The countess laughed. "Do not look so stricken, Edward. We share very few other traits." His mother leaned over and took a delicate sniff of the fragrant pine. "You were always the quiet one, thoughtful, well-behaved, yet even as a boy you were never willing to accept limits in your life. Was that why you had to defy us? To leave all this behind and make your own way?"
"I never set out to be deliberately rebellious. I knew pursuing my business interests was the right 13 course for my life to follow and I always hoped that my success would be the path to your forgiveness."
The countess shook her head sadly. "Not every problem can be solved with money."
"I understand that now. Though in my defense, I must point out that money, or rather the lack of it, was our main difficulty."
She pulled a face at him, her eyes narrowing. "Your father had already planned a reasonable solution to that problem, yet you refused to honor that obligation, refused to do your duty."
Edward felt his frustration start to build. "I chose my own path because in my heart I knew I could do nothing less. Would you have preferred that 1 honor your wishes and been unhappy for the rest of my days?"
"The choice of bride was always yours to make. We would never have forced you to marry someone you disliked." The countess's eyelids drooped low over her eyes. "Though I find it most interesting that you are much in the company of Charlotte Aldridge at this year's house party. And yet you still maintain that you would have been so desperately unhappy with her as your wife."
Edward could barely contain the stain of color that rose to his cheeks. It was ironic how he had indeed come full circle with his relationship and feelings toward Charlotte. What he so desperately wanted to avoid six years ago was all that he seemed to want now-Charlotte as his bride.
What would his mother possibly think if she knew the truth of the matter? He wondered if she would appreciate the irony or bask in her conviction that she had been right all along and he had been wrong. But he was a very different person now. A union with Charlotte six years ago probably would have been miserable for both of them, given his state of mind and the direction of his ambitions.
"I am not the same as I was six years ago. I believe I am a stronger and wiser man for having entered the world beyond the borders of my class."
"You certainly are different." The countess pursed her lips, as if holding back further comment, then surrendered to temptation. "Our children are our most precious gifts, which is why the joy, sorrow and disappointments they bring cannot be fully understood by someone who is not a parent."
"I do not need to wait until I have my own chil dren to understand that you have been disappointed in me, Mother," Edward replied wryly.
"But you will never truly understand how it feels until you have your own children. Though I pray they never bring you the kind of grief that I have suffered."
Edward was unsure how to react to that remark, so he let it pass. "Would you like me to ring for Harris and have the tea brought in now?"
"Yes, Miss Montgomery can serve it. I believe I should assist the others in placing the ornaments on that tree or else we shall be decorating it until midnight." Her lips quirked as she looked straight ahead. "I do hope there are more of those lovely glass ones you ordered. I find that I like them very much, very much indeed."
CHAPTER 1 6
Jonathan was aware of Evelyn the moment she entered the ballroom. The odd, almost nervous excitement that made his breathing a little deeper and his heart beat a little faster overcame him suddenly and thus he knew she was near. He anxiously scanned the room and spotted her at his mother's side, naturally, but Edward soon approached the pair and Evelyn quietly slipped away.
With effort, Jonathan resisted the urge to immediately rush over and engage her in conversation but instead held back and observed her movements. She sidled close to the grand tree, nodding a greeting to those very few women and gentlemen who acknowledged her arrival, then stood unobtrusively off to the side, her keen eyes taking in all the activity.
She was a woman with the rare gift for stillness. A necessity in her profession perhaps, but a soothing quality he appreciated. She also possessed intelligence and good sense, perhaps a bit too much of that, passion and a warm, tender heart. In a word, she was perfect. For him.
"So, Miss Montgomery, what do you think of our Christmas tree?"
Tiny laugh lines appeared at the corner of her eyes, though she did not smile. "It is quite the most extraordinary thing I have ever seen, Mr. Bar„ ringer.
"A very noncommittal, diplomatic response."
The smile still did not appear, though a slight glimmer of amusement flickered in the dark depths of her eyes. "Survival in my position depends on my ability not to offend."
The statement starkly reminded him of how much of her true self she hid, and a part of him felt hurt that she could not trust him enough to speak openly. But he let it pass. Through their letters he had come to know so much more about her and the life she led. He had finally begun to understand the difficulties and challenges she had faced and overcome in her relatively short life and admired her all the more.
Her parents had died suddenly, without having the opportunity to assure her future. There had been very little money and few prospects, leaving Evelyn precariously close to destitution. It had never before occurred to Jonathan what a frighting place the world could be for a woman alone, someone who had no family, no money and no one to whom she could turn for assistance.
Too young, too pretty and without the proper references, a very frightened Evelyn had somehow managed to secure a position as his mother's companion. Jonathan was counting on that courage to tip the balance in his favor and help her take the necessary leap of faith that was required to become his wife.
"Do you enjoy Christmas, Miss Montgomery?" he asked, feeding on his insatiable need to know everything about her.
"I do," she admitted, finally bringing forth a smile. "Though it was a different sort of celebration when I was a child. I grew up in the far north where Christmas was usually white."
"White?"
"Yes, white with snow."
"What else was Christmas?"
