Page 58 of A Gifted Earl

Chapter Nineteen

Christmas Eve was chaos, with all of his guests leaving, most of the gentlemen rather the worse for the indulgences in food and drink of the previous evening. The rain had stopped, but the roads were still inches deep in mud, so everyone would likely have a slow and frustrating journey. It was late afternoon before they were all gone. All, except, that is, Lady Venetia and her mother.

They stood with him, and his own mother, on the front steps, watching the last carriage disappear down the drive. He let the tension leave his shoulders, and gave a very loud sigh of relief. His mother laughed.

“Was it really that much of a chore to deal with them all, Morgan?”

He turned to her with a grin.

“Of course it was. You never raised me for all of this – no one ever expected me to have to deal with it. I’m not sure that I will ever feel comfortable in this life. I’ll always be sneaking off to the stables, and pretending I have no greater responsibilities.”

Venetia laughed then.

“And I will be beside you, in complete agreement. Horses are so much easier than people.”

Lady Hardenwell shook her head knowingly.

“She will be, and still most likely doing rash things all the time.” Then she turned to look at Morgan’s mother, and gave her own theatrical sigh. “I suppose that simply means that you and I will need to dedicate ourselves to the organisation of this wedding, or nothing will happen…”

Morgan’s mother slipped her arm through Lady Hardenwell’s and led her into the house.

“Indeed we will, for I can see now that our children have no idea whatsoever of what is required.”

Morgan watched them go, leaving himself and Venetia alone together, the crisp breeze lifting the edges of her skirts. Then he turned to her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. A kiss which lasted quite some time. Eventually, they stopped, and simply stood for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes. Then Morgan gave a soft laugh again.

“Let us not disappoint them. I am sure that if we slip out early tomorrow, to ride across the hills, they will just shake their heads in the confidence that they were right. Let tomorrow be a day for us, our Christmas gift to each other. We can worry about everything else in the days that follow – we can be wed by just after Twelfth Night, and if it were possible to marry earlier, I would suggest that we do so – but with the roads this way, obtaining a special licence might take almost as long as waiting for the banns to be read!”

“I agree. Let tomorrow be for us. The few weeks that follow will be for our mothers, and then, when all of the fuss is over, we can get on with our life together – although I too would have been happier if we could have wed immediately.”

At those words he bent and kissed her again, a soft kiss on her brow, caressing the scar which had brought them together, and then they went into the blessedly quiet house, ready for the joy of Christmas in the morning.