A contingent of older guests reclined in comfortable chairs and offered constant advice on moving the ornaments one branch to the right, then three branches to the left. The Haddon baby, who had caused a minor sensation upon his arrival, went from hand to hand among the older ladies as his very proud grandparents looked on, exclaiming continually over the child's clearly exceptional attributes.
Though Edward had rarely been around young children, he found their presence added another dimension of enjoyment for everyone. That is until the baby began to fuss and cry. Very loudly.
The earl turned and saw a slightly embarrassed Lady Haddon hand off the screaming infant to his nurse, but was further surprised to see that instead of leaving the woman to deal with the situation alone, Lady Haddon followed the pair from the room. Apparently, she took her duties as a mother very seriously.
"'Tis a very good thing that nurse took the baby away." Lord Reginald commented. "He's a charming little chap with the lung capacity of a fishmonger. My ears are still ringing."
"Let's just hope the little girl doesn't start wail- ing,"Jonathan remarked. "'Tis my understanding when one starts, the other usually follows."
Edward turned in astonishment toward his younger brother. "Precisely, when did you become an expert on young children?"
"They have been in the manor for over a week," Jonathan replied defensively. "It has not been hard to learn a few things."
"Why?"
Jonathan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking slightly embarrassed. "I might like to have a few children of my own one day. No harm in finding out a little about them when I had a chance."
Edward nearly swallowed his tongue. Jonathan a father? The idea seemed so preposterous. His brother was such a charming flirt, enjoying a carefree life with almost no responsibilities. Edward could barely imagine him getting married, sacrificing his freedom and shackling himself to one woman for the rest of his life, let alone starting a family.
Lord Haddon walked past them, toward a small love seat, carrying his daughter in his arms. Looking a bit drowsy, the little girl was rubbing her eyes with her fists. "Mummy?"
Lord Haddon patted her back comfortingly. "Mummy will return shortly. Shall we wait for her to come back before we put more pretty things on the big tree?"
The little girl nodded, then climbed into her father's lap. She nestled there, snuggling against him contentedly, chattering away. At one point Lord Haddon bent his head to nibble under her chin, which sent the child into fits of giggles. The sound of uninhibited, joyous laughter made all the adults smile.
"Lord Haddon's oldest child is a darling little one," Lord Reginald commented. "Reminds me a bit of my own dear Charlotte when she was a tot."
The earl's eyebrow rose. "I have difficulty imagining Charlotte as such a self-contained, obedient little girl."
Lord Reginald laughed heartily. "Oh, not in temperament, but rather in looks. Charlotte had those same golden curls. Looked like a little angel."
"I daresay she never acted like one," the earl replied dryly.
"Oh, never," Lord Reginald said, his eyes merry. "I remember one particular visit when she was barely three years old, she escaped from her nurse, tossed a bowl of porridge all over my best carpet, ripped off her stockings and shoes in a proper fit of temper, tore several pages out of the family bible and then scrubbed chalk all over the newly wallpapered drawing room."
"It must have been a very trying week," the earl sympathized.
"Week? She did all that before luncheon the first day!" Lord Reginald smiled fondly. "She always had great spirit. I'm proud she has retained it as she has grown into womanhood."
"It must have been difficult for you, raising such a child," Edward commented, suddenly wanting to know more.
Lord Reginald chuckled. "She could be willful and stubborn to a fault. But she was never cruel or mean-spirited, so I knew that at her core, Charlotte had a good heart. It gave me hope and the courage to forge ahead during the most trying of times.
"I tolerated a lot of impossible behavior when she first came to live with me, even though I knew it was not good for either of us to always give in to her whims. Yet I found that in my grief over losing my son and daughter-in-law, I could not bear to refuse the pleading in Charlotte's eyes when she wanted something so badly."
"How old was she?"
"Almost five."