Her expression softened. "Family and laughter and warmth. Holly and mistletoe and red satin ribbons with golden bells on evergreen boughs hung over the doorway to the front parlor. Marvelous food, congenial company, joyful songs. And, thanks to the snow, skating and sledding and snowball fights."
"Fond memories?"
"Oh, yes, and ones that I have not dared to dwell upon until now." Her breath escaped on a pleasant sigh. "You have brought it all back for me. Thank you.
On her beautiful face was an expression of deep joy. It made Jonathan's heart sing to see her brief happiness, and the urge to take her into his arms and hold her close was so strong he had to clasp his hands behind his back to resist the temptation.
"I hope that I will also be a fond memory for you one day," he said solemnly.
"I have already tucked the image of you away in my heart." Her jaw quivered slightly. "I know I have been foolish, reckless even, but I am no longer sorry that we have spent this time together, that we have shared our thoughts and feelings and dreams through our conversations and correspondence."
He felt like a young boy who had just been given a wonderful gift. "You like my letters?" he asked eagerly.
She glanced up at him and blushed. "I should not, since some of the phrases border on indecency."
His grin widened. "I meant every word."
"I know." She turned her face away. "That is why I cannot regret this stolen time. The heart is a strong and resilient organ. It survives, it endures, it even grows stronger. I accept that these magical feelings must be paid for with future pain, but, oh, that is far better than never knowing any magic at all."
She acknowledged that what they shared was magical! God help him, he was nearly frantic with excitement. "It does not have to end, my dearest. You know that I will do anything to make you my wif
e. Think hard upon it before you refuse. Most of us only get one chance for happiness and we must reach out and grab it, lest it vanishes like smoke in our hands."
Jonathan could see her apprehension in the rigid tendons of her neck, could hear it in the shallowness of her breathing. "You are the very devil, sir, to tempt me so."
"I am set on doing far more than tempt you," he admitted, trying very hard not to smile. "Christmas is the season for hope and I find that I live for any scrap of your favor and attention. I beg you to forget the differences you believe separate us and simply enjoy the moments we share together."
"I cannot marry you," she said with great dignity.
"Yes, you have told me that on numerous occa sions, both in words and on paper, and yet I continually hope that one day you will take pity on my wretched unhappiness and abject misery and change your mind."
Evelyn opened her mouth, then closed it again without speaking. Her tension slowly disappeared, bringing a smile to Jonathan's face. 11-
"You make it far too easy to forget myself, to forget my proper place," she muttered.
"Your place is by my side," he insisted. "Surely you can see how you have the most extraordinary effect on me.
"'Tis not me but more likely a case of indigestion. I noticed you ate two helpings of pickled onions at luncheon. They are quite sour."
"All, so you are watching my every move and even remembering what and how much I eat. It pleases me greatly knowing that I am under your ever-vigilant gaze."
Pressing a hand to her mouth, she turned her back on him. Initially alarmed, Jonathan was relieved to note her shoulders were shaking with laughter.
"You are determined to misinterpret anything I do or say as something romantic and encouraging, are you not?"
"I am." He circled around to the other side so she could not avoid facing him.
Eyes wide and stark, she stared at him. "Really, sir, I must insist that you cease gazing at me like a starving lion."
"But does not my obvious devotion soften your heart, at least a little?"
"The only thing that is softening is your brain.
The lion is gone, but now you have the stupefied look of a gentleman who has just crashed into a wall at a high speed." She tried to speak with a detached inflection, but Jonathan glimpsed the quiet humor in her lovely eyes. "If you do not change your expression at once, people will become suspicious."
He reached for her hand, then took a step to the side so his body was blocking the view of him holding it. He turned it gently so her palm was facing up. Then with the tip of his finger, he slowly traced a line from the center of her palm to her wrist. She tensed, but then he felt her body shudder.
With the fingers of her other hand, she swiftly traced his cheek. The need to take her lips in a scorching kiss was strong, but Jonathan restrained himself. Her hands pulled away. But he noted with masculine delight that her bosom was heaving.
"At least I have managed to refrain from making sheep's eyes at you," he said quietly. "Though I always thought that was a rather unappetizing analogy for a man in love, especially since sheep are hardly the most intelligent of God's creatures."
"But sheep are gentle and lovable," she replied, recovering her voice.
"They smell appalling," Jonathan insisted, wrinkling his nose. "But you need not be so concerned that anyone will suspect my true feelings for you. I assure you, I deserve a medal for discretion."
"Then we had best separate, lest your medal be taken away."
It was the wise, sensible decision, yet Jonathan hated the idea of being denied her company. "At least wait until my mother calls for you."
"'Tis easier if I go before I am summoned. It will attract less notice."
"But I have need of you."
"I know. And I of you." It seemed in that instant that the fragile remnants of Evelyn's resistance shattered. Lips thinning, she lifted her gaze to his face. "You are the first and only man who has ever made me feel this way."
Her cheeks flushed and after an abrupt curtsey, she bowed her head and scurried away, leaving him alone. The enjoyment and delight of the afternoon vanished with her. Miss Dunaway laughed prettily, and Lord Reginald shouted for everyone to come and see the section of tree they had just finished decorating, but Jonathan turned away.
