A servant with spectacles and a full head of white hair darted from behind the great oaken door with an umbrella, but as he escorted the ladies inside, Miss Jardine realized he was only in his thirties despite his prematurely colorless hair. The manor’s mahogany-paneled foyer was bedecked with boughs of evergreens over the doorways and entangled around the banister, leaving a dusting of needles beneath them. Inhaling the earthy scent of pine, she unbuttoned her coat while watching her uncle and Immanuel carry in their luggage alongside the servant. Where are the other footmen? Emmeline wondered, listening for footsteps but none came. Could a nobleman with an estate really not have more than one servant? Then again, the one he had wasn’t even in livery. Once all the coats and hats had been hung up, the white-haired man led them toward the parlor. As they rounded the corner, a jovial voice rose and fell with the theatrics of storytelling but stopped when they entered.
“James, Eliza, welcome!” the earl cried as he broke away from his audience at the hearth and moved towards his guests.
Emmeline froze in the doorway. This was the Earl of Dorset? The man she expected to be old and dull was only in his late-twenties with a bright, open face and pleasing features even if they were not to her taste. He was too hardy for her, too rugged with his square jaw and unaffected gait. Instead of a tailcoat, he wore a charcoal suit and violet waistcoat, yet what held her attention was the titanium hand peeking out from the end of his right sleeve.
“I am so sorry we are late, Eilian, but the traffic was horrendous,” Eliza replied as she stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “Allow me to introduce my niece, Emmeline Jardine.”
When he took her hand in his to bring it to his lips, she gave him a solemn curtsy, but the moment a wide smile lit up his face, she couldn’t help but do the same. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Jardine.”
“And this,” her aunt called, ushering the young man forward, “is Immanuel Winter, James’s temporary assistant and my father’s protégé.”
Grasping the nobleman’s hand, Immanuel’s eyes flickered with recognition as he took in Eilian Sorrell’s features, yet he couldn’t place him. He opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes traveled over his shoulder to the balding head that popped up from the sofa between Adam and Hadley. Immanuel’s eyes brightened the moment Elijah Martin drew near. As the older gentleman reached out to shake his student’s hand, Immanuel crushed him to his chest but quickly released him with reddened cheeks. Oh, how he missed his favorite professor.
“Mr. Winter, you are a sight for sore eyes.” Professor Martin’s gaze darted over the dent in his student’s eye socket and the scar that marred and soldered his once pristine features together like a strip of lead. The thin boy from Oxford had been reduced to little more than a skeleton with the bones in his hands and cheeks jutting from his ashen flesh. Despite the changes and evident trauma, he seemed happier than he had ever been there. “Seeing you in the flesh has finally put my mind at ease. When James told me you were safe, I took the liberty of writing to your parents to say you were no longer missing. I was also just telling Adam and Hadley that I spoke to the dean and the head of the science department, and because of your high academic standing, they are willing to allow you to complete your degree on time as long as you make up your missed work with me after hours. That is, if you are willing to come back after the holidays are over.”
Immanuel’s eyes trailed to Adam, afraid of the hurt that would be etched into his face, but instead, his lips curled into sympathetic grin. “I would love to.”
“Before I forget,” Eilian interjected as he wrapped his prosthetic arm around the small of Hadley’s back, “Miss Jardine, this is Professor Martin, Eliza’s father, and this is my fiancée, Hadley Fenice.”
Emmeline gave her a demure smile as she took in the red-headed woman’s simple bun and dark blue dress, which was closer to a man’s suit than to an evening gown. To be sure, she was pretty, but there was no way she was a noblewoman. The earl’s grey gaze softened with the same reverence she had seen when Mr. Fenice looked at her housemate every time he laid eyes on his future wife. Another marriage for love. Sighing, she listened half-heartedly as Hadley Fenice explained that she had heard a lot about her from Eliza and hoped to see more of her now that she was living in town, but her mind was elsewhere. How was her mother able to marry Archibald Jardine if she did not love him? Her mother had strategically selected a husband to ensure her place in society, but could she do the same when all she wanted was for someone to gaze at her like she was the only person in the world? The plaintive thoughts began to take over, dampening her back and tightening her chest, when the white-haired butler appeared once again.
