The Captain's Christmas Family

A battle of wills during a season of blessings...

Napoleon himself never gave Captain Gideon Radcliffe as much trouble as Miss Marian Murray. The fiercely protective governess won’t rest until she gains permission for the daughters of his late cousin to stay on at Gideon’s newly inherited estate. He agrees to let Cissy and Dolly remain at Knightley Park for Christmas. But by springtime they—and Marian—must go.

Marian is prepared to believe the captain a tyrant. The truth is far more complicated. Gideon is a kind yet solitary man who sees the navy as his only sanctuary. Can Marian’s unwavering faith, and the children’s Christmas cheer, convince him he’s found safe harbor at last?

“You’ve probably spent most of your life moving from one place to another. So perhaps you can’t understand why a child who’s lost her mother and father would want to stay in a familiar place around people she’s used to.”

“I understand better than you suppose, Miss Murray.” Captain Radcliffe spoke so softly, Marian wondered if she had only imagined his words.

“You do?”

He replied with a slow nod, a distant gaze and a pensive murmur that seemed to come from some well-hidden place inside him. “I was ten years old when I was set to sea after my mother died.”

The wistful hush of his voice slid beneath Marian’s bristling defenses. Her heart went out to that wee boy.

“I shall delay contacting Lady Villiers until January.” Captain Radcliffe sounded resigned to his decision. “That will allow the children to spend Christmas in the country. After that, the New Year is a time for new beginnings.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As she hurried back to the nursery, Marian thanked God, too, for granting this reprieve. Perhaps her earlier prayers had been heard

after all.

DEBORAH HALE

After a decade of tracing her ancestors to their roots in Georgian-era Britain, Golden Heart winner Deborah Hale turned to historical romance writing as a way to blend her love of the past with her desire to spin a good love story. Deborah lives in Nova Scotia, Canada, between the historic British garrison town of Halifax and the romantic Annapolis Valley of Longfellow’s Evangeline. With four children (including twins), Deborah calls writing her “sanity retention mechanism.” On good days, she likes to think it’s working.

Deborah invites you to visit her personal website at www.deborahhale.com, or find out more about her at www.Harlequin.com.

The Captain’s Christmas Family

Deborah Hale

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thy will be done…

—Matthew 6:10

For Gloria Jackson and in memory of Rev. David Jackson, who both made worship the kind of joyful, uplifting experience it was meant to be.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Nottinghamshire, England 1814

“He’s coming, Miss Murray!” A breathless housemaid burst into the nursery without even a knock of warning.

The book Marian Murray had been reading to her two young pupils slid from her slack fingers and down her skirts to land on the carpet with a soft thud. A tingling chill crept down her back that had nothing to do with the gray drizzle outside. The moment she’d been dreading for weeks had arrived at last…in spite of her prayers.

A new prayer formed in her thoughts now, as she strove to compose herself for the children’s sake. She hoped it would do better at gaining divine attention. Please, Lord, don’t let him be as bad as I fear and don’t let him send the girls away!

Unaware of her governess’s distress, Dolly Radcliffe leapt up, her plump young features alight with excitement. “Who’s coming, Martha? Are we to have company?”

The housemaid shook her head. “Not company, miss. It’s the new master—Captain Radcliffe. Mr. Culpepper sent me to fetch ye so we can give him a proper welcome to Knightley Park.”

“Tell Mr. Culpepper the girls and I will be down directly,” Marian replied in a Scottish burr that all her years in England had done little to soften.

Forcing her limbs to cooperate, she rose from the settee and scooped up the fallen book, smoothing its wrinkled pages.

“New master?” Dolly’s small nose wrinkled. “I thought Mr. Culpepper was master of the house now.”

“Don’t be silly.” Cissy Radcliffe rolled her wide blue-gray eyes at her younger sister’s ignorance. “Mr. Culpepper is only a servant. Knightley Park belongs to Captain Radcliffe now by en…en… Oh, what’s that word again, Miss Marian?”

