The Christmas Heiress

by Adrienne Basso

  "Marriage is a serious consideration. Women of our class marry for social and financial security," she replied, perching on the armrest of a large, overstuffed chair. "I am indeed fortunate to already possess both in abundance."

  "And emotions? Are they not a contributing factor?"

  "I have observed some marriages that are fraught with emotion. Which, I must say, can ultimately be damaging, especially if the union is not entered into with thoughtful and due consideration by both individuals." She paused and gathered her thoughts. "I am lucky to be afforded the chance to take my time searching for a man who will best please me. A man who has nothing in his past or his personality that would prevent him from giving and accepting love with ease."

  Edward could not help but smile. So love was important to her. For some reason, the notion pleased him greatly, even though his own opinion on the subject was not nearly as emphatic.

  "I'll own I do not spend as much time among society as others of my rank, but surely there are some men who are worthy of your love," Edward pressed.

  "I certainly hope so." She cleared her throat, but said no more.

  "But they have remained unfound?" An odd thought suddenly struck him. "Are you searching hard enough?"

  "I am searching very selectively." She glanced at him curiously. "When a woman marries, she gives her body, her independence and her worldly goods to her husband. I find that I treasure the first two far too much to make that decision lightly."

  He bit back a smile. "Are you a romantic, Charlotte? Are you waiting for your one true love?"

  She raised her eyebrow at his familiar use of her first name, yet considering the intimacy of their conversation he doubted she would insist on formality.

  She stood up and paced a meandering course toward the windows at the back of the room. "Some people believe in keeping passion entirely separate from marriage. I suppose I could see the wisdom in that sort of thinking, but it would make for a very dull life."

  "Would not a friendship between husband and wife make the love they share more lasting and durable?" he ventured.

  "Oh, I want the friendship too, my lord. I want it all." She turned from the window and resumed her pacing. "Some people grow tired of searching for what has been elusive in their life and decide that they can only find happiness if they accept life the way it is, if they let go of their stubborn desire for something more." She took a deep breath. "I am not one of those people."

  Their eyes met and he was surprised to see the depth of honesty and emotion reflected back at him. Surprised too to recognize a similar desire within himself. He never compromised when it came to matters of business, yet in his personal life, specifically his romantic life, he had been willing to accept a marriage to the daughter of a business associate because it made financial sense.

  For the first time since his former fiancee walked out on him, Edward felt a sense of relief. He had been spared such a marriage without even realizing he would have never been happy, would have eventually come to hate it.

  "Do you ever worry that it is an impossible quest?" he asked. "To find and keep this love?"

  Charlotte hesitated a moment. "There is a small element of fear that perhaps I am wasting my life grasping at straws, searching for something that does not exist. But then I remember the stories my grandfather told me about my parents and the love that they shared, and I see how content and happy a couple such as Lord and Lady Haddon are with each other, so I know that it is possible." Charlotte blinked back a sudden tear. "In the end, for me, the heart will know what is best."

  Her faith had a naive innocence he found charming. Could it really be that simple?

  "How will you know when you meet this elusive man?"

  "An excellent question." She smiled warmly at him. "I am not exactly certain, yet I continually hope and pray that I shall recognize him when I find him."

  Could it be me? His voice caught in his throat. She was smiling at him with the timeless mystery of a desirable female. A flicker of need stole through him. Her lips were luscious, dark red and plump as fresh raspberries, but it was the expression of vulnerability on her lovely face that flew straight to his heart.

  A discreet knock sounded at the door and Harris stepped into the study. "Beg pardon, my lord, but there is a problem below stairs that needs attention."

  Edward turned absentmindedly toward the butler. "Did you inform my mother?"

  "I did. The countess instructed me to speak with you about it," Harris said with a distinct note of disapproval in his voice.

  Edward held back a retort of annoyance. It was hardly the butler's fault that his mother had picked a most inconvenient time to be difficult.

  Charlotte moved forward, avoiding his eyes. "I shall see you at dinner this evening, my lord."

  "I look forward to it, Miss Aldridge."

  Though Harris held himself off at a discreet distance, there was no opportunity for further conversation. Edward caught a faint whiff of her delicate perfume as she breezed out of the room. The scent seemed to awaken a primal need within him, and his throat became very tight.

  He turned to his butler, yet the earl had great difficulty concentrating on anything the servant said to him.

  Miss Dunaway laid a hand lightly on the earl's arm and leaned closer to whisper something in his ear. She was in especially good looks tonight and Charlotte had to concede that most men would find Miss Dunaway's dark, nearly black hair, porcelain skin and clear blue eyes very attractive.

  Apparently the earl was one of them. A startled expression crossed his face and he laughed at Miss Dunaway's next whispered comment. She, in turn, favored him with an inviting smile as she noticeably tightened her fingers on his arm.

  Charlotte narrowed her gaze. It was ridiculous, of course, to feel such a sharp stab of jealousy. She had no specific claim on him, yet the notion that some other woman might felt very wrong.

  As if sensing her regard, the earl halted his conversation with Miss Dunaway and turned and looked Charlotte's way. His gaze gripped her with its usual mesmerizing force and Charlotte's body grew warm. He gave her a slow, lazy smile that shone from his eyes.