Edward tried to imagine what it must have been like for Lord Reginald, to lose both his son and daughter-in-law without warning. It was no wonder that he never wanted Charlotte to be deprived of anything she desired. "It must have been very hard," Edward said sympathetically.
"I cried many a tear and I'm not ashamed to admit it." Lord Reginald gave himself a little shake. "But then there was Charlotte to think of and there was no time to be maudlin. Though I was hardly a disciplinarian, there were things that I would never sanction and Charlotte quickly learned and obeyed those lessons. No bullying or shouting or ordering people about, for me or her.
"Those methods are often used on children, and wayward adults, but that never sat well with my conscience." Lord Reginald smiled slow and sweet, then met the earl's gaze. "The key to controlling Charlotte without breaking her spirit was fairly simple. Bribery."
"You must have very deep pockets, Lord Reginald."
"Bribery comes in many forms, Worthington. 'Tis not always the monetary worth of an item, but rather the value one places upon it. When she was seven, I could almost always get Charlotte to obey me by promising her an extra hour each afternoon on her favorite mount."
"And when she was sixteen?"
Lord Reginald laughed and shook his head. "That is when life really became interesting at Quincy Court." The older gentleman held out his empty glass and Edward obligingly filled it with another dram of whiskey. "I admit I have spoiled and indulged Charlotte and I am very aware of the gossipmongers who have commented that it ruined her. Even though a female sits on the throne, a strongminded woman is hardly the current fashion."
Edward bit back a grin. "Far better a woman with backbone than a fluff-head full of palpitations, silly airs and inane conversation. I will take spirit and even anger in a woman over passivity any day of the week."
"Well said, Worthington. A very enlightened view. I shall drink to it." Lord Reginald took a hefty sip of his dwindling whiskey. "There are some who say that my Charlotte is a contrary woman and it will take a strong man to master her. But I say she is not a woman to be gained without a struggle, and thus her worth is far above other females."
At that moment the object of their conversation entered the room. Edward tilted his head and watched Charlotte cross the floor to greet some of the houseguests. She wore a lovely gown of deep burgundy silk that flattered her figure and showcased her trim waist.
But it was not only her beauty that intrigued him. Lord Reginald was right. Charlotte filled the room with her presence, exuding a spirit that could not quite be contained. At the first opportunity, Edward excused himself to Lord Reginald and joined her.
"Good afternoon, Miss Aldridge."
"My lord." She dipped a pretty curtsey and selected an ornament to hang on the tree. Edward followed her at a discreet distance, waiting patiently until no one was in earshot before he spoke again.
"I think we might have a problem," he whispered. "Jonathan saw me in the hallway late last night as I was returning to my bedchamber."
The earl was prepared for Charlotte's reaction and caught the delicate glass ornament she dropped before it crashed and shattered on the floor.
It took a moment for her to recover her voice. "Do you think he realized where you had been?"
"As I was carrying, instead of wearing, the majority of my clothing, an imbecile could have effortlessly ascertained that I had recently shared a bed with a female guest. Jonathan is not a fool, though it hardly takes any great intelligence to deduce which female."
Charlotte's mouth twitched. "Why would Jonathan assume that you had been
with one of the houseguests? And why me? Did you tell him you had come from my bedchamber?"
"Charlotte!" Edward exclaimed, his eyes filled with turbulence. "I would never compromise your reputation to anyone, even my brother. Fortunately, Jonathan has promised to forget the incident entirely."
"Excellent." Her worried expression shifted to a look of serenity. "If you admitted nothing, then our secret is safe," she asserted. "You could have just as easily been coming from the servants' quarters after pestering one of the maids."
"I think the overpowering scent of pine has addled your brain," Edward said, resisting the urge to grab her shoulders and give her a shake. "I shall let that remark pass because you have been taken by surprise, but just to be clear, I want you to know that I would never do anything so reprehensible as `pester' one of my housemaids. Or anyone else's housemaid, for that matter."
Charlotte blushed. "Of course not. I am sorry, Edward, for even suggesting such a deplorable thing."