“Dinner is served.”
“Thank you, Patrick. I hope you all do not mind, but I deviated from the traditional Christmas fare. My mother is spending Christmas with my sister-in-law’s family, and I wanted to do Christmas my way,” Eilian explained as he led the group into the dining room with his prosthesis interlocked into the crook of Hadley’s arm. “After dinner, we can have someone play the piano or play party games. Oh! I bought Christmas crackers as well. I have never thrown a party before and have no idea what I am doing, but I am hoping you will enjoy yourselves.”
***
Immanuel swallowed down a belch as he followed Adam down the hall to the drawing room. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten or talked so much, and while he had never tried Indian food, he was surprised by how much he enjoyed the lamb curry and baingan bharta even if they weren’t quite authentic according to the young earl. From across the table, he watched Emmeline pick at her food with a sneer, but once the desserts were brought out, traditional English pies and puddings along with fried Indian confections, suddenly she regained her appetite. When they reached the end of the passageway, Hadley gently took her brother and his companion by the arms and drew them close.
“I have a surprise for you two later,” she whispered, her eyes flashing playfully before she rejoined the rest of the party without any further explanation.
The taller man looked to Adam for a clue as to what his sister had in mind, but he simply shrugged and stopped in his tracks, causing Immanuel to walk into him. Standing beside the roaring hearth was a Christmas tree that stretched toward the ceiling at ten feet. The wide pine boughs were wrapped in silk ribbon, shimmering tinsel, lit tapers, and strings of popcorn, and hanging above the fireplace was a wreath bedecked in equally gaudy trappings. On the opposite wall beneath a tapestry of knights fighting beasts of thread and filigree was a squat piano, whose lid was lined with a neat row of a dozen brightly papered Christmas crackers.
“Eilian, the house looks splendid!” Eliza Hawthorne cried as she ran her eyes across the tree and trimmings while her husband planted himself on the sofa beside his father-in-law. “You have outdone yourself.”
“Thank you. I have blisters on my hand from chopping and dragging the tree. You should have seen Patrick’s face when I lugged it inside. There were needles everywhere, and I am pretty sure I still have some stuck in me that I have yet to find.”
Emmeline’s eyes widened a little more each time her gaze moved from the Earl of Dorset to the yards of branches along every doorway. “You did this yourself?”
“Yes.” A wide grin spread across his cheeks. “I was a little overzealous in my decorating and ended up staying awake until dawn to ensure it would be ready before everyone arrived. Hopefully, I won’t nod off.”
The earl’s future wife stood beside him as Patrick carried in a tea tray and placed it on the end table. Hadley swept an invisible strand of hair behind her ear and smoothed her dress before calling the crowd to attention by clearing her throat. “I wanted you all to be the first to know that we have decided on April second for our wedding date.”
“Have you chosen a honeymoon destination yet?” came Professor Martin’s gravelly reply between gentle tinks of the spoon against his teacup.
“We plan to go to Dorset first to see Bra
sshurst Hall and maybe Egypt. There are no definite plans for a honeymoon since both of us are fairly content to be on English soil for a while.”
“Well,” Eilian Sorrell called as he clapped his hands together, “now that the official announcements are out of the way, is anyone up for a game of charades? But let’s open our Christmas crackers first. Charades is always better with hats and masks.”
While the Christmas crackers were passed around, Eliza watched Emmeline’s face fall as she stared into the roaring hearth. Beneath her impassive shell, which was nearly identical to James who sat in morose silence at her elbow the entire night, she knew Emmeline was hurting. It was the first holiday she would have to endure without her mother, and no amount of lighthearted distraction would dull that loss. There was no way to bring Madeline Jardine back, but there was a chance she could at least allow her to enjoy Christmas Eve by giving her something to look forward to.
