Page 4 of Yule Be Mine

Chapter Two

“Ready for a nightcap?” Julius stood next to the sideboard, his glass of brandy topped almost to overflowing as Yule entered the Kastner’s library. He had, in fact, been seeking a libation and supposed the library would be the least crowded place to find one.

“Absolutely.” Weary after an evening of forcing pleasant conversation and avoiding Penelope St. Claire, he needed a whole bloody decanter to himself.

“You sound as discouraged as I feel.” His cousin topped off another glass and handed it to Yule before taking a large gulp from his own. “I swear there are no unattached ladies of any sort at this house party, save the St. Claire daughters and they are a trifle young for my tastes.”

“They are indeed.” The excellent cognac slid down Yule’s throat with a pleasant burn, exploding in his stomach, then mellowing, and easing the strange apprehension he’d been suffering from all evening. “Strange, I didn’t recognize her at first, but then, it’s been ten years since the family left Hertfordshire. Changes in appearance were bound to happen.”

“Which one?” Julius looked at him oddly.

“Which one what?” Yule took another gulp of the life restoring cognac.

“You said you didn’t recognize her. To which Miss St. Claire are you referring?”

“Not Miss St. Claire. Penelope, of course. The little one with red hair and freckles.” Why that image of her disturbed him so much, he didn’t understand at all. “She and her brother Victor used to come over to play with me quite often. Victor and I played together, that is. Penelope sort of tagged along. Her sister was friends with my sisters, Iphigenia in particular, as I recall.” Yule shook his head. “Damned shame when Victor died.” He took another sip of the brandy. His friend had contracted scarlet fever at the age of fifteen and died shortly afterward. “Not long after that, the family left for Ireland.”

“So, you knew them all well.” Julius had taken a seat in a comfortable-looking leather chair.

“Yes, I did. Although I was closer to Penelope and Victor.” Yule continued to stand by the sideboard. He might need more than one drink before bed. “She was a funny little thing, always trying to do whatever we boys were doing, but dragging along this beastly, ragged doll everywhere with her.”

“Little girls are prone to do that, I believe. At least my sisters did.” Julius eyed him strangely over his brandy.

“Mine were some years older than I, so I didn’t pay much attention to what they did.” Suddenly cursed with too much energy, Yule began to pace about the library recalling the last time he’d seen Penelope before tonight. “They left almost at dawn one morning, in early autumn. The leaves were falling everywhere, flame-colored like Penelope’s hair. I hadn’t seen her in a few months, not since Victor’s death. She’d caught the disease too, but somehow had survived. But they all came by Grandfather’s on their way to the train to say goodbye.”

Funny how he could recall that morning so well, as though it had happened just last week. “Everyone was taking their leave, still in mourning, so it was very solemn. And they were pretty much ignoring Penelope, who was only seven. I’d missed Victor all those weeks, missed Penelope too. I’d sent notes to her mother asking after her. I’d been horrified when they told me they’d had to cut her hair off because of the fever. And they’d taken her little rag doll from her as well, afraid it had caused the disease. I hated that and felt so sorry for Penelope. So, I’d asked Mother to get me a doll to give her. I told Penelope she might not have many friends when she first got to Ireland, so I was giving her a friend to take with her, to replace the one she’d lost.”

“You must have become her hero on the spot.” Julius smiled.

“I suppose I did.” Yule turned to stare out the window.

Penelope’s big blue eyes, still sunk back in her head from the illness, had widened like saucers when he’d bent down and handed her the doll with a painted porcelain face, dressed in an elegant blue gown. Gingerly, she’d taken it, then thrown her arms around him saying, “Oh, thank you, Sissy. I’ll love her always.” Then she’d stepped back and gazed up at him. “What’s her name?”

“Mrs. Phillpotts. She is a very wise, very friendly lady. She’s someone you can talk to when there’s no one else to listen to you.” Why he’d told her that he had no idea, just that he’d understood Penelope must be feeling bad and missing Victor even more than he did. If the doll could make up for that loss even a little, he’d be delighted.

“And now she’s all grown up.” Julius finished his cognac and set the glass on the table beside him.

“She’s hardly that.” Yule took another long sip and turned back to Julius. “I can scarcely believe she’s having a Season in the spring, although I suppose she’ll be eighteen in February.” Could she really be that old? Well, he’d be twenty-eight this coming summer, so yes, it was possible.

“She was certainly acting grown up this evening.” Julius eyed the decanter, as if considering pouring another drink. “I saw her talking quite animatedly with Lord Clavering later in the evening.” His cousin gave Yule a sidelong look. “One might even call it flirting.”

“Who is Lord Clavering?” The words came out sharper than Yule had intended.

“He inherited the viscountcy from an uncle in Essex, about six months ago. He’s just out of mourning and very keen on doing his duty by the title.” Julius grinned. “Young puppy, but he’ll settle down.”

“How does Fritz know him?” Yule had been too busy trying to avoid Penelope to notice Clavering, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in the man’s antecedents.

“The late uncle was a friend of the family.”

“Well, if he’s young, perhaps he would suit Penelope.” Yule stared into the dregs of his cognac. Funny to be talking so much about her this evening, when he’d never thought about the girl even once after he’d seen her off to Ireland that morning.

Of course, he’d gone to university that autumn, and on his Grand Tour four years later. Once he’d returned to England, he’d settled into his digs in London, happy to live the life of a gentleman with very few cares in the world—until Grandfather had set them the marriage wager. Now he’d actually have to find himself a wife—and pray he did better than he had tonight. Best stop thinking about Penelope St. Claire and focus his attention on finding an eligible young lady. “So did you get an invitation to tea, Julius?”

“No.” His cousin spit out the word and rose, picked up his glass, and headed back to the sideboard. “I spoke to several young ladies, but they all turned out to be married or betrothed.”

“This party isn’t going to have as good hunting for us as I originally thought.” Yule shook his head. Lord Caxton’s house party in August had come to mind immediately, where he’d met at least three young ladies who were unattached. His cousin Alex had actually found his bride at that gathering, which proved such parties could end in matrimony. Just not at this party. “I received an invitation to tea, but it was from Lady St. Claire, so that hardly counts.”

“It’s closer than I’ve come.” Julius had poured himself another drink and was staring morosely into the glass. “And Penelope and Miss St. Claire will likely be there as well, so I’m willing to concede the wager to you. No one wishes to speak to me for more than five minutes, much less invite me to tea for half an hour.”