  For an instant, Charlotte could not catch her breath. She took out her fan and waved it before her face to hide her expression, unsure if she was shielding her reaction from the other guests or specifically from the earl.

  She turned back to her grandfather, her cheeks faintly hot, and tried to concentrate on his conversation. But she barely heard a word. She noticed the countess in earnest conversation with Lady Anne, who was an excellent pianist, and wondered if that meant there would be impromptu dancing if Lady Anne could be persuaded to play for them all.

  Dinner had concluded a bit earlier this evening and most of the guests seemed to be finished partaking of the coffee and tea that were served after it. But instead of dancing, the women decided on a musical interlude, and began organizing the order in which they would perform.

  "Shall I put your name forward?" her grandfather asked.

  "Not this evening. I shall sit and be entertained by listening to the other ladies' efforts," Charlotte replied, smiling at his loyalty.

  Though he had hired the best music instructors in the land to teach his granddaughter, Charlotte had never been disciplined enough to practice on any of the various instruments Lord Reginald had bought with any regularity. To please him, she eventually mastered three pretty but simple piano pieces, but beyond that, she could barely play a note.

  Charlotte settled herself comfortably on one of the green brocade settees located near the windows on the far side of the room, moving to one side to allow her grandfather a seat. He joined her, but she soon noted his attention was on the card table positioned in the corner.

  "You should join Lord Haddon's game," Charlotte urged. "There is room for one more."

  "Perhaps later," Lord Reginald said, patting her hand affectionately. "I do not wish to leave you on your own.

  Charlotte appreciated her grandfather'
s good manners, but after a few minutes it was clear he was doing a poor job of concealing his interest in the gaming.

  "Go," she insisted. "I shall be fine on my own."

  She shooed him off with a wave of her hand and after another half-hearted protest, Lord Reginald leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "You are a good girl, Charlotte."

  "Woman," she corrected in a mock tone of annoyance, rekindling a familiar battle between them.

  Lord Reginald gave her a misty-eyed smile. "You will always be my darling girl, no matter how old we both get."

  Charlotte grinned with affection and watched Lord Reginald leave. Then she sat back and looked around, wondering when the music would begin. Lady Haddon sat in front of the piano, poised to play, but a group of ladies were gathered around her, all eagerly sorting through sheets of music.

  Jonathan was in the middle of the boisterous gang, trying to act as some sort of organizer, but the women were all aflutter, cackling like a flock of country hens. Miss Montgomery was there too, but she held herself apart from the others, both physically and emotionally.

  Charlotte felt a twinge of sympathy for the young woman's situation, and wondered if she had read Jonathan's letter of poetry yet, wondered if the sentiments had pleased her. Or if they had made her long for things that would never be.

  Charlotte's gaze drifted away from the women and settled on the men. She tried to keep her attention away from the earl, who was clustered in conversation with several other gentleman, but her eyes kept straying in his direction.

  He was dressed in formal evening black, accented by a stark white shirt, vest and cravat, as were the other gentlemen, but on the earl the clothes seemed more dignified. He laughed at something Lord Bradford said, then excused himself and began to make his way across the room.

  When she realized he was coming toward her, Charlotte sat up straighter and shifted uneasily on the cushions.

  "May I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the empty spot on the settee beside her.

  "Please do," she replied, sliding over.

  He sat down and leaned back, draping his arm across the camelback of the settee. Charlotte tried to smile and make pleasant small talk, but it was difficult to concentrate with his hand so near the nape of her exposed neck.

  Fortunately, the room soon filled with the sweet strains of a waltz, making conversation optional. There was polite applause when Lady Haddon finished her piece and Lady Anne took her place. This time it was a lively, baroque tune that echoed through the room, showcasing the older woman's talents and nimble fingers. Even the gentlemen at the card table momentarily halted their play to listen fully.

  Inclining his head toward Charlotte, the earl whispered, "At least they are not playing Christmas carols again."

  She turned to him in surprise. "Do you dislike carols?"

  "Not usually," he answered with a twinkle in his eye. "But you must admit it does get tiresome hearing them several times a day."

  Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. "You are not showing the proper Christmas spirit, my lord. If you keep this up, in short order you will be grumbling, `Bah-humbug' like Mr. Dickens's Ebenezer Scrooge."

  "There are worse things in the world," he said philosophically. "Besides, Mr. Scrooge was properly redeemed by the end of the story."

  "Ahh, so there is hope for you after all," Charlotte said, giving the room a cursory glance. "It appears that Miss Dunaway is going to play the next piece. Perhaps you would like to turn the pages of her music, my lord?"

  "There are other gentlemen anxious for the opportunity," he observed. "I shall let them do the honors. And I do wish you would call me Edward. `My lord' is much too formal, especially given our long acquaintance."

  "I suppose I could bring myself to call you Worthington," Charlotte quipped, feeling inordinately pleased that he was so disinterested in Miss Dunaway.

  A shadow of distress crossed his face. "'Tis an odd thing to inherit a new name along with a title. In my mind, my father will always be Worthington. There are rare times even now when someone calls the name and I expect to see him standing in the room. Which is why I prefer that my most intimate acquaintances call me Edward."

