A Magical Regency Christmas: Christmas Cinderella / Finding Forever at Christmas / The Captain's Christmas Angel

Something in her snapped. ‘Difficult for them?’ She snorted. ‘I’m sure it was difficult to discover that the girl you counted on bringing a healthy dowry into the family was ruined! Positively tragic. And...’ she was warming up to her subject now, ‘...if you are going to tell me that it is my Christian duty to accept the situation allotted to me by God, with humble piety, then you may go to the devil!’

He blinked and Polly realised what she had said. Oh, goodness. This time she wouldn’t have to get as far as being pawed around by the son of the house to be dismissed. This time she was going to be dismissed before she’d even started.

‘I was being sarcastic,’ said Alex mildly. ‘And if,’ he continued, ‘I had been so mind-bogglingly arrogant as to say that, you’d be welcome to kick me on my way.’ He eyed her consideringly. ‘You are sure, then, that you want this? There will be no going back, you know.’

She swallowed. ‘There is already no going back.’ She had already lost her place. In society, in her family. She would have to make her own place.

‘I suppose it will be safe enough,’ he said slowly. ‘Right here in the village. And Dominic owns the cottage, so only a fool with a death wish would cause trouble.’ His expression hardened. ‘Not to mention having me to deal with.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Very well, then. Fifty pounds a year, payable quarterly.’

‘Fifty?’ It came out as a sort of squawk.

The dark brows rose. ‘Not enough?’

This time she picked up the humour in his voice. ‘More...more than enough,’ she managed. ‘I—the cottage will need some things. A table, maybe a chair—if you could advance me a little and take it out of—’

‘Certainly not!’ He glared at her, grey eyes furious, all humour fled. ‘The place will be fully furnished and equipped.’

‘Equipped?’

He waved vaguely at the fireplace. ‘Mrs Judd will tell me what is needed. A...a cooking pot, I suppose. Some utensils.’ He levelled a searching gaze at her. ‘Are you quite sure this is what you want? What about Lady Littleworth?’

She swallowed. ‘And what will happen when she dies, or decides that I annoy her? She won’t be paying me, you know. I’ve thought it all out. I need to save enough for the future. Perhaps buy an annuity for my old age.’

His jaw dropped. ‘Polly—you’re twenty-one!’

And one day she would be fifty-one. With no money. Ignoring the little voice of fear, she countered, ‘Have you ever met Lady Littleworth?’

His mouth twitched. ‘Actually, yes. I take your point. Very well, the position is yours, Miss Woodrowe. When would you like to start?’

Chapter Three (#ulink_c05a7c85-0cc0-59e4-a4a8-a72da2ca9cba)

What had she done?

The following Monday, Polly stared at the fire glowing under her cook pot and hoped she wasn’t burning her dinner. Mrs Judd had brought along a piece of mutton during the afternoon and explained how to deal with it. It seemed simple enough and the smell coming out of that pot was making her stomach rumble in a most unladylike way. She looked around at the room that was now her home. A table and two chairs in the middle of the room, a mattress and bedding in the alcove, a small cupboard to hold a meagre amount of cutlery and earthenware crockery and here, by the fire, a small wooden settle. She had brought the pillow over from the bed to soften the wooden frame a little and was curled up in the corner of the settle, waiting for her supper.

In the schoolroom everything was prepared for tomorrow when the school opened. Lord and Lady Alderley were coming along with Mr Martindale to speak to the children. A dozen children to start. Boys and girls. She had met most of them after church the day before. Alex Martindale had made a point of it.

Despite the twisting knot in her belly, she thought it would be a great deal better than her respectable position as a governess. For one thing she wouldn’t have Mrs Frisingham constantly interfering, making excuses for bad behaviour and vetoing any discipline. Nor would she have the lady’s brother-in-law, young Mr Frisingham, lurking in corridors to paw her about and make lewd suggestions. She shivered a little.

She had left the Manor without fanfare. Neither Susan nor Mary had come downstairs to say farewell to her. Only her aunt had seen her off, mouth thin with disapproval.

I dare say it will not take you long to realise the folly of your actions.

Outside the afternoon was drawing in, she had already closed the shutters and blown out the lamp. There was enough light from the fire and she couldn’t afford to burn lamp oil wantonly. For the first time in her life, she was alone. Utterly alone. And she had a horrible feeling that loneliness was very close, waiting to pounce.

The knocking on the door made her jump. ‘Come in!’ she called as she scrambled up from the settle.

Alex Martindale stalked in, a scowl on his face. ‘Why isn’t the door bolted?’ he demanded. The stern effect was rather ruined by a half-grown, black-and-tan setter pup, who rushed across the floor to her, all outsize paws, lashing tail and enthusiastic tongue.

‘Bolted?’ She stared at him while the pup licked her hands. ‘Why?’

‘Why?’ He looked around. ‘Is something wrong with the lamp?’

‘No, nothing,’ she said. ‘Why should my door be bolted? It’s barely five o’clock.’

‘It’s dark!’ he retorted. ‘Or nearly so. Anyone could come by!’

‘Someone just did,’ she observed, patting the dog.

‘Who?’ he growled.

She stared. What on earth had him all on end?

‘You, of course,’ she said. ‘Who else would have bothered?’

‘Who else?’ he echoed. ‘Polly—Miss Woodrowe—any tramp could come by and see the light. Perhaps decide to find out who lives here.’ His mouth flattened. ‘And you’re here by yourself.’

‘Oh.’ She flushed. Felt a complete widgeon. ‘I see.’

‘Thank God for that. Now, will you promise to bolt the door in future?’

All her family’s concern had been for how her actions must reflect on them, how demeaning it was. His furious concern for her safety was as warming as the fire itself.

She nodded. ‘Yes. If you believe it necessary.’ And when she saw the relief on his face she warmed even more.

‘Good.’ He hesitated. ‘I won’t stay. I just wanted to give you this.’

He held out a parcel and she took it with trembling hands. ‘Thank you.’

He nodded. ‘Are you sure you’re quite all right here?’

‘Yes.’

‘And there’s nothing wrong with that lamp?’

‘No.’ She flushed. ‘I didn’t want to waste oil.’

‘Oh.’ He looked a little disconcerted. ‘I see. Bonny—sit.’

The pup sat, her tail lashing, then, with a sigh, lay down and curled up beside the fire.

‘Bonny?’

He smiled. ‘An early Christmas gift from Lady Alderley. She thought a dog would be good company.’ He eyed the pup dubiously. ‘Which is probably true, as long as she doesn’t cost me my housekeeper. Mrs Judd is not entirely convinced and nor is her cat.’

Polly laughed. ‘But she’s lovely. And dogs are good company.’

‘True. You’re all ready for tomorrow?’