by Laura Landon
The look on his face was priceless. It was part surprise, and the greater part disappointment. Keeping him waiting was simply too cruel.
“Very well. I’ve considered your offer and… I accept!”
In that moment the tender exchanges they’d known earlier were forgotten, replaced by a more compelling ardor that spoke of harmony.
And rapture.
And bliss.
“God bless my dear uncle for bringing you here,” she whispered. “If not for him, we would never have met. He’s responsible for this magic. For us.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Tillie’s heart swelled in her breast, and when Frank lowered his head to kiss her, she answered with all the love she felt for him. A love that grew stronger with every look. Every touch. Every breath.
Chapter 11
Frank waited in the study with Lord Dunstan and Lord Beckett until Lord Derwin arrived with his grandson.
Frank wasn’t sure why Tillie’s father had asked him and not his son to stay, other than perhaps he was afraid George might become too emotional if things didn’t go well. Or, maybe it was that the second letter had contained threats against Tillie, and Lord Dunstan wanted Frank to be assured that Penview wouldn’t act on those threats.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” Lord Dunstan said when they arrived.
A footman served drinks, then left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Would you like to explain why we’re here, Lord Derwin?” Tillie’s father asked. “Or would you like me to take care of the explanation?”
“I can say what has to be said, Dunstan.”
Frank looked at the stern expression on Lord Derwin’s face and recognized a strength that wasn’t there the day before. The resolve Frank saw indicated that Derwin intended to rectify this issue, to show his grandson that it was useless to cast blame anyplace other than where it belonged. On his grandson’s shoulders.
“Do you have the letters, Dunstan?”
Tillie’s father handed Derwin the wrinkled papers. Frank could see Dunstan had tried to press them out as much as he could, but they were still creased from when Derwin had wadded them in his hand when he’d first read them.
Derwin held the papers out to his grandson. Jameson blanched, and visibly held himself from stepping away from the letters he so clearly recognized.
“I don’t expect you to take the papers, Jameson. You already know what they say, since you are the author of the vile words.”
Penview didn’t reply, but simply stared at the papers in his grandfather’s hand.
“Would you care to explain why you made such unwarranted threats?”
Penview stiffened. “I’m sure you know, Grandfather. You’ve explained to me often enough what would happen if the mining bill passed.”
“Are you blaming me for your actions, Jameson?”
Penview recoiled as if he’d been slapped. A look of confusion passed across his face.
“Are you?”
Penview lowered his gaze. “No, Grandfather. You are not to blame for the letters.”
“Then why did you write them?”
“Surely you know, Grandfather.”
“Yes, Jameson. I know. But I want you to say the words. I want you to admit the reason you did something so despicable.”
Penview did not speak, and Frank thought perhaps he didn’t intend to.
“Why!” Lord Derwin demanded.
“Because of the money the family would lose if the bill passed, my lord.” Penview’s answer spilled out in harsh, angry words. Words that affected his grandfather as if they were blows.
Lord Derwin’s hands trembled and his face paled even more. “You are that greedy for wealth, Jameson?”
“Wealth is essential to the lifestyle you enjoy, Grandfather. That we all enjoy. Don’t you understand? If we make the improvements the mining act will require, the money we need to keep up appearances will be noticeably affected. You don’t have the income to match Lord Dunstan. Or even Lord Broughton. You would have to sell the mines.”
“Then so be it!” Derwin growled.
Young Penview backed a step away, his agitation mounting. “Bloody hell, Grandfather! Would you see Grandmother in the streets again? Working in the shops again? Would you?”
Lord Derwin struggled to keep his feet, then turned and made his way across the room. When he reached the window that looked out onto the snow-covered garden, he stood with his hands braced on the window frame for several long moments without moving.
Frank watched the shaky rise and fall to his shoulders. “Your grandmother’s future is safe with me. But you…you have forced me to take steps I never thought I’d be compelled to take,” he said when he turned. “And I take no pleasure in what I’m about to do.”
“There’s no need to be melodramatic, Grandfather. If it’s an apology you want, you have it. Are you satisfied?”
Lord Derwin shook his head. “Oh, no, Jameson. I’m not satisfied.”
The Marquess of Derwin walked to the sidebar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He took a long swallow, then turned to face his grandson. “If I thought for one second that your apology was sincere, I might be tempted to accept it. But it wasn’t. That was the most disingenuous apology I’ve ever heard. Because you didn’t mean a word of it.”
