Louise Allen - Convenient Christmas Brides

‘No, no, I mean before now,’ he said. ‘I suppose we are of roughly the same age and there we were on the mail coach, sleeping like puppies in a pile.’

‘I suppose,’ she agreed, deciding to stop fretting over their situation. They would be in Norfolk tomorrow and he would have finished his obligation to his late second lieutenant.

She noticed a slip of paper under the door and picked it up. ‘Here we have the dinner bill of fare,’ she told the Captain, whose eyes were closed now.

Heavens, whoever put this here must have heard a lot of laughter , she thought, which made her smile instead of worry what anyone thought. We are only one night in Chittering.

‘Read it aloud,’ he said, without opening his eyes. ‘If anything contains beets, that is an automatic nay from me.’

‘They’re good for you,’ she said, which earned her one open eye and a sour expression. She read the bill of fare. They debated a moment over shepherd’s pie or roast beef and decided on the pie, with barley-broth soup first and custard last.

His eyes closed. In a moment he was snoring softly, which touched Verity’s heart; he evidently felt comfortable. His arms were stretched out, his hands open. She saw no tension in him.

Feeling shy but hungry, Verity covered him with a light blanket and went downstairs with the menu. She reminded herself that she had always been forthright and no-nonsense and nothing had changed. Still, she had to steel herself to approach the innkeeper and hand him the menu.

‘We would like these items,’ she said.

‘At six o’clock?’ he asked, smiling at her, which told her all she wanted to know about who had put the menu under the door and heard their laughter.

‘Yes, please,’ she replied, ready to be formal, but governed by an imp of her own. ‘You’re probably wondering what was so funny.’

‘Not at all, Mrs Everard,’ he told her and she saw something wistful in his eyes now. ‘War is war. Sometimes you need to laugh.’

His artless comment brought tears to her eyes, but they weren’t tears of sorrow, for a change. She felt a kinship she had not anticipated and good will, which reminded her forcefully of the season, which sorrow had dismissed as too much to manage this Christmas.

Happy Christmas to me , she thought, and Happy Christmas to Captain Everard .

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