The Christmas Heiress

by Adrienne Basso

  He hoped for a chance to speak with her when they all gathered to stir the Christmas pudding, but she never once glanced in his direction. The celebratory spirit of the occasion had been ruined for Jonathan. It all felt dull and flat without Evelyn's warm smile cast upon him.

  Jonathan stepped into the hall and approached her. She was moving slowly, her head bent low as she read the contents of the single sheet of paper she held. A list of instructions from his mother, most likely.

  "Miss Montgomery, I need to speak with you. Please step into the library."

  Her head jerked up, her color instantly deepening. "I am busy, Mr. Barringer. I have numerous items that require my immediate attention."

  "No doubt. But this will only take a moment." Still she hesitated, prompting him to add, "I really must insist."

  "Very well, sir," she replied, an unusual edge of hostility in her voice.

  Jonathan followed her into the library and closed the door.

  "The door must remain open," she said primly.

  Jonathan exhaled a noisy breath and gently clicked the latch shut. His gaze did not move from her face and she returned his stare with a steady, unfriendly glare of her own. The silence was charged and heavy.

  Jonathan drew out the chair on his right, but she shook her head. "I will not be staying that long."

  Since she would not sit, he too remained standing, walking toward her until they were toe to toe. "Why do you run from me, Evelyn?"

  She stiffened. "I will not answer that," she said sharply. "May I go now?"

  Jonathan found himself fighting down a cold crush of disappointment. He knew it was not going to be easy, but her open hostility was such a strong barrier between them. "I cannot bear to see you so uncomfortable in my presence," he said in a soft tone. "Am I really such an ogre?"

  "You know that you are not an ogre. But you must see that I cannot possibly ... that there is no point ... we cannot-" Evelyn's words broke off. "I am sensible woman, sir."

  "You are far more than that, my dear," he replied in a silky tone. "You are lovely and witty and kind, well, except when you are dealing with me."

  He waited for a smile, any crack in the wall she had erected between them. But alas, none was forthcoming.

  "What do you want from me?" she asked.

  "I want you. "Jonathan caught her hands before she could bolt from him and drew them to his lips. He looked down into her face, acutely aware of the tug of desire, the compulsion she so effortlessly evoked just by being so close. "You are everything I have ever wanted, all I ever need. I burn for you, Evelyn."

  Her cheeks flamed and she threw a dark glance at him. "You must not say such things. You must not even think them."

  "I cannot control my heart, dearest."

  Her back visibly flinched. For an agonized moment, they stared at each other, at odds not over their feelings but their differing belief over whether or not there was even a possibility that they could share a future together. Jonathan sighed, knowing that she would not waver in this, fearful that she would not realize that their love could be stronger than any obstacle she thought they faced.

  Finally, Evelyn made a little mewing sound and turned away. A strand of her hair tumbled down and Jonathan longed to reach for it.

  "We cannot go on like this," he whispered. "At least before we were friends of a sort. And now ... now you will barely glance at me."

  "I am your mother's paid companion. I should never glance in your direction."

  "My God, Evelyn, you cannot mean that. Surely you think better of yourself."

  There was a moment's tense silence. Evelyn looked pained. It tore atJonathan's heart to see her so distressed, yet he knew not how to fix it.

  "Do you not understand what I think of myself is of no importance?" she wailed. "I am fortunate indeed that the countess even considered hiring me. I do not say this to be vain, but young women with decent looks rarely find employment as companions. And I am far younger than most who work in the same capacity."

  "And far more beautiful," he supplied.

  "Employers do not appreciate beauty. Older women do not want to be reminded that their looks are fading, their beauty is gone." Her eyes flashed with anger. "My role is to be invisible. To dress modestly, to attract no masculine attention, to fetch and carry when asked, to write letters and read the same book aloud over and over, because 'tis my mistress's favorite, and to smile while I am doing it."