Her voice conveyed her sincere apology, but her expression was so inscrutable he had no clue as to what she was thinking. For one wild instant he wished he had the power to read thoughts. It would make his life so much easier.
Edward struggled to keep his voice low, hoping to avoid drawing any attention to them. Fortunately, everyone else seemed very involved in the tree trimming. "There is an easy way to solve this mess," he said calmly. "I shall speak to your grandfather and we can announce our engagement tonight at dinner."
"No."
He had not really expected her to readily agree, yet it still hurt to hear the rejection. "Why are you being so obstinate?"
"I am not." Charlotte tugged the ornament she had just placed on the tree branch and hastily shoved it onto a higher, thicker one. "You promised me time to consider your proposal and I shall hold you to your word. That is not being obstinate."
Edward rippled with frustration. "Circumstances have changed."
"Nothing dire happened," she said, looking up at him from beneath the thick fringe of her lashes. "And you just told me that Jonathan will not say anything. Our secret is safe."
He assessed her quietly, and realized she was seri ous. "The next time it could be someone else who sees me," Edward reminded her. "Someone who would not be as circumspect."
"Then we must not take any more risks. You must stay out of my bedchamber." She refused to meet his eyes. "Though perhaps that change in our relationship will also have you reconsidering your offer of marriage to me."
Edward lifted one hand and set his forefinger beneath her chin, leaving her no choice but to look into his eyes. "That comment hardly dignifies a response," he said. "Do you not know me better, Charlotte?"
She pushed his hand away and resumed rearranging the ornaments on the tree. "I hardly know my own feelings, my lord. How can I possibly presume to understand yours?"
His chest constricted. This cat-and-mouse game they were playing was wearing on his nerves. He had told himself he was prepared to wait for Charlotte to make her decision, but he now realized he was not prepared at all. Especially since he realized if she had truly set her mind against him, there was going to be no way of persuading her.
His recent words to Lord Reginald about preferring a woman of backbone and spirit hauntingly echoed in his memory. "I remember someone once telling me that there is no spur to the male heart like rejection. Is that what you are trying to do, Charlotte? Spur my heart?"
Her lovely green eyes turned hard. "What a low opinion you have of me, my lord, to believe that I must trick you into revealing your affections for me."
For a split second he wanted to turn and walk away, to forget all about Charlotte and the confused feelings she stirred within him. To forget her kisses, her sweetness, how wonderful she felt in his arms. Trying to understand her, to placate her, to please her seemed a task beyond his capabilities.
He walked over to the table where the glass ornaments has been carefully laid out, selected one and returned to Charlotte's side. Her head was bent low as she fumbled with a small doll she was trying to set within the tree branches. Heedless of the others in the room, he crouched down beside her. She refused to acknowledge his nearness, but he saw her fingers tremble slightly as she moved them from one branch to the next.
What was it that Lord Reginald has said-she is not a woman to be gained without a struggle, and thus her worth is far above other females.
"I am a cad, Charlotte," he said, handing her the ornament.
She sighed. "Do not berate yourself so, my lord. I know that I am not the most even-tempered of women.
"How do we tolerate each other, I wonder?"
"'Tis not easy." A slow smile spread over her beautiful face as she beheld the lovely angel ornament he had given her. "My only hope is that in the end you will prove yourself worthy."
"I shall endeavor to try." Edward braced himself forward on his elbows. After a quick glance to ascertain that no one could see them, he leaned in and kissed her.
Charlotte's mouth met his openly, warm and receptive. She smelled sweetly fragrant and softly feminine. He tasted her like a Christmas treat he meant to savor, with light brushes of his tongue, and she responded in kind, swirling her lips and tongue to meet his and maximize their pleasure.
Knowing they could not continue in so public a venue, Edward broke the kiss, then turned away to collect himself. As he looked past Charlotte, he saw his mother enter the room, her companion, Miss Montgomery, by her side. The lines around the countess's eyes deepened with displeasure as she took in all the activity.
