Christmas With a Scoundrel

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  “Dinner. Yes. Of course. It is the least I can do.” Aria still felt extremely off balance, as if someone had taken the world she knew and turned it upside down, but she hoped that would pass with time. Her addled brain today was different than it had been yesterday, so she knew Michael hadn’t given her any more laudanum. It was likely the result of wandering about England in freezing weather for a fortnight. “Whose clothes are these?”

  “Why yours, of course, my lady.” Agatha held up a gown that looked very much like one Aria had seen in the attic earlier that day. At least she assumed that it was still the same day. Just because it was night now did not mean anything in her weakened condition. “Well, technically they belonged to the Duchess of Fairbourne. But that was some time ago, before Lord Fairbourne gambled away this house to the Bloody Duke who then sold it to Dr. Michael for naught more than a pence.”

  When Aria said nothing, just continued to stare at the maid, Agatha continued. “Once Dr. Michael awoke and saw to your injuries, he called a staff meeting. Not necessary really as most of us knew you were about anyway.” She paused. “And that you were a lady. Still, Dr. Michael, he likes to be all proper when he can. Comes from his mama, I think. Anyway, he sent some of us to the attic this afternoon to see what the previous duchess left behind and if we could fashion anything into something proper for you to wear.” Agatha turned and gestured to the wardrobe. “You’re about the same size as the duchess, mind, so there was plenty to choose from, even if these things aren’t in the first stare of fashion any longer.”

  Once more, Aria’s gaze strayed to the emerald green gown. “I would be grateful for anything to wear, actually.” In fact, she had never in her life worn anything so lovely as the gown Agatha was now offering her. “If Dr. Longford has informed all of you about me, then you know I arrived with only the clothes on my back.”

  “Which were promptly burned,” Agatha replied tartly. “Rags they were. Likely before you even started out.” Once more, the maid paused. “Not that any of us blame you, my lady. Dr. Michael told us some of your troubles, though I am certain he omitted the worst. That’s a horrible fate that awaited you. Worse than war, some of them said. And that came from those who had been on the battlefield.”

  Grateful that this woman did not judge her for her rash actions, Aria murmured her thanks and allowed the woman to help her dress. Oddly enough, the duchess had left behind jewels and all sorts of feminine fripperies that could have been sold to pay debts. When Aria mentioned this to Agatha, the other woman scoffed.

  “Had too much was their problem.” It seemed the maid held little love for her previous employers. “Thornfield Grange was only one of near a dozen properties they owned. Forgot what was here half the time and what with more baubles and trinkets being shipped in here each month? When they lost this place? I don’t think they much cared. Used it more for debauched parties than anything else.”

  Glancing around at the faded, peeling wallpaper, Aria was inclined to agree. By all indications the duke and duchess had little interest in this property. Otherwise, they would have spent the coin to maintain the manor house because beneath the neglect, it was truly beautiful. So she said as much. “Still, Thornfield Grange must have been lovely in its day.”

  “Oh, it was, my lady,” Agatha agreed as she swept Aria’s hair up into an elaborate twist before securing it with diamond hair combs. “Will be again, once Dr. Michael is finished with the renovations and repairs. He’s made progress in the year that he’s owned this place, but it’s slow, being so remote as we are.”

  “So he is making this his permanent home, then?” The place really did suit him, Aria decided.

  Agatha nodded as she jabbed at Aria’s head with another hairpin, making certain the elaborate coiffure stayed in place. “He is and for the best, I think. Not much here to disturb him, make his mood dark, if you take my meaning.”

  That comment surprised Aria. “But Dr. Longford is always so happy and jovial! Teasing, even. I have never seen him in a foul temper. Or appear to have dark thoughts for that matter.”

  With a sigh, Agatha ceased her ministrations and met Aria’s eyes in the mirror. “May I be honest, my lady?”

  “Of course.” Aria wanted nothing less. Especially not when it came to Michael.

  “You know that Dr. Michael was in the war. Satan’s Physician. That was what the French called him ‘cause they thought he could bring people back from the dead.” Agatha shook her head, indicating exactly what she thought of that notion.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Aria replied, incredulous as well. “No one can raise the dead!”

  The maid inclined her head. “But if someone could, it would be Dr. Michael. Talented he is. Knows things others don’t, or so they say. Many times, a Frenchie tried to kill him and failed. He can see into the darkness too, they say, and that? I believe. No wonder they marked him for death.”

  “The scars on his face.” Aria wasn’t surprised about that bit of news. Michael himself had hinted at as much.

  “Went for his eyes they did, because the French insisted he could see the devil himself with them, but he survived each time,” Agatha proclaimed proudly. “But that war? It changed him they say. I don’t know personally, but others here? Mrs. Lambert and Markham? They know. He’s different now than he was back then.” She glanced toward the closed door that led to the hallway. “Not all the time, mind, but sometimes, you can hear him at night. He screams and cries. Sounds enough to raise the dead, actually. Then he paces. All night, haunted by the past and things he saw in battle. Things he won’t talk about even though he says that he knows he should. They say the silence helps calm him, but I don’t know.”

  Aria was curious about who “they” were, the people who said such things, but she did not pursue the matter. Instead, her mind whirled with this new revelation about Michael. The man Agatha described was vastly different than the man Aria knew. Granted, she did not know him very well, but she liked to think she was a decent judge of character and she had judged Michael to be a good man

  “It is quiet here,” Aria agreed, not quite knowing what else to say. She hated the fact that Michael might still be tormented by his thoughts, but there was little she could do about the matter. Still, it would be difficult to watch such a strong, otherwise confident man suffer, even for a short time, so Aria prayed he would not have any bad dreams while she was in residence. “Actually, I find that I like it here, even with the quiet. Or perhaps because of the quiet. In some ways, Thornfield Grange reminds me of the place I grew up. I vastly prefer this remoteness over Town.”

  “You don’t care for London then, my lady?” Agatha seemed curious, though she turned her attentions back to Aria’s hair. “I am told all well-bred Society ladies do.”

  Aria snorted. “Yes, well I am hardly a well-bred Society lady.” When she was certain the maid was finished with her ministrations, Aria rose and turned to the woman. “I was born on a sugar plantation in the West Indies and lived there for most of my childhood. My family and I came to London for a time before I was sent back to the plantation, only to be summoned back to England again about a year or so ago. My exposure to what one might call “town life” is limited at best. So for me, a place such as London is as foreign to my senses as India would be.” She shrugged. “Perhaps I might even find India more tolerable as I am accustomed to a more wild, unrefined life.”

  In response, the maid only shook her head. “Then you are unlike any young lady I have ever served, for the duchess’ daughters adored London and all of the amusements to be found there.” Agatha cocked her head to the side. “You are more like Dr. Michael then, I suppose, for he has no love for London either.”

  Tucking that bit of information away for later, Aria nodded her thanks to the maid. “Perhaps I am. But I fear it matters little for once I am recovered, I will…I will…well, I am not certain what I will do, though I am certain I cannot remain here forever.”

  However much I might wish to.

/>   For the longer Aria stayed, the more at home she felt. Agatha was correct. There was a peace and quiet to be found here that was unique, not to mention calming. The only problem was, Dr. Michael Longford, a bachelor, owned Thornfield Grange, and Aria could not stay unless she became his mistress. Or his wife.

  Then again, would that be so bad? Would spending an eternity coming to know the enigmatic Dr. Michael Longford be such a terrible way to spend one’s life? Would being bedded by him every night be so terrible? No, decidedly not.

  Pushing that particular thought away, Aria turned back to Agatha. “How do I look? It has been ever so long since I have dressed for dinner.”

  “Like a true jewel of England, my lady,” the maid replied with a smile. “Dr. Michael will be pleased, I think.”

  Aria wanted to reply that how she looked was none of “Dr. Michael’s” concern, though a part of her conceded that perhaps it was. He was her rescuer. He had treated her injuries and saved her life. She was currently intruding upon his solitude in his own home and fantasizing about ways she might remain here. The clothes she was wearing had come from him, at least in a roundabout fashion. If she were discovered here by anyone from the outside world, his bachelor life would likely end well before he wanted it to, even though he had dismissed the idea of marrying her as an unimportant issue.

  So perhaps Michael did have a right to be concerned about how she looked. And Lord knew, Aria couldn’t exactly go traipsing about the house in her nightrail. Or worse, naked. Though given the heated looks Michael had given her earlier, perhaps he wouldn’t mind if she did. Aria, however, would mind, for she wasn’t that kind of lady. Perhaps a touch curious about the male body, and maybe a bit wanton in some respects, but hardly a true lightskirt.

  Giving her reflection one last, critical glance, Aria nodded. “Thank you, Agatha. Your ministrations have made me shine in a way I have not in quite some time.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” The maid blushed with pleasure. “You are easy to work with.” She cleared her throat. “And you may ring for me later when you are ready to retire for the night.” She gestured to the dress, which fastened up the back with a row of tiny golden buttons. “Besides, if Dr. Michael needs to examine your leg before he retires for the night, we don’t want to get blood on your fancy new gown, do we?”

  “No, we don’t,” Aria laughed, the first she had done so in quite some time. Well, since Felton Bowles had charged into her life and upended her sense of security anyway. “Thank you, Agatha. I have a feeling I will retire early, for as Dr. Longford reminds me, I am still recovering. Only a few days ago, I was wandering around the wilds of England nearly freezing to death, as he is happy to point out whenever he can.”

  “Whenever you call, my lady, I will be ready,” Agatha replied, humming to herself again as she left the room with a curtsey and bringing back more memories of Aria’s time at Millstone as she did so.

  Expelling a long breath, Aria took one last look in the mirror. She did look passingly pretty, though that was not her intent, and even though this gown was clearly designed to tempt a man to sin and seduction.

  Aria could also admit that she still looked a bit ill. Or rather a great deal more than a bit. She was far too thin for one thing, parts of the gown hanging off of her frame when in the past, she would have filled out the silken fabric quite well. Her cheeks were sunken, though maybe not quite so much as yesterday. Her eyes were brighter, but that wasn’t saying much, and she could still see the ribs of her upper ribcage visible through her skin. Her color looked better than it had yesterday, though she still appeared a bit pale and wan.

  She hardly looked like a seductress or even the sort of woman a man might be tempted to take to bed. If anything, she actually looked rather…ghastly. No gown, no matter how fine, could hide that fact.

  Michael had been right. She was far from well enough to continue on to Bath and she had been a fool to ever think otherwise.

  For a brief moment, Aria wondered how Michael saw her, or rather how he would see her in this gown. Surprisingly enough, even with her illness, he was attracted to her. She had known that from almost the moment she had opened her eyes. However, he was a gentleman and had not pressed the issue.

  But would he, if given a chance? Would he attempt to seduce her or would her ill body eventually give him cause to turn away in the end? Aria had no idea, but there was a part of her, the part that her cousin had awoken with all of his scandalous and debauched speech, that wondered how she would feel if he did. If Michael wished to bed her, would she allow it? For she was already ruined, by reputation if not by fact. He had been correct about that as well.

  If Felton caught up with her, she would then be ruined in truth and the choice of who did the ruining would be taken from her. Aria knew that as well.

  So would it be so bad if Michael was the one who ruined her? Did he even want to ruin her or did he find her thin, frail body completely unattractive, no matter what story his eyes told? And if Michael did take her to bed, would Felton still find her as desirable as he had when she was still an innocent?

  Aria didn’t have the answer to any of those questions but she had the feeling that in the days to come, she would discover at least some of the answers. She simply wasn’t certain if she would like them.

  Chapter Seven

  Michael had to resist the urge to pace the drawing room as he waited for Aria to join him. He was abysmal at formal dinners and had no idea why he had even instructed his staff to have Aria join him if she awoke in time. Hell, until a quarter hour ago, he hadn’t even been certain she was awake. Nor was he certain why he had decided they needed to dine together in the formal dining room that, until this evening, he had never used – not even once – for its intended purpose.

  Perhaps it was because Aria was a lady or perhaps it was because he was trying his best to maintain some propriety, farce though it was at this point.

  Or perhaps – just perhaps mind you – he wanted to impress her with his gentlemanly manners. Manners his mother had drilled into his thick skull from the time he was a recalcitrant youth running wild through the fields of Italy until the day she passed away. He might not be a peer, but he had the manners of one. Perhaps better. His late mother had made certain of that.

  Michael wasn’t even sure why he wanted to impress Aria. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to discover them together. Nor was it his problem how she would go about salvaging her reputation once she departed his care. Once Aria left Thornfield Grange, her place in Society was her business. If she left Thornfield in the near future, of course, for given what he had learned moments ago, that day might not be anytime soon.

  He was about to go in search of her when the door at the far side of the drawing room opened, and Aria swept inside as if she owned the estate. If she continued to dress as she was this evening, Michael might be tempted to gift it to her without hesitation. To be blunt, she rather took his breath away. Not to mention made him hard.

  Though she was still on the thin side and her skin a bit too pale, Aria’s hazel eyes were luminous and sparkling, as if she possessed an inner light. Her hair was done up in some sort of elaborate twist and diamond combs sparkled in the rich tresses. The gown his staff had uncovered in the attic was still a touch too large for her, but it also showed off that much more of her delectable breasts since it gaped just a bit in front. Michael didn’t mind. It had been far too long since his eyes – not to mention other parts of him – had feasted upon delightful female flesh.

  “My lady.” He offered her a deep bow. “You look ravishing.”

  She chuckled then, a sound he didn’t think he had heard her make before. “Liar. I know I look as if I have been ill and nearly dead, which I have been. Still, I thank you for the kind compliment. It is much appreciated.” Then she scrunched up her nose. “And please don’t call me ‘my lady.’ Felton did that all the time and it, well, it makes my skin crawl.”

  The last thing Michael wanted to do was bring back
unpleasant memories of her cousin. Especially when he was beginning to wonder if she might be amenable to sharing his bed at some point in the very near future. “Very well. But you still look lovely, Aria. I don’t lie about that.” He offered her his arm. “However, I fear that I will likely upset your constitution further with the news I have to impart.”

  Might as well get this over with, he thought to himself. Then we can move on to the more pleasant parts of the evening. I hope.

  With a sigh, Aria took his arm and something inside of Michael jumped just then, his stomach twisting peculiarly. “Unpleasant news so soon?”

  “I am afraid so,” Michael replied as he escorted Aria into the dining room, breaking with propriety just a bit and seating her beside him rather than at the other end of the table. “I had several of my men venture outside late this afternoon under the guise of collecting firewood and performing several other menial household tasks. To a man, they were all approached and asked if they had seen a young woman roaming about lost and alone.”

  Aria waited until the footmen had severed them both and then departed before picking up the thread of conversation. “And what did your men tell them?”

  Michael could tell that she dreaded the answer. “That they had seen no one, but I am not certain they were believed, for one of the men seeking you mentioned that you had been spotted in this vicinity several days ago and were possibly injured. The men found it difficult to believe you had not sought out refuge here.”

  Aria twisted her lips in a grimace and glanced down toward her injured leg. “The night I stumbled onto the searchers’ camp, most likely. That was not far from here. One of the men there grabbed me about the waist and then drew back when I kicked at him. I think he was surprised that I did not feel as masculine to him as he had expected. Even with my padding.”

  “There are also not many other places in this vicinity where you might have sought shelter,” Michael offered, though it pained him to admit that. “While it is unlikely that men such as those would ever come here to challenge me and demand to know if I am harboring a runaway female, your cousin might. Especially if he wants you back badly enough.”