  She drew a shuddering breath and continued, her voice rising passionately with each sentence. "I am destined to live a solitary life, an outsider looking in on the world. It is not my place to offer opinions or share my feelings, I know all too well that no one is interested in them, no one cares about them."

  "I care."

  She pressed a hand to her eyes. "I am resigned to my fate, Mr. Barringer. Please accept it, as I have, so that we may both find contentment and peace." Her small smile trembled, then vanished.

  Jonathan's heart sank. This was going from bad to worse. She was slipping away from him before he even had a chance to win her heart. The room was cold and silent, the only sound was the howling wind outside as the chill of the winter day seeped in through the window and the sputtering crackles of the fire tried to stave off the inevitable.

  Evelyn turned to leave. He hesitated but a moment and then quickly followed, coming to her side as she reached the door. Jonathan stuck out his hand to grasp her arm, intent on stopping her.

  Evelyn stiffened. Even that brief contact set off a spark of heat between them. Slowly, Jonathan lowered his face to hers. Her eyes instinctively widened and a sigh shivered through her. Jonathan kissed her hair, her temple, her cheek, then pressed his lips to her ear.

  "You have to learn to trust me," he murmured. His hand caressed the back of hers where she gripped the doorknob.

  "It will be disastrous if I do." She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "For both of us."

  "I have no adequate words for the sensations rushing through my body, no clear way to convey to you the depth of the emotions I am feeling."

  "Then do not speak of it, do not even acknowledge it." Her voice was so calm and steady he would have thought she was unaffected by his declaration, but her breathing was too rapid and shallow, the pulse at her neck visibly beating at too frantic a rhythm to confirm indifference.

  Jonathan drew in a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. He knew he could physically prevent her from leaving, and was appalled to realize how strong that instinct was inside him. But he had heard the little catch in her voice, had known how hard it was for her to turn away from him. He could not cause her such pain.

  And so he once again let her go. For now.

  But his frustration mounted. He reached for his wine goblet and finished the contents. He thought about refilling his glass, but decided against it. This sort of situation called for a clear head. He would be no closer to finding a solution by getting drunk.

  Ten minutes passed, but his emotions still churned. Jonathan paced the room, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

  Damn it! Why was Evelyn so determined to follow the restrictive rules of society? Did she not realize that love was worth the risk of breaking those rules? Or did she deem him unworthy of taking the risk?

  Jonathan paced again, then stopped at the window, leaned both hands on the sill and peered out. Charlotte Aldridge was hurrying across the terrace, holding her riding skirt up with both hands as she trod delicately over the stones. Judging by the mud caked on the hem of the skirt, she had finished her ride and been out at the stables for a considerable amount of time.

  As he broodingly watched her progress, Jonathan was suddenly struck with an inspiring thought. He needed a go-between, someone who could subtly plead his case to Evelyn.

  Someone who could help him convince Evelyn of the real value of love.

  Charlotte was the perfect person for the job.

  Without stopping to think further, he tore open the door and rushed into the
hallway, down the back staircase and through the long gallery. He caught up with her just as she entered the main foyer.

  "Ah, Charlotte, just the person I wanted to see. Can you spare me a few moments of your time?" He grasped her elbow firmly, steering her toward the empty breakfast parlor.

  She seemed startled at his sudden, slightly overbearing greeting, but offered him a ready smile. "I was going to my bedchamber to change. I'm afraid I am rather muddy and sweaty from my ride."

  "I'm hardly offended," Jonathan said with a toothy smile. "Besides, ladies do not sweat, they glow with a radiant sheen."

  "This lady enjoys more than a sedate trot around a groomed gravel path," Charlotte retorted with a cheeky grin. "I rode through the meadow and jumped several hedges in the process and that most certainly makes me sweat."

  "Nonsense. You look lovely."

  "What is so urgent?" Her amused, curious expression suddenly turned alarmed. "Has something happened to my grandfather?"

  "No, no. Lord Reginald is as hale and hearty as always. I saw him earlier at breakfast. He and Edward were discussing some complicated financial investment."

