Allison Lane - Christmas Collection.pdf

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ALLISON LANE'S CHRISTMAS COLLECTION
3 Holiday Novellas: Second Chance, Heart's Desire, The Marriage Stakes
* * * *
SECOND CHANCE
Allison Lane
 
-1-
Tension churned Alice's stomach as the carriage rolled through Blatchford's familiar gates. Spending
Christmas here was a mistake. Why hadn't she feigned sickness? More importantly, why had she
accepted a position with the Westlakes, knowing that they always attended this house party?
But in the cold days of January, desperation had kept her from thinking this far ahead. Lady Westlake
had offered her shelter, security, and the dignity of earning both. Even considering the consequences
would have left her no choice. Returning to England had backed her into a corner with no other exit—
hardly the first time that impulsive behavior had caused trouble. She had a long history of mistakes and
poor judgment.
The worst consequence this time was Christmas at Blatchford. It had been ten years since her last
seasonal visit. Ten years of anger, pain, grief, guilt, and loneliness. Returning brought her full circle, back
to the scene of her first mistake—innocuous compared to later ones, but she dreaded meeting even these
earliest ghosts. They could rip open deeper wounds.
"Don't wake William yet,” she murmured, staying seven-year-old Michael's hand as he reached for his
young brother. “He'll just fuss."
"But—” Michael's voice died at the look in her eye.
"We will not reach the house for at least a quarter hour."
"There goes a fox!” Ten-year-old Elizabeth distracted Michael's attention.
"Where?"
"By that wall."
Already it was gone. Michael opened his mouth to complain, but his eye lit on another prize. “Look!
There's snow in the ruins.” His bouncing jarred William. “Do you think we'll get more?"
"Perhaps.” William whimpered in protest, but Alice did not notice. She was trying to steady her
breathing.
Snow in the ruins. The snow had been unusually heavy ten years ago, especially around the ruins. Few
had ventured so far from the house, so the crypt had offered privacy impossible to find elsewhere.
"I love visiting Grandfather at Christmas.” Elizabeth's voice cut across the memory.
"It is a wonderful house party,” Alice agreed. “My family always spent Christmas here when I was a girl."
"I forgot.” Elizabeth sounded uncertain for once, perhaps sensing her governess's distress. But she didn't
remain subdued for long. “Do you think Uncle Frank is here yet?"
"And Uncle George? Maybe he'll let me ride his horse again."
Alice let them prattle. Anything was better than answering their questions. She hated Christmas. The pain
was always worse then. Time had not eased it, for every time she began to heal, some new trauma would
revive all the old ones. This year promised to be no different.
He would be here.
 
