Marian's Christmas Wish by Carla Kelly

Author:Carla Kelly
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-12-10T22:00:00+00:00

hat, ho? We are beginning to resemble Napoleon's retreat from Moscow.”

Marian looked up from the snow-covered tree stump where she had planted herself and squinted into the white and glaring distance. The walk had seemed like a novel idea only an hour before. The early part of the adventure had taken them down a road sufficiently tamped by local wagons and horses. Then the tracks stopped; soon there was nothing before them but snow-covered road that had drifted until it was difficult to tell where the road edged. It wound on and out of sight through country that she knew she could appreciate in the spring. All was white and still.

Drat these skirts, she thought as she shook the snow from the folds of her woolen dress. It was growing wetter and heavier by the minute. Each floundering footstep in the snow seemed to sink her deeper and deeper.

Lord Ingraham made his way back to her and took her by the hand, to pull her to her feet. “I am sorry I was not paying attention,” he apologized. “There's something about being here again. Makes me forget I am not alone.”

“Or do you dream you are in Moscow, watching Napoleon struggle through such drifts?” she teased, less out-of-sorts.

“Oh, that was no dream, my dear,” he said quickly. Some memory darted across his eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak, but reconsidered.

She looked at him and pursed her lips. “Something tells me you did not mean to say that.”

He bowed over her hand. “I did not. Please forget I mentioned it.”

“I gather from your secrecy there was no official English delegation in Moscow?” she asked, and watched his expression.

There was no change of expression. He had recovered himself completely. “Indeed, there was not.” The earl laughed and inclined himself closer to her, as if they shared a secret. “And yet, I appear to have difficulty dissembling in front of you. Move over, brat.”

He sat beside her. Marian looked about her. Alistair had gone on ahead, whistling to himself.

“Were you really and truly there?” she whispered.

“I was. Really and truly,” he replied, his voice no louder. “This is not a matter generally known outside of the Foreign Office, my dear.”

“Then I shall say no more.” Marian looked sideways at him. “Only tell me. Were you afraid?”

“Oh, yes. The city was burning around us as our delegation tossed state papers into our own fireplace, flung a firebrand into the offices, and closed the doors behind us.”

“Did you watch Moscow burn?”

His hand went involuntarily to his scar. He traced its pattern and then looked beyond the white-covered fields, cordoned by tidy fences. “We fled the city and swam the river. The bridges were crammed with refugees. We watched from the far shore. Such a pagan city. Such a beautiful city. I shall never forget the sight.”

After another moment's reflection, he slapped his gloves on his knee and put them on again. “But this gets us no closer to Bath. And since you are determined that I should arrive there, let us be off.

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