. I will send a note and check on them, she decided, holding onto the bedpost as Mary cinched the back of her dress.

“Mary, can we make the curls loose? I had a slight megrim yesterday and want to make sure it does not return today.”

“Yes. I have a lovely style in mind,