Twelve Days in December: A Christmas Novella Read Free Page B

hope, with Marsali.
    William lifted his head and reached out, parting the curtain to peer down at the city below. He loved New York— the buildings, the bustle, the people. Marsali had not cared much for it. He’d realized that early on, but he’d believed she might change her mind after a while. Life was vibrant here and Marsali an effervescent young woman. It had seemed a perfect match.
    His fiancée and Marsali’s husband were two of the many who had perished on the Amanda May . And Marsali, too, was in a precarious situation, indentured to a Virginia plantation owner known for cruelty.
    William recalled their first conversation over breakfast. He’d found Marsali’s complete honesty a refreshing change from Daphne’s falsehoods. He had liked Marsali at once and been only too pleased to pay her debts and hope that something might grow between them.
    He had proceeded cautiously, never showing overt affection or allowing himself to develop any. That could come later, after their vows had been spoken.
    Later should have been about an hour and a half from now, William mused as he withdrew his pocket watch.
    Once more, dishonesty had robbed him of a bride. Lady Cosgrove’s lies had nearly broken two hearts— Marsali’s and her husband’s. Fortunately, William had guarded his. Though this latest break of betrothal had the potential to collapse his business. He had little more than a week to secure a wife. Twelve days until the year’s end, and I must be married by then or lose the inheritance.
    In that event he would have to mortgage something to pay his creditors. It would be the beginning of a swift cycle downward, with Astor and Hyde waiting in the wings, only too eager to pounce on his misfortune.
    So much hinged on the decision of the young woman in a room down the hall— a woman he knew very little about. He’d brought Charlotte here as a kindness to Marsali.
    Will she now do the greatest of kindnesses to me?
    He could not believe she would. An hour and a half was plenty of time for a woman to change her mind about marrying him. And given his past experience with fiancées, he had no doubt Charlotte would do just that.

 
    Charlotte stared at her reflection in the glass. The dress made for Marsali fit. Another miracle. Charlotte supposed she could credit her trim figure to the difficulties of the past few months. There had been neither enough hours to work nor enough food to eat in attempting to provide for herself and Alec.
    Being a widow in America is not pleasant, secure, or happy. At least if you marry Mr. Vancer, you will have a chance at those . Charlotte recalled the very words she’d spoken to Marsali just a few weeks earlier, the night before the ball when her betrothal to Mr. Vancer was announced.
    Now I must take my own advice. She fingered the cream lace of the beautiful gown. It would be nice to have pretty gowns once more, as she had when she was a girl, before Father died. But far more than that, she wanted to feel safe— for herself and Alec. She glanced at the bed where he was napping. To never have to tell him that there is nothing to eat… to never have to leave him because I must work in the fields. Her resolve grew stronger by the minute.
    And as for not loving Mr. Vancer… What had she told Marsali? Love is a choice . And you must choose to make it now, before it is too late and this opportunity is gone.
    But Marsali’s situation had been different. She’d been married but a short while. Matthew was my husband for nearly five years. We had a child together. Marrying Mr. Vancer was one thing, but loving him would be another entirely.
    Charlotte gathered the skirt of her gown and crossed the room, sitting beside Alec on the bed. Tenderly she brushed the curls back from his forehead. She was choosing love. Her love for her child compelled her to do this, to marry another when Matthew was less than a year in the grave.
    Forgive me, she prayed again silently. And, as before when she had