The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3) by Sahara Kelly (13 ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“Lucky devil,” Evan mumbled. “There goes my boot.”

“Again. Do it again, and I’ll believe that was something more than beginner’s luck.” Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at Royce in mock fury.

“He’s been a soldier, lad,” remarked Harry. “Some of ‘em are born with lucky hands for the ivories. And cards too, come to think of it.”

“Hah.” Jeremy removed his other boot. “Gabriel’s right. Let’s see if you can do it again, Royce.”

More boots piled to one side of the room, joined by Gwyneth’s other slipper.

Royce felt the hush as he once again picked up the dice, knowing the first throw was a fluke but praying for another one.

The ivory cubes clattered…everyone leaned in to see…

“I don’t believe it.” Gabriel collapsed in a chair.

“A five and a two.” Gwyneth stared at Royce. “Incredible.”

“Damned nuisance,” muttered Jeremy. “He’ll have our breeches next.”

Royce considered the situation. Then his lips curled into a smile. “You might be right. But I think socks and stockings first.”

*~~*~~*

Journal of Gwyneth, Lady of Wolfbridge - Christmas Day 1818

My first Christmas at Wolfbridge.

I cannot remember last Christmas, or even too many before then, since they were somewhat routine, and rarely celebrated as special and delightful days. I do have memories of my childhood; the pine boughs, the smell of a goose cooking - that sort of thing. But nothing, absolutely nothing, can compare to the Christmas I have celebrated here with my gentlemen.

The roaring fires, the snow and the scent of whatever delicious meal Evan decided to prepare…everything has contributed to the days of feasting and joy. 

We went to an early service at church, because the weather was threatening. I believe I may have caused a slight stir by insisting that all my gentlemen join me in the Wolfbridge pew, not just Royce. But I’m sure they will become accustomed, since we are in a society that needs to spend more time appreciating those we care about. 

My gentlemen, Jeremy, Evan, Harry, and Gabriel, are not my servants. I know that to the rest of the world they would appear to be members of the Wolfbridge household staff. But to me, they are essential to my everyday life, and the happiness of my heart. And I will not apologise for treating them thusly and sharing our pew at St. Polycarp’s.

It was a lovely service, and I’m glad we attended, for if we had waited - none of us would have cared for a snowy drive in the dark. As it was, we were home in plenty of time to prepare for our little play.

And how well it went! Our costumes - thanks to Gabriel - were charming and fun, the story we told was entertaining, and the response very enthusiastic.

It was so wonderful to see the children’s faces as my gentlemen emerged in their finery to press their suit on the ‘Princess’. The adults were laughing, the children gasping…I think I understand better now the lure of the theatre and theatrics. Not that I’d want to do it all the time, but there was a palpable energy in the air as we performed.

I believe the whole point of the exercise was well made and hope for increased enthusiasm amongst our people for the school we expect to offer their children. My mandate here, as Lady of Wolfbridge, is to ‘do good things’. From the bottom of my heart, I trust this is a good thing.

After the play was done, the audience fed and finally sent home, we actors had a chance at last to relax. I would blame the brandy for what happened next, but that would be unfair. We all needed to set aside all the many details and concerns that we’d carried around for the preceding weeks; our performance was completed, everyone was safely at home, and the snow commenced, isolating us from the outside world.

Definitely a time to enjoy our leisure.

And our brandy.

We chose a dice game for entertainment…Hazard, which I’d never played before. Royce produced dice he’d found somewhere, and everyone immediately involved themselves in the wagering.

Since we had no coins on us, Gabriel - wicked man that he is - suggested we use items of clothing instead. It was a clever idea, since all of us had footwear and stockings. 

But they soon vanished as Royce began a winning streak that I think astonished even him.

I do hope this journal never sees the light of day, since the contents would initiate a scandal of massive proportions, I’m sure. But I must write down these things to keep them fresh in my mind. And to read when I am old and grey and no longer of physical interest to anyone.

The brandy was passed around freely, and as the dice were thrown, we surrendered more of our clothing. It only took an hour or so for Jeremy and Evan to be down to their breeches. Gabriel retained his shirt as well. Harry had one stocking, his shirt and breeches.

Royce was barefoot and grinning fiercely. He has a strong competitive urge that showed quite clearly. He bet with care, unafraid of holding back if he felt the dice would not run in his favour, while the rest of us gaily shed our garments.

At this point, it was suggested we take the game upstairs to my chamber, since the fire was dying down in the parlour and my room was always warm.

At that point, my own personal fire stirred to life, sending a shiver of excitement through my flesh. Since I was wearing only my thin chemise and stockings - I’d made some unwise bets - my reaction was quite obvious.

Harry had smiled, picked me up, and led the way upstairs, as the others took the dice and banked the fire behind the screen for the night.

I saw