Christmas At Hollywell (The Seldon Park Christmas Novella Book 4)

by Bethany Sefchick

  As a clock somewhere deep within Hollywell struck noon, Julian wondered if Catherine would be late or if she would be on time. Somehow, he suspected that she would be on time. As expected, before the last chime sounded, he heard the clicking of her boots on the stone floor, and he turned to see her striding down the corridor as if she belonged there. Then he reasoned that, at one time, she had.

  If possible, Catherine was even more beautiful now than she had been last evening with her honey blonde hair twisted up into an elegant knot that peeked out from beneath her smart little hat. Gone was the dark blue wool morning gown that she had worn so elegantly only an hour ago and in its place was an elegantly tailored hunter green wool riding habit. The jacket contoured to her body in all of the right places, showing off her womanly curves and her beautifully rounded hips. Julian had to check to make certain that he wasn't drooling as she approached, not wishing to make a fool of himself. If the debutantes of London looked half as luscious as Catherine did at this very moment and possessed even a tenth of her wit and intelligence, then Julian might well have been wed by now. At the moment, he was thankful that he was blessedly unattached.

  "Are you ready? I see that you have anticipated our afternoon adventure quite well." She all but beamed with pleasure and Julian was grateful that he had checked with Winston, his valet before he dressed for their outing. Otherwise, he would have arrived to meet Catherine severely underdressed.

  He cocked his head at her, however, just to be certain. "We are going out in this weather? Truly?"

  She smiled serenely at him and he found his gut tightening at her enigmatic smile. "Truly. The snow is light, though I know from experience that it will pick up again before nightfall. Christmas at Hollywell has always been marked by decorations of this sort and since there is not a true mistress here, and given that you are hosting a ball, I did not think that you would mind terribly." She gestured to the doors. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I also asked the staff to clear a path for us to the fields just beyond the back gardens and ready some wagons. That is the best place to find a selection of greens to decorate the home."

  Julian winced for he knew that in other castles, there would be plenty of the greens she sought readily available in the many orangerys scattered about the estate grounds. "At the moment, the conservatory is not well stocked in that regard, I'm afraid." It was yet another matter he meant to attend to, but had not yet had the time. It shouldn't matter. After all, this was his home, not hers. And yet it did matter to him - very much. He wanted her to believe that he was taking good care of her ancestral home.

  Catherine shook her head sadly. "Nor was it in Crossbury's time either, I am afraid. He was too thrifty to spend the necessary funds."

  "I will restore the conservatories to their former glory," Julian assured her as he opened the door, the wind swirling a trace of snow inside the corridor as he did so. "As soon as I am able."

  "If I were still here come spring, I would hold you to that," Catherine replied with a teasing light in her eyes as she took his arm and allowed him to lead her across the lawn where the worst of the snow had been swept away and a fresh covering had not yet fallen.

  She accepted his help into one of the waiting wagons and Julian took the ribbons from one of the grooms. He gave orders for the others to pile into the other two wagons and then follow Catherine's direction to the letter. He did make certain to refer to her as Lady Crossbury, however. The staff already suspected that he was completely infatuated with her, given the way both of them had appeared when they departed the dining room last evening. He did not wish to give them more fodder for gossip. Even though they were his servants, he suspected a fair number of the longer-serving ones were still loyal to Catherine.

  "Where will you be come spring?" Julian asked once they were settled and the small procession headed out under her direction towards a patch of trees and greens off to the north. "You make it sound as if you do not quite know where you will be. Do you not live in London?"

  "For now." Catherine's eyes took on a distant look. "How much do you know of me, Julian? Really?"

  It was an odd question, he supposed, but then again, maybe not. It wasn't as if anything about their relationship - if one could even term what they shared a relationship - was normal. In fact, Catherine should not even be here alone with him, and especially not after knowing him for less than a day. That thought had occurred to him in the early morning hours as well. It was not proper, even if she was a widow and had her maid and several servants accompanying her. He should mention the issue, he supposed. But he did not. For he did not wish her to depart and leave him alone again. Also, she had already likely had the same thought and had not mentioned the subject either. Therefore, he would not be the first to do so. No, until she objected, he wished for her to remain precisely where she was - within his castle and as close to him as was socially acceptable.

  "I know enough to realize that I like what I have seen of you so far. I also know of your past marriage to Crossbury and how unhappy you were." That, however, was hardly a secret, even if he hadn't discovered her late husband's papers. "I know that you are Madame C., as Lord Candlewood mentioned it to me when I said that I might spend the holiday on the Continent."

  "Ah!" she exclaimed. "So you were to be gone until Twelfth Night."

  Julian shook his head. "I said that I might be. I never confirmed it and last month, I decided against the trip. I informed Candlewood of my change in plans as well. No, this situation we find ourselves in is one completely of the Bloody Duke's making. Thinks he is playing matchmaker for us, I suppose."

  Once more Catherine was quiet and Julian knew she was dwelling upon the differences in their ages. He wasn't certain how he knew. He simply did. "Does it bother you that I am here, Julian?" She was quiet now, some of the earlier life going out of her, but her question was still rather direct.

