by Mary Balogh, Jo Beverley, Sandra Heath, Edith Layton, Laura Matthews
“Now,” Squire called, raising a steaming cup to his guests, “the caroling. Caro, if you please?”
Caro, her face aglow, swept her father a deep curtsy. Then she beckoned the company to follow her to the great hall. When they were all there, cups in hand, she signaled to the footmen—who flung open the front door. Music blew in on an icy draft, because there were carolers on the doorstep. The guests cheered and then joined in.
Before long, the carolers, who were neighboring landowners, tenants, and villagers, were in the manor, cups in hand. That was when the musicians, who had been cleverly concealed behind a holly-and-ivy-covered screen, began to play. There was impromptu dancing, much singing, and more laughter. And not a few guests took advantage of the kissing boughs of mistletoe above the doorways and hanging from the chandeliers.
Ian wouldn’t let Eve out of his sight, nor would he share her with any other man. He danced her beneath the mistletoe many times. But each time he kissed her, it was the sort of kiss a gentleman might give any lady in public—brief and charming, a salute rather than a pledge or a promise or a deep, dark, and disturbing hint of what might be, like the kisses he’d given her when they’d been alone.
Eve knew she’d never forget this Christmas. So she forced herself to forget to worry about all the barren Christmases to come, when her dark and dashing rake was gone somewhere else to dazzle some other lucky girl. She knew she was an amusement of the moment for him and she was determined to seize that moment and ignore what would come. Because she could no more see a future with him than she could see one without him now. She couldn’t be his mistress; he’d never want her for his wife. But he would be her dearest memory, so she was resolved to live every moment of her time with him while she could.
She didn’t stop smiling until Caro appeared at their side, grave-faced and uncomfortable as she gazed from one of them to the other.
“We’ve had a message,” Caro said, looking from Ian to Eve, and back again. “Lord Shelton sent word that he is delayed, but that all’s well with him. He said to tell you not to worry, he’ll be here as soon as he can.”
Before they could ask a question, she turned and walked back to the thick of the company with one of her many admirers.
“Are you desolated?” Ian asked Eve. He stood very still, looking down at her, waiting for her answer.
“Are you joking?” she asked him, her eyes wide.
“I thought ... as you were so quick to defend him...”
“I’ve known him a long time,” she said carefully. “We’re old friends.”
Ian’s mouth twisted, and the scar on his face made it an ugly sneer. Her back stiffened.
“Whatever you think, nevertheless, we are friends,” she said briskly. “I care for his welfare as he cares for mine. I always look forward to seeing him for many reasons, but especially here, at holiday time, because he always treats me with respect, and more...” She cocked her head to the side, considering. “Though he wants nothing more than my friendship, and knows my state, he always treats me as though I mattered.”
“And I do not?”
She colored. “Yes, you do, but ...”
He nodded. “But that’s what rakes do—is that what you were going to say?”
“Do they?” she asked seriously, instead of answering him.
He stared down at her. She was wearing a gown of amber velvet, the color of her eyes. She looked very lovely, very vulnerable. The way the soft velvet caressed her lovely form almost made him forget how vulnerable he was to her. But not quite. He was a cautious man. He knew rake Shelton had this girl almost in his clutches, and he yearned to save her—but he was still not sure how much in need of saving she was. Or he himself was. He decided words weren’t adequate for what he felt or what he yearned to feel. And so he offered her his arm instead of answering her question.
“I’m not a man for capering, standing on my toes, and showing off my winsome self,” he said, motioning to the antics of some of the gentlemen dancing around them, “but they’ve struck up a waltz. I can do a slow and steady version of one. If you dance with me, no one will notice how bad I am at it. Will you?”
She stared into his harsh face, willing herself to see more than impatience for her answer there. She ducked her head in a little nod, and took his arm. He was with her tonight. She’d dance with him, and the devil take tomorrow. Because, she thought as they swept into the dance, she had only a handful of tomorrows left with him. She settled into his embrace and sighed. This was enough for now. And now was all she had.
