Penny's Yuletide Wish: A Regency Romance Novella (Branches of Love Book 7) Read online

  Penny’s Yuletide Wish

  A Branches of Love Novella

  Sally Britton

  Blue Water Books

  Penny’s Yuletide Wish © 2019 by Sally Britton. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover design by Blue Water Books

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Sally Britton

  www.authorsallybritton.com

  First Printing: December 2019

  Also by Sally Britton

  The Inglewood Series:

  Book #1, Rescuing Lord Inglewood

  Book #2, Discovering Grace

  Book #3, Saving Miss Everly

  Book #4, Engaging Sir Isaac

  The Branches of Love Series:

  Prequel Novella, Martha’s Patience

  Book #1, The Social Tutor

  Book #2, The Gentleman Physician

  Book #3, His Bluestocking Bride

  Book #4, The Earl and His Lady

  Book #5, Miss Devon’s Choice

  Book #6, Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

  Book #7, Penny’s Yuletide Wish

  Forever After:

  The Captain and Miss Winter

  Timeless Romance:

  An Evening at Almack’s, Regency Collection 12

  Entangled Inheritances:

  His Unexpected Heiress

  For My Grandfather

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Contents

  1. December 24th, 1825

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  13. December 31st, 1825

  Chapter 14

  15. January 4th, 1826

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  End Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Sally Britton

  Chapter 1

  December 24th, 1825

  Robert Ellsworth’s entrance to the haberdashery made the bell above the door jingle merrily, alerting the shopkeeper and his assistant. Robert closed his umbrella before fully entering and dropped it in the small barrel near the door. Despite the mud-filled streets, Mr. Clyde’s floor was as neat as ever, which made Robert hesitate to come fully inside.

  “Ah, Mr. Ellsworth. Come in, come in.” Mr. Clyde himself stood behind the counter, beaming at Robert. “Have you come for your gloves?”

  “I have, Mr. Clyde. Are they ready?” Robert came further in, keenly aware of the mud on the heels of his boots. Despite the cold drizzle, he had spent most of his morning walking from one end of the village to the other on errands for his employer.

  A young man stuck his head out between the curtains separating the front of the shop from the back. “Is that Mr. Ellsworth?”

  “Yes, Rollins. Bring his gloves out. Look smart, lad.”

  All the town’s gentlemen went to the haberdashery for gloves, and oftentimes it was just the place for them to obtain other odds and ends. Robert had been measured for new leather gloves the week before.

  The apprentice hatter brought out the black gloves and handed them to Mr. Clyde, but the older man shook his head. “No, Rollins. You did the work. You present them.”

  Robert’s heart sank slightly, but he kept a cheerful smile upon his face. No use discouraging the lad. It wasn’t Rollins’s fault that a mere steward might accept the work of someone new to the trade while an established gentleman could expect more consideration from the proprietor.

  The boy’s work, when Robert examined the gloves, looked well enough. When he put the gloves on, they fit snuggly and he could open and close his fingers without straining the seams. “Well done, Mr. Rollins.” He looked the young man directly in the eyes as he paid the sincere compliment. “They’re as fine a pair of gloves as I have ever worn before.”

  The boy’s ears turned pink and he bowed slightly. “I am pleased to hear it, Mr. Ellsworth.” Robert paid the agreed-upon price, then added a few extra coins for the young man. He began to turn away from the counter when Mr. Clyde cleared his throat.

  “Mr. Ellsworth, I wonder if you might know—does Mr. Devon have need of our services before he goes to London for the Season?”

  Robert maintained his cheerful demeanor. “I do not know, sir. Nothing in the house books indicates one way or the other if the family will make clothing purchases before leaving.” The question was far beneath his position, yet he well understood Clyde’s desire to secure business before the wealthier members of the community left for the larger town and shops. He took up his umbrella from the barrel, flexed his hands in the new gloves, and stepped outside.

  The rain had let up for the moment. Without knowing how long the sky would grant such a reprieve, Robert moved at a hurried pace down the lane. Since early December, the weather had been biting cold and wet. There were talks of flooding in other parts of the county and in London itself. The deluge was unusual for the season, and no one had been prepared for it.

  At least most crops were in. Mr. Devon’s lands were high enough that the water did not settle in his fields, and the tenants’ cottages were newly built and free from leaks and drafts, which meant Robert had little to trouble his duties in relation to the weather.

  A fat drop of rain fell past the tip of his nose, and another off the brim of his hat. Grumbling to himself about the state of the roads, Robert rushed to raise his umbrella before him and slid it open.

  A startled exclamation made him hastily move the umbrella upward.

  “I bed your pardon—” The apology died upon his lips when his eyes took in the woman before him, her large golden-brown eyes rendered larger by her surprise. One red-gloved hand rested over her chest, as though to calm her heart. Deep brown curls peeked out from beneath her emerald-green bonnet.

  “Penny.” The childhood name fell from his lips as soft as a prayer. “What are you doing here?”

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips parted as though she wanted to correct the familiarity, but swiftly the expression cleared, and her bright smile appeared.

  “Robert, is that you? Oh, I cannot believe it.” She held out the same hand that had been pressed over her heart.

  He took it in his own, a tingle dancing up his fingers as they came in contact with hers, despite both of them wearing gloves. He bowed over her hand, careful to keep the umbrella from assaulting her a second time. “It is wonderful to see you.” He straightened after she curtsied. “Whatever are you doing in Annesbury? I never thought to see you here again.”

  Her gaze dropped to the ground. “My aunt has come to visit an old school friend. Since this is where my brothers and I spent our childhood, she invited us to come, too. We are staying with Mr. and Mrs. George Brody.” She peered up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. “I am glad to find you here. I did not know whether you were still in the neighborhood. I heard about your father’s passing. I am sorry for that, Robert.”

  “Thank you.” Robert’
s father had passed away in the spring, after fighting a long illness that had left him often confused and weak. Robert’s heart clenched at the memory of his father’s last days, of how hopeless and gray things had been. He cleared his throat and forced a smile upon his face. “How long will you visit?”

  Penny accepted the change of topic gracefully, raising her head and presenting him with a brighter beam. “A fortnight. We will be here through January seventh.”

  “Ah, all twelve days of Christmas.” Robert shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wishing it had actually started raining. The drops he felt before had been alone in their journey from above, so now he appeared somewhat foolish. Closing the umbrella might only draw attention to that fact, however, so he kept it above him. “I will make a point of visiting. I imagine there are many in the neighborhood who will be happy to renew their acquaintance with you.”

  “I doubt many remember me.” Her hand fluttered by her side as though to brush away the idea of anyone having missed her.

  But Robert had missed her. He thought of her every time he passed the pond where they had skipped rocks, and when he glimpsed her favorite marigolds growing in a neighbor’s garden or when he saw the small scar on the palm of his hand from where he’d slipped and fallen out of a tree they had climbed together. That meant he thought of her at least once a day.

  Since she and her brothers had gone to be raised by her aunt and uncle, he had not stopped wondering how she had fared. He had often thought of writing, but never worked up the courage. What did a boy of seventeen have to write to a girl of fifteen? A girl who had lost her parents and her home?

  To have her standing before him again, more beautiful than he remembered, made Robert’s heart swell up so that it nearly choked him.

  A childhood fondness should not affect him in such a way.

  “I will be at the Earl of Annesbury’s famous Christmas ball tomorrow evening,” she informed him when he had been quiet too long.

  Robert forced himself to speak, to keep his tone light. “Wonderful. My brother and I received invitations as well.” He ought to ask her to dance. Secure her hand for the supper dance, or a waltz, or an entire set. But how presumptuous of him, to think she would wish such a thing when they had not seen each other in years. “We will see one another tomorrow evening, then.”

  If she did not think him a dolt before, she certainly would after.

  A mischievous light kindled in her eyes, a light he knew well from their childhood adventures together. “We had better, Mr. Ellsworth. When we do, I expect you to ask me to dance.” She curtsied and he bowed instinctively, putting an end to their conversation.

  A scent of cinnamon teased his nose as she walked around him, her pink lips curved upward as though she held a secret. She was probably laughing at him.

  Then she was gone, her deep green spencer cut in such a way to emphasize the pleasing curves of her form. He watched as she joined an older woman at the door of a shop, the two of them linking arms before they continued down the street.

  Penny’s head started to turn, as though she would look over her shoulder at him, and Robert hastened to walk away before she caught him staring.

  Penelope Clark had returned to the neighborhood, and she had changed from the trim, freckled girl of his acquaintance—a childhood playmate—to a woman grown. Yet he had known her the instant their eyes met, recognized the girl he had cherished and adored throughout their friendship.

  At least he had never told her, never worked up the courage as a youth, to tell her the truth of his feelings. Robert’s hesitation on that point had surely saved him from humiliation. All for the best. After all, the loss of her parents took Penny and her brothers away; and the loss of his father forced him into employment as a steward, a position far beneath what most gentlemen’s daughters would accept in a future husband.

  Robert struck that thought away. Connecting the idea of marriage to Penny would only lead to disappointment.

  Chapter 2

  Penny slipped her arm through that of her Aunt Elizabeth’s and looked over her shoulder. She caught one last glimpse of Robert as he hurried down the street, umbrella open and overhead even though there were no more raindrops to harry the people out of doors.

  They entered the bakery where Mrs. Brody had completed placing their order of a Twelfth Night cake. The warmth of the cozy shop made Penny realize how cold her face and fingers had become in her walk down the village streets.

  Mrs. Brody, her aunt’s kind friend, turned to them both, her expression as welcoming and cheery as ever. “Well, Miss Clark? Have you found much changed since your time living in Annesbury?”

  Robert had certainly changed. He’d grown taller, and handsomer. She kept that to herself, however. “Some of the shops have new coats of paint, signs have changed, but so much is as I remember it.”

  “I am glad to hear you find it familiar,” Mrs. Brody said, her tone gentle. “I have completed my errands. Do either of you have things you need to do while in the village?”

  Aunt Elizabeth and Penny could not think of a thing, so the three ladies exited the shop and walked to the waiting carriage to return to the Brody estate. Mrs. Brody led the way, and once they had all climbed inside and settled with blankets upon their laps, Aunt Elizabeth took it upon herself to begin the conversation in a most unexpected manner.

  “Penelope, who was that gentleman you were speaking to upon the street? I did not glimpse more than his back, but you seemed in rather animated conversation.”

  Mrs. Brody’s eyebrows raised, too. “Oh, a gentleman? Have you already found yourself an admirer, Miss Clark?” Mrs. Brody had a great deal of playfulness about her, the sort that immediately made her endearing to those not too high in the instep.

  “Dear me. An admirer after less than a quarter hour in the village.” Penny laughed and raised her eyes to the heavens, sighing wistfully. “If only it were so easy to attract a gentleman.” Perhaps she would have been married were such the case. Yet she could not find it in herself to bemoan her state as an unwed maiden. Not now. Not after seeing Robert. “It was Robert Ellsworth, to answer your question. He and I grew up together. My parents were the very best of friends with his, and we were as often in each other’s company as not.”

  She had adored him in their childhood and missed him terribly when she went away. Losing her parents had been the worst moment in her life. Losing Robert had caused nearly as much pain. Her only consolation had been keeping her brothers with her.

  Mrs. Brody shared a knowing glance with Aunt Elizabeth. Were they both planning to matchmake now? “Oh, he is a very fine gentleman. Most polite. Good family. His elder brother, Mr. Samuel Ellsworth, is the head of that family now. Robert has taken a position with the Devon family, as land steward.”

  Penny leaned back in her seat. “A steward? For the Devons?”

  Mrs. Brody was quick to assuage Penny’s surprise. “The younger Mr. Devon, of course. His sister, Christine, and my brother are married.” Ah, yes. The elder, somewhat frightening Mr. Devon had died a few years previous. Penny remembered that bit of local history with relief. How had Robert come to be a steward? He had been determined, once upon a time, to take up the law.

  “Robert was always very responsible. I imagine he excels in his position.” Penny folded her hands in her lap and turned her attention to the window, permitting her Aunt Elizabeth and Mrs. Brody to converse on matters familiar to them both, enjoying their old friendship.

  Penny relaxed into her seat, grateful the attention no longer rested on her. She could entertain her thoughts in peace for a moment. Robert had looked well. Had he wed? She ought to have asked Mrs. Brody but dwelling on him as a conversation topic might give Aunt Elizabeth the wrong idea. Her aunt had become rather determined to matchmake, in order to prevent Penny from following through on her idea to find a position as a schoolteacher.

  Aunt Elizabeth and her husband, Uncle Matthew, had only ever been kind and generous. They were not the r
elations one read of in storybooks, forcing orphaned children to live in cellars or drafty attics. They had purchased a commission for her eldest brother when he expressed interest in the military and had assisted the next brother in attending Edinburgh to pursue a career in medicine. For Penny, they had brought in tutors of every sort she could wish—for art, music, language studies. She had turned into a very accomplished young woman, if she did say so herself.

  They even increased her dowry from the respectable two thousand pounds her father had left her to four thousand pounds. It was enough to reassure suitors, but not enough to attract any in its own right. Which explained why Penny, an orphan with no connections in Society, remained unmarried.

  She sighed as raindrops started to splatter against the window. The carriage might become mired if they did not make better speed. The trip to visit the Brodys had taken three times what it should have, due to the conditions of the smaller, connecting roads. What an adventure that had been, climbing from the carriage to assist in pushing it out of a particularly mucky rut.

  “Of course, there is the earl’s ball tomorrow,” Aunt Elizabeth said, nudging Penny with her elbow.

  Penny brought her attention back to her aunt. “I do apologize, aunt. What were you saying about the ball?”

  Mrs. Brody chuckled. “I was telling your aunt we ought to find you a few suitable young people to keep you entertained. I know we cannot possibly hold your interest for a fortnight.”