  "At first? For about a minute? Maybe all of five? Yes." Julian decided to be honest and he saw her shoulders slump a bit. "But no longer. You are precisely what both Hollywell and I needed. Even if I did not know it. Though, if she could talk, I suspect that Hollywell knew all along."

  For a moment, he thought she might argue but then Catherine offered him a smile instead and he felt as if the sun had just come out from behind the snow-laden clouds. "You are a silver tongued devil, Mr. Valette, but I do like your words."

  "I am actually the Comte De La Croix," he corrected as they continued on across the snowy fields and he began to wonder if they would ever reach this magical land of greens that she spoke of, for it seemed they had already traveled a long way from the castle. He did not wish for her to become too chilled, no matter how warmly she was dressed. He clicked his tongue so that the horses might go faster. It did little good, drat the beasts and their desire to do as they pleased.

  Next to him, Catherine frowned. "But I have met the Comte." She paused. "Or so I thought."

  "You have met my cousin, Gaston Fontaine." Julian corrected. "Our mothers were English sisters that hailed from Norwich. My father was the previous Comte, born and raised in France, as was Gaston 's father who was a distant cousin to mine, though they shared a slightly different bloodline. My cousin's father was landed gentry but not titled, though during the revolution? It mattered little. Every life that was connected to the aristocracy was at risk. Both Gaston and I were raised here in England by our mothers, our fathers venturing back and forth between here and France as often as they were able. It is why I speak as I do, with so little accent, yet our staff at home was mostly French so I did acquire some accent."

  Catherine shook her head, imagining the difficulty that had been Julian's young life. "You don't have to tell me any more if you don't wish." She pointed to the copse of trees that was thankfully just ahead of them since the snow here was deeper than elsewhere. "I will understand. These are personal matters and it is not as if we are...intimate."

  No, Julian thought, but we will be. Soon. And before I bed you, I would
have you know who I really am.

  Few people knew the truth of his history and that was the way he preferred matters. That included most of the women he took to his bed. However, Catherine was different and she deserved to know the truth. More than that, he wanted her to know.

  "There is not much else to tell." Julian shrugged as he slowed the wagon. "Our parents died in a carriage accident as they were returning to London for the start of the Season. I was with them but Gaston was not. By the time I was able to reach my family solicitors, as I was already of an age to understand some of what needed to be done, Gaston had petitioned a court in Norfolk to have me declared dead. He claimed the title of comte easily enough but the family fortune and lands, as well as a vast array of holdings, proved a bit more difficult for him to obtain. I have worked ever since to reclaim what is mine, including my ancestral home. That is part of the reason why I dislike the games of Society. I have had enough games and deception to last a lifetime."

  "That is awful! Simply awful!" Catherine exclaimed as the wagon rolled to a stop. Julian hopped out before her so that he could reach up to help her down, his hands fitting around her waist rather nicely. As if she had been made for him.

  Julian shrugged, trying not to think of the perfection that was Catherine. "That is Gaston, and there is a part of him that is quite...self-serving. I am simply fortunate that it was a bit more difficult for him to get his hands on everything else, including the De La Croix fortune, which is vast and survived the Revolution rather nicely in English banks. Otherwise, I would have lost everything. As it is, I am attempting to reclaim my title at the very least, but the courts that were so quick to declare me dead are now slow to declare me alive again. Even with the help of a so-called Bloody Duke." He offered her his arm. "And even slower to give back French titles with very little value."

  "So you simply chose to hide out here in Cornwall at my family's old castle?" To Catherine that seemed a bit of a stretch, even for this man.

  "It was Nicholas, actually, who suggested that I purchase Hollywell for my own. He tracked me down and befriended me after Gaston appeared in London claiming to be De La Croix. Seems the duke knew that I was the true title holder and was more than a little curious about this imposter now claiming to be a French count." Julian escorted Catherine over to where the others were waiting for them. "I am not much for Society, so it did not bother me." He looked around. "Actually, I rather prefer it here."

  "So do I," she whispered, but Julian could not hear her because of the chatter of those now surrounding them.

  That, Catherine thought to herself as she watched Julian move with ease through the servants as the lord of the manor, was a very good thing. She did not wish to reveal too much of herself if she could help it. He already knew enough about her. Any more knowledge would be dangerous.

  By this time they had reached the group of servants that Catherine had sent on ahead to clear the way, and she quickly began instructing them all on what greens to cut, how much of each type and where to take them from. Julian marveled at how precise she was and how detailed in her instruction. He knew she would hate him saying so, but this was something only a woman with some experience - he did not and would not say age, not even in his head - could accomplish. A pretty young thing fresh out of the schoolroom would likely be at a loss as to what to do next and his admiration for her increased greatly.

  That admiration only continued to increase as the afternoon wore on, with Catherine taking charge of the entire greens gathering operation. Truthfully, Julian wasn't even needed but he was there as the lord of Hollywell, and, well, to be honest, simply to watch Catherine move.

