The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

“Yes, indeed.” Gwyneth nodded back. “I’ll remind Royce.”

She left them to it and went in search of either Royce or Harry, since someone would have to let Ben know what their plans were.

After he’d taken them to St. Polycarp’s and back, Gwyneth would be sending him home He would be able to spend Christmas with his family and return the following day.

Gabriel came down the stairs as she entered the hall. “Are we going to church?”

She chuckled. “Goodness, you too?”

He blinked.

“Jeremy and Evan just asked me the same question. The answer is yes.”

“Ah. Not the midnight mass?”

“No.” said Harry, joining them from the parlour. “There’s the play to present, and my guess is we’ll have snow tonight.”

“Indeed.” Gwyneth glanced around. “However, we are all eager to sing carols, it seems.”

“Hah. I’ll tell Royce. I need to see him for a moment, anyway.” Harry laughed and walked off toward Royce’s study.

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas tomorrow,” Gabriel said as he tucked Gwyneth’s arm through his and strolled to the end of the hall. “Are you excited?”

“In a way,” she answered. “I never really thought very much about it when I was little. I liked the smell of the house, all warm and cosy, cinnamon and goose, pine and evergreens.”

“Gifts?”

She shook her head. “No. My family believed that one should make sure to give the Lord his due on that day. We gave to Him, not each other.”

“Mine too,” sighed Gabriel. “But I do recall one year when a lady appeared with gifts for the family. I must have been very young though, since I don’t remember who she was or what she gave me. Some distant Parr relation, I suppose.”

Gwyneth pulled out her winter cloak and bonnet and put them together with her gloves in readiness for their drive to the church. “I haven’t thought about presents, Gabriel. Should I have?” She turned to him, slightly worried.

“No, no, love.” He smiled sweetly at her. “You are gift enough for all of us.”

She shook her head. “Your honeyed words, dear man. How is it that you always know the right thing to say?”

“Practice,” he answered dryly, reaching into the cupboard for his own winter clothing. “When your life depends on your being what someone else wants you to be, you learn very quickly.”

“Oh Gabriel.” She touched his arm. “I’m sorry.” Realising he spoke of his past in a brothel, Gwyneth was distressed that she’d recalled that memory into his mind.

“No, please.” He hugged her briefly. “No need to apologise. The past is just that. The past. I take things from it, things that are good and useful, and leave the rest behind.” He squared his shoulders. “I am focussing on the play, now. It should be a lot of fun.”

As he helped her into her thick winter pelisse, she glanced at his face, pleased to see those amazing eyes filled with delight. “I believe it will serve the purpose,” she said, reaching for her bonnet.

“And it’s quite short, so the little ones won’t get restless.” He raised his hand. “Fingers crossed.”

It wasn’t long before the entire Wolfbridge party was assembled, and squeezed into the carriage, amidst laughter and jests.

The six of them fit, but since five were well-built gentlemen, Gwyneth found herself snuggled between Harry and Royce, with her knees tucked in between Evan’s.

“Are you warm enough, my Lady?” Harry glanced at her.

“Toasty,” she chuckled. “You’re all providing plenty of heat.”

She almost felt the atmosphere in the carriage change at her words. “Er…I trust you all not to misinterpret what I just said.”

“Of course not, my Lady.”

“It would not even cross my mind, my Lady.”

“Certainly not, my Lady.”

“You may be quite reassured, my Lady.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my Lady.”

“All right,” she held up her hand, laughing. “That’s enough. You’re quite wicked.” She paused. “One of the things I love about you all.”

Silence fell after her declaration.

She looked at the faces, those across from her and those to either side. Their expressions were similar, she thought, a mixture of surprise, disbelief and a yearning which caught her off-guard.

“You love us,” whispered Gabriel.

She blinked as the carriage slowed and turned toward the church. “Of course I do. You are my gentlemen. All of you. How could I not?”

The carriage stopped, and the door opened, halting the conversation, as they alighted onto the path in front of St. Polycarp’s.

“My Lady.” Royce held out his gloved hand for her, which she accepted, allowing him to guide her. She skidded just a little on the packed snow and he caught her up, his arm sliding between the cloak and her pelisse. He gave her a slight squeeze as he smiled down at her, his eyes warmer than she was used to.

“Be careful,” he warned. “The ground here is slippery. Best hold tight.”

She nodded, wondering at his unusual tenderness.

But the moment passed as they were hailed by several people they knew, and the conversation became general as everyone entered the church.

She turned to the others. “I want you all in the Wolfbridge pew,” she said calmly.

“My Lady,” replied Jeremy hesitantly.

“I know,” she answered. “But today, Christmas Eve, is for family. You are all my family. If anyone objects, they can talk to me about it, but I don’t believe they will.”

With her chin high, and Royce’s arm beneath hers, she led them into the church and gave Vicar Thomas her biggest smile.

There were a few murmurs of surprise, but mostly there were cheerful nods. Mrs B was there, and she gave Gwyneth a broad grin of approval.

As they settled themselves, Gwyneth looked at her gentlemen.

“I believe we’ve been given permission to be a family,” she murmured. “So from now on, this is where