Regency Christmas Gifts by Carla Kelly Read Free Book Online Page A

the other room and let the
sailing master put her cloak around her. He rested his hands on her
shoulders for the briefest moment, and she could have died with
delight from the simple pleasure that gave her. Beth was ready, her
eyes lively. Mr. Jenkins sent her next door to alert Mr. Laidlaw
that the excursion was about to begin.
    Mr. Jenkins handed over her bonnet. “Mrs.
Poole, the Myrna one, told me that Lady Naismith was letting go
several of her workers, including you,” he said, with no
preamble.
    She nodded, embarrassed. “I only learned last
week, and haven’t had time to look for another position. Please
don’t mention anything to Beth.”
    “ What are the odds of finding work?”
he asked.
    “ Not good, Mr. Jenkins,” she said,
determined to be as calm as he was, even though ruin stared her in
the face. “I could easily do bookkeeping, too, but most employers
would rather hire men. Now that the war has ended, there are many
men looking for work.” She returned his gaze with all the serenity
she could summon on short notice. “I’d rather just enjoy dinner
tonight, sir, and not worry about something I have little control
over.”
    “ Bravo, Mrs. Poole,” he said and
held the door open for her. He handed her into the waiting post
chaise, and kept her hand in his longer than he needed to. He gave
it a gentle squeeze and released her to help Beth into the
carriage, and then Mr. Laidlaw. He seated them opposite her, then
nodded to the post rider and closed the door.
    Beth broke the silence with, “I like traveling
this way,” which led Mr. Jenkins to tell her about riding in
rickshaws in China and Siam.
    “ Have you been everywhere ?”
Beth asked, after he told them about traveling by gondola in
Venice.
    “ I believe I have,” he
replied.
    “ What is your favorite place?” Mary
Ann asked. The post chaise was a tight fit for four, but she did
not mind the pressure of Mr. Jenkins’ shoulder against hers. Quite
the contrary.
    “ I was going to say ‘the sea,’ but
do you know, I am enjoying this chaise right now,” he
said.
    “ That’s no answer,” Beth
chided.
    “ Now, Beth,” Mary Ann
admonished.
    “ It probably isn’t,” Mr. Jenkins
agreed. “Ask me another day.” He shifted slightly. “Mr. Laidlaw
assured me this afternoon that he likes the little village in Kent
where he was raised. What about you, Mrs. Poole?”
    She felt her face grow warm again from such a
prosaic question. She couldn’t help leaning against Mr. Jenkins’s
arm as she tried to remember when she had last imagined any place
but where bad luck had anchored her. She shook her head, close to
tears—she who had resolved never to cry again.
    “ I’ll ask you another day, Mrs.
Poole,” he said.
     
     

Chapter Seven
    B ecause he knew anything
grander than the dining room of the Drake would upset Mrs. Poole,
the Drake it was. Mrs. Fillion had already turned over the
evening’s work to her son, but she had taught him well. David
Fillion assured Thomas that there was still a private parlor left
and led them to it.
    “ The other two are full of Christmas
revelers,” he said as he handed around the menus. “I already have a
case of the shudders that might just last until Twelfth
Night.”
    Mrs. Poole smiled at that, so Thomas knew her
equanimity had been restored. She sat next to him, looking so
lovely that he could only marvel at her composure.
    No one had any idea what they wanted, so Thomas
ordered beef roast and dripping pudding all around, with bread and
cheese. He nodded to Mr. Laidlaw. “This excellent fellow showed me
your picture of roast beef, Mrs. Poole.”
    By gadfreys she had a fine smile. She clasped
her hands on the table and gave the old man the full effect of it.
Thomas saw the affection in her glance and wondered what such a
smile aimed at him would do to his ability to function.
    “ You’re the best landlord, Mr.
Laidlaw,” she told him.
    And then, mercy , she turned that smile
on him. “And