“Entail, dear.” Marian plumped the bow of Cissy’s blue satin sash, wishing she had time to control Dolly’s baby-fine fair hair with a liberal application of sugar water. “Come along now, we don’t want to keep the captain waiting.”

Likely the new master would insist on the sort of strict order and discipline he’d kept aboard his ship. It would not do for her and the girls to make a bad impression by being tardy.

“What is entail?” asked Dolly, as Marian took both girls by the hands and led them out into the east wing hallway.

Marian stifled an impatient sigh. Ordinarily, she encouraged the children’s endless questions, but at the moment she did not feel equal to explaining the legalities of inheritance to a curious six-year-old.

Cissy had no such qualms. “It’s when an estate must pass to the nearest male relative. If I were a boy, I would be master of Knightley Park now. Or if little Henry had lived, he would be. But since there’s only us, and we’re girls, the estate belongs to Papa’s cousin, Captain Radcliffe.”

After a brief pause to digest the information, Dolly had another question. “Do you suppose the captain will look like Papa, since they’re cousins?”

“Were cousins,” Cissy corrected her sister. The child’s slender fingers felt like ice as she clung to Marian’s hand.

Dolly’s forehead puckered. “Do people stop being relations after they go to heaven? That doesn’t seem right.”

“You’ll find out soon enough whether Captain Radcliffe bears any family resemblance,” said Marian as they reached the bottom of the great winding staircase and joined a stream of servants pouring out the front door.

Exchanging furtive whispers, the maids smoothed down their aprons, and the footmen straightened their neck linen. They seemed curious and apprehensive about the arrival of their new master. Marian shared their qualms.

Outside, under the pillared portico, Knightley Park’s aging butler struggled to marshal his staff into decent order to greet Captain Radcliffe. Shaken by the sudden death of Cissy and Dolly’s father, Culpepper had let household discipline slip recently. Now he was paying the price, poor fellow.

Marian had too many worries of her own to spare him more than a passing flicker of sympathy.

“This way, girls.” She tugged them along behind the shifting line of servants to stand at the far end of the colonnade, a little apart from the others.

By rights, they probably should have taken a place up beside Mr. Culpepper and Mrs. Wheaton, the cook. Cissy and Dolly were the ladies of the house, in a way. At least, they had been until today. What they would be from now on, and where they would go, depended upon the man presently driving up the long, elm-lined lane toward them. Marian wanted to delay that meeting for as long as possible.

When the carriage came to a halt in front of the house, she could not stifle a shiver.

Dolly must have felt it for she edged closer. “Are you cold, Miss Marian?”

“A little,” Marian whispered back, conscious of a breathless silence that had gripped the other servants. “Drizzle like this can make midsummer seem cool, let alone October. Now, remember, bright smiles and graceful curtsies to welcome the captain.”

The carriage door swung open, and a tall, rangy figure emerged, clad in black from head to toe, relieved only by a glimpse of stark white shirt cuffs and neck linen. Marian felt a mild pang of disappointment that Captain Radcliffe had not worn his naval uniform. But, of course, he wouldn’t, under the circumstances. From rumors in the newspapers, Marian had gleaned that the captain was on leave from his command under a cloud of suspicion.

As Captain Radcliffe removed his hat, a breath of wind stirred his brown hair strewn with threads of gold. Tucking the hat under his arm, he strode slowly past the line of servants while Mr. Culpepper introduced each one. The movement of their bows and curtsies rippled down the line like an ominous wave rolling toward Marian and her young charges. Resisting an urge to draw the girls into a protective embrace, she took a step backward so they would have room to make their curtsies.

At that moment, Captain Radcliffe loomed in front of them, looking even taller than he had from a distance. His face was too long and angular to be called handsome. But it was quite striking, with a jutting nose, firm mouth and deep set, gray eyes beneath sharply arched brows.

