She picked up the teapot again and finished pouring before adding too much milk to his cup. And then—as she always did when she went to pass him something—she forgot that he only had one hand. That he could not both hold the saucer and lift the cup to his lips.
Sam looked pointedly at the cup and saucer she was holding out to him and said patiently, “Would you mind setting it on the table, Mother?”
She flushed. “Oh, of course, darling. Silly me.” She set the cup and saucer down on the table between them. “There.”
Sam managed a stiff smile, leaning forward to lift the delicate china cup in his right hand and somehow feeling like a clumsy oaf as he did so.
His mother looked away. She could not bear any reminder of his disability, and he could already envisage a dozen ways this might awkwardly play out in front of the Huxleys.
He had a horrible feeling he was going to regret agreeing to stay for their visit.
Well, there was at least one thing he could do to try to make it more bearable: speak to Jasper Huxley and clear the air between them.
He could still see Jasper’s wide-eyed gaze on that last night five years ago, as they’d stood beside the ornamental lake in the grounds of Alderton Hall.
The startling brush of their mouths.
The warmth of Jasper’s lips parting.
And the stern gaze of the goddess Athene watching from her marble folly as Sam tore free and ran back towards the Hall.
Chapter Two
Jasper
24th December 1814
Jasper Huxley felt distinctly grubby and travel-worn when he arrived at Alderton Hall. He had elected to ride most of the way rather than sharing one of the two travelling carriages the rest of his family were making the journey in. The alternative was a choice between sharing a carriage with his ill-tempered grandmother, who talked incessantly, or with or his twin brothers, who seemed to take turns to vomit at least once every half hour.
Neither alternative was appealing.
Riding wasn’t much better in truth. His grandmother had insisted on making a number of stops on the journey, so while Jasper was able to cover each stage of the journey quite quickly, he then ended up kicking his heels for ages at each posting inn, first waiting for the carriages to arrive and then for the ponderous disembarkation and lengthy rest that his grandmother always demanded.
Their final stop had been at Little Wolkham.
Jasper had already waited for over an hour and had his luncheon by the time the rest of the Huxleys arrived at the inn. So when Grandmama announced that she was hungry and tired and required a meal and a nap before she would deign to move, Jasper had elected to ride ahead to Alderton Hall without delay.
The road from Little Wolkham to Alderton Hall was very muddy with deep ruts in places. Jasper was fine on horseback, taking it slowly, but it was obvious to him that the carriages would be significantly slowed down by the road conditions. Consequently, by the time he arrived at the Hall, he was fairly sure the rest of his family would be hours behind him.
His muscles ached with tiredness as he dismounted, and he was relieved to see a stableboy approaching, ready to take care of the gelding he’d been given at the last inn. He patted the beast’s neck and handed the reins to the boy before climbing the steps to the grand entrance to the Hall—Alderton Hall was grander in every way than the rather crumbling Jacobean manor house occupied by the Huxleys.
Jasper remembered coming here when he was very small and how awed he’d been by the grandeur of the place, with its classical Palladian architecture. Everything had seemed so imposing, from the great stone pillars framing the enormous front entrance to the twin rows of bright windows stretching right across the whole facade of the Hall—nothing like the narrow, musty mullioned windows of Huxley Manor that seemed to have been designed to keep the light out rather than let it in.
The Aldertons were like that too, every one of them impossibly statuesque and elegant. The nearest to him in age—though he was almost three years older—was Sam Alderton. Tall and broad with thick, dark hair that managed to be unruly without ever seeming messy or tangled and whose hazel eyes looked sometimes green as new wood and other times the warm gold of dark honey.
Sam, whose occasional smiles had made Jasper’s heart seize in his chest and his breath quicken.
Not that Sam had ever shown him much attention—not until that last visit.
That last night.
Sam had probably forgotten all about that night. At least, Jasper hoped so.
Except… no, that was a lie.
His hopes were far more stupidly unrealistic than that.
As Jasper reached the top step, the huge front door of the Hall swung open, revealing the familiar, round figure of Hobbs, the Aldertons’ butler.
“Mr. Huxley, sir,” Hobbs said warmly, “welcome to you.” His small, shoe-button eyes twinkled merrily behind his spectacles, giving him the look of a diminutive, beardless Father Christmas as he gestured for Jasper to enter. “Are you alone?”
“I am,” Jasper said as he passed the butler and moved into the spacious hallway. “I rode ahead of the others. They will be along in a few hours. The going will be slow, though—the road from Little Wolkham is terribly muddy.” He glanced down at filthy riding clothes. “As you can probably tell.”
“Ah,” Hobbs said, raising his bushy white brows. “Shall I have hot water taken up to your bedchamber so you can bathe, sir? And some coffee and brandy to warm you up?”
“That would be wonderful,” Jasper replied, smiling. “And I’d be very grateful if you could send me up something to wear. My portmanteaux are with the carriages. The only luggage I have with me is this.” He gestured at a soft leather folio case he’d strapped to his back that contained his sketchbooks. “Until the carriages arrive, I have no clean clothes to change into, and I’m not fit to be received like this.”
“As it happens,” Hobbs said, “Lord and Lady Alderton have gone out to visit some of their tenants and wish them a merry Christmas. And young Mr. Alderton is out too, on his daily walk, though he should be back soon. I’m sure by the time they all return I’ll have found you something to wear, if your own portmanteaux have not arrived by then.”
Jasper smiled gratefully. In truth, he was glad the house was empty. The thought of a hot bath and a little bit of peace and quiet sounded like heaven.
A footman arrived then, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Ah, Archer, will you see Mr. Huxley up to the Willow Room?” Hobbs said. He turned back to Jasper. “I shall take care of the rest in the meantime, sir.”
Jasper followed Archer up two long flights of stairs and along the corridor in the south wing, where the majority of the Hall’s bedchambers were located.
The Willow Room was decorated with hand-painted wallpaper depicting weeping willows. The heavy drapes over the window and the satin bedspread were both pale green. As if that were not enough, the chamber was festooned with festive greenery: dark, glossy holly with blood-bright berries crowned the mirror on the wall, and a pine-and-mistletoe wreath hung inside the door, the milky white berries like seed pearls buried amongst the needles.
Once Archer had withdrawn, Jasper unstrapped the folio case and tossed it on the bed, then crossed the room, sinking down into the deep leather armchair in front of the fire with a weary sigh.