A Midnight Clear

by Kristi Astor

  He sounded so resigned that Roxana asked, “Do you enjoy having these house parties?”

  He paused. “I take a great deal of satisfaction from them.”

  “But do you enjoy them? Both you and Fanny spend a great amount of time making sure that things go smoothly, that food and entertainment is available every minute . . . saving guests from disaster.”

  “Only you, Roxy.” Max stopped as if he might say more, then thought better of it. He shook his head and left the room as her maid appeared at the door with dry stockings and slippers.

  Max ran into Scully as he exited the library.

  “I need a drink,” said Scully.

  “My room,” answered Max, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder and turning him. “Miss Winston is in a state of deshabille in the library.”

  “My, my, you make fast work of her virtue.”

  “I did nothing to her virtue; she was nearly frozen and I . . . removed her shoes.” Oh, God, he wanted to remove so much more. “Her maid is with her.”

  Darkness crowded Max’s soul, but for the maid’s interruption he would have leaped over the bounds of propriety. He could not believe he had such a shaky hold on his self-control.

  “Her shoes? That’s all?” asked Scully. “I do not think you should give her up to Breedon so easily.”

  “I cannot marry her. I want Thomas to have the title. She cannot stay content with Breedon long.” Max was appalled that he’d just voiced an intention to cuckold Breedon. “Forget that.”

  Scully raised an eyebrow, but forbore saying anything.

  “I did not mean it,” said Max.

  It was too much to hope that Scully would hold his tongue long. “Yes, you did.”

  “Breedon has what she needs in a marriage and I do not.”

  “And that is?”

  “Blunt.”

  “You are—”

  “Wealthy, yes, but my wealth is in land. You have not been here for many years. Look around, do you see anything the same?”

  Scully stared at Max. “Fanny has replaced everything, hasn’t she? How much does she spend?”

  “Never mind,” said Max. It was not just the ornaments of the house that had cast him into debt. Alexander had gambling debts and Samuel accumulated substantial nursing and hospital bills and debts of a rather mysterious sort before dying of his wounds. “Not all of it was Fanny’s decorating. My father was a spendthrift too, plus my brothers left obligations. We need to dress for dinner.”

  “Fanny hates me,” Scully said as he ascended the stairs.

  “She does not hate you,” answered Max.

  “Yes, she does. She says I destroy her dignity. I probably cannot afford her either.”

  “Well, she has never set much store in dignity before now.”

  Max pushed open his bedroom door and saw red hair. Did Lady Malmsbury know any boundaries?

  “For God’s sake, what are you doing here now?” he exploded.

  “We’ll drink later, old boy,” said Scully, slinking toward his own door.

  Lady Malmsbury turned around and pouted. “I do not understand why you are ignoring me, Max.”

  He’d had enough. He marched forward and grabbed Eliza’s arm and propelled her out of the room. “I have guests to consider, my lady,” he muttered between clenched teeth. “I regret that I do not have leisure to be with you now.” He shut the door in her surprised face.

  Why would she not get the message? He pounded on the connecting door to Scully’s room.

  Max needed to change rooms, but as Scully opened the door with his eyebrow quirked, Max realized that switching rooms within the suite would not be enough of a move. Lady Malmsbury would figure it out soon enough if she found Scully in his room. Where was the last place she would expect to find him? Better yet, who was the last person she would want to find herself in bed with?

  “You are getting a new suite mate. You might want to lock the door.” Interesting that the lock was on the woman’s side of the master suite. Max had never thought about that before.

  “Do not put Malmsy in here,” Scully warned.

  “God, no.” Max had a better plan.

  Fanny sat at her dressing table and stared at herself in the mirror. In the lamplight she did not perhaps look so old. The tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes did not show and she could not feel them with her fingertips.

  Did Scully truly want her? Or was she a diversion because no one else present attracted him?

  After dinner, he had stood behind her chair and put his hand on her shoulder. The gesture was possessive and familiar, the kind a husband would make, not just a lover’s caress.

  Then he had gone and pulled Roxana from Mr. Breedon.

  Fanny bit her lip, feeling the rise of jealousy, but watch as she might she could detect none of Dev’s flirtation occurring between the two. In fact, he had been quite sober. Not the animated charmer she knew. She missed his compliments even though she no longer believed them.

  Max had watched Dev and Miss Winston take a turn about the room, but had not made any effort to join them.

  After dinner, the servants had set out card tables and a token effort at charades for the younger set was made.

  Feeling restless, Fanny lifted the shielded night candle from her dressing table and went to the hall.

  Her feet, almost of their own volition, followed the familiar path to her former bedroom. She stood at the door and asked herself what on earth she was doing. The wind howled outside and she shivered.

  She turned and scurried toward her room. A door clicked behind her. Quickening her steps she headed for the safety of her room.

  “Fanny,” came the low call behind her. The rough burr of his voice made her shiver.

  She spun around. In his shirtsleeves, Scully leaned against his doorframe. He pushed the door of her old bedroom open wide, the invitation clear.

  What had she been thinking? The darkness might conceal a multitude of deficiencies, but it provided no barrier to touch. And Scully liked to touch. She took a step backward.

  Her dressing gown was voluminous, very matronly. “I need to get to bed. Tomorrow, with Christmas Eve festivities, will be quite busy.”

  Scully’s grin flashed. He walked out into the passageway, just a few steps from her, and whispered, “I have a bed in there.”

  Joining him was a lovely idea until the reality of it set in. “Sleep. I need to sleep.”

  “Yes, I am good for that too.” He folded his arms across his chest. He swayed toward her, tilting his head down. “If that is what you really want.”

  At one time he would not have bypassed the opportunity to touch her when they were alone. His lack of desire enhanced her fears that she had long past left behind her attractive years. Perhaps the lack of relations with her husband in his later years had not been just because of his age.

  She took a step backwards and an emotion flashed in Dev’s eyes.

  “I would not wish to offend your dignity, your grace.”

  Fanny looked down.

  He held out his hand. “Come, love, the snow is falling outside and the wind is whipping. To have you with me would warm my soul.”

  As she stared at his bare palm, Fanny felt her heart sinking. He was asking for companionship. Was she no longer a figure for passion and pleasure? Did she want her relationship with Scully to be about calm comfort, devoid of fervor? What would they have if they no longer shared the intense attraction that had prompted her to violate her marriage vows?

  “Come, my beautiful duchess, I want to hear you laugh again,” whispered Scully.

  She detested Max’s treating her like a child, yet she hated Scully for treating her like a mature woman. She wanted Scully to sweep her off her feet as if she had no mind of her own, yet he left the choice to her. He would not push her or use too much persuasion. The trouble was she wanted him to push and charm and convince her that she should be so ridiculously foolish as to sleep with him again.

  She wave
red, uncertain of which way her feet would move.

  After arranging for the snow sleds to be hauled out of the coach house, Max climbed the stairs to the drawing room. As soon as he entered, the Misses Ferris ran up to him, each grabbing one of his arms. “Have you seen the snow, your grace?”

  He nodded. The snow had continued to fall all through the night and morning, but the wind had calmed down. Fanny had planned caroling tonight for Christmas Eve festivities, but he suspected they would just have to carol each other inside.

  One sister bounced up, while the other tugged him down, skewing him lopsided. “Her grace said you might arrange for sleighing this afternoon,” said Miss Ferris.

  “Oh, do say you shall,” said Miss Charlotte Ferris, the younger sister by six minutes. “It shall be just the thing.”

  “Of course I shall, if it will please you both,” replied Max.

  Scully arched an eyebrow at him from where he sat sharing a book with Lady Angela DuMass. Scully did not seem to be reading, but merely waiting for the indication of the time to turn the page, while watching Fanny.

  Max let his gaze skim over all the eligible young women. The Misses Ferris were cute enough with their matching button noses and heart-shaped faces. Lady Angela’s fortune and breeding were enough to counterbalance the sharp length of her nose. Miss Lambert was demure enough with her doe-like brown eyes and rich chestnut hair.

  These young women were the best that Fanny could assemble on short notice. They all seemed so insipid. Then there was Roxana, who could alarm him to no end, yet he could allow himself to relax with her because she had no expectations of him and welcomed honesty. She also welcomed Mr. Breedon’s attentions, and Max could not help but think she had managed to force her affections to follow her less-than-noble ambitions.

  The Breedons had cash and income; Max had wealth that was tied up in his vast holdings. A blackness curdled in his soul. If he was even to consider marriage, he too needed to marry a woman with a large dowry.

  Max glanced over at his stepmother where she sat chatting with the older women of the group. The two Misses Ferris talked across him, hardly needing more than an occasional nod from him. Lady Malmsbury turned in his direction and gave him a dirty look. Had she attempted to find him in his room last night? He tossed a smile in her direction.

  “I am sure you will not wish to go sleighing, since you despise the cold, Lady Malmsbury. Breedon, Scully, Lord Hampton, and Mr. Allensworth: are all of you gentlemen up to driving sleighs? Everyone who wants to brave the cold should assemble in the front hall in one hour.”

  The snow continued to fall as single horses were harnessed to the sleighs. The bells on their reins jingled as the grooms led the animals into their traces. Roxana had not yet joined the bundled and scarfed group of the younger members of the house party waiting for the sleighs by the drive. Max was tempted to send her back inside if she did appear. He did not need her freezing to death, even though the sleighs were well equipped with lap robes and heated bricks for the sleigh riders’ feet.

  The door opened and Roxana appeared with Julia and Thomas by her side. The three of them scrambled down the newly swept stairs with Breedon huffing down behind them.

  As they joined the group at the bottom of the stairs, Max counted heads. Scully was noticeably absent, so only four men were present. Each would have to drive a sleigh continuously.

  The Misses Ferris jumped up and down, clamoring to go first.

  Roxana knelt at the foot of the stairs, checking the fastenings of Thomas’s coat and rewrapping his scarf. Thomas tolerated her fussing with barely contained impatience.

  “Do stop. I can barely move,” protested Thomas.

  “You will be glad of my wrapping when the wind is in your face,” Roxana cautioned.

  She turned to Julia, who smiled brightly at Roxana’s care. Max went still, achingly aware of the loss of his own mother and that Fanny had not been prepared to be a mother to the self-contained boy he’d become by the time his father brought her home. Roxana would make a superb mother when the time came. Unfortunately she’d probably be wiping the noses of Breedon’s whiny spawn. Max shuddered in distaste.

  “Let us let the youngest go for the first ride,” said Roxana. “It is only fair.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Miss Ferris, clapping her gloved hands together. “Then I shall be first to ride with his grace.”

  “I can take both of you,” Max told Julia and Thomas.

  “May I handle the ribbons?” asked Thomas eagerly.

  “We shall see,” said Max. “Let me make one circuit to show the best path, first.”

  The groom held the horse until the three of them were packed into the narrow seat. Max watched Roxana and Breedon head for the last of the sleighs. Was she dressed warm enough?

  A gust blew her blue cloak against her and failed to show the perfect curves of her form. He was as much disappointed as he was relieved that she had layered on more clothing. Had her poverty prevented her from owning a proper winter coat? Or had she sacrificed her comfort for fear of appearing less than au courant?

  Then they were off, the horse prancing, the bells on the harness merrily ringing and the horse’s snorts lifting into the crisp air in white puffs. Max led the sleigh down the drive, turning off to cross the flattest part of the park. After completing the circuit and starting down the drive for the second time, Max handed the reins to Thomas.

  A few of the other sleighs turned off the drive earlier, taking a more daring path down a drainage ditch beside the drive. He could hear the laughter, interspersed with the festive jingling of the holiday harnesses. Lady Angela began to sing a caroling song and many of the others joined in. Their voices lilted over the snowy parkland.

  Thomas snapped the reins and Max put a hand on his arm. “Remember, the horse has to contend with snow, and pulling a sleigh can be more taxing than pulling a wheeled vehicle.”

  Julia looked over her brother’s head and smiled. “I am so glad that Roxy thought of us. She promised our tutor that she would supervise extra study so that he would allow us to come out.”

  As they neared the group of waiting riders near the house, the young women cheered them on. A few of the older couples had joined the crowd on the steps. Max looked back, calculating how many circuits the horses would need to make.

  “This should be our last time; we want to make sure our guests are all able to get their turn.”

  “We cannot stop now.” Thomas jerked the reins. The sleigh bumped off the drive down the slope of the ditch.

  “Thomas, look out!” shouted Julia.

  Max swiveled around to see another sleigh flying toward them. Roxana and Breedon traveled a collision course.

  Roxana screamed, “Right.”

  Breedon jerked the reins hard to his left. The horse’s head jerked sideways, its eyes rolling with pain. The bells’ steady rhythm clanged with discordant fury as Thomas tried to stop the careen of the sleigh. The horses avoided each other by the narrowest of margins, while Thomas hauled back on the reins.

  “Hold on!” Max shouted, fearing the inevitable collision between the two sleighs would send his sister and brother flying.

  But the opposite sleigh tilted up on one runner. The slope of the ditch beside the drive provided the coup de grâce. The carved sleigh upended in a flurry of snow and flailing limbs. Roxana squealed and Breedon yelped as they were flung sideways.

  His heart in his throat, Max jumped from his slowing sleigh. Was Roxana hurt? He would never forgive himself if she got hurt. It was all his fault. He should never have allowed Thomas to take the reins.

  Chapter Eleven

  Scully loitered in the passageway, waiting for Fanny to return from her mission to be sure plenty of blankets and warmed bricks were supplied in the sleighs. Catching her alone was so hard. When she had lingered outside his room last night, her candlelight casting odd shadows through the gap under the door, his hopes had soared.

  When she walked toward him, he drank in t
he sight of her. She was beautiful, but her continued wearing of her blacks made him wary of the unspoken message she was sending. Had she buried her high-spirited side when she buried her husband?

  “Fanny, love, would you take a sleigh ride with me?”

  “Scully, I—”

  “Oh, now I am ‘Scully,’ and no longer your faithful ‘Dev’?” He caught her arm before she fled from him as she had last night, and he propelled her back toward an anteroom.

  “You can hardly claim faithfulness,” she said.

  All right, she had a point. He hadn’t exactly been faithful in deed, only in his heart. Which was a point he knew he would never win with a female. He opened the door and prodded her inside the room. “Does a sleigh ride offend your station?”

  “I am too old to—”

  “Hardly so; you are barely a day older than the day I first fell in love with you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Another untruth.”

  Devlin didn’t know what he was doing wrong. He had tried to give her space to come to him, to indicate that he wanted more than physical intimacy, although he wanted that more than anything. And damn Max for suggesting he could not invade her bedroom without an offer of marriage, when he did not even know if Fanny had the least amount of interest in continuing their relationship.

  “You used to believe my protestations.” For God’s sake, he had just told her he loved her, and she assumed it was a lie. He did not know whether to laugh or cry. “So you are a decade older and so am I. You are just as beautiful as you ever were.”

  Her gaze dropped and her arms folded across her middle as if she were protecting herself. “You know that is not true,” she whispered.

  “More beautiful.” He took a step toward her.

  She turned and her hand drifted on the air in protest. “I am afraid the bloom is off the rose.”

  “Hardly so. I’d say the rose is finally in full bloom.” He leaned forward and caught her shoulders in his hands.