Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas by Andrea Pickens Page A

sister.
    One mistake could, of course, be forgiven as an error of judgment. But his first impression confirmed that she was both arrogant and waspish—traits he abhorred in anyone, be they male or female. He could only hope that one of her father’s carriages would soon be arriving to take her home.
    “Lord Kirtland. . .”
    Noel quickly turned and crossed the carpet. But such hopes were quickly dashed by the terse pronouncement of the doctor examining Lady Emma, who was now lying on the sofa of his drawing room.
    “Tis a nasty twist, Lady Emma,” he announced with a cluck of his tongue. “I’m afraid there is no question of you being moved until the swelling has gone down.”
    But—” began both Emma and Noel at once.
    They stopped short. Noel then clamped his jaw firmly shut, regretting that surprise had wrested any show of emotion out of him. He moved to the hearth, determined to keep to himself just how unwelcome the announcement was.
    The last thing he needed was yet another responsibility weighing on his shoulders as Christmas approached. It would be difficult enough creating the proper spirit of the holidays without the presence of a conceited stranger in their home.
    It quickly became clear that the young lady was no more pleased with the announcement than he was.
    “I would not dream of imposing on this gentleman’s gracious hospitality any longer than I already have,” she said with unveiled sarcasm. “Surely my ankle can tolerate a short carriage ride.”
    The doctor shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He pushed his spectacles back up to the bridge of his nose. “The injury should heal without any lasting ill effects, but only if great care is taken now. And even if I were to consider the request, it would not be possible, given the state of the lane leading here. It has been unused for so long that it is hardly better than a cart track. Any ride over such jolts and ruts could cause further damage.”
    “Charles could take me up on Orion—” she began.
    The doctor waved away the suggestion. “Now, don’t be foolish, Lady Emma. You are very fortunate that Hawthorne House has lately become inhabited. You will be quite comfortable here.”
    “Ha!” she muttered under her breath.
    “It will only be for a short time,” piped up Charles, slanting an uneasy glance at Noel. “That is, if you have no objections, Lord Kirtland.”
    “It appears there is little choice in the matter,” he replied grimly. With a tone designed to match the young lady’s earlier mocking politeness, he added, “Though I must warn Lady Emma that we are hardly able to entertain her in the style to which she is no doubt accustomed.”
    He watched Emma’s lovely features twist into a scowl. “But it’s not fair!” she exclaimed. “Robert and his friends are arriving soon for the holidays. And Papa. And your friend Mr. Harkness. Just think of all the fun I shall be missing.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “And my ankle is beginning to throb unmercifully.”
    Noel couldn’t help himself. “Dear me, life is indeed horribly fair, to have heaped such unconscionable suffering upon your poor head,” he muttered under his breath.
    “I shall ride back this afternoon with a number of your things, Em,” said Charles quickly, seeking to forestall any further comment from his cousin. “And, of course, we shall all come visit and spend as much time—”
    “No. I’m afraid that will not be possible.” Noel folded his arms across his chest and calmly regarded the two startled faces that turned his way. “My sister is still recovering from the death of her husband. I’ll not have my family and household turned on its ear because the Duke of Telford’s daughter imagines she cannot live without constant amusement. One visitor, for one hour a day. That is all I will allow.”
    His eyes met hers. “You’ll survive.”
    Emma’s chin came up. “Shall you keep me on bread-and-water rations, too? I imagine that is all a