O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,175

showed her the other guest room, similar to Tia’s, but ivory with a gold embroidered diamond pattern. “Will this do?”

“It’s lovely. We are so thankful you came by.” Kindness emanated from his green eyes. He was meant to help people, she thought, it’s in his soul.

A young girl rushed into the room with a pitcher, bobbing a quick curtsy. “Warm water, ma’am,” she explained.

Placing it next to the wash bowl, she set out a small and larger towel, then turned down the sheets. “We’ll have a repast ready in the dining room in thirty minutes. Mrs. Willoughby said if that’s not convenient, we’re happy to warm it up again later.”

“Thank you, Sally,” said Dr. Wharren. He turned to Etta. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Poor MacIntyre, I hope he’s not too ill.”

“I’ll check on him straight away.” He paused at the door. “I have a feeling it would take much more than a fever to keep that man down.”

The door clicked shut, and Etta fell back upon the overstuffed ticks. She was stranded, in a stranger’s house, and had no inkling what the future held for them. Yet, for the first time in months, her heart was light and she was… happy. When she closed her eyes, the laughing emerald eyes of Dr. Wharren greeted her, and the butterflies took flight again. She suddenly hoped it would take longer than a day to fix the carriage. Fate had not smiled down on her family in so long.

Gus drummed his fingers on the linen tablecloth while he waited for his guests. MacIntyre had provided limited information. Both parents dead, a distant cousin inheriting the estate, and on their way to Scotland to visit friends.

Alone with no ladies’ maid. Like a badly tallied column of numbers, something didn’t add up.

“Good evening, Dr. Wharren.” In the doorway stood a stunning creature in black bombazine; the high-waisted dress clung to her womanly curves as she moved. The sheer black lace across her chest revealed just a hint of the creamy swells beneath. Her umber waves were freshly combed and pulled up in a simple chignon. Behind her stood an adorable blonde perched on tiptoes to see over her sister’s shoulder.

“Welcome.” His face flushed and that ridiculous grin curved her mouth again. He stepped forward to take Miss Comden’s fingers and bent low, his lips brushing the back of her bare hand. He turned to Miss Horatia, who giggled as he extended the same courtesy.

Gus pulled out their chairs and then took his place at the head of the table. Sally appeared with a delicious soup of leeks and thinly sliced potatoes, and a loaf of bread. The sound of metal against china filled the silence as the three sipped their broth.

“How is MacIntyre?” asked Miss Comden. “I hope we can see him soon.”

“He’s in better hands than mine, I hate to admit. His fever is already subsiding with Mrs. Willoughby’s cold compresses. Though, I would suggest he rest a day or two. I’ll send a man out to have the wheel fixed on your carriage and bring it here. That will take at least all of tomorrow.” He paused at the panic in her eyes. “I would be happy to send word on to your friends. You could write a note—”

“I’m afraid we really need to be away,” Miss Comden said in a thready voice.

He dipped his spoon into the soup and raised it to his lips, wondering what question he should ask next to provide a hint to their predicament.

“We’re fugitives,” blurted Miss Horatia.

Gus coughed and spit out his broth, covering his mouth with the linen napkin. His eyes watered, and the liquid ran up his nose as he spluttered and tried to catch his breath.

“Tia!” Miss Comden jumped from her chair. It fell back with a crash. She smacked him on the back several times and then offered him his glass of wine. He took it and swallowed quickly, taking in deep breaths and wiping at his face.

“My sincere apology,” said Miss Horatia politely as her sister retrieved the chair from the floor, “but we are fugitives, escaping my abhorrent guardian.”

“Tia!”

“He might as well know. He might be able to help us,” huffed her sister.

The rest of the dinner included sliced beef, small potatoes, and multiple explanations as both sisters tried to talk over the other.

“So, let’s see if I understand correctly.” Gus pushed back his plate and poured a glass of sherry for himself and Miss Comden. “Your father, who died this past