Those brows slanted together at a fierce angle as he stared at Cissy and Dolly with a look of the most intense severity Marian had ever seen. Beneath his relentless scrutiny, Cissy lost her nerve. Her curtsy wobbled, and her squeaks of greeting sounded more terrified than welcoming. Dolly forgot to curtsy at all but stared boldly up at the captain.

Mr. Culpepper seemed not to notice as he continued his introductions. “Sir, these are the daughters of your late cousin, Miss Celia Radcliffe and Miss Dorothy. Behind them is their governess, Miss Murray.”

A clammy knot of dread bunched in the pit of Marian’s stomach as she waited for Captain Radcliffe to speak. It was the same sensation that always gripped her between a dangerous flash of lightning and the alarming crack of thunder that followed.

“Children?” His voice did sound like the rolling rumble of distant thunder, or the pounding of the sea upon a lonely, rock strewn coast. “No one said anything about children.”

The man was every bit as bad as she’d feared, if not worse. Besides all the other feelings roiling inside her, Marian felt a twinge of disappointment at the thought of another prayer unanswered. Once again, it appeared she would have to fight her own battles in defense of those she cared for. Some tiny part of her even stirred at the prospect—perhaps the blood of her warlike ancestors.

Or was it something about the captain’s presence that stirred her? Surely not!

When Cissy backed away from her formidable cousin, Marian wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders and reached out to tug Dolly back, as well. “Perhaps we can discuss the girls and their situation this evening after I’ve put them to bed?”

The captain seemed to take notice of her for the first time, looking her over carefully as if to assess the strength of an adversary. His scrutiny ignited a blistering blush in Marian’s cheeks. For an instant, the children and all the other servants seemed to melt away, leaving her all alone with Captain Radcliffe.

Perhaps the captain felt it, too, for he gave his head a brisk shake, collecting himself from a moment of abstraction. “Very well. Report to the bridge at eight bells of the last dog watch. That is…the Chinese drawing room at eight o’clock.”

“Yes, sir.” Marian dropped a curtsy, wondering if he expected her to salute. “Now I will take the children back indoors before they catch a chill…with your permission, of course.”

“By all means, attend to your duties.” The captain looked as if he could hardly wait for Cissy and Dolly to be out of his sight.

Marian was only too eager to obey his curt order.

“Come along, girls.” She shepherded them into the house, resisting the perverse urge to glance back at him.

Neither of the children spoke until they were halfway up the broad spiral staircase.

“The captain doesn’t look much like Papa.” Dolly sounded disappointed.

“He isn’t anything like Papa!” Cissy muttered fiercely.

“I don’t think he likes us very much.” Dolly sighed.

“I’m certain the captain doesn’t dislike you, dear.” Marian strove to convince herself as much as the children. “He was…surprised to find you here, that’s all.”

As they slipped back into the comforting familiarity of the nursery, Dolly’s grip tightened with such sudden force that it made Marian wince. “The captain won’t send us away, will he?”

“Of course not!” Marian stooped to gather her beloved young pupils into a comforting embrace.

They had been through so much in the two short years since she’d come to be their governess—first losing their mother and infant brother, then their father. She had done all she could to make them feel secure and loved, to protect them from the kind of harsh childhood she’d endured.

To herself she vowed, That man won’t send you away if there is anything I can do to prevent it!

As he waited for the mantel clock to chime eight, Gideon Radcliffe paced the rounded bay end of the Chinese drawing room, peering out each of its tall, slender windows in turn.

Even in the misty dusk, they afforded a fine view down a gently sloping knoll to the lake, which wrapped around a small, green island. Gideon had pleasant memories of boating on that lake from long-ago visits to Knightley Park when his grandfather was master. At the time, he’d enjoyed an even better view from the room directly above this one—the nursery.

That thought reminded him of his cousin’s children. He would rather have been ambushed by the combined French and Spanish fleets than by those two small girls. They could not have been more alien to his experience if they’d been a pair of mermaids. He had no idea what they might need, except to sense that he was entirely unequipped to provide it.