  She had an innate grace and he imagined waltzing with her at the Christmas Eve gala ball. She would be lovely, of that he had no doubt, and utterly enchanting. Even now, with her hair coming lose from its pins to tumble in delightful waves around her face, she looked like perfection itself. He was also pleased to note the smile on her face and the happiness she seemed to radiate from within.

  Julian wasn't even certain why he cared about any of those things. It wasn't as if he ever had before with any woman who had caught his fancy. And yet, watching Catherine move among his servants as if she belonged there gave him a certain pleasure. So for the moment, he would let her go about as she liked. She was enjoying herself and he was enjoying watching her. They were both deriving pleasure from this arrangement, however unorthodox. If they were both in good spirits from the activities of the day, well, then bedsport would likely be even better.

  "Something amusing you?" Catherine asked as she came sashaying over to him, her skirts swaying delightfully as she walked. He didn't think she was likely even aware that she was being so completely enchanting. "For you seem rather pleased with yourself."

  He shook his head. "Just watching you, Kitten."

  "I amuse you then, Julian?" There was something dark in her expression as if she was worried about the true meaning of his words.

  "You arouse me," he corrected her softly for fear of his servants overhearing them. "And I am wondering how soon it will be before I can get my hands upon that delectable body of yours." Yesterday, there had been five days until the ball. After tonight? Only three. Once his guests arrived, provided the snow stopped, Julian would have a great deal of difficultly justifying Catherine's presence at Hollywell. She would likely be forced to leave when the rest of the guests departed as well. That left very little time for all of the activities he had planned.

  Catherine bit her lip and Julian could almost see the wheels in her mind turning. Glancing behind her quickly to make certain no one was listening, she turned back to him, those violet eyes of hers wide. "Tonight. I do not wish to wait any longer. The rest, Julian, is up to you. The how and where and why are all upon you, but I see no reason to wait further. We both desire this and we are both adults. There is no reason to delay."

  She was afraid. Julian could see the fear in her eyes, but he could also see that same fear warring with desire. And thus far, desire was winning.

  "Are you certain?" he asked, well aware that the greenery gathering expedition was quickly coming to an end as snow was beginning to fall harder once more.

  Nodding, she turned away from him before turning back once more. "I am. Utterly and completely certain. Tonight, Julian, I am yours. For I want you. More than I have ever desired another."

  Then she was gone, hurrying back to the servants who awaited her commands for loading the wagons and making their way back to Hollywell. Julian simply let her go. For he could not have moved even if he had wanted to, so painful was his erection.

  This attraction between them was moving fast. Perhaps too fast. But she wanted him. He wanted her. He had from the very first moment he had seen her, as if hit by a bolt of lightning. Why deny themselves when this was what they both wanted? There was no reason. Even though something deep inside of Julian warned him to proceed with extreme caution.

  Chapter Five

  Taking another look at herself in the mirror, Catherine wondered once more if Julian would find her appealing in this gown. It was the lowest cut of just about any of the gowns that she owned, and though it was a Madame LaVallier creation, the deep burgundy frock was hardly in the first stare of fashion. When she had been wed to Crossbury, he had forbidden her from wearing anything that he dubbed "unseemly," which unfortunately included all of the latest fashions, especially those from Paris. He thought such revealing gowns made her look "fast" and as if she was "putting herself on display," so she had typically worn gowns, even evening gowns, with necklines that were much higher than most other women's.

  Crossbury would have likely preferred that Catherine's gowns go up to her neck, except that Madame LaVallier had refused to craft such "abominations" as she had called the revised designs the earl had sent back to her shop. So Crossbury, who was ever conscious of his social standing above all else, had relented a bit, allowing the aging Frenchwoman to craft the gowns as she saw fit - with the understanding that the
gowns could not be too low or she would not be paid for her time and work.

  After Catherine had emerged from mourning, the new Earl of Crossbury had made it clear that he did not wish the "old dowager" to upstage his young and flighty wife. So Catherine had continued wearing the gowns that revealed little of her body and were far from the cutting edge of Parisian fashion. She chose bright, vivid colors for her gowns as the pale frocks of a debutante had never really suited her, but Catherine had refused to even consider commissioning a gown that might conflict with the new Lady Crossbury's rather unique sense of fashion. With each gown that the noted modiste fashioned for Catherine, Madame LaVallier clucked and fussed, but she did what Catherine requested. Until this gown. And the one that had followed, though Catherine was now saving that one for the Christmas Eve gala ball.

  Still not quite fashionable, but also revealing quite a bit more of her décolletage than her other gowns, the burgundy silk she had chosen for this evening was cut so low in the back that the very top of her corset showed. It was a daring thing and not at all what Catherine was accustomed to wearing, but when she had first tried the gown on in Madame's shop, she had also known that she could not refuse the delightful creation either. It was simply too perfect, right down to the small dip in the front that revealed just a hint of the shadowy valley between her breasts. It was also a rather seductive gown and Catherine still believed that she would need all the help she could get if she wished to find herself in Julian's bed when the evening came to a close.

  Studying herself once again, Catherine gave her cheeks a good pinch to bring some color into them, though the wind burn she had suffered that day likely accomplished the same thing. She was simply nervous. That was all.