Read Online Marian's Christmas Wish by Carla Kelly - Free Book Online Page B

‘Young
Gentleman.’” He appealed to Lord Ingraham. “My lord, I know I am old enough to
go to sea, but Percy will have none of it.”
    “Perhaps if you went to school and did well, he might
reconsider,” Lord Ingraham suggested.
    “You don’t know Percy,” Alistair said morosely, and sat
beside his sister.
    “And there are other schools beside Eton,” continued
Lord Ingraham.
    Marian watched him. Again he appeared on the verge of
saying something more, but he did not. How good he is at that, she thought. I
would blurt out whatever came into my head, and then regret it. I must ask him
how he keeps his own counsel so well.
    She knew she would not. She also knew that Percy would
rake her over the hearth for dragging the elegant Lord Ingraham into the stable
for a dose of her dog-and-cat salve. He would look at her in that patient way
of his, and the despair in his eyes would make her squirm again.
    She handed the bottle of salve to Lord Ingraham and
stood up, brushing the bits of straw from her skirt and mumbling her apologies
for taking up his time. “For I do forget myself,” she concluded, ameliorating
the effect by adding, “when I remember.”
    Lord Ingraham looked from the sister to the brother and
back again. “You two are surely the most abominable children I ever met. You
must be a sore trial to Percy and your mama.”
    “Oh, we are,” agreed Alistair, not in the least put
out, “although Marian is forever telling me to behave as I ought, and Ariadne .
. .” He turned to Marian. “That was what I came here for. Do you know that the
vicar is in the house seeking an audience with Ariadne?” His face fell. “But I
do believe he got Mama instead.”
    “Oh, Alistair, no,” exclaimed Marian. “Could you not
rescue him? Only think what Mama is telling him about Sir William!”
    Her brother grabbed his coat and fled the workroom.
Marian threw on her cloak and followed after him. Lord Ingraham right behind.

4
    The vicar’s gig waited in the front drive. As Marian
and Lord Ingraham came around the corner of the building, Alistair was already
up the front steps in time to hold the door open for the vicar. Other than a
slight lift of the eyebrows, Mr. Sam Beddoe barely acknowledged Alistair’s
presence. He dragged down the front steps, his head drooping down into the top
of his overcoat, like a turtle retreating into its shell. He did not see them;
even if he had, Marian thought, he would not have known them.
    Sam stood there a moment beside the gig, as if
wondering what it was doing there. Eventually he recognized the horse as his
own and climbed in. He sat there in the rain another long moment before he
spoke to the horse and started down the lane.
    Alistair looked back at Marian and Lord Ingraham,
shrugged, and went indoors.
    “Mama has told Sam about Sir William, depend upon it,”
Marian said, and then to her own amazement, she burst into noisy tears.
    She could not have explained why, but she was not at
all surprised when Lord Ingraham took her into his arms right there in the
drive and held her tight, his hand on her hair, her face pressed against his
chest. She was not even surprised at herself when she put her arms around his
waist and sobbed heartily into his already wet coat.
    “Poor, poor Marian,” he said softly, “we are ruining
your Christmas, are we not? What can I do to make it better?”
    His voice was amazingly soothing. If the rain had not
commenced to drum down, Marian would have been content to remain where she was.
“I wish Sir William would go away,” she sobbed. “And I wish, oh, I wish the
vicar would inherit a fortune.” She stepped out of Lord Ingraham’s generous
embrace. “But now I am being foolish beyond belief, Lord Ingraham.”
    “Gil,” he reminded her.
    “No. Lord Ingraham,” she repeated. “I am too forward by
half. I cannot fathom what you must think of me, sir.” She wiped her face. “But
it would be wonderful beyond anything if my wishes came