More than ever he felt the urgent necessity to restore his reputation, regain his command and get back to sea. He was confident he possessed the skill, experience and temperament to serve his country well in that capacity. After all these years of service, it was the only life he knew. Losing it would be worse than losing a limb—it would be like losing his very identity.

“I beg your pardon, sir.” The soft lilt of a woman’s voice intruded upon Gideon’s most private thoughts. “You told me to report here at eight. Did you not hear me knock?”

“I…didn’t.” Gideon withdrew into himself, like a sea creature retreating into the shelter of its tough, rigid shell. “But do come in. I wanted to talk to you about the…children.”

“As did I, sir.” She approached with deliberate steps, halting some distance away, behind an ornate armchair.

During their first meeting, Gideon had been so taken aback by the sight of his young cousins that he’d paid little heed to their governess, beyond her hostile glare. No doubt she had read all the scurrilous gossip about him in the papers and judged him guilty of the false accusations against him. So much for his hope of finding a sanctuary at Knightley Park to escape public condemnation!

Now he forced himself to take stock of his potential adversary. Marian Murray was small and slender, her dark brown hair pinned back with strict severity. Only a single wisp had escaped to curl in a softening tendril over her left temple. With high cheekbones and a fresh complexion, her face might have been quite pleasant to look at if she ventured to smile occasionally. At the moment, her brown eyes were narrowed and her full lips compressed in an expression of barely concealed hostility, if not outright contempt.

Though Gideon told himself her opinion was not of the slightest consequence, he could not deny the sting. “Yes. Well…about the children. I hope the entail of the estate did not leave them unprovided for.”

If that were the case, he would take responsibility for their maintenance. It might ease the unreasonable guilt he felt for displacing them from their home.

“No, sir.” The governess seemed surprised by his question, as if she had not expected him to care. “The girls each have a comfortable little fortune from their mother.”

“I am relieved to hear it.” Gideon nodded his approval. “Pray who is their guardian and why have they been left alone here?”

Surely he would have been informed if Cousin Daniel had named him in that capacity. And surely Daniel would have known better than to entrust his young daughters to the care of a distant relation who was apt to be away at sea for years on end.

“The girls have not been alone,” Miss Murray corrected him. “They have had an entire household to care for them. Their mother’s younger sister, Lady Villiers, is their godmother. She is to be their guardian.”

“Capital!” Tension released its grip on his clenched muscles so swiftly Gideon feared he might crumple to the floor. “I mean to say…how fortunate…for the children. Will Lady Villiers be coming to fetch them soon or should they be sent to her?”

The look on Miss Murray’s face grew even grimmer. A passing thought pricked Gideon’s conscience. Was she too strict a person to have charge of two sensitive children? Perhaps he should suggest Lady Villiers hire a more amiable governess for his young cousins.

Captain Radcliffe didn’t like her. That much was evident to Marian. Not that she minded—quite the contrary. Besides, it set them even.

She resented his obvious eagerness to palm off responsibility for Cissy and Dolly on someone else, without asking or caring whether that person might be the least bit suitable. In Marian’s opinion, Lady Villiers was not.

“Her ladyship has been abroad since before Mr. Radcliffe’s death. The family’s solicitor has not been able to contact her. She was in Florence the last we heard, but she may have gone on to Paris.”

“It does seem to be a fashionable destination since Napoleon’s defeat.” Captain Radcliffe sounded disappointed that Lady Villiers would not be taking the girls off his hands immediately. “I know someone in France who might be able to get a message to her.”

A message to come at once and take the girls away? The prospect made Marian queasy. But would Cissy and Dolly be any better off with this glacial man about whom she’d heard disturbing rumors?

Her gaze flitted around the elegant, exotic room. At least this house was familiar to the girls. And if the new master had no fondness for them, she and the other servants did. Besides, unlike their aunt, Captain Radcliffe had no reason to harbor designs on the girls’ fortunes. “Could you delay sending that message for just a bit, sir?”

