Page 7 of Her Christmas White Knight

Chapter Four

It had cost Myall more than he could have imagined to part with Julia and Hal. The pair’s bond had been so tight, like a true mother and son—and an overexcited Hal had made him feel part of the little family, despite Julia’s apparent reservations.

He barely knew how he found his way home—his mind was buzzing like a hive in a thunderstorm. Julia Wentworth was back in his life. How should he proceed now?

And Hal was back in his life, too, the tow-haired terror. Why had the boy not stayed at Christ’s Hospital where Myall had taken him after the fire? He would have been safe there, well-fed, properly clothed, and among others of his kind. Eventually, an apprenticeship would have been found for him, and he’d have been set for life.

But instead, the child had run away, preferring the brutal freedom of the streets. God be thanked that it was Julia who’d found him and taken him in. She was—very sensibly—teaching him his letters and trying to ensure that the boy made himself useful. And she was doing a fine job of it, from what he could tell.

Ah, well. Just because one thought one was doing a good deed didn’t mean it would be well received. He’d obviously made a mistake in taking Hal to Christ’s Hospital. He was yet to discover if he’d made a mistake in giving succor to Julia Wentworth.

“There you are, Brother! I’m glad you’ve returned, as it looks like rain.” Helena smiled up at him as she held open the door to their rented dwelling.

Did it look like rain? He glanced up and saw a kite wheeling against a leaden sky. It was indeed dark—mayhap even cold enough for snow.

“I hadn’t noticed what the weather was doing.” How would Julia fare in inclement weather? He didn’t like the idea of her being out on the streets in rain or snow, trying to sell her decorations. Wouldn’t the silk ribbons be stained?

He handed his cloak and cap to his sister. “I’ve just seen Julia Wentworth. And Hal was with her—the boy I saved from the fire.”

Helena’s hand paused halfway to the cloak hook. “Julia Wentworth? That girl from Milforde over whom you broke your heart, well-nigh ten years ago? I suppose everyone comes to London once in their lives—but how miraculous that you should meet her! What is she doing here?”

“It was eight years ago, not ten, and I didn’t break my heart. I was annoyed at being turned away from the door, that’s all. Call it wounded pride, if you like.”

His sister tilted her head at him. “I’d call it more than that. But I’ll not pry into your affairs of the heart. Come within and have some mulled ale. I have a good fire going.”

He followed her into the tiny parlor, staring around him. He’d considered himself and Helena poor when they were forced to fend for themselves, but compared to what Julia had, they lived in luxury. They had the benefit of flagstone floors, whitewashed walls, windows infilled with diamond-shaped glass panes, and a table at which one could sit. They even had beds with legs to raise them above the floor.

“It’s terrible what’s happened to her.” He sat close to the fire and pulled off his boots, then warmed his hands. Julia had no fire, no tankard of steaming ale, no one to love and care for her but Hal.

“What’s amiss, Brother? Was your meeting with her not a happy one? But how remarkable that Hal should be with her!”

Myall took a deep draft of his ale and felt a little better. Then he explained about the goose. By the time Helena had finished laughing, he was starting to see the amusing side himself.

“She must have been sitting on it that first time you went past.” Helena was struggling to regain her breath. “How uncomfortable it must have been. Poor bird—I pity it.”

And he envied it. At least Julia wanted the goose. But after that one night when they’d explored each other’s young bodies, Julia had no longer wanted him. He’d been too bold, and he’d gone too far. He was lucky her uncle or her father hadn’t taken a horsewhip to him. But how often he’d wished things could have turned out otherwise! He had always intended to do the right thing by her.

“I can see what must be done.”

His head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“It is simplicity itself.” Helena beamed. “You must share the goose.”

“How?” He had a vision of the bird cloven in two and winced.

“It would be cooked first, fond fellow! Then you can share the meat. Faith—we could cook it here, and invite her and Hal to join us for the meal. I’m certain Aidan won’t mind if there are two more at the table on Christmas Day. Although—we ought really to be with Father.”

He didn’t want to talk about their father. “She won’t come—she’s too proud. When somebody who was once above one then finds themself beneath, it causes bitter resentment. She doesn’t want charity. I could barely persuade her to accept the vegetables and worts that I took.”

“And what’s she going to do with those if she has no hearth to cook them over? Honestly, Myall—I know you mean well, but you don’t always think these things through.”

He didn’t know what he’d thought. He’d only known he must do whatever he could.

The idea of eating the goose together might be acceptable to Julia. He broke into a grin. Hal would be his ally in this. Hal would never turn his nose up at the offer of a Christmas feast.

“If she agrees, she won’t want to come here dressed in rags. Is there aught you can lend her?”

“Remind me what color her hair is.”