The Christmas Countess

by Adrienne Basso

  His low voice sent a peculiar wash of heat through her veins, making it difficult to execute a smooth curtsy. “Thank you, my lord. I am delighted to be here.”

  An older woman, wearing an enormous diamond choker, bustled between them, giving them a friendly, appraising glance.

  “My mother, the dowager countess,” the earl said. “This is Mr. Daniel Tremaine and his sister, Miss Rebecca.”

  “A pleasure to meet you both.” The older woman smiled pleasantly and Rebecca was impressed by the tone of sincerity in her voice, especially given the thick, ripe tension that filled the air.

  She wondered if the dowager countess knew the truth about her connection to Lily and decided it was unlikely. Her manner was too open, too friendly. A marked contrast to her son, who seemed to pause and measure each word before it was uttered.

  Further introductions were made to those guests closest around them. Rebecca was grateful that Daniel received the majority of attention and interest. Several of the men were familiar with his business achievements and many of the women were impressed by his handsome countenance.

  They next moved slowly about the room, so they could be introduced to the rest of the crowd. Rebecca could not help but note how most of the guests seemed anxious to have a moment to engage the earl in private conversation. A select few were overt with their fawning efforts to garner his attention, most notably the younger women. Or their mothers.

  ‘Twas either his ignorance or arrogance that made the earl seem oblivious to that fact, though secretly Rebecca suspected it was his arrogance.

  There were so many people to meet it was difficult for Rebecca to remember which names went with which faces, but one woman dressed in a striking gown of blue watered silk with a round neckline that emphasized her graceful neck made a lasting impression. She was introduced as Lady Marion Rowley, Viscountess Cranborne.

  “Hampton is my first cousin,” the pretty young viscountess confided to Rebecca as they stood alone together. “Our mothers were sisters. Yet I fear he claims the relationship only when hard-pressed. I have a terrible habit of allowing impulse to rule my behavior. Truth be told, I‘m a bit of a family scandal.”

  “The earl strikes me as a man filled with pride,” Rebecca mused, feeling sympathy for anyone who dared to annoy him.

  “My yes, it is excessive. Have you known Hampton long?”

  “Goodness, no. I just met him this evening.”

  “Impressive, Miss Tremaine. You show great insight into a man‘s character on such short acquaintance.” Lady Marion signalled a passing footman and procured two glasses of chilled champagne, one for each of them. “Fortunately for all of us, Hampton is also blessed with a streak of unequivocal integrity. It does help temper that arrogant pride of his. Most will freely acknowledge that he is not only strong and capable, but honest and forthright as well. Though I tease him mercilessly for his devotion to protecting the family name and honor, his support and loyalty have kept me alive socially on more than one occasion.”

  “You are fond of him?” Rebecca asked with surprise.

  “Exceedingly.” She took a long sip of her champagne. “Though I will be the first to confess his arrogant attitude can be maddening at times.”

  “He seems to possess that in abundance.”

  Lady Marion laughed. “Oh, I do like you, Miss Tremaine.”

  The object of their conversation stood on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by a group of simpering women. Rebecca hazarded a look in his direction, one he returned for half a heartbeat before deliberately looking away. Her cheeks heated slightly.

  “If I may be so bold as to offer a touch of experienced advice, do not waste your time and effort setting your cap for Hampton,” Lady Marion said. “He was devoted beyond measure to his late wife, Christina. Those of us who know him well doubt he will ever re-marry, even for the sake of his title.”

  Rebecca felt her face flush even more. “I assure you, Lady Marion, I have no romantic interest in the earl whatsoever.”

  “Oh, dear, now I have offended you.” Lady Marion frowned. “I spent far too many years searching for the right man to marry that I easily forget all women do not have a burning desire to land a wealthy, well-connected husband. Forgive me.”

  “Of course.” Rebecca took a small sip of her champagne, deciding she was secretly flattered that the viscountess thought she would be able to bring any of these men up to scratch. For so long, Rebecca had thought of herself as a spinster, firmly set on the shelf.