  Shutting the breakfast parlor door with his hip, Jonathan released his grip on Charlotte's elbow and favored her with a winsome smile. Her face contorted in puzzlement.

  "What is going on, Jonathan?"

  He met her eyes and his smile faded. "I need your help, Charlotte."

  She nodded. "Selecting Christmas gifts?"

  Jonathan inwardly scoffed. Was that how she saw him, a man whose most pressing dilemma was deciding on which presents to buy? Did no one of his acquaintance take him seriously?

  He narrowed his eyes, hoping to convey the seriousness of his intent. "I require your assistance in a most delicate matter. One that requires the utmost discretion and secrecy."

  Charlotte's left eyebrow rose. "Planning to rob a bank, are you?"

  "Charlotte, please." His deliberately disapproving tone told her he did not appreciate her flip attitude. "I find myself deeply enamored with a woman who refuses to acknowledge my feelings."

  "And you want my advice?" He could hear the surprise and doubt in her voice.

  "Not your advice, your help."

  "I cannot imagine there is anything I can do." She frowned. "Your charm with females is legendary. I am certain there is nothing you cannot accomplish if you apply yourself to it."

  Jonathan shook his head sadly. "'Tis not so easy this time. I fear that flirting is not in her nature."

  "Ahh, so you have at last met a woman who demands more of you than witty banter, a provocative glance and a devastating smile. Good. 'Tis past time that you grow up."

  "You malign me unfairly, Charlotte."

  "Perhaps." A glint of speculation entered her eyes. "Who is this mysterious woman who has captured your heart?"

  "Evelyn Montgomery."

  For a moment Charlotte was shocked into silence. Then her lips flattened. `Jonathan, surely you know that nothing of significance can develop between you and Miss Montgomery. She is your mother's companion."

  Though the implications of her words did not sit right with him, Jonathan's shoulders rose in a small shrug. "Is she therefore unworthy of some attention and innocent affection just because she must work to keep a roof over her head? Is she truly so socially inferior?"

  Charlotte's look sharpened. "That is not what I meant. From what I know of Miss Montgomery, she is every bit as genteel as any current member of society. She is an admirable young woman, who possesses an extraordinary amount of patience and self-discipline. How else would she manage to get on so well with your mother? Not everyone can, you know."

  Jonathan wondered briefly if Charlotte was referring to the obvious tension between Edward and the countess, but then realized that there were many individuals who had difficulty coping with his mother.

  "We both agree that Miss Montgomery is a very special young woman."

  "She is also very pretty."

  "Extraordinarily beautiful," Jonathan muttered, then heaved a sigh. Charlotte's eyes lit with suspicion and Jonathan worried that he might have re vealed too much. "Her looks are not the reason I hold her in such regard."

  Charlotte continued to stare at him, as if she were weighing, measuring the sincerity of his remarks in her mind. "Our circumstances are somewhat similar, those of Miss Montgomery and myself. We are both without parents to protect and nurture us. If not for my grandfather, I too would have been forced to make my own way in the world or had to rely on the generosity of distant relatives."

  "Not a very pleasant thought, is it?"Jonathan said softly.

  Charlotte's expression darkened. "It's actually rather distressing."

  "Then you can understand why Miss Montgomery, above so many others, deserves a bit of harmless devotion in her life."

  Charlotte's brow wrinkled. "I understand that a female in her position cannot afford to be linked to an impropriety of any kind."

  "She won't be, if you help me."Jonathan leaned forward eagerly, pressing home his point. "All I crave is an innocent flirtation, a courtly exchange of sentiment, like the knights of old held for their ladies."

  A muscle twitched in her cheek. "You, Jonathan, are no Sir Galahad."

  "Nor do I claim to be."Jonathan rubbed a hand over his face. He must choose his words carefully and convey them with the right amount of sincerity and honesty or else she would not aid him. Charlotte was not a stupid woman; if she suspected his true intentions toward Evelyn, she would in all likelihood refuse to be involved. "I have written several poems and I want very much for Miss Montgomery to have them, but I fear she would simply throw them on the fire without even opening them if I hand them to her."