  She felt a flash of sympathy. "What would people say if I acted so improperly and began calling you Edward?" she asked with gentle compassion.

  He pulled himself together. "Since when do you care what others think and do only what is proper?"

  "You are remembering me as a girl. People do change as they mature."

  "Yes, but not always for the better." He gave her a petulant look. "You call my brother Jonathan."

  "That is different."

  "How? "

  "He is my friend."

  The earl's eyes widened. "You mortally wound me. Jonathan is your friend, yet I am not. Why?"

  Because my stomach does not turn into butterflies at the mere sight of your brother. The words sprang into her mind, but fortunately were left unspoken. "Since it is so important to you, I shall call you Edward whenever there is no one else within hearing distance," she said with a sly grin.

  "Excellent. Then we must arrange to spend some time alone together. Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

  At that, Charlotte's mouth fell open. "Time alone? Without a proper chaperone? What a scandalous suggestion, my lord."

  "Edward. "

  "My lord," she intoned forcefully.

  "If you are so mortally offended, then why are you smiling?"

  Charlotte sent him a quelling look. "I am not smiling. I am in shock."

  "You are smiling," he insisted. "I do not understand why you must immediately conclude that I am intent on something improper." He leaned close and whispered in her ear, "I can assure you that I have not had a drop of spirits tonight. I drank only water with dinner and tea afterward."

  She tilted her head to one side. "Why would I be concerned about the amount of spirits you have consumed?"

  "You accused me the other day of only wanting to kiss you when I have been drinking. Tonight, I have proved that statement false because I have not been drinking and still very much want to kiss you."

  She smiled at him, her heart beating fast at the rush of excitement, the allure of the forbidden and improper. He was flirting with her! She waited until the last piano piece had been played. Then concealing her fluttering emotions behind a casual expression of indifference, she leaned forward and whispered, "Good night, Edward."

  An answering grin flickered at the corner of his lips. He stood, executed a formal bow and replied, "Dream of me tonight, Charlotte."

  Sleep eluded Charlotte that night. Erotic visions of the earl, visions she did not completely understand, filled her mind. After tossing and turning restlessly for over an hour, Charlotte gave up the struggle.

  Turning up the lamp she reached for the volume of poetry she kept beside her bed. Love sonnets. Not a good choice, given her current frame of mind. What she really needed was a dull, boring tome to lull her into sleep.

  Knowing exactly what she needed could be found in the multi-volumed library on the lower floor, Charlotte climbed down from the four-poster bed, threw on a dressing gown and crept silently from the chamber. The household appeared to be asleep, with no guests or servants in evidence.

  The candle she carried offered ample light, but Charlotte was relieved the hallways were lit by the occasional sconce. She turned into the long corridor and began counting the doors, pleased she remembered the overall layout of the house.

  A feeling of hushed reverence stole over her as she entered the library. The sight of so many leatherbound volumes brought her an odd sense of comfort. A low fire still burned in the grate, offering some warmth but little additional light. With eager fingers she began scanning the titles on the lower shelf, her eyes alert to anything that might be of interest.

  She fully intended to choose something dull tonight, but was also hoping to discover something exciting she would take to read tomorrow. Enjoying her search, C
harlotte had no real idea of how much time had passed before she realized she was no longer alone. A sound, a breath, a feeling entered her awareness, causing her heart to skip a beat.

  With a start of surprise, Charlotte turned around and saw the earl standing in the library doorway. His long, lean figure filled the space.

  "I am sorry I startled you. I saw the light and came to investigate."

  He was still dressed in his formal evening attire, but there were signs of uncharacteristic dishevelment that she found remarkably alluring. His coat was missing, his vest was open, the knot of his white silk cravat was untied, the ends hanging on either side of his neck, and the buttons at the top of his shirt were undone. She could see his exposed, naked throat and a few strands of dark hair curling at the top of his chest.

  It was by far the most erotic moment of Charlotte's life.

  She remained mute, her mind in a jumbled state of turmoil, her body sharp with anticipation. The earl too remained very still, staring intently at her, a strange expression on his face. Charlotte wanted to reach down and make certain her dressing gown was still properly fastened, but she resisted the gesture, knowing that it was indeed closed, and not wanting to draw even greater attention to her state of undress.

  It took a few moments to realize it was her hair that intrigued him so much. She had told her maid to leave it upbraided and it was now unbounded and unruly, flowing down her back in honey-gold disarray. The earl seemed incapable of pulling his eyes away from it.

  "Your hair is very beautiful," he said huskily.

  A frisson of heat ran down her spine at the sound of his voice. Charlotte stood up straighter, her nerves on full alert. "Thank you."

  In the sparse light of the lone candle, she studied his face for a long moment. The chiseled features, strong jaw, bold nose, enthralling amber eyes. He was a beautiful man.

  "I should leave," he stated simply.

  "Yes," she agreed, wetting her dry lips.

  Neither moved a muscle.

  Whether she was willing to admit it or not, deep down she wanted him, as she had six years ago. Was it passion? Lust? Or love?