One Snowy Regency Christmas: A Regency Christmas Carol / Snowbound with the Notorious Rake. Christine Merrill

her.

      ‘Have you not yet learned what a pointless gesture that would be?’ Old Tom asked. ‘While you are with me she will not notice you.’

      ‘Perhaps she will.’ Joseph reached out to pat her shoulder, only to feel his hand pass through her as though she was smoke. He looked helplessly at the ghost. ‘Last night, it was not always so,’ Joseph argued, remembering the young Barbara.

      ‘And tonight it is,’ Old Tom said.

      Behind them, the door opened. Though he needn’t have bothered, Joseph stepped to the side to allow a man to enter the room.

      Robert Breton glanced into the hall, as though eager to know that he was not observed, and then shut the door behind him and went quickly to the seated woman and took her hand.

      ‘Bob?’ Joseph knew then that he must indeed be invisible, for never had he seen such a look on his friend’s face—nor was he likely to. The gaze he favoured Anne with was more than one of sympathy to her plight. It had tenderness, frustration and—dared he think it?—love.

      On seeing him there, Anne let her tears burst fresh, like a sudden shower, and her shoulders shook with the effort of silence.

      ‘Tell him,’ Breton said. ‘I have confronted him on the subject. He will not break off at this late date for your sake. He fears for your reputation even more than you do. If you do not end it for yourself, it is quite hopeless. I will not speak if you say nothing, no matter how much I might wish to. I have said more than enough already. You must be the strong one, Anne.’

      ‘And I never was,’ she answered, not looking up. ‘Perhaps if Mary was here …’

      ‘Then the lot would have fallen to her. Or it might never have occurred at all. But it does not matter,’ Breton said firmly. ‘She is dead and gone, much as no one wishes to acknowledge the fact. You cannot rely on her for help. You must be the one to speak, Anne.’

      ‘Speak what? And to whom? To your father? To me?’ Joseph took his place on her other side, as though he could make himself heard to the woman through proximity. But she said no more and, realising the futility of it, he looked up at the ghost. ‘What do you want? I will give it to you, if I can. I am not totally without a heart, you know.’

      ‘I think you can guess what she wants,’ the ghost said. ‘And why she does nothing about it.’

      ‘It is not as if I am forcing the union on her. She agreed to it. And what does Bob have to do with any of it?’

      ‘Not a thing, I expect, if it all goes according to your plan. He is a gentleman, is he not?’

      ‘But he is a man first,’ Joseph said. ‘If he wants the girl for himself, then why does he not say something?’

      The coachman laughed in response. ‘You make it all sound quite simple. I envy you, living in a world as you do—where there are no doubts and everyone speaks their mind. The woman he loves has chosen another. He has been bested by a richer man. He will step out of the way like a gentleman.’