Masons and Caristokes had married often. Thus the two family heads, the Earls of Blatchford and
Pembroke, held combined Christmas house parties so no one had to choose which tie to honor. It was a
tradition that dated back more than fifty years. This year Blatchford was the host, just as he had been ten
years ago.
She shivered, then cursed herself. Allowing her discomfort to show would draw the very attention she
wanted to avoid. Few had known about that holiday flirtation, so there should be no questions. And
surely she had learned how to fade into the background. Since leaving England, she had traveled
thousands of miles, seen much, done much, endured far too much...
She stifled the newer memories, though the embarrassment of her last visit remained. Even at seventeen,
she should have known better. Her mother may have been Blatchford's third cousin and her father the
younger son of a baronet, but that placed them firmly in the gentry. So why had she taken the attentions
of Pembroke's son seriously? He had merely been amusing himself with a harmless holiday flirtation—
harmless in his eyes.
No one will remember, she reminded herself sharply. Even he will have forgotten. He won't even know
you are here. Do your job and put the past behind you.
The coach wheeled across the stone bridge that offered a spectacular view of the manor. They had met
here more than once to talk, to admire the view, and to watch the water—it tumbled too quickly to
freeze, its motion one of the few signs of life when snow draped the landscape. The willow that had
sheltered their first kiss still stood sentinel on the far bank.
Stop this!
She raised her eyes to the house that sprawled across acres of hilltop. A thousand years old at its core, it
loomed like something out of a nightmare. But that perception arose from her own distress. Despite its
piecemeal construction, the facade unified the whole into an image many found welcoming.
"Can I explore the tower this year?” demanded Elizabeth. The oldest courtyard was off limits to the
younger children.
"Ask your grandfather."
Michael was again bouncing with excitement. She absently calmed him, but her thoughts remained mired
in relentless memory. The carriage rolled past the ice skating cove where he had plied her with chocolate
as they warmed themselves by the fire. Farther along was the grove that supplied Christmas greenery,
including the mistletoe that hung throughout the house. That ancient oak had sheltered them from prying
eyes. The lakeside folly, the sledding hill...
Shrieks of ancient laughter echoed in her ears. She could almost feel the cold wind in her face and his
warm legs wrapped around her hips. They had overturned into a drift, where he had landed on top, his
mouth a scant inch from hers...
Enough!
She tucked the rug tighter around William's legs. Reliving the past was pointless—and painful. She should
have accepted his attentions in the spirit in which he had offered them. And if she had not been so
stupidly naïve, she would have. It was time to put the past behind her. He was now nine-and-twenty,
more than old enough to have set up his nursery. Thus her fears were groundless.
She ignored a wave of shudders, attributing them to the cold that had long since invaded the coach. His
 
marital status was irrelevant. For her own peace of mind, she would avoid him, but that would be easy.
Blatchford housed hundreds of guests during the Christmas season. Even when she brought the children
downstairs, she could stay out of sight.
Unwillingly, her eyes returned to the window. The setting sun lit the house with a rosy glow, but it still
offered her no welcome. A lap robe warmed her thinly gloved hands, but nothing could warm her heart.
As always, the chill came from her soul.
William awoke as the carriage lurched onto the steepest portion of the drive, but even his fussing could
no longer distract her. They were nearly there.
Please don't let him be in the hall.
Michael and Elizabeth jumped out the moment the carriage rocked to a halt. She barely prevented
William from falling as he tumbled after them.
"Uncle George!” Michael shouted as Blatchford's oldest son, Lord Rufton, appeared at the top of the
stairs.
"Uncle Frank!"
"Grandmother!"
The children's voices rang out as Rufton's brother and parents appeared. Aristocratic reserve collapsed
under excited greetings. But not until Rufton's eyes passed over her without pausing, did Alice finally
relax. Rufton was his closest friend. If he saw only a governess, then she was safe. Thank God that the
aristocracy rarely looked at servants.
Yet pain tempered her relief. For the first time, she admitted that seeing him again was not her greatest
fear. It was seeing his eyes slide past her with no sign of recognition.
* * * *
Jeremy Caristoke pulled his muffler tighter and swore at the snow swirling outside the carriage. Only a
fool would press on in these conditions, but even a short halt would strand him. Christmas was in two
days. It would be unbearably rude to miss the annual house party, especially since one of the guests was
there by his invitation. He could only hope that continuing on would not prove fatal.
Where were they?
This predicament was his own fault. He should have started home a week earlier, but he had been
enjoying his stay with Thomas's family. At three, his godson was curious as a cat—which often led to
trouble—but Jeremy loved the boy like a son and could rarely stay angry at him.
He sighed. Would he ever have children of his own?
It seemed an odd question for a man many considered a prime catch, but while Lady Luck had often
smiled on him, providing health, wealth, and a host of good friends, his most cherished dream—a loving
wife and family—remained beyond reach.
He had first fallen in love while still at Oxford, but the girl had played him for a fool, disappearing without
a word. It had been a portent for his life.
Another sigh escaped as later interests paraded through his mind. Elizabeth had turned him down,
wedding Wrexham barely a week after his own proposal. His next tendre had been for Thomas's wife,
 

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