by Jenna Jaxon
“We now have chocolate as well as tea and milk, Maria. And Fanny managed to procure some cherry tarts.” Jane waved her back over to the table. “You need to eat and keep your strength up.”
Slowly, Maria made her way back to the group, laughing, talking, and eating with great abandon. “I need to ask you something, ladies, because I do not think it was my imagination. And it may very well have a great bearing on how I will need to proceed with regard to Lord Wetherby’s accusation.”
Her friends quieted down immediately, looking gravely at one another.
“What is it, my dear?” Elizabeth put her hands in her lap, her attention fixed on Maria.
“When Lord Wetherby said that I had been intimate with him, but I denied it, who did you believe?”
The ladies looked at one another, a low murmuring running through the group.
As she expected, her cousin spoke up first. “Of course I believed you, my dear. But then I have special knowledge of the situation since I was there. I know both Lord Wetherby and what he’s capable of, and Mr. Granger and his character. Two more different men could not be found, I must say.”
“I believed you, Maria.”
“I believed you.”
The affirmations continued around the room until Charlotte was the only one who hadn’t spoken.
Dreading this last comment, Maria nodded to the woman sitting silent in the wing-back chair. “Charlotte?”
She swallowed and looked into Maria’s eyes. “I . . . wondered, Maria. But only because Lord Wetherby looks so much like Alan Garrett.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Elizabeth nodded.
“So I wondered if perhaps, because of that, you had found him attractive for a while but . . . not anymore.” Color had risen in Charlotte’s cheeks. “I hated to doubt you for even a moment, my dear. But I remember what Alan was like, how attractive he was.” She lowered her gaze. “How persuasive he was.”
“I noticed that the moment I met him, Charlotte.” Maria knelt by her friend’s chair. “Anthony even uses the same bergamot scent.”
Charlotte made a face.
“I know, it was awful. But I can assure you, his resemblance to Alan was the first thing about him I found unattractive.” She patted Charlotte’s hands and rose. “I would never have become intimate with him, especially not after I fell in love with Mr. Granger.”
“So what do you plan to do, my dear?” Fanny spoke up. “If he goes about spreading these lies, people who don’t know the truth will absolutely believe them. Society will judge that the child, if there is a child, is his.”
“Which is why I have decided that after Christmas I will go back to Kersey Hall, find Mr. Granger, and tell him what has happened, or what may have happened. If there is a child I shall know it for sure in a few months’ time. Then we will hopefully decide to marry.” That would be her nightly prayer for the next few weeks. “But whatever happens”—Maria looked around the room at the friends who would support her decision no matter what—“under no circumstances will I marry Lord Wetherby. Even if all Society believes the child to be his, I will not tie myself to such a dissolute man.”
“Well, let us all pray then that Mr. Granger can be found and persuaded that whatever the circumstances, he belongs with you.” Fanny rose, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. “And as we will all be going to church in the morning, I think we should take our leave now. Good night, my dear.” She bussed Maria’s cheeks. “Pleasant dreams. And Merry Christmas to us all.”
“Merry Christmas, Fanny.”
The chorus of Christmas cheer continued as her friends left her to seek their own beds.
Yawning, Maria closed the door, buoyed up by her friends’ wishes for her happiness with Hugh. That would be her primary prayer tomorrow in church, and every day thereafter until somehow she and Hugh could be together.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“It’s snowing!” Nose pressed against the window, one of Matthew’s young sisters pointed out the window as Maria came downstairs Christmas morning.
“I see it is. It’s very pretty, isn’t it?” The snowfall made the old sooty snow that had lingered around Town fresh and new again. A good omen for her, perhaps?
“Merry Christmas!” Maria called as she entered the full breakfast room. Every place seemed filled by her guests, who were chatting excitedly.
“Merry Christmas!” The deafening response reverberated down the corridor, making Maria smile as she took a seat just vacated by Lord St. Just.
“Do not let me run you away, my lord.” She nodded to a footman who had deftly cleared the marquess’s plate and brought Maria silverware and tea.
“I’m going to check on Georgie. She was feeling a bit queasy this morning, but is still hoping to be able to go to church.” Rob hurried away, a concerned frown puckering his brow.
Such devotion would have been nice during her own pregnancy. She shook her head and spread her napkin over her lap. Perhaps the next time would be different.
Breakfast was a merry affair, with spirited conversations punctuated by hearty laughter. The older children were ready for church, but more excited about the presents promised in the afternoon before Christmas dinner.
Maria sat back and drank in the good cheer all around her. It gave her hope that everything would work out for her and Hugh. She had to believe that if she was to be able to carry on each day.
The clock on the mantel struck ten o’clock and Maria rose. “I believe we will need to leave now in order to account for the snowy walk this morning.”
There was a flurry of activity as her guests called for maids, footmen, valets, and nursemaids in an effort to prepare for the outing. Within fifteen minutes, however, everyone was waiting in the entry hall. At last Rob escorted Georgie downstairs. She was pale and leaned on his arm, but she smiled and called, “Merry Christmas,” as they reached the ground floor.
Immensely proud and happy, Maria led the throng out into the snowy wonderland, her Christmas morning so far everything she could have wished for. The church service was solemn and beautiful, the message of the Christ Child forever familiar, and brand-new. As she had promised, she sent up a fervent prayer for Hugh and her to be together as husband and wife. When the bells rang, peal after joyous peal, at the end of the service, it proved the perfect benediction to the morning’s worship.
The walk back home seemed shorter, with the children running through the snowy streets, stopping to fashion and throw snowballs at each other. Jemmy and Rob joined in, pelting each other with a quickness that soon covered their jackets in snow. Their antics kept the whole party laughing until they turned the corner into the street where Maria’s house was located, to find a lone figure leaning against the railing.
Her first glance at the man’s figure made Maria’s heart give a huge thump and she gasped. Hugh had come after all. She darted forward, outdistancing the others only to pull up short when she recognized the lounging figure.
“Lord Wetherby.” Disappointment so sharp she could taste it filled her mouth. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Maria. I am invited to Christmas dinner, am I not? I left rather suddenly last evening and did not hear the invitation.” He had straightened and now stood smiling down at her with a smug grin.
“I would think the suddenness of your leaving would have given you a hint as to the answer to your question.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she regretted them. Here she had just come from church, from the message of peace on earth, and her first words spoken to someone were rude. Even if he deserved them, she was better than that. “I beg your pardon, Lord Wetherby. That was uncalled for on Christmas. It is early for dinner, but will you come in for a cup of wassail?”
“With pleasure, Maria.”
She cringed when he spoke her name so familiarly, and when he offered his arm in escort she ignored it. There was only so much she could tolerate in the name of Christmas. As the others arrived behind her, she mounted the stairs, f
ollowed closely by Lord Wetherby. The subtle murmur that went up when her friends recognized Wetherby made her shrug, though she continued into the house.
“Thank you, Fuller.” The butler took her coat and hat as her footmen stood ready to take the outer garments of the rest of the party.
“Well, what do we have here?”
Abruptly someone seized her, turned her around, and pressed their mouth to hers. The overpowering stench of bergamot gave him away. Wetherby, rot his heart. She squirmed and pushed against him. Had the man gone completely mad to do this in front of all her friends?
Just as suddenly she was ripped from Wetherby’s embrace and shoved aside into someone else, who turned out to be Jane. Her head spinning, Maria could only ask helplessly, “What has happened?”
Jane’s only reply was to smile broadly and point her finger.
Her guests had been making so much commotion Maria had not noticed a fight had broken out in her entry hall. Well, more of a skirmish that was extremely short-lived. It came to an abrupt halt when the unknown pugilist threw a punch that connected squarely with Wetherby’s nose. The lord went down as though he were a felled oak and lay still on the parquet floor, bedaubed with blood here and there.
The mysterious combatant turned toward her, a smile on his handsome face that threatened to split it in two.
“Hugh!” Maria launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him, holding on, never wanting to let him go.
“My love,” he whispered, hugging her back, enfolding her in his strong arms.
“I didn’t think you would come.” But he had come. He was here. She burst into tears.
“Don’t cry, love.” He chuckled as he fished out a handkerchief and handed it to her.
Kinellan approached them, approval in his eyes. “One of the better pieces of Christmas entertainment I’ve ever witnessed.” He patted him on the back. “Well done, Granger.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Hugh nodded, but kept his attention on her.
“Did you get my letter?”
“No, I’m sad to say.” He nodded at Wetherby, who was beginning to groan. “He intercepted it before Saunders and his accomplice could get it.”
“I don’t understand. Why could you not get your mail yourself?”
He glanced around. “Could we perhaps speak someplace more private?”
“Of course.” Reluctantly, she unwound herself from him but grabbed his hand. “First, let me take care of this.” She nodded to Wetherby, now moaning and struggling to rise. “Fuller, will you get the footmen to assist Lord Wetherby outside? I am not sure if he had a carriage or not, but he needs to leave my property in whatever means he has available.”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler looked as if he’d been given a substantial vail.
On the verge of taking Hugh somewhere private, she looked around at all the expectant faces of her guests. She could not in good conscience leave them in suspense. “My lords and ladies, I make known to you Mr. Hugh Granger, of whom you know a little. If I can pray your patience for a little more, I will introduce him to each of you shortly.”
Wide smiles and nodding heads were her answers and she thankfully took his hand. “Come with me.”
She led him into the smallest receiving room, the closest one that would give them a private moment. The door had barely closed when he seized her face in both hands and brought their lips together in a hungry kiss.
Oh, but she had longed for his touch so much she might never get enough. The sureness of his hands, the tenderness of his lips, the sweet sensation of his mouth on hers sent chills all through her. Wanting nothing more than to stay like this, intimate and loved, for all time, she settled herself against him and surrendered to the exquisite pleasure of his kiss.
Much later she emerged from the warmth of surrender to find them on the small sofa, still entwined in each other’s arms. “Oh, my love, I missed you so much.”
“No more than I have you.” He smoothed back loose strands of her hair, his touch like silk on her head. “There has not been a day gone by that I did not think of you. Wondering what you were doing, if you had found another to interest you, almost drove me mad.”
“How could I find another when the only one I want is you?”
“You did look rather enamored of Lord Wetherby when I came out of this room, where the butler had put me, to find you in the embrace of that rogue.”
“Hugh”—she sat up and swatted at his arm—“how can you say I looked enamored? The wretch seized me for no reason at all, and commenced kissing me.” She shook her head, still baffled by Wetherby’s actions. “It is not the first time I have thought him a lunatic.”
“I think I can shed some light on his motives, my dear. Other than the obvious ones having to do with lechery.” His eyes twinkled. “He caught you underneath the mistletoe.”
“Oh, no.” She clamped her hands over her mouth. “I’d forgotten I’d instructed Fuller to suspend a mistletoe ball in the entry hall. I had concentrated most of my decorating efforts in the upstairs drawing room. That is where most of the Christmas party has taken place these past few days.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’ve wished so many times that you could be here.”
“I am sorry I wasn’t, my sweet. As I said earlier, I did not receive your invitation because Wetherby intercepted it.”
“You were saying you had someone retrieve your mail? But why?”
“Because I left Kersey Hall not long after you did. I received word that Kit had died, so I took Bella and went back home to The Grange. Just in case you tried to contact me, I arranged for Saunders to make sure any mail that arrived for me was actually delivered. When your letter went astray, Saunders made certain I knew it. But once everything with Kit’s death had been settled, I had planned to come here to London to find you.”
“Hugh.” She squeezed his arm and noticed for the first time the black armband he wore. “I am so sorry about Kit. Even though we knew it would happen, it seems such a shame.”
“I believe he is at peace now.” Hugh looked into the fireplace and sighed. “But of course his death brought troubles of its own.”
“The inquest.” What Hugh had feared so long.
“It truly looked hopeless at first. The physician’s report was conclusive that he had tried to take his own life.” Clenching his jaw, he continued to stare into the fire.
Hesitating, but needing to know, she steeled herself to ask, “Did they rule it suicide?”
She still would not care about any scandal attached to the forfeiture of Hugh’s family estate, but he would. It must have hurt abominably to witness his brother being put on trial.
Oddly enough, Hugh’s grim expression lightened. “By God’s grace, the magistrate ruled it an act of great melancholia, brought on by being thwarted in love. At least they got that right.” A small smile touched his lips. “The thing that actually swayed the magistrate most against a ruling of felo-de-se, was the fact that Kit lingered so long after the shooting.”
“Indeed, that is strange.” Providential, but a decidedly odd ruling. “What was his reasoning for that?”
“He said that Kit clinging to life for so many weeks proved that he wished to live, not die. Therefore, the gun must have fired accidentally while Kit was using it for some other purpose. So his death was officially ruled an accident.” Threading their fingers together, Hugh gave them a kiss. “Kit is now at peace, buried with the rest of our family in the Lavenham churchyard.”
“So there will be no scandal?” Could she finally breathe a sigh of relief?
“No scandal. Our family estates are intact and even now being transferred to my name.”
Thank God. Her prayers of the morning had literally just been answered. “So that objection to our marriage is forever gone?”
“Yes.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “In fact, I now have no objections whatsoever to our marriage.”
A rueful smile twisted her lips. “You do not still feel guilty
for my husband’s death because you merely signed his will?”
Leaning back against the sofa, he pulled her head to lie on his chest where she nestled comfortably.
“I must admit I still think it peculiar that my signature helped give you the inheritance that I will now share in, but I have spoken of it to my solicitor in Lavenham, and he says while it may seem odd, it is perfectly legal.” He hugged her, then sat up, holding her hands tightly. “If people talk, I’ll just refuse to listen to what they say. If it means we can be together and happy, then I will not let it stand in our way.”
“Does this mean you are proposing to me, Mr. Granger?” What she had longed for so much was finally coming to pass. Her eyes teared up.
In answer he slid to the ground on one knee. “Lady Kersey, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes, oh, yes.” Flinging her arms around his neck, Maria burst into tears. Finally, she would have the chance for her happily-ever-after marriage, to the only man on earth she was sure could make her happy.
“My love, you really must carry your reticule if you are going to cry so often. I have quite run out of handkerchiefs.”
Laughter at this moment was very sweet.
He kissed her long and thoroughly. “Now this is how one should celebrate Christmas.”
She raised her eyebrows in what she hoped was a seductive way. “I think I have a better idea.”
His eyes darkened. “Do tell.”
She grabbed his hand and rose from the sofa, then led him to the door. Peeking her head out, she quickly concluded everyone must have gone to their rooms or the drawing room. Perfect. In moments she had them racing up the staircase, hand in hand. On the first landing she slipped down the corridor, still miraculously empty of both guests and servants, and into her suite of rooms.
She drew him to the bed, then said simply, “Love me, Hugh.”
“With pleasure, my love.”
* * *
Drowsy and warm, Maria lay cradled in Hugh’s arms, contemplating how much longer she could steal him away for herself. Christmas dinner was due to begin at three o’clock sharp and unfortunately, as hostess, she must be there. How much more she would prefer to stay in bed with Hugh, but duty would call them all too soon.
