O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,264

well, Stiles, how much you love your children. You wouldn’t wish to be parted from them for long.”

“Perhaps not,” Stiles said, “though a few hours’ respite would be very welcome. Georgia talked non-stop since the carriage left Truro, and Eleanor is at that age when a child has learned her first few words and wishes to repeat them non-stop. As for Frederick…” He wrinkled his nose. “Let’s just say that being in a confined space with a baby who’s recently been weaned onto solids, is an assault on the olfactory senses, potent enough to floor an ox. I might consider using it as a sentence in the magistrate’s court. I can’t think of a better deterrent for the criminals of London.”

Ross let out a laugh. “Perhaps a brandy will soothe your constitution, Stiles,” he said. “Your complexion does look a little green.”

The two men followed the women inside. Alice and Frederica walked arm-in-arm, chatting animatedly. Amelia and Georgia had already run inside, together with Eleanor, who clung to her older sister’s hand.

“When’s Westbury due to arrive?” Stiles asked.

“This afternoon,” Ross replied, “then all the London Libertines will be reunited for Christmas.”

Alice settled into her chair while Frederica poured the tea. The gentlemen had disappeared for an afternoon’s fishing in Pengarron cove, and Amelia had taken Twinkle for a walk with Georgia. The younger children were having their afternoon nap, which meant that Alice had at least an hour to indulge in a little uninterrupted gossip with her friends.

Jeanette had arrived shortly after Frederica, together with her husband the Duke of Westbury, and her older sister Susan Claybone. Alice was good friends with Jeanette, and also her youngest sister Jane, who was lately married, but she was only slightly acquainted with Susan. A serious-minded woman, Susan seemed the antithesis of her fun-loving sisters. Heaven knew why Jeanette had asked Alice to extend her invitation to include Miss Claybone. Her face showed nothing but discontent at the world.

Jeanette nudged her sister. “What do you think of Cornwall, Susan?”

“I’ve hardly seen any of it,” came the reply, “but it’s bound to be better than London.”

“You dislike London?” Alice asked. Miss Claybone rolled her eyes. “I’m sick of the people,” she said. “All that false gallantry. Particularly among the men. There’s nothing worse than a gallant gentleman who simpers over a woman with exaggerated congeniality in order to get what he wants.”

“You prefer a man with a sour disposition?” Alice asked.

“At least such a man is being honest,” Miss Claybone said. “I can’t stand men who seem to think a woman wants nothing more than to be smiled at.”

Jeanette colored and cleared her throat, then she frowned at her sister.

Frederica sipped her tea then set her cup aside. “You’ll love Cornwall, Miss Claybone,” she said. “The light here is just perfect.”

Miss Claybone remained silent.

“Do you plan to paint during your stay, Frederica?” Alice asked.

“Naturally. I have my paintbox with me. I fancy doing a seascape for Georgia’s bedroom.”

“The cove is quite beautiful,” Alice said. “I can take you there once we’ve finished our tea, if you like, and we can join the gentlemen.”

“I doubt Ross would approve of your clambering about the rocks in your condition!” Jeanette laughed. “I’m sure Frederica and I will find it ourselves. How about it, Sue?” She nudged her sister again. “Do you fancy a walk?”

Miss Claybone shook her head. “I’d rather remain indoors, Jeanie. At least then, I can be guaranteed not to come into contact with any congenial male company.”

“There’s no fear of that,” Alice laughed. “Excepting, of course, my beloved Ross, and Frederica and Jeanette’s husbands, I can safely say there’s no congenial male company within ten miles of here.”

And if what Ross said was true, the only male company within ten miles was a distinctly uncongenial man in the neighboring estate.

Chapter Four

Alice set aside her embroidery and sighed. She reclined on the chaise longue, her feet resting on a cushion, Monty snoring in a basket at her feet. The gentlemen were still out fishing, and the ladies had gone to explore the cove. The light was fading, and it wouldn’t be long before Mrs. Bascomb came to discuss the supper menu—which, given that she always cooked star-gazy pie on this date, was more of a declaration than a discussion.

But, for now, Alice relished the peace and quiet, and the elevated position of her feet. Her ankles had been swelling a lot recently, and her lower back ached. But she daren’t tell Ross, for he’d only