  "Poetry?"

  Jonathan nodded, inwardly wincing at the lie. He had in fact written Evelyn several torrid love letters in which he had poured out his heart and soul. "If you deliver my poems and ask Miss Montgomery to read them, then perhaps she will."

  "If you are writing poetry then you most certainly are smitten. Only a man with a deep infatuation would behave so ridiculously." Charlotte sighed. "That is all you want of me? To deliver your notes to Miss Montgomery?"

  Jonathan could not hold back the grin of triumph that lit his face. "It wouldn't hurt to sing my praises to her every now and again. Let her know what a fine fellow I am, well-liked, charming, much in demand by the ladies."

  Exasperation came into Charlotte's face. "I will deliver your poetry. That is all."

  "And keep it a secret?"

  "Yes, I shall tell no one, not even my maid."

  He lifted her hand, kissed it, let it go. "Thank you, Charlotte. I knew I could count on you."

  With a slight smile, Charlotte departed. Once alone, Jonathan could not stop grinning. Thanks to Charlotte's romantic nature, he now had a way to communicate with Evelyn.

  He would court her. Leave small tokens in unexpected places-a rose on her writing desk, a sweet next to her usual chair in his mother's private parlor, a volume of love sonnets hidden beneath the music sheets on the piano. All items that would barely be noticed by anyone, except her.

  He would write her long letters revealing the love in his heart, the needs of his body and his mind. And now with Charlotte's help, those thoughts would remain a secret, an intimacy they could freely share without worry of being caught.

  It was a good beginning.

  Edward knocked, then opened the door and walked into his mother's private sitting room. Like all other areas of the house, it was a well-appointed chamber. A gilt-framed mirror filled the wall above the marble mantelpiece, antique teardrop-shaped scones hung on the walls. The chaise and chairs were overstuffed and inviting, covered in fine patterned fabrics of complementing shades of gold. Two long windows looked out onto the south gardens, providing much-needed natural light.

  Miss Montgomery was seated at the small desk near one of the windows, busily writing as the countess dictated. The pretty companion looked up when he entered, but because of the p
lacement of his mother's large chair, the countess could not see him.

  "Good afternoon, ladies. I hope you will forgive my intrusion." Edward walked to the center of the room, so he was in plain view.

  The countess pulled a face at the sight of her son. "I am working on my correspondence. I have many friends and distant relations that I write to at this time of year. Evelyn and I are very busy trying to get them finished. It is essential that the letters are completed and posted before Christmas."

  Her tone was cold, distant and openly discouraging, but Edward persisted. "I won't keep you long." He regarded his mother steadily. "I'm sure Miss Montgomery is due for a break. No doubt her fingers are beginning to cramp."

  "What a ridiculous notion," the countess scoffed. "Evelyn can write for hours at a time and her penmanship remains perfect."

  "Nevertheless, I am certain she would appreciate a brief respite from her labors."

  Miss Montgomery did not respond right away, waiting no doubt for a signal from the countess. Though Edward did not see it, the command must have been given, because suddenly the younger woman swallowed, then quickly nodded. "I shall return shortly."

  For a long moment after she left there was silence in the room. Edward could sense his mother's frustration, but he schooled his features into a pleasant expression and refused to look away. Finally, the countess opened her mouth, grudgingly, as if she realized she had no choice but to speak with him. "You said this would not take long and I intend to hold you to your word. I really must return to my correspondence as soon as possible."

  "I understand. Though you might consider sending cards instead of a lengthy letter. They are all the rage in London."

  "Cards?"

  "Yes, Christmas cards. Several art shops in London have begun selling them during the holidays."

  The countess pursed her lips in a grim line. "Lady Thornton sent me one of those cards a few years ago. The picture on the front was pretty, but the inside boasted a rather pedestrian sentiment. I thought it vulgar and impersonal."