Evelyn was already busy helping Harris set up for tea. Clearly, she would be occupied for the remainder of the afternoon. With a disappointed sigh, he left the ballroom. These brief stolen moments were killing him!
As he climbed the stairs, Jonathan struggled not to concern himself too much over the short time he had with Evelyn. It was better to view this as a momentary stall in his quest to win her acceptance. But it was difficult wooing her when they had so few opportunities to speak directly and privately.
Still, he thought he had made a bit of progress with her today. Despite Evelyn's vocal resolve to be cautious, practical, she had admitted she had feelings for him. The letters and small tokens of affection he had courted her with were clearly having an effect.
Jonathan entered the sitting room of his bedchamber, pleased to see his valet had managed to sneak in the flower he had requested. A single, red, thornless rose. It would be resting on Evelyn's pillow when she went to bed tonight, an unspoken reminder of his constant devotion.
He checked to make sure the small flower vase had sufficient water, then went to his writing desk. Unlocking the center drawer, he retrieved the latest letter he had been working on for Evelyn. However, even with the heavy drapes drawn back, there was insufficient light to read comfortably.
Jonathan reached for several candles and lit them, wishing his brother would consider renovating the manor in the very near future and adding gas lighting, at least in the family quarters. Fumbling with candles all the time was a damn nuisance.
With the area now properly illuminated, Jonathan read the carefully composed letter that had taken him half the night to perfect. As he finished, he heaved a sigh of relief. The note was even better in the light of day, conveying all the sentiments of his heart and the honor of his intentions.
He would pass the note to Charlotte after dinner tonight and request she get it to Evelyn immediately. In three days time it would be Christmas. But for him, the season of hope and miracles was starting early.
Amazingly, the snow that had been threatening for days and days finally arrived. Everyone awoke the following morning to a thick blanket of white covering the lawn, the trees, the bushes, the rooftops. The grounds of the estate, for as far as the eye could see, were transformed into a pristine white fairyland of delicate and ethereal beauty.
There was much joking and boisterous laughter as they all crowded in the breakfast parlor, talking enthusiastically about the change in the weather and the plans to enjoy the snow while it lasted. They were told that several sleds were ready to be put to good use and the carriage sleigh, with its long shiny blades, was equipped with a cheerful driver, sure-footed horses, hot brick foot-warmers and several layers of lap blankets for those who wished to explore the snowy, white wonderland with ease.
Charlotte, feeling as ridiculously excited as a schoolgirl, could not decide what she wanted to do first. Most of the younger houseguests had gathered under the front portico, but a few of the older guests were also among their numbers. Disappointingly, Grandpapa had elected to wait to take a carriage sleigh ride later in the afternoon in hopes the weather would warm.
There was much debate about where they should start and everyone looked to the earl for direction.
"To the sleds!" he announced, and several people applauded.
As she stepped from beneath the shade of the covered portico, the sun was so bright against the snow that Charlotte had to shield her eyes from the glare.
"Take my hand," Edward offered.
Charlotte set her hand in his outstretched one, amazed at the sharp feeling that lanced through her and the way her mind reacted to the contact.
Edward's touch was a bittersweet reminde
r that she had been alone last night. He had honored her request and stayed out of her bedchamber, but Charlotte admitted that as glorious as it was, she missed far more than his lovemaking. She missed the physical comfort he gave her, the warmth and the touching, the feel of his strong body cuddled against hers as he lightly stoked her back.
There was that special intimacy of feeling his chest rise and fall against her own that somehow miraculously translated into an emotional closeness as they whispered together in the dark, sharing their thoughts, revealing their dreams, their hopes, even on one occasion, their fears.
"Are you cold?" Edward asked.
"Not really. Just excited to be outside and looking forward to some fun." Charlotte blew out her breath and watched it crystalize in the air, then realized one possible reason for the earl's inquiry. "Is my nose very red?"
"Hardly noticeable," he replied gallantly, and she knew he lied.
Still, Charlotte wondered what that said about their relationship when she felt comfortable enough around him to look so wretched and not overly care.
They fell in step with the others and Charlotte noticed that Lord Haddon had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his coat so his daughter might burrow her head inside and escape the cold. It was precisely the type of gesture she could imagine Edward doing with his own child.
Their child?
Charlotte blanched and tried to shove the thought from her mind. Regardless of the intimacy she had shared with the earl, she was far from ready to start thinking about having his child. Especially since she was still uncertain if she would one day be his wife.
They sank in snow up to their ankles as they walked, but for this outing everyone had wisely donned sturdy boots. The mischievous group somehow managed to hold off the unruly snowball fight until they reached the top of the hill where they would be sledding, but then all broke loose when Miss Dunaway tossed a snowball at Lord Bradford, striking him directly in the center of his back.
The older gentleman turned with an excited roar, bent and scooped up a handful of snow. He quickly shaped it into a ball and hurled back at her, missing by a mile. That move sent everyone scrambling for cover and ammunition. Soon they were all fighting for their lives, laughing and shouting in a wild tussle as the snowballs flew through the air, fast and furious.
The Christmas Heiress Page 22
