“Oh, no, lass.” The housekeeper pointed to the rocker next to the kitchen fireplace. “I want to sit in my favorite chair and eat it very slowly, so I can savor every spoonful.”
Smiling, Eve handed the teacup with the thick, tasty mixture to the woman, and Eve and Julien headed to the parlor.
* * * *
Sitting on the hearth rug in the parlor, Mary licked her empty spoon. She stood and put her cup on the tray and stepped beside Julien, who held back one curtain panel while he peered out the window.
The bright sun during the day had melted several inches of the snow, but it was still thick.
Was he contemplating trying to trek home tomorrow?
What a silly question. Of course, he was.
“Mr. Earl, are you searching for St. Nicholas’s sleigh and reindeers in the sky?”
Julien turned around. There was a faraway look in his eyes. “I am. I thought I heard his sleigh bells.”
“He doesn’t come until we all go to sleep. We need to go to bed early.”
His gaze shifted to Eve, smoldering desire evident in his eyes. “Really? Well by Jove, I’m all for that.”
“First, the poem?” Mary ran over to the desk.
“Poem?” Julien echoed.
“Yes, every Christmas Eve, Mama reads A Visit from St. Nicholas.” Her daughter opened the top drawer and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. Mary’s gaze shifted from Eve to Julien. The child fiddled with the corner of the paper. “Mama, can Mr. Earl read it this year?”
Every muscle in Eve tensed. She didn’t want him to recite it. The memory would haunt her every Christmas Eve, and she already had too many memories that would plague her for the rest of her life. She opened her mouth to say no, but before she got the words out Julien outstretched his hand.
“I’d be honored.”
* * * *
Moonlight highlighted Evie’s naked body. Julien didn’t wish to wake her, but he couldn’t resist running his finger down the length of her bare arm.
With an audible sigh, she rolled toward him, wrapped her arm around his waist, and snuggled closer.
Julien smoothed his hand over the silky texture of her long hair. He recalled how the shiny, blonde mass had draped over her breasts like finely spun silk when she’d straddled him. Releasing a slow breath, he pulled the tangled blankets over their bodies.
Once again, their lovemaking had been intense. Passionate. Consuming. Almost feverish. Then Eve had drifted off to sleep.
He glanced at the moon, holding court in the sky. If he possessed the power, he would command the sun to stay away for at least a few more days so the snow wouldn’t melt. But tomorrow, like today, the sun would rise and continue dissolving the white powder. His mind drifted to his mother and sisters. Were they worried about him? Though he didn’t want to leave, he could not remain much longer if the snow was a reasonable depth.
“What are you thinking?”
Eve’s voice startled him. He glanced down and realized she was peering up at him. He tucked a long strand of her hair behind her ear. He didn’t want to talk about needing to leave, since he didn’t want to. “Just how beautiful you are.”
Her cheeks grew rosy.
He lifted her hand and entwined their fingers. “Did you love your husband, Evie?”
She drew in a deep breath. “My mother wished me to marry him, so it was not a love match. But Samuel was a good man, and I came to love him. His death left me quite destroyed for several months. Sleeping. Eating. Everything seemed too hard to manage, but I knew that my melancholy would not bring him back, and that it wasn’t fair to Mary.”
Julien hated the fact that she’d lost someone she cared so deeply for, but it pleased him that she had found love, if only for a short time.
“Now may I ask you something?”
Julien tensed. There had been many wicked things printed about him over the last ten years in the scandal sheets. “Yes, of course.”
“Is it true you dispose of your secretaries when they displease you?” The smile on her lips indicated she thought it gibberish.
“Do you think I’m capable of such a heinous act?”
“I think it’s balderdash. Someone so kind to my daughter could not be guilty of such a thing.”
He frowned. “And before you saw me with Mary, you believed the gossip?”
“Maybe,” she said with a laugh. She rolled away, stood, and pulled her robe over her naked body.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to put the gifts under the tree, so when Mary wakes up, she will see them.” Evie opened the armoire and removed several wrapped gifts.
He stood. “I’ll help you.”
“Um, I think you better get dressed. If Mrs. Campbell awakes you might cause her to swoon.”
With a grin, he dragged his clothing on. “Do I make you swoon, Evie?”
She smiled but didn’t answer him as she carried several packages from the room.
Downstairs, Evie placed the gifts under the tree. She turned and peered at him. Sadness shadowed her eyes.
“What’s wrong, Evie?”
“I feel terrible, I don’t have anything for you to open tomorrow morning.”
“These past days have been a gift.”
She laughed. “Yes, I’m sure for the holiday you wanted to eat my cooking.”
Oddly, with all his wealth, with all his friends, with the abundance of gifts that were placed under his family’s Christmas tree, this had been the best beginning to a holiday he could recall.
“I have it on good authority that your cooking is improving leaps and bounds.”
“Yes, but it has a long way to go. I really don’t think I can do the book on household management.”
Julien glanced at the tree and the angel Evie had sewn. “Why does it have to include recipes? Why can’t it include other things?” He pointed at the angel. “Perhaps a pattern to make a doll for a child or an angel for a tree.” He pointed at the handmade ornaments she’d made from scraps of fabric. “Did you make these?”
“Yes, from old clothing.”
“They are lovely. Give instructions on that. Don’t try to be like someone else. Be unique.”
She blinked. “Yes. Household management isn’t just about cooking. There is so much more to it.”
“Of course, there is.” He grinned. “Now I’ve thought of the perfect Christmas gift.”
“I’m sure you have.”
He took her hand in his. “I want to spend the whole night just holding you.”
“But what if Mary comes into my bedchamber in the morning?”
“I promise I’ll leave before she wakes up.”
* * * *
Fearful he’d break his promise and not leave before Mary got up, Julien lay in Evie’s bed, his arms wrapped around her as she slept. He watched the sky outside the window turn from charcoal to light gray.
A squeak on the stairs had him cocking his head to the noise. He slipped from the bed and dragged on his clothes. As he stepped into the dim corridor, he noticed Mary’s bedroom door open. He smiled. The little imp was probably downstairs surveying her gifts.
He crept down the stairs to find her opening a drawer in her mother’s secretary. She glanced up when he walked into the room.
“What are you doing?”
She bit her bottom lip, and her shoulders slumped. “I checked all the gifts. None are for you. I guess St. Nicholas didn’t realize you would be at our house for Christmas. So, I thought I would give you all the letters Mama has been writing to you.”
Julien’s brows pinched together. “Letters?”
“See, they are all addressed to you.” The child handed him the stack tied with a pink ribbon.
She was right. Five letters. Three to the Earl of Dartmore. Two to Viscount Hamp
ton, his title before his father’s death.
“Mama told Aunt Penny to mail the last one she wrote. She put a stamp on it, but I saw Aunt Penny slip it between the others when Mama wasn’t looking.”
Julien couldn’t help his smile. Evie had been writing him letters. How enchanting.
“I was going to put them under the tree, so you would have a gift.”
This child was the most thoughtful little imp. “Thank you, Mary. Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll put them with the other presents?”
She grinned. “Mama will be so surprised.” She dashed out of the room.
Julien stared at the envelopes. He couldn’t wait to see what Evie had written. He settled into the fireside chair and opened the first one.
Chapter Ten
“Mama!” Mary yelled with excitement. “It’s time to get up.”
In the dim bedchamber, Eve peered at the empty spot next to her. Thankfully, Julien had already gone back to his own room. She blinked at her daughter. “It’s not even dawn.”
“Yes, but St. Nicholas came last night.” Mary climbed up on the bed and bounced on the mattress.
“Did you already go downstairs and peek?” She pulled Mary next to her and tickled her tummy.
Giggling, Mary averted her face. “I had to. I was worried St. Nicholas wouldn’t leave Mr. Earl any presents, so I got up during the night and took care of it.”
She could just imagine what the child had placed under the tree. Probably one of her ragdolls. She couldn’t wait to see Julien’s face when her daughter gave it to him. Eve slipped her robe on over her nightgown. “That was a thoughtful thing to do.”
As proud as a peacock, Mary scurried off the bed. “May we open our gifts now?”
Eve doubted she would fall back asleep. “Very well.”
Her daughter gave an excited squeal. “Am I allowed to wake up Mr. Earl?’
With all the noise the child was making, he was most likely already awake. Knowing Julien slept in the nude, Eve said, “Just knock on the door and tell him it’s time to get up.”
Her daughter ran from the room and pounded on the office door. “Get up, Mr. Earl!” Mary frowned. “He’s not answering. Maybe last night he stayed downstairs after he went into the parlor.”
“He was in the parlor as well?”
“Uh-huh. He saw me when I went to get his gift.”
“What did you give him, darling?”
“The letters.”
Eve’s body stiffened as if dipped in starch, while a cool chill traveled down the length of her spine. “What letters?”
“The ones you wrote to him that are in your desk. Even the last one, since Aunt Penny didn’t post it.”
“She didn’t?’
“No, I saw her slip it back with the others.” Mary darted down the stairs.
The beat of Eve’s heart sped up. She drew in a deep breath, hoping to slow it down, but just drawing air into her lungs felt impossible. She recalled all the horrid insults she’d written in those letters. Every insult she could think of, especially the second letter. The one she’d written after she’d realized he didn’t intend on writing to her as he’d promised. In it, she’d called him a scoundrel and a thoughtless wretch. And those were the complimentary words. She’d never intended for him to see it. She’d been hurt and had needed to vent her anger.
On legs that felt unsteady, Eve stepped into the parlor. The letters were all opened and on the fireside chair. But Julien wasn’t in the room.
Her daughter put her hands on her narrow hips. “Don’t earls know families open gifts together?”
Families? Is that what her daughter thought? They weren’t a family. They never would be. And if there had ever been a sliver of hope her sharp, unkind words had shattered that possibility. Sliver of hope? Had she still been holding onto that foolish dream?
“I’ll go check the kitchen,” Mary said.
“No dear, you sit by the tree. I’ll go see if he is in there.” But as Eve stepped into the kitchen and saw Julien’s boots were no longer by the hearth, she knew he’d gone.
* * * *
Just as the sun broke over the horizon, Julien reached the gate at Dartmore House. Snowdrifts and the dark night had caused his journey home to take twice as long as he’d hoped.
The gatekeeper stepped out of his small cottage and narrowed his eyes at Julien, who was wrapped in a woolen blanket he’d removed from the daybed at Evie’s house.
“Be on your way,” the gatekeeper snarled. “This is the Earl of Dartmore’s residence.”
Julien lowered the blanket off his head. “Hello, Thompson.”
The man stared at him for a long minute. With his new beard and wearing a kilt, Julien realized the gatekeeper didn’t recognize him.
Thompson took a slow step forward. “Lord Dartmore?”
“Yes,” Julien replied, trying to sound lordly even though his teeth chattered. “I need the use of your horse to get to my residence.” He feared if he took another step his cold knees would start knocking together.
Fifteen minutes later, Julien stepped into Dartmore House. The click of the butler’s feet tapped on the marble floor as Stanford made his way to the entry hall. Unlike with Thompson, though, the man’s eyes lit with clear recognition.
“Bloody hell,” the butler said, rushing forward.
It was the first time Julien had ever heard the man utter such words.
As Julien handed him the blanket, he explained his mishap with the owl and being dragged by his horse. “I take it Boreas never returned?”
“No, my lord. Her ladyship thought you’d gone off to another house party.”
Hopefully, Mother hadn’t spent the last few days wallowing in a pool of self-pity over her ruined plan to have him choose one of her houseguests as the next countess. “Has Lady Dartmore been in a foul mood?”
“I couldn’t say.”
Julien laughed. The expression on the man’s face was enough to reveal that Mother had probably cursed Julien to the devil more than once. But he was pleased to learn that she’d thought he’d abandoned them for more pleasure rather than he was lying somewhere dead.
Now that the snow was not as thick, he’d send some of his men out to scour the neighboring farms to see if his horse had sheltered at one of them.
“Stanford, after I bathe and dress, tell my land steward I wish to speak to him. Immediately. And instruct several of the stable hands to mount horses and search the local farms for Boreas.”
“Yes, my lord. Should I have your mother woken and informed what happened?”
“Give me a half hour before you tell her I’ve returned. I need to get bathed and shaved. Then tell her to meet me in my office.”
* * * *
Rubbing a hand over his freshly shaven jaw, Julien stepped into his office to find his mother pacing back and forth.
Eyes narrowed, she dashed over to him. “Did Stanford tell me the truth? Or have you been out gallivanting about with some of your scandalous friends?”
“Hello, Mother. Nice to see you as well. Merry Christmas.” He kissed her cheek.
Face flushed, she looked slightly chastised. “Merry Christmas, dear. But you cannot castigate me for believing you had gone off. What else was I to think?”
“That I am a man of honor. That though I wanted desperately to leave, that my word means something. Only once did I not keep a promise, but today I intend to rectify that. Today, I intend to ask someone to marry me.”
As if Mother had just been told she was to supplant Queen Victoria on the throne, she beamed. “Who?”
“Do you remember Dr. Templeton?”
“Our old physician?”
“Yes.” Julien nodded.
A puzzled expression flashed on Mother’s face. “I don’t understand.”
“Ten y
ears ago, I fell head over toes in love with his daughter, Evangeline.”
“Your father told me about that.”
“Did he also tell you that he would agree to me marrying her if I didn’t contact her for two years, and that if I felt the same way after that length of time, he would give his permission for me to marry her before I reached my majority?”
“He did. But you never mentioned her again.”
“But I thought of her every day during those years. Father believed I’d forget her, but I never did. I’ve always loved her. I always will. After those two years, I tracked her down in Kent.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“She had married.”
“So, she didn’t wait for you.” A smugness edged his mother’s voice as if she believed his father’s bargain a wise one.
“Mother, she did not know what had transpired. I kept my promise to Father. A foolish decision. What was Evie to think? I never contacted her.”
“She was a physician’s daughter. Your father thought he was doing what was best for you.”
“For me?” He tried to keep his voice calm. “At eighteen, I didn’t have the resolve to challenge him. I’m not that same man.”
“I still don’t understand. If she is married…”
“She is widowed.”
His mother’s expression turned pensive. “But still a physician’s daughter.”
“If she agrees to my marriage proposal and bears a male heir, she will be the mother of the next Earl of Dartmore. That will secure your future in this house. Otherwise, I might wallow in disappointment for several years and not even consider marriage.”
“Oh, no. We cannot have that. She must say yes!”
Julien smiled inwardly. He had known that last comment would have Mother cheering the union on, but if she hadn’t, it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“Do you intend to have a short engagement?”
“If she says yes, the shortest possible. Maybe I’ll even get a special license.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
He thought of Evie’s letters. They’d conveyed the hurt he’d caused her, the sense that she hadn’t been good enough. She was more than he deserved.
The Taming of Lord Scrooge Page 8