“Before we start, I was hoping Emmeline could open her present from me. I know Christmas Day is still a few hours away, but I cannot wait to give it to her any longer.”
From under the tree, Eliza Hawthorne pulled out a long, flat box wrapped in shiny purple paper and placed it on her niece’s lap. Emmeline’s owl-like eyes traveled between her aunt’s soft smile and the box as she slid her nail into the paper and pulled it away. Shaking off the lid, she let it drop as a gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes welled with tears at the sight of a white debutante dress. Running her hand over the lace and beaded bodice, it dawned on her that she would be coming out this season. Her aunt had kept her promise, and it was everything she had ever imagined. Maybe it would be her first step toward a wedding dress.
“Do you like it, Emmeline?”
In her elation, words evaporated. Putting the box aside, she leapt from the chair, wrapped her arms around her aunt’s corseted waist, and whispered into her neck, “Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Broken China
The clocks in the darkened halls of Eilian Sorrell’s home tolled one, but the mechanized bells were drowned beneath the laughter of his guests as another round of charades came to an end. Around the feet of the party lay bits of paper from spent ideas and burst Christmas crackers. On the side tables empty teacups and plates waited to be collected again after being endlessly filled and drained throughout the hours after dinner. Eilian straightened his paper crown as he puffed out his cheeks and pantomimed taking a large bite of meat while rubbing an invisible belly.
“Santa Claus?” Emmeline called but was given a shake of his head as he continued to swagger and eat.
“King Henry the Eighth?” The last word trailed from Hadley’s mouth as a stifled yawn.
“Correct!” Eilian glanced over his shoulder at the clock perched atop the mantle and realized it was nearly two-thirty in the morning. “I guess we should head off to bed before sunrise, shouldn’t we? Hadley, would you be willing to show Adam, Mr. Winter, and Miss Jardine to their rooms?”
With a nod, the group clambered to their feet and followed the redhead down the hall as they rubbed their eyes and sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of suppressed fatigue. Emmeline clutched the box containing her coming-out dress to her breast as she blinked and toddled blindly, entering the door Hadley opened for her without a word. She knew she would probably fall asleep before she could even get into her nightgown. Once the youngest guest had been safely deposited in the room beside Hadley’s, she led her brother and Immanuel further into the labyrinth until they reached the two adjacent doors at the end of the hall.
Linking arms with the men, she drew them near and whispered, “I told Patrick that neither of you needed a fire lit in the morning. Merry Christmas.”
With a smile, she was gone, her heels clacking softly as she retreated back to her room at the far end of the corridor. Adam locked eyes with Immanuel as each turned the knob and disappeared into their rooms. His travel bag was lying on the dresser, but when he locked the door and pulled off his jacket, a pang of guilt rang through him. Immanuel was in the next room, far from the prying eyes and ears of his extended family as Hadley intended them to be, yet he couldn’t bring himself to dart back into the hall and sneak into the next room. No, he wouldn’t be caught prowling around his future brother-in-law’s house in the middle of the night. But Immanuel would be expecting him, wouldn’t he? He could picture his companion’s crestfallen face, his two-tone eyes downcast when he realized his lover would not be paying him a visit. Could he resist for both of their sakes?
The dull squeal of a hinge opening roused him. When Adam turned, his gaze met Immanuel’s as his head appeared in the gap between two well-worn tapestries hanging on the wall that separated their rooms. The breath hitched in his throat as his companion lingered between the chambers watching him. Adam took a step forward. Could he let go again? The last time he tried, his sister stumbled upon them in his bedroom, but with everyone on the other side of the house, would they hear them? Would they know they had crossed the threshold?
Before he could act on his discordant thoughts, Immanuel's arms were around him, drawing their bodies together until their lips touched. He planted a series of light, slow kisses on Adam’s lax mouth, letting their lips interlock and linger before pulling away to repeat the process. After half a dozen kisses, he withdrew and rested his head against Adam’s neck, his arms tightly wound around his chest. With a sigh, they stood in each other’s arms with their eyes closed, relishing the simple intimacy of an embrace.
