Squire Archie's Rectory Christmas by Harper Fox

Author:Harper Fox
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, gay romance, mm romance, gay historical romance, archaeological mystery, seven summer nights
Publisher: Harper Fox

***

“His name is Peter. The two youngest ones are his brothers. They all got bombed out during the Blitz, and they’ve been getting passed from orphanage to orphanage ever since. The other three—the girls—are sisters. They’ve been offered homes, but only for one or two of them, and they refuse to be split up.”

Archie poured Rufus another glass of the mulled wine whose fragrance had been drifting through the rectory since nightfall. He considered the tone of this plain statement. Very flat and detached. No disturbance in the air in their quiet corner of the library, where the lamplight glowed and met the russet flicker from the hearth. “The loyalty of children, eh?”

A tighter press of pale lips. “Mm?”

“Well, think about it. Both parents gone, no home. If they’re like other Blitz children I’ve met, those bombs probably roar through their dreams every night. But still they won’t be separated. I assume someone tried?”

“The boy says the little ones stopped eating. He just kept running away and running away to try and get back to them until both sets of foster homes gave it up. Now they’re labelled ungrateful and badly behaved.”

“I see.” Archie thought about the five-year-old mites standing swaying with weariness on the verge, their faces peering from the folds of Maria’s blankets. He found a large handkerchief in one trouser pocket and handed it to Rufus. “What little bastards.”

“Right. Yes. Sorry.”

That was better. Archie’s own survivor of the war was healing every day, but swallowing pain wasn’t good for him. He’d been force-fed on it for so long. Archie watched in satisfaction while he deployed the handkerchief. There was no-one to see, or at least no-one to mind if they did. The Lombardis, after a shimmering display of cocktail frocks at dinner, were safely stowed away in their rooms. Rosemary had taken a seat beside Winborn on the sofa, and was enjoying the luxury of telling the village doctor all about her perfectly normal baby’s little peculiarities. Winborn, for a wonder, was even responding to her with an occasional reassuring grunt. In a corner by the window, David Meredith and the Archdeacon were glowering at one another over a game of chess. Pippin was snoozing by the fire. “Are they all asleep, then—the thankless little monsters?”

“Yes. Peter and the boys ate so much supper that they could barely move. The girls were a bit too shocked and tired, so Alice took them some soup on a tray. She was reading to them, when I went past the bedroom door. From something called Claudine At School.”

“Good grief.”

“Well, she was reading in French, so I suppose it’s all right.”

Archie settled back in his armchair, chuckling. He’d spent most of his own evening arranging rooms and bedding, while Rufus had gone back and forth in the kitchen with Maria, getting food into their new arrivals and gently extracting information. He’d learned the name of the facility they’d come from—but, as he’d told Archie with unhidden satisfaction, Peter had no idea

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