Ian danced with her, and breathed in the soft summer scent of her perfume, and felt her lithesome body move with his. He wanted to think of nothing else but the unexpected pleasure of holding her thus, holding her close without fear of commitment or censure from the polite world. She felt so good in his arms, so absolutely right, that he no more wanted to think about tomorrow than she did. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the message that had been delivered to them both this evening—because he couldn’t stop wondering which of them rake Shelton had sent the message to.
Christmas came bright, and sleighfuls of guests were sped through the crisp morning to the old church at the edge of town. The old church wasn’t as grand or spacious as some of the stately cathedrals that stood near more famous noble homes. But it was older than the manor itself and said to be as old as any on the entire island. And so, tilted and bearded with lichens as it was, it was magnificent because of it.
Sunlight streamed in through stained windows so warped with age that no one but historians knew which saints they depicted. The congregation’s breath showed in the air. Eve stood next to Ian, and disregarded the looks she got from Caro and her mother for it. She wouldn’t compound matters by staring up at him as she wanted to. But she never forgot the tall, straight, silent man she stood beside.
He looked down at the good book he held in his gloved hands. That made it easy for him to slide his eyes to the side to gaze at her. The sight made him take in his breath. A ray of sunlight, capricious as the magic of the day, ringed round her head and gilded her face, and turned her eyes and hair to the hue of honey in the comb. She looked very beautiful, but very young. But I am not so old, either, he thought, for the first time since he had gone off to war. She was smiling as she sang, and he wondered how much she would be smiling next Christmas—after Shelton arrived. Or more to the point, after he eventually left her, as he doubtless would.
But Lord Shelton didn’t come, and Christmas did—and went. Christmas Day was marked by a huge dinner, and more singing, wassailing, dancing, and merriment. There was a pantomime on Christmas night. Villagers had got it together and came to the hall to perform it. It was wonderfully amusing for the guests because it was so well done by amateurs, and because it was so badly done for people used to seeing England’s finest perform on London stages. But it was more than wonderful for Eve, because Ian sat beside her and his laughter was rich and warm. And Ian couldn’t remember having laughed so much, and for so long.
But it didn’t last that long. Because the next morning, on Boxing Day, his hostess stopped him in the hall.
“Good morning, my lord,” Caro said flirtatiously. “How are you? More to the point—how have you been? Because Christmas has come and gone, and I haven’t had much chance to talk with you, have I?”
“Because you’ve been so busy with your admirers,” Ian said gallantly, although his voice was cool.
“And you,” she said sweetly, “with yours.”
“No,” he said abruptly, the old harsh expression erasing his slight smile. “I’ve been busy with those I admire.”
“Indeed?” she asked in acid accents, because she was a girl who was used to compliments even when she didn’t deserve them. “So I expect we may breathlessly await an announcement?”
He was still. “It is early days,” he began to say, but she cut him off by laughing. She tapped his shoulder lightly with one little gloved hand.
“Or will it be
something accomplished rather than announced?” she asked sweetly. “Fie! And if it is, I shall never know, shall I? This is Eve’s last Christmas here—or so she keeps insisting. Now I suppose I know why. Lud! Look at the time. Everyone will wonder where I am, and Father has the most wonderful surprise for me, he says. Good morning, my lord,” she said as she hurried away. Because even if her father had nothing for her, it was better than what the viscount’s dark and glowering eyes promised her.
He was strangely silent with Eve when he met her. She noticed, but didn’t worry. She was so happy to find him her companion again that she ignored his darkening mood. Then, too, Squire’s having given foolish presents to his guests in the spirit of Boxing Day lifted everyone’s spirits.
So Eve didn’t worry. Until that night. Because then there was more dancing, and Ian danced with her. But then he danced with other ladies, too, without a backward look to her. Or so she thought. But he was a wily campaigner, and a good soldier never loses sight of his objective. So even though he danced with many others, he never once lost sight of her. Then, or later.