  “‘Tis a burden of womanhood, I fear, to devote so much of our time and energy to securing our futures through marriage,” Lady Marion continued. “Why I know of at least four women who are currently wrestling between the choice of family duty and personal happiness. And one, poor dear, who is in the worst predicament of all—the need to marry a fortune.” She leaned close and whispered merrily, “Amazingly, I was the most clever of all. I fell in love with Viscount Cranborne, who was richer than Croesus, and was thus able to marry for love and money.”

  Lady Marion seemed so genuinely pleased with herself that Rebecca found herself smiling back at her. The two women chatted a few minutes longer before Lady Marion excused herself to greet some of her husband‘s relatives.

  When she left, Rebecca realized under different circumstances she might have enjoyed this opportunity to meet new people, to have a glimpse into this fascinating world of wealth and privilege.

  But the lively conversation she had just shared barely distracted her thoughts. Lily was here, beneath this very roof. Safely tucked away in her bed? Or perhaps she was hearing a story or saying her prayers. Rebecca closed her eyes and said a quick prayer of her own, knowing she needed all the help she could muster to survive this evening.

  When she opened them, she felt a shiver rush through her, the overwhelming sense that she was under observation. A quick glance confirmed her suspicions. The earl‘s dark head was tilted and his eyes fixed intently on her, making her feel decidedly uncomfortable.

  He started toward her and the urge to flee grew strong. But Rebecca remained in place, trying to stem the nervous quivering of her stomach.

  “Afraid I am going to pinch the silver, my lord?” she asked as he drew near, firing off the first shot.

  “You can have the silver, Miss Tremaine. And the crystal, if you so desire. There are other, far more valuable items in my care to protect.”

  His brows rose over his intriguing hazel eyes. They were really more green, she decided; green flecked with gold and brown. Beautiful eyes to be sure and decidedly unfriendly and challenging.

  He slanted her a hard look, which she met directly. Damn, there it was again—a ridiculous flash of heat that sparkled between them. No man, not even Philip, had ever made her body stir with more awareness.

  The dowager countess and a few other ladies joined them, breaking some of the tension. Ignoring her attraction to the earl was difficult, yet not impossible. Ignoring her feelings about Lily, however, was quickly becoming an impossibility.

  Her daughter was here, somewhere inside this very house. So close, and yet so far away. The need to search for her was almost a physical compulsion. Rebecca slowly exhaled, worrying that her heart was unable to take the building stress, that her emotions would somehow unleash and burst forth and she would do something utterly disgraceful.

  Rebecca cleared her throat and spoke loudly enough to be heard over the chattering conversation of the other women. “I understand you have a granddaughter, my lady.”

  “Oh, my, yes. Lily is the light of our lives.” The dowager countess smiled fondly. “She is upstairs in the nursery of course, though I don‘t believe she has yet been put to bed.”

  “I bet she is a lovely child.”

  “Delightful, but what else would a doting grandmother say?” A glint of love and joy lit the older woman‘s eyes. “In fact, I might be able to persuade my son to allow her to come down and say hello to the guests. She does so enjoy seeing the ladies and gent
lemen in their evening finery.”

  Rebecca‘s thoughts froze in place at this unexpected opportunity. It was almost too perfect to imagine and confirmed that the dowager countess was unaware of Lily‘s true parentage. “Is she not shy of strangers?”

  “Heavens no.” The dowager countess laughed. “Even when she was very young we noticed when other children slipped behind their mother or nurses‘ skirts, Lily always boldly put herself forward.”

  “How charming. I for one would very much enjoy meeting her.”

  “Not this evening.” The earl covered his mother‘s hand with his own, his smile pleasant, even as eyes bore darkly into Rebecca‘s. Drat! She did not realize he had been listening so intently to their conversation.

  “Are you certain, Cameron?” the dowager countess asked.

  “Yes. Her nurse said Lily had a touch of the sniffles this afternoon. I think it best for everyone if she stays in her room.”

  “Another time perhaps,” Rebecca said, her heart clouding with disappointment.

