Page 66 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Lord Bellamy hefted another bag, or at least tried to, but it was almost as large as his slight frame. “Are you going to help me with this, Kat, or—”

“I will help you, my lord.”

Stacia’s body stiffened at the sound of Shelton’s voice, and it was a struggle not to turn toward him, but Lady Kathryn’s sharp eyes were resting on her, so Stacia pretended that pulling on her gloves was consuming all her attention.

“Bloody hell,” Shelton muttered when he lifted the bag, his rude language making the younger men snicker. “What the devil is in here? Anvils?”

“Toys and such,” Lord Bellamy said, and then turned to his friends. “Come along, you two. Help me fetch the rest.”

“What do I do with this?” Shelton asked once the boys had gone. He had heaved the bag over his shoulder.

“The coaches are waiting outside,” Kathryn said. “One of the footmen will direct you.”

Shelton stalked toward the door, muttering under his breath.

“Are there more bags?” Stacia asked Lady Kathryn.

“Yes, there are. But wait—here is your name for the secret gift giving.”

“Thank you,” Stacia said, taking the piece of paper and quickly taking a peek. She smiled when she saw the name Selina Shaftsbury written in beautiful copper script. It would be a pleasure to choose a gift for such a kind, lovely person.

Stacia tucked the chit into her coat pocket and was about to go in the direction of Lord Bellamy and his friends when the young viscount appeared dragging a heavy bag.

Stacia hurried toward him and grasped the other corner, giving a slight grunt at the weight.

“Thanks,” he said, gifting her with a smile that would be slaying young women all over London in a few years.

“My goodness,” Stacia said as the two of them managed to lift the bag a few inches off the floor. “Where did all this come from?”

“Needham bought it all,” he said in a strained voice.

Just then the viscount himself came down the steps. “Here, let me take that,” he offered, striding toward them.

“I’ve got it,” the younger man protested.

“You know you shouldn’t be lifting such a heavy thing,” Lady Kathryn chided. “And before you go outside you should be wearing your scarf and have your coat—”

“Leave off, Katie!” Lord Bellamy snapped, bright spots of red glowing on his pale cheeks as he stomped away.

Lady Kathryn looked amused rather than offended by her brother’s anger.

Lord Needham picked up the bag without any visible effort. “Go bundle up in one of the carriages, Miss Martin. We lads can do the lifting and carting.”

She nodded and followed behind him, pausing on the top step to survey the three grand coaches and two smaller vehicles lined up on the drive.

“Ride with me,” Lady Kathryn said, appearing beside her and looping an arm through Stacia’s before leading her toward the carriage that was last in line.

“Oh, thank you,” Stacia said, once again shamed by the kindness being shown to her by people her employer wanted her to spy on.

Lord Shelton emerged from the carriage just as they approached, and Stacia’s step stuttered when she met his brilliant blue gaze.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you,” Lady Kathryn said, misinterpreting the reason for Stacia’s sudden clumsiness.

“I’ve just got two left feet,” Stacia muttered, her face heating under Lord Shelton’s knowing gaze.

Once they were settled in the carriage—just the three of them and one bag of toys—the silence quickly thickened until it felt awkward.

Stacia was racking her brain for something to say, but Lord Shelton beat her to it.

“Tell us a bit about this Christmas festival, Lady Kathryn.”

“What would you like to know, Lord Shelton?”

The marquess smirked at the emphasis she put on his name. Stacia was once again impressed by the sophistication the younger woman exhibited. Most women giggled and blushed in Shelton’s presence—a phenomenon she had had not only witnessed times beyond counting but had manifested herself on more than a few occasions.

“It is the highlight of winter for most people in the area. For hundreds of years, it has been the duty of the local lord to participate and contribute to the festivities.” Her beautiful face turned hard. “My father’s main contribution was to gut his tenant farms and neglect his people’s basic needs, and my mother’s was to treat them all like serfs. Fortunately for the hundreds of families in the area Lord Needham isn’t just leasing the Bellamy ancestral home, he has also taken the mantle of responsibility onto his shoulders.”

There was a moment of almost ringing silence when she finished.

And then she smiled sweetly at Lord Shelton and said, “So, tell me about your estate, my lord. Rosewood, I believe it is called?”

Stacia’s eyes slid from Lady Kathryn to Lord Shelton. Of the expressions she had expected to see on his face—annoyance, anger, and resignation—she had never expected to see grudging respect.

“I have been a less than impressive landlord, my lady.” Shelton then turned to Stacia. “But a man can always change.”