The days seemed to fly by for both Eve and Ian, and they were both relieved and upset by it. Because while they had ample time to jest together and confide in each other, it seemed they never had time to seriously discuss anything—especially the future. They had neither the time nor place because Squire kept them so busy with planned entertainments. It might have been their own reluctance to face the facts that kept their conversations safely to what had been, rather than what might be. But one thing was certain: their hosts kept them in sight at all times. And so while they kept almost constant company, they were never alone ... until the last day of the year, when they managed to slip away for a walk in a deserted garden.
“Imagine! In just one day, we shall have a whole new year,” Eve sighed as they picked their way down the paths of the manor’s frozen knot garden. “It makes me feel very old.”
He gazed down at her without speaking, but his expression was quizzical. It cheered her, because he had been so lost in thought she wondered if he remembered where he was, and who he was with. The weather had thawed only a jot, only long enough for this short walk. It was a brief respite in late afternoon, and she knew the night and the cold and the last of her holiday were coming as quickly and surely as the new year was. She wanted to remember him smiling, so she smiled up at his bemused expression.
“Yes, you are very old,” he agreed, on a slight smile.
She was heartened. “Well, I was born in the last century, you know,” she said brightly. “Late in it, to be sure. But, nevertheless, a different century. Tonight will bring in yet another year. You can’t help but feel ancient when you’re older than the century you live in.”
He nodded, but his face grew grave again. He knew a new year was coming, the holiday was ending. Yet nothing was resolved. He decided that it was time for something to be. In fact, he’d resolved it sometime between midnight and dawn, in the long hours he’d passed pacing in his room.
“Eve,” he said suddenly, turning to look at her, and stopping her in her tracks. He took her hand in both of his. “I’m a man of few words. But the words I speak are considered ones. I’ve been thinking about this, about us. About you. And about your friend Shelton. I worry for you. You think you know what he is, but you don’t. Not really. You couldn’t.”
“I do,” she said haughtily. “You don’t know everything; I haven’t told you everything...”
“Nor can you,” Ian argued. “And I’m not saying you shouldn’t like him...”
“You couldn’t,” she said.
“Nor am I saying I’m better than he,” Ian persisted, his heart sinking at her defense of the older man. But then, Shelton was a practiced rake and she, an inexperienced girl. He couldn’t blame her for her opinion. Had he himself acted any better than Shelton would? He’d known she was without protection of her family here, and he had not only monopolized her time, but kissed her shamelessly, without ever stating any intentions. And hadn’t his intentions been ... mixed, at first? Wasn’t that a rake’s actions? Wasn’t that what he had been—until he met her? Until he’d realized she was clear as a mountain stream, kind and good, warm and beautiful, and everything he’d ever wanted and needed?
Now he had to put his own best case forward to show her that for all he seemed the same as rake Shelton, he was different. He had to be, for her sake as well as his own. He wasn’t sure he knew how to convince her, but he knew he had to. He persevered.
“Indeed, I may not be better,” he went on, “but I’m sure I feel more for you—I don’t think I could feel more. I’ve had a wonderful time these last days. Christmas at Moon Manor turned out to be as spectacular as your friend Shelton promised. More so. Because I met you here. I am loath to leave it at that.”
He fell still, marshaling his thoughts, trying to say the thing right, and finding it hard to do while that sober little face stared up at him with fear and sorrow clear to see in her honey-colored eyes. He didn’t know why she should be afraid or concerned, and couldn’t think about it. All he really wanted to do was to clasp her to him and kiss the consternation from her expression. But she was brought up as a lady, and he as a gentleman, so he knew he had to say the thing first. He was a brave man, but found himself reluctant to put his luck to the test. But he had no choice.
Time would have been his best ally, but he had no time. Christmas was already gone, a new year was coming—and rake Shelton, too. Ian didn’t know what had kept him so long, but he did know he couldn’t count on him being delayed much longer. He had to speak, and quickly. Because lately every time he heard a carriage rumbling over the cobbles in the front drive, he was afraid it was Shelton arriving. He’d laughed at the thought of competing with the old rake before he’d come to Moon Manor. Now he didn’t find it humorous at all.
She cast her gaze down to the frozen ground, and bit her lip. Her heart sank even as it soared and her pulse pounded heavily in her ears. It was coming. A proposal. She knew what kind. She realized she’d always known. She was too clever to play with fire and not know what would happen.
And now? she asked herself. Now after he makes his offer to keep you as his mistress, you squeak and cry, “How dare you, sir? A girl of my class and caliber?” But you knew he was said to be a rake. You knew you had nothing to offer him but yourself, and a viscount would want more from a wife and less from a mistress. And still you led him on. Worse, you led yourself on, my girl, she told herself. And so, now?
“I’m not a flowery-spoken man,” Ian said bluntly, and then frowned, because he’d said that, hadn’t he? “and I have many faults. My face, for example, is ruined.”
She gasped and began to deny it, but he went on roughly, “Be that as it may, I’m not precisely a monster, either, and you are used to it, I suppose. But even if my face doesn’t dismay you, I have other shortcomings. I’m curt to the point of arrogance and I know it.” He paused. Go on, he told himself angrily, tell her all your faults; that’s how to woo a lady, isn’t it, idiot?
“But I mean nothing by it,” he added hastily. “I’m just plainspoken. That doesn’t mean I have no feelings.” He paused—better, that was better—then went on. “Or that I don’t need people—persons—you. Damn it, Eve—pardon my damned profanity—but I’m only making a mull of it and an ass of myself, aren’t I? I lack a mother’s influence; I’ve lived too long among men, that’s the problem.”
He sighed. He had to tell her all the reasons he wanted her. If that didn’t work, he would try to win her over by telling her everything he could offer her. But he was only able to state the bare facts. Because he was, as he said, a plainspoken man.
“I’ve had a wonderful time with you,” he said abruptly, “as I think you have had with me. I don’t want that to stop. Why should it? We can make it last. I have money and position and will use both to bring you comfort. Much comfort, much pleasure, I promise. Eve, I want you. What say you?”
She gaped at him
. What could she say? She wanted him, too. Christmas was over, her holiday was ending, and if she left him she had a terrible feeling she’d never be the same and her future would be just a constant replaying of these past days with him. She’d vowed to throw her bonnet over the windmill, but now that the time was come, she trembled. She thought of what her mother and father would say, and couldn’t speak. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to see her way clear to answer what she yearned to.
“I’m not so bad,” he said a little desperately, “nor lost to propriety. I know it’s early days, but I know my own heart and mind. More time won’t change them. Neither of us are children; I’d hoped you felt the same. It’s true I’d have liked to ask your father first, but there’s no time...”
Her eyes flew wide.
“He’s miles from here,” Ian went on, “and if I waited to ask him, Shelton will come. Damn it, Eve—pardon, I mean, the one thing I can offer that I know he can’t is my name. I’ll try to be a good husband; I’ll be a constant one because that’s my nature. What more can I say? Tell me what you want me to say, and I shall...”
“Husband?” she asked in astonishment.
Now he looked astonished. He paused, and then said, “You thought I meant...”
She could only stand and stare at him, wide-eyed, her hand at her mouth.
“I see,” he said slowly. “I see,” he said with more energy. “What sort of a fellow do you take me for?” he asked angrily. “Just because Shelton invited me ... You think my reputation ... You think that I would...? I see,” he said again, glowering at her.
“You want to marry me?” she squeaked.
“No, I’m a cad, a rake, a rogue, like your beloved Shelton,” he growled. “Of course I want to marry you. Wanted to marry you,” he said, stepping back and folding his arms in front of his wide chest as he scowled at her. “Of course, with your estimate of me...”
She continued to stare at him speechlessly. He frowned at her. And then he started to grin, just a tiny uplifting of his stern mouth. A tic, no more. But she saw it. And her own mouth stopped trembling, and curled slightly at the corners. No more. But he saw it.