  The earl‘s displeasure was almost a physical entity. She could sense the level of mistrust he felt for her rise higher. But she had not been able to stop herself; the chance to finally see her daughter had been too tempting to resist.

  “Tread carefully, Miss Tremaine,” he whispered in her ear.

  Startled, she nearly dropped her empty glass. Mustering her courage, she lifted her chin and stared at him. He gave her a disarming smile, that she quickly realized was for the benefit of any who might be watching. Then he inclined his head and left to play the amiable host to the rest of his guests.

  Rebecca sagged a little as he strode away, slowly letting out a long breath. That was a close call, far too close for comfort. Yet in her heart she knew she would do it again.

  She drew her hand across her brow, then realized she had been twisting the tiny pearl button on her glove so hard it had come loose. Seized with a sudden idea, Rebecca yanked the thread until it broke, then eagerly went in search of Lady Marion.

  “I seem to have met with a slight mishap.” Rebecca held out her hand, showing the viscountess where the small pearl button was missing from the top of her glove. “Miraculously, I have located the button. Is there somewhere I can repair the damage before dinner is served?”

  “Yes. There is a smaller parlor three doors to your left. I will instruct one of the footmen to have a maid sent in with a sewing kit.”

  “Thank you.”

  Heart thudding with excitement, along with a touch of guilt, Rebecca quietly left the room.

  Chapter 3

  Rebecca Tremaine was not at all what he had expected. Cameron took a sip of champagne, that he barely tasted, and watched her openly from across the room. She was lush, her figure rounded in a sensual, almost suggestive manner. She was taller than most women of his acquaintance, statuesque really, and he was annoyed to realize the perfect match for a man of his height.

  Her honey-colored hair was brushed sleekly back and twisted at her nape, showcasing the elegant line of creamy ivory skin on her neck and throat. Her face was lovely, with high cheekbones that gave her a slightly exotic look and a wide, full mouth that added a mature sensuality to her appearance. A pair of perfectly arched brows over bright-blue eyes hinted at both intelligence and humor.

  The dark green silk gown she wore had short, tight, off-the-shoulder sleeves, a cinched waist and full skirt that was fashionable, tasteful and flattering. Each time he gazed at her, Cameron unexpectedly felt a stirring in his loins. A decidedly unwelcome event.

  Caught somewhere between annoyance and fascination, he continued to watch her as she circulated among the guests. There were small, subtle signs of her nerves. The way she clenched and unclenched the material of her gown in her left hand, the deep sighs she took when she thought no one was looking, the ever-so-slight trembling of the crystal goblet she held.

  Yet through it all she somehow managed to keep her head high, her shoulders back, her expression open and pleasant. That earned her a grudging bit of his respect.

  He was surprised to admit that under different circumstances she would have intrigued him, with her lovely face, sensual body, and proper attitude. But these were hardly normal circumstances.

  A part of him wished she had been a featherbrained ninny, or a brassy, immoral creature, clearly lacking refinement and breeding. Both would have been easy to dismiss, easy to ignore.

  He wondered about Lily‘s father. Was he the first of her many lovers? Yet, much as he would like to dismiss her as a woman of loose morals, Cameron had no proof to verify that opinion. His secretary had made inquiries. Miss Rebecca Tremaine was the daughter of a respected vicar, well liked and highly regarded in her community.

  Seven years ago she had become engaged to a young lawyer. It was a proper match that most agreed was advantageous for both parties. Then her fiancé had died unexpectedly, tragically in a freak accident. Calculating the dates, Cameron realized Lily had been born six months later. It seemed probable that he had been Lily‘s father.

  By all accounts Miss Tremaine and her fiancé had been very devoted to each other and many declared it a true love match. As much as Cameron wanted to fault the couple‘s behavior, he could not find it within himself to be so harsh. They would hardly be the first couple in history who had anticipated their wedding vows.

  It was a pity that he had been unable to persuade his sister, Charlotte, to attend this evening‘s dinner party. She always kept herself quietly in the background, keenly observing those around her. Cameron valued her opinion and would have wanted to know her impressions of Miss Tremaine. Best of all, Charlotte would not have pressed him for details as to why he wanted the information.

  But at their parents‘ encouragement, Charlotte had refrained from formally entering society. They feared her physical deformity, coupled with her plain looks and intellectual mind, would practically assure her social failure.

  There were times Cameron wondered if they had all done Charlotte a great disservice by keeping her so cloistered. At five and twenty it seemed almost certain she would remain a spinster for the rest of her life.

  Like Miss Tremaine? Obviously, she was unmarried, but with her beauty and refinement that state could easily change. Though society held that all women desired marriage above all else, he could see that might not always be true. Perhaps it was Miss Tremaine‘s choice to remain single.

  Cameron handed his empty champagne glass to a passing footman and accepted a full one. Miss Tremaine‘s marital state was none of his concern. Her interest in Lily, however, was very much his business.

  Her ploy to get the child down to the drawing room before dinner had annoyed him, yet he could not entirely fault her for the attempt. Still, he would have to be on guard to make certain nothing else like that occurred. He, and he alone, would decide when, and if, she was to meet the little girl.

  The thought that he needed to keep an eye on her had no sooner entered his mind when he saw Miss Tremaine slip from the room. What now? Nearly choking on the last sip of bubbling nectar in his glass, Cameron abruptly excused himself and raced after her. He saw her climbing the grand staircase to the third floor and promptly increased his stride.

  “Looking for something, Miss Tremaine?” he asked.

  Her back stiffened at the sound of his voice, and he knew she recognized it as his. Slowly, she turned around. “I have ripped my glove, my lord. Lady Marion was kind enough to request that a maid be summoned to help me repair it.”

  “My cousin told you to wait on the staircase for the servant? Most peculiar.”

  She looked him directly in the eyes, something that women rarely did. The gesture earned her another scrap of grudging admiration.

  “Lady Marion instructed me to wait in the small parlor, but I neglected to listen closely to her directions and was confused as to where it was located.”

  A bald-faced lie, and they both knew it. He debated calling her on it, but decided it was futile to be so boorish. Besid
es, what exactly could he accuse her of doing? Leaving the drawing room to fix her glove and being an inattentive listener when told where to wait for assistance?

  There was an awkward silence. Cameron searched for something to say, but was finding it difficult. A meaningless social exchange about the weather was an insult to both of them, given the bizarre reality of their situation. Yet this was hardly the time or place for a lengthy personal conversation. His temper was on edge, his emotions escalated, and the house was filled with guests.

  “Shall we join the others?” Cameron held out his hand, opting to retreat for now.

  “My glove?”

  “My housekeeper will take care of the problem. It will be repaired and returned to you before dinner.”

  After a deliberate hesitation, Miss Tremaine reached out and placed her bare fingers into his palm. A shiver of awareness bolted through him at the touch of her hand in the center of his warm palm. He ignored it. So, apparently did she, though he saw her lower lip trembling.

  “Despite what you might think, I have no wish to cause you unnecessary anguish,” he said quietly.

  Her brow wrinkled. “Actions speak far louder than words, my lord. We both know the real reason I am here tonight. All I ask is for an opportunity to see the child. To meet her, to speak with her.”

  “I assure you, there is no need to remind me of that fact, Miss Tremaine.” Cameron met her steady gaze. “However, since that meeting will most definitely not take place this evening, I strongly urge you to cease trying to orchestrate a chance encounter with Lily. ‘Tis already becoming tiresome and though I consider myself a fair man, my patience has very defined limits.”

  Her face momentarily paled and a heated flash sparked in her eyes, yet her composure never faltered. “Point taken, my lord.”

  ———

  An early morning drizzle had given way to a late morning of brilliant sunshine. There was a cold, though not unpleasant, breeze blowing, yet Rebecca knew it would not have mattered if there was a bone-chilling freeze in the air or a full blown blizzard blanketed the street with snow. In any sort of weather she would be standing outdoors in precisely the same spot.