"The countess has arrived," Charlotte whispered. "Do you think she saw us kissing?"
"No, but there is only one way to be certain. I shall go and greet her."
As he walked across the room, the earl fleetingly wondered if it were wise to approach someone who looked as if she had just found a pile of week-old fish in the linen closet and believed you were the one responsible for it, but he did so anyway. Miss Montgomery discreetly, and wisely, drew away the moment he gained the countess's side.
"I am so pleased you could join us, Mother. As you can see, everyone is having a wonderful time."
"The entire north wing of the second floor smells like a pine forest," the countess replied, her face tight. "I came to investigate the unusual odor, and now that I have seen that ... that ... tree, I finally understand why."
"The smell will be even more prevalent when the rest of the fresh greenery is hung tomorrow," he said in a cheerful tone, forcing himself to smile. "Lord Reginald and Lady Haddon both mentioned how much they are looking forward to it."
The countess paused, narrowing her eyes. "Ali, so you do not hold with the old superstition that it un lucky to bring the evergreens inside the house before Christmas Eve?"
Edward shrugged. "'Tis an old-fashioned notion that you and Father never subscribed to and it pleases me to follow the holiday traditions established at Farmington Manor."
The countess's face went pale. "I am very surprised that you even remembered how your father and I organized the holidays."
"I remember many things from my youth with great fondness, especially the holiday celebrations." Edward cleared his throat gruffly. "I miss Father a great deal, but never more so than during this season he so richly enjoyed."
For the briefest instant his mother looked stricken. She backed into a chair and sat down. Edward braced himself for her onslaught, but her voice was soft when she finally spoke.
"I was deeply grieved when your father died-out of my head, some might even say. It was so sudden, so unexcepted." She turned to him and her voice dropped even lower. "I should hope that you will be enough of a gentleman to excuse the rantings of a grief-stricken wife, that you will forget any words that I might have spoken in hasty anger."
It was years late in coming, but Edward felt a great sense of vindication. The very small, illogical part of him that had always feared he had been an unwilling catalyst to his father's death was set free of its burden of guilt.
"'Tis forgotten," he said quietly.
"Good." The countess took a deep breath and gazed about the ballroom. "Though it looks com pletely ridiculous, I believe your father would have liked your great, oversized tree."
Touching his mother's shoulder, Edward knelt. He knew he probably shouldn't push her, but he could not let the opportunity slip away. "Will you help us decorate it?" he asked, holding out a delicate glass ornament he had pulled from his pocket.
The countess lifted a finely arched eyebrow. "You want me to put that on the tree?"
"Would you prefer another one?"
The countess looked down at the ornament, then back up at his face. Edward waited with his breath held as she hesitated, looking uncertainly into his eyes. "Do not expect too much from me, Edward. Too much has passed between us for it all to be forgotten in an afternoon."
Her words rang in his ears as something tugged painfully inside his heart. "There is fault on both sides, Mother, yet I still hope we will someday move beyond the hurt and accusations. Even during the bleakest of times, I continue to have faith that someday you will no longer gaze at me as if I am a bitter pill you must swallow, that you will tolerate my presences not merely because it is your duty but because it brings you joy. I even dare to hope that eventually we will both strive to do far more than simply learn to rub along tolerably together."
"You hope for a lot."
"I do."
The countess rose and walked slowly toward the large tree. Edward stayed by her side. Raising her arm, she hung the sparkling glass ornament on the highest limb she was able to reach. She turned toward him, her lips trembling. "If given the choice, I would choose not to be a stranger to you."
Edward had to work hard to swallow the lump of emotion in his throat. "I have come to you, Mother. The choice is yours."
She glanced at him. "You are very determined. As determined in your way as I am in mine."
The thought brought Edward up short. He shuddered visibly to think that he and his mother were so very much the same.
The Christmas Heiress Page 21
