My Christmas Knight (The Fairplace Family #1)

Chapter Six

B lanche woke slowly, encased in warmth. The soft mattress pressed into her stomach. But something tugged at her hair. As she grew more awake, a deep feeling of wrongness seeped into her, chasing the warmth away. Something had happened. Something was wrong. She opened her eyes at another tug.

Dennis sat beside her on the bed, face fixed in concentration on something in his lap.

It all came rushing back. Tobias. Her uncle. Dennis. Poor, poor Dennis, an innocent in this debacle.

She’d never woken beside a man before. Blanche slitted her eyes so she could watch his profile without him knowing. Every time he smiled she wanted to touch that dimple.

If only Dennis had been at the ball that night. He was kind and good. Perhaps they’d still be in London. Perhaps he’d be courting her, sending her Christmas candies tonight and promising to take her on a walk on Boxing Day.

Dennis moved his arm, and her braid tugged at the back of her head. What on earth? Blanche kept her eyes mostly shut, watching.

In her sleep her braid had slipped on top of the covers. It was long enough she could face him, and it would still wrap around and the ends land in his lap. Was he playing with her hair? Why?

It tugged hard, and Blanche opened her eyes fully to see Dennis wrapping the braid around his arm.

“What are you doing?” Blanche whispered.

Dennis froze for a heartbeat, then shucked off her hair so quickly anyone would think it was a snake. His cheeks turned bright red and even his ears pinked. “You’re awake.”

Blanche wriggled a bit closer. “I don’t mind.” And she found that she didn’t. When Dennis made no move to pick her hair back up, she nudged him. “Go ahead. Just be gentle.” She hadn’t had anyone play with her hair since she was fourteen with her friends at school.

He hesitantly picked up the end of her braid and brushed the edge of its tail back and forth against his palm. “So soft.”

She hid her smile in the pillow. “How long have I been asleep?”

Dennis looked at her braid. He fingered the ridges, running up and down a section. “Like silk,” he murmured to himself. Louder, he said, “I don’t know. My pocket watch is in my coat.” Which was on the floor. Which meant he hadn’t left her side since she fell asleep. Her chest warmed at the thought, turning into toffee again.

Careful, she warned herself. You’ve been smitten before. Look where it got you.

“Your maid did come in to bring the supper meal, though.” Dennis pointed to two bowls sitting on the trunk. “It’s gruel.”

Blanche got to her hands and knees and leaned over Dennis’s outstretched legs to peer into the bowls. “It’s oatmeal,” she laughed.

Dennis made a face. “It’s as bad as anything I ate in the army.”

“I eat this every morning, and then during the meals my uncle is angry with me.” She crawled out of bed—her side, though she wished she could crawl over his body—and padded around to pick up her bowl. His bowl was completely empty.

“All the complaints, and yet your bowl is scraped clean,” she teased him.

He held up a finger as if giving a lecture. “Never waste food when you don’t know where your next meal is coming from. Army basics.”

She smiled and took a spoonful, tasting the cool, a congealed mess. She nearly choked. But she stubbornly swallowed it down. If Dennis did it, she could, too. Though he’d probably eaten his warm a while ago.

“You eat this every day?” Dennis watched her carefully.

It made her nervous—in a good way—when he looked at her like that. Like he saw everything about her, like she was the only thing worth paying attention to.

Blanche shrugged. “Uncle doesn’t like me to eat rich food.”

He glanced away for a second, rubbing his hand over his mouth as if hiding his reaction. “Rich food?”

“Butter, sugar, any desserts. Sometimes meat.” She kept her voice light as if it didn’t bother her. “You see why I was so terribly excited about the balls! Not only did I get to see other people my age, I danced, and I ate the most delicious food. Have you had ratafia?”

Dennis stared at her, eyes hooded, and did not answer the question.

“I had my first taste last week when my uncle was distracted and oh my goodness, it was the sweetest wine! I couldn’t believe how it fizzled on my tongue.

“And I dream of having an ice one day. I’ve heard of Gunter’s in London, and it sounds divine.” She paused. Was she prattling on too much? “Maybe when I turn twenty-one, that will be my birthday gift to myself.”

Something flashed across Dennis’s eyes, but he merely smiled and nodded. “A fine birthday gift. You should eat nothing but ices all day long.”

The silence between them now turned softer, quieter, and she liked it.

Wait. The silence. Blanche bolted upright, her spoon clanging against the edge of the bowl. “We’ve stopped moving!”

He nodded. “About an hour ago. I believe we’re in York.”

Blanche ignored the flutters in her belly. “Do you have a plan?”