“Are you mad at me?” Immanuel asked, his voice muffled by the redhead’s collar.
“No, why would I be?”
“Because I will be going back to Oxford in a few weeks, and we will not be able to see each other very often.”
Adam trailed his fingers into Immanuel’s curls and cradled his head as their bodies swayed slightly. “I know, but it won’t be for long. You will be back for the wedding, and in the meantime, we could still write to each other. Once in a while, I could come up to Oxford and we could make a holiday of it. Also, once you are done there, you can get a job in London, and we can see each other all the time.”
His lips curled into a smile against the warm flesh of his companion’s neck. “That sounds perfect.”
Swallowing hard, Adam tensed against the succession of kisses that began at the top of his collar and ended at his ear before coming back down again. Immanuel’s hand came up to loosen his tie, but Adam pulled it away and brought it to his lips.
“Is your door locked?” he whispered, hesitating before slipping his hand under Immanuel’s jacket and resting it on his side.
The second Immanuel nodded, Adam pressed his lips to his, drawing him closer until their bodies were flush. Warmth radiated from his core as his tongue darted against the other man’s lip. Ever since their interruption, he had wanted nothing more than to hold Immanuel in his arms and explore his flesh, but he never thought he would have the chance. The taller man’s long fingers tugged his shirt loose before yanking at his tie. When Adam’s tongue grazed his and raced across his palate, his hands faltered, slackening before pawing at the silk with renewed urgency.
It was in these moments when he was with Adam that he felt like his old self, the Immanuel that existed before Lord Rose stripped him of his identity and personhood. Even during the brutality of those days in solitary confinement, he longed to remember the feeling of a reassuring hand on his back and the loving caress of someone who genuinely cared. He dreamed of it so often, but it never felt as good as this.
At the museum when panic stole what little control he had over his faculties, Adam restored him, and he knew then that this man, who had only just entered his life, was not there by chance. Both men were searching for parts of themselves that had been forced into hiding, yet somehow in the intertwining of limbs and the vulnerability of their souls lying bare, they returned to their rightful place, even if only for a few fleeting moments.
Before Adam could try to remove it, Immanuel’s jacket s
lumped to the floor behind him with a shrug of his shoulders. With trembling fingers, he worked on the buttons of the redhead’s vest, pausing and struggling each time a kiss pulled his attention away. Breathlessly Immanuel broke away from his lips. Adam watched his companion’s fingers slip over the buttons of his waistcoat, unable to grasp them and thread them through the opening, and with each failure, his breaths grew more ragged and strained. Reaching out, he held Immanuel’s hands and kissed the ridge of his clavicle as it peeked out from the edge of his collar until the other man quieted. Immanuel shut his eyes against the frustration burning behind his lids, allowing Adam to lead him back until his legs abutted the edge of the bed. When he finally sat down, a gentle hand lifted his chin and gaze.
“It’s all right,” Adam whispered as his companion’s hands danced in his lap against his will. Slowly, he undid the buttons of his vest and removed his shirt before doing the same to Immanuel’s waistcoat. “Tell me if you need help instead of struggling in silence.”
His eyes clouded, blocking out most of his companion’s body. “I’m sorry. I— I just wanted tonight to be special.”
“There is no reason to be sorry, Immanuel. Tonight already is special.” Resting his hand against his split cheek, Adam stared into his turquoise eyes. For the first time, he noticed how the veins of copper not only aggregated to form half of a coin but threaded through the blue of his iris, terminating at his pupil. He flashed a reassuring grin. “We have the opportunity to be together and we are, but we do not have to do everything this instant. It will be something to look forward to next time.”
“Are you certain? Dr. Hawthorne says I may have tremors for some time because of the dosage of electricity I received, but I can still— I don’t—” Immanuel sighed as he wrapped his arms around Adam’s torso and pulled him closer until his cheek rested against his bare stomach. “Thank you for understanding.”
The Winter Garden Page 21