“Why on earth…?”

“Knightley Park is the children’s home—the only one they’ve ever known. If they must leave it, I would like some time to get them used to the idea, if that’s all right?”

It wasn’t all right. That much was clear from his taut, forbidding scowl.

“Please,” she added, though she doubted any amount of begging would budge a man like him. “You’ve probably spent most of your life moving from one place to another. So perhaps you can’t understand why a child who’s lost her mother and father would want to stay in a familiar place around people she’s used to.”

It was not her place to speak to the new master in such a tone. Marian could imagine Mr. Culpepper’s look of horror if he heard her.

“I understand better than you suppose, Miss Murray.” Captain Radcliffe spoke so softly, Marian wondered if she had only imagined his words.

“You do?”

He replied with a slow nod, a distant gaze and a pensive murmur that seemed to come from some well-hidden place inside him. “I was ten years old when I was sent to sea after my mother died.”

The wistful hush of his voice slid beneath Marian’s bristling defenses. Her heart went out to that wee boy. A navy ship must have been an even harsher place to grow up than the Pendergast Charity School, where she had been sent. She wondered if young Gideon Radcliffe had been blessed with good friends and strong faith to help him bear it.

But she had no right to ask such questions of a man like him. Besides, the girls were her first priority.

Perhaps she could appeal to the part of him that remembered the loss and displacement he’d suffered. “Cissy is only nine and Dolly hasn’t turned seven yet. I know you don’t mean to send them off to sea, Captain. But away-from-home is all the same, no matter where, don’t you think?”

His brows rose and his lower lip thrust out in a downward curve. “I see your point.”

Marian sensed this was as receptive as he was likely to get. “I’m not asking anything of you, Captain, except to provide us with food and houseroom until Lady Villiers returns. This place has plenty of both to spare. I will see to the girls, entirely, just the way I have since their father died. I’ll make certain they don’t disturb you.”

For a moment Captain Radcliffe stared down at the finely woven carpet. Then suddenly he lifted his head to fix her with a gaze that did see her—too clearly for her comfort. “Very well, Miss Murray. I am not such an ogre as you may suppose. I know this is their home and would have remained so if they’d had a brother.”

“I never thought you were an—”

Before she could blurt out that bald lie, the captain raised his hand to bid her not interrupt him. “Until the New Year then.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I shall delay contacting Lady Villiers until January.” Captain Radcliffe sounded resigned to his decision. “That will allow the children to spend Christmas in the country. After that, the New Year is a time for new beginnings.”

“Perhaps so.” That sounded ungrateful. Captain Radcliffe was under no obligation to let them stay for any length of time, let alone the whole winter. “What I meant to say was…thank you, sir.”

As she hurried back to the nursery, Marian thanked God, too, for granting this reprieve. Perhaps her earlier prayers had been heard after all.

Chapter Two

After his first night in his new home, Gideon woke much later than usual. He’d slept badly—the place was far too quiet. He missed the soothing lap of the waves against the hull of his ship, the flap of sails in the wind and the mournful cries of seagulls. When he had drifted off, the face of that young midshipman had appeared to trouble him. Though the charges brought against him were entirely unfounded—of causing the death of one member of his crew and threatening others—that did not mean his conscience was clear.

An iron band of pain tightened around Gideon’s forehead when he crawled out of bed. He staggered when the floor stayed level and still beneath his feet. It had taken him a while to gain his sea legs when he’d joined his first crew, all those years ago. Now the roll of a deck was so familiar he wondered if he would ever feel comfortable on dry land. Nottinghamshire had some of the driest land in the kingdom, many miles from the ocean in any direction. Coming here had given Gideon a far more intimate understanding of what it meant to be “a fish out of water.”

Perhaps some coffee and breakfast would help. Though he’d lived on ship’s rations for more than two-thirds of his life, he could not claim they were superior to the fare available at Knightley Park.