He grimaced. “I considered beating on the door and screaming when rail workers stop by and ask your uncle if he’s staying in the car overnight, but I think it was all prearranged because I haven’t heard a peep, besides our car being pulled to a new track.”

Her nerves settled. She nodded, relieved at his answer. She didn’t want to lose him yet. She sighed dramatically and looked around the room. “If only we had a bag of marbles.”

“Or a deck of cards,” Dennis suggested.

Delight washed over Blanche. “I’ve never played cards. If we had some, would you teach me?”

His brows rose in surprise, then he smiled and nodded. “If we had some, I’d teach you all sorts of things that would make your old headmistress swoon.”

In the end they settled on clapping games.

“I have never done this before,” Dennis warned, chuckling.

“Boys don’t have the patience,” she agreed, grinning.

His eyes widened in mock outrage. “I ought to tickle you for that.”

Blanche caught her breath, wondering if he’d actually do it. But he didn’t, much to her disappointment. “Come on now, clap your hands against mine with the rhythm.” She chanted My Father went to sea, sea, sea slowly until he caught on, and then they were off. She dredged up old nursery rhymes from her childhood, when her parents lived, and she had a loving nanny. Before everything had gone so wrong.

Exhaustion settled over Blanche, despite her earlier nap. But she kept playing, kept doing anything that would keep Dennis’s spirits up. They’d graduated to a more complicated clapping pattern when suddenly the lock clicked open at the door.

Dennis and Blanche froze, then scurried backward and turned to face their guards. They glanced at each other, a show of togetherness, and then looked back at the door.

The door swung open, revealing Uncle Alan. Behind him loomed the guards.

Fear skittered up Blanche’s spine at the expression on his face. All she wanted was to burrow into Dennis’s side, but he wouldn’t like that. Not while he attempted to convince her uncle to let him go. Her heart beat a staccato rhythm as Uncle Alan looked at them.

In the silence, Dennis left the bed and stood. His shoes thumped against the wooden floor.

“Well, niece. Have you convinced him?” Uncle Alan raised his brows.

Blanche shook her head. “We have no wish to marry one another, Uncle.”

Irritation sparked in his eyes. “Have you lain with him? Perhaps the fear of a child will make him do the honorable thing.”

Blanche pressed her lips tightly together and shook her head.

“Now see here,” Dennis broke in. “There’s no reason to be so crude. Your niece is a lovely young woman and if you treated her better, she’d find a husband in no time at all.”

Uncle Alan gave Blanche such a look of distaste Blanche felt like a dirty handkerchief someone dropped in a gutter. “Niece, do you know who this man is?”

Blanche glanced between Dennis and her uncle. “He said his name was Mr. Fairplace.” What was her uncle getting at?

“Not merely a mister.” Her uncle glanced at Dennis. “One of my servants fetched your things from your seat. We have your valise, hat, scarf, and greatcoat safe and sound; don’t worry.” He looked back to Blanche. “This is Sir Dennis Fairplace, one of the heroes of the Siege of Sevastopol.”

Recognition jerked through Blanche. She stared at Dennis in amazement. “You?”

Dennis didn’t nod, but the grim set of his mouth confirmed it.

“The man who saved a company of men,” her uncle told her in a mocking tone as if it were all a sick joke. He surveyed Dennis again. “The Redan, wasn’t it? The final push to take the city from the Russians?”

Dennis nodded. “That’s not why I received my Victoria’s Cross. It was later, an idiotic accident of events that all happened at the same time.”

Blanche tried to remember. She’d sneaked so many war stories from the newspaper. “The 7th Royal Fusiliers.” She still didn’t understand the difference between fusiliers and regular infantry. “You tried to retake the Redan.”

“With everyone else in the British army,” Dennis put in without emotion. “And we failed. It was the French who conquered the city.”

“But your heroic acts came later…after most of the fighting ended.” Wasn’t there something about an explosion? A mill caught on fire?

He crossed his arms and glared at her uncle. “What of it? Yes, I received two medals and a knighthood. What does that have to do with this?”

Uncle Alan gave her a sly look. “You really should convince this one to marry you. I doubt I’ll be able to find a war hero next time.”

Blanche stared at Uncle Alan and Dennis, conflicted. Her uncle was right. Dennis was the best chance of having a good husband. But no. She’d have to find her escape through some other means. “I refuse to entrap a good man.” She stared her uncle square in the eye. “If he proposes, I shall refuse him.”

Uncle Alan cackled at that. “Oh, dear, you are not allowed to refuse. Do you not understand?”

Blanche shook her head. “The Church expects a bride’s consent.”

His eyebrows rose. “I am your guardian, and you shall do as I say. That is all the consent they expect.”

Dennis glared daggers at her uncle, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Blanche began to see the officer in him, the man who’d survived three years of conflict and winter hurricanes without proper gear.

Uncle Alan withdrew a large piece of paper folded into thirds. “I have a marriage license.”

Dennis stiffened. “You have a special marriage license?”

But that couldn’t be right. Blanche hadn’t lived in the household of a bishop without learning something about ecclesiastical law. “A special license?”

Uncle Alan nodded.

“I thought that was only for the aristocracy.” Dennis clenched his jaw so hard Blanche thought he might break a tooth. “How would you get one?”

Uncle Alan gave him a withering look. “I know the archbishop. That’s the primary requirement.”

“But…” Blanche tried to remember. “A special license is already filled out by the archbishop when he hands it over. Including the names. What name did he fill out for the bridegroom?”

Uncle Alan’s face turned red.

“It can’t be Mr. Fairplace’s name. We didn’t even know him until a few hours ago.”

“It’s a common license,” Uncle Alan bit out. “A bishop can issue those.”

“Yes, but only a special license allows a couple to marry outside their parish church. And wouldn’t you need to wait seven days before using the license?”

“Oh, so the girl planning to elope to Gretna Green is suddenly the expert on matrimony?” Uncle Alan sneered.

“She’s right,” Dennis said slowly. “This marriage would be invalid because it’s not in a church. And because we’re both under duress.”

Uncle Alan rolled his eyes. “Blanche cannot be under duress. She’s my ward. And as the officiating clergy, my word will be taken as fact that this was indeed performed at the Cathedral of Newcastle. No one will grant an annulment when a bishop himself presided over the ceremony and swears it happened in a church. I think I know more about waiting periods than either of you,” he sneered. “Do you actually think a court would believe the word of a damaged soldier over a respectable bishop of the Church of England?”

Blanche held back a sigh, settling into the familiar sensation of despair and helplessness. Her uncle had too much power to cross.

“You can’t keep us in here forever,” Dennis warned Uncle Alan. “Eventually you must let us out. Or we’ll be discovered by rail workers.”

Uncle Alan nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. I’ll need to provide an incentive. Sir Dennis, you have until dawn. It’s midnight, so you have less than eight hours to make up your mind. I think that’s quite generous of me, considering how you’ve grated on my nerves for the past eleven.”

“My answer will not change,” Dennis ground out.

“We depart for Newcastle at 8:05 in the morning. There are plenty of bridges and steep ravines along the track. If you do not agree to marry her by dawn, I’m afraid we will have to deposit you off the train. It’s only a shame dueling has gone out of fashion, but we can make do.”

Blanche froze and her jaw dropped. “Uncle! You cannot kill Mr. Fairplace! That’s horrible!”

Uncle Alan shook his head. “I hate that I’ve been driven to such extremes to protect my family’s honor. It would’ve been simpler if you weren’t a slut. But we’ve passed that now, and the only solution is a husband. I quite like the idea of my nephew being a knight and war hero.” He smiled at Dennis. “So I do hope you change your mind.”

Blanche couldn’t think, let alone speak. How had everything unraveled so badly?

“So!” her uncle chirped. “Think it over. If you change your mind, bang on the door and I’ll begin the ceremony immediately. This door will open for no other reason.”

Dennis’s shoulders sagged. “Come now. It’s Christmas Night. Can we at least get some figgy pudding?”

Uncle Alan shook his head. “I think not. Hunger should motivate you. And my niece doesn’t do well with rich foods. Her constitution is delicate, and it is my responsibility to protect her health.” He motioned behind him, and the servants stepped back enough for him to step over the threshold and lock the door.

Blanche, stunned, looked to Dennis. She didn’t know what to say. “Forgive me.”

Dennis went to the locked door and braced his hands on either side. His shoulder muscles bulged as if he attempted to break apart the frame by sheer strength alone. After a moment his head dipped forward. “Worry not, Miss Badnarrow,” came his muffled voice. “I’ll never force my body or my attentions on you. He cannot make me hurt you.”

Blanche licked her lips as she saw the nape of his neck exposed. Now was not the time to have lecherous thoughts about this man. “I…I don’t think he’ll actually kill you. That’s far, even for my uncle.”

Dennis turned with a dark look. “I’ve found that when a man threatens to kill you, it’s best to take him seriously.”

She gulped. “I don’t want you to die for my sake.”