“Then allow me to repeat it.”
“No! You will remain silent while I tell you what will happen.” The Marquess of Derwin took a step closer to his grandson. He braced his shoulders as if ready to do battle, and suddenly seemed several inches taller than before. And more formidable.
“You sent not one, but two threatening letters to a fellow member of the House of Lords. That is a disgrace. In the second letter you threatened the safety of that member’s daughter. That is unforgivable. It is beneath the dignity of the future Marquess of Derwin. And what is equally unforgivable is the reason you did something so unpardonable. You committed what could be a punishable crime because of greed.”
Frank focused on Penview’s reaction. His face paled. His gaze fell to the floor. There was a look of remorse in his eyes.
“I love you, Jameson. I love you as if you were my son instead of my grandson. And I will always love you. Even a crime as severe as this could not stop me from loving you. But I am not proud of you. Not only did you threaten an innocent young lady’s safety, but you put your own welfare above that of every worker in our mines whose lives will be improved because of the implementation of the bill. You, who have always had the best of this world, showed no compassion for those who have the least.”
Derwin stopped and pressed his hand to his heart. “And I am no better. I regret that I thought the same. I put my welfare—and yours—above the workers who labor long and hard so that we might live in the lap of luxury.” Derwin’s hard glare rested on his grandson. “That will come to an end this very day. As soon as we return to London, I will make arrangements for improvements to begin in our mines. Whether or not the bill passes. And to make sure we have enough money to pay for those improvements, both you and I will cut back on our expenses. Your grandmother has already made plans to conserve within the household. We will all learn to live within our means.”
Penview’s eyes widened as he stared at his grandfather.
“You will no doubt think the allowance I provide for you is harsh, but considering the crime you committed, I deem that you escaped far more easily than you would have if Lord Dunstan had pressed charges.”
Lord Derwin stopped and focused on Tillie’s father. “You may still choose to press charges, my lord. That would be well within your rights.”
Penview’s shoulders stiffened as he awaited Dunstan’s decision.
Lord Dunstan hesitated, then shook his head. “I will abide with the punishment you deem appropriate.”
Penview’s shoulders fell noticeably.
“Very well. Since my grandson will not have an income of his own until he turns thirty, he relies on my generosity to live. He
will find that generosity severely diminished. He will also oversee the improvements we will make to the mines.”
Penview’s eyes widened. “But I don’t know anything about our mines.”
“Then you will learn. You will find out how hard the miners who provide for you work each and every day. You will put in long hours alongside them and be grateful for every farthing they provide you.”
Derwin turned to his grandson. “All that’s left is the sincere apology you will offer Lord Dunstan.”
This time, Penview straightened his shoulders and faced Lord Dunstan. “My lord,” he said in a heartfelt voice. “Please, forgive me for causing you the pain you suffered when you received my letters. I… I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know how I could have been so cruel. That was not how my grandfather raised me. What I thought of as a bit of heavy-handed persuasion was horridly unacceptable. I see that now. I owe not only you an apology, but I owe an apology to you, too, Grandfather.”
Tillie’s father rose from his chair. “Apology accepted, my lord.” Lord Dunstan held out his hand and after a moment Penview extended his own, though it visibly trembled.
“I’m so sorry,” Penview repeated. “I will remove myself from your house immediately.”
“You will not,” Tillie’s father answered. “You are my guest. I will not have people speculate as to why you arrived this afternoon, and left abruptly this evening.” Tillie’s father went to the sidebar and poured himself and Lord Penview a drink. “Consider this matter settled, Penview. It will never be spoken of again.”
Dunstan handed Penview a glass and with trembling hands, Penview lifted the glass to his mouth.
“I know it will not be easy, but please, enjoy yourself tonight. There will be several lovely ladies in attendance, and the orchestra my wife has secured for the ball is really quite excellent.”
“Thank you, Lord Dunstan. In no way do I deserve your kindness.”
“Now,” Lord Dunstan said as he opened the door. “It promises to be a very long and eventful evening. I suggest we all adjourn to our rooms to collect our ladies.”
“Am I to understand that there is truly a joyous event to be announced tonight?” Lord Broughton asked.
“There is.”
“My congratulations, Dunstan. I’m relieved to know that this Christmas season will end on a happy note.”
Tillie’s father turned to Frank. “It will. It most certainly will.
Chapter 12
Tillie twirled around the dance floor in Frank’s arms. The orchestra was playing a waltz, and somehow their feet moved with it in a mystical harmony of their own.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Happier than I ever thought it was possible to be.”
Each time he looked at Tillie, more of the paralyzing grief he’d worn for nearly a decade fell away, until suddenly, tonight, with this smiling angel in his arms, he knew that the precious memory of those he’d lost had now expanded into the lining of his heart, and the pain of loss had at last found its balance.
Tillie’s father had announced their engagement a few moments earlier, and they’d been surrounded by a crowd of well-wishers until Frank led her to the dance floor. Now at last she was in his arms.
Frank turned her toward an alcove where they could be alone.
“I love you, Tillie,” Frank whispered in her ear when they were hidden away. “You made me a very happy man tonight.”
“And you made me a very happy woman,” she said, sitting on the cushioned bench inside the alcove.
Frank sat beside her, then leaned in for a long-awaited kiss. “When I think of how much I dreaded coming to Cherrywood with Lord Beckett, I want to laugh. I had no idea that this journey would change my life.”
“Every family should have their own miracle-maker,” Tillie sighed. “And we have my Uncle John.”
“I’ll have you know your Uncle John is no angel, but he certainly has made this Christmas magical.”
Their embrace was cut short when George and Corrine found them. “I thought I saw you two sneak in here,” George said.
Frank and Tillie rose and stepped outside the alcove. “Is everyone having a good time?” Tillie asked.
“From the rising volume of conversation and laughter, I’d say everyone is having a marvelous time,” George said. “How about you, Tillie? Are you having a good time?”
Tillie lifted her gaze to Frank’s. “Truly magical. I’ve never been happier.”
“I’d say, then, that my sister is the only person here who hasn’t yet embraced our Twelvetide cheer,” Corrine added.
Tillie looked around the ballroom until her gaze rested on Felicity. She was sitting on a chair set against the wall. Although there was an expression that might have passed for a smile to anyone not looking too closely, it was obvious her smiled was forced and she wasn’t having a good time at all.
“I think I’ll go over to her,” Tillie said.
“We’ll come with you,” Corrine said.
“No, let me talk to her. I’ll see if I can get her to join us. If I can,” Tillie said, “be sure to ask Felicity to dance, George.”
George nodded, and Tillie walked across the dance floor to where Felicity sat.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re having a good time,” Tillie said when she’d taken the chair beside Felicity. “It’s obvious you aren’t enjoying yourself.”
“Oh, Tillie, truly I am—”
“No, you’re not,” Tillie interrupted. “And I believe I know why.”
Felicity lowered her gaze to her lap for a moment, then looked up. “As hurt as I am by Jameson’s treatment of me earlier, and his horrid threats in those awful letters, I can’t bring myself to think he’s irredeemable.”
Tillie placed her hand over Felicity’s hands. “You have such a generous heart, Felicity. Hopefully, in time, Penview will discover that.”
Felicity gave her a sad smile, then they turned their attention on Lord Beckett who was approaching them with a merry smile on his face.
“There you are, my dear,” he said holding out his hands to Tillie. “My heartiest congratulations.”
Tillie rose. Instead of taking her uncle’s hands, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a sincere embrace. “I have you to thank for this wonderful evening, Uncle. If you hadn’t brought the major with you, I would never have met him.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “And I would have never found the love of my life.”
“I brought you a special gift,” Lord Beckett said, “but I seem to have forgotten it in the study.”
“I can get it,” Tillie said with a smile on her face.
“No, I couldn’t allow you to fetch your own gift. I will go for it,” he puffed, feigning exhaustion, “after I’ve rested a bit.”
“I’ll go,” Felicity said rising to her feet. “I’ve been sitting long enough. I don’t want anyone to think I’ve been confined to this corner.”
“Thank you, my dear. You’ll find it in the study. I placed the gift on the left corner of the mantel.”
Felicity hurried off and Tillie turned to her Uncle John.
“She’s fairly heartbroken, you know.”
“Ah yes. At the moment I would say she is. But that could change.”
Tillie huffed. “I don’t see how. Penview has behaved so abominably I doubt she’ll recover from the embarrassment.”
Uncle John gave her a long look, then turned his head to peer across the courtyard to the study window in the east wing that sat opposite the ballroom. He lifted a finger to direct Tillie’s attention there, just as the glow of a lamp suddenly flared in the dark window across the way.
A moment later Felicity was framed in the window as she reached for the gift Uncle John had left on the mantel. But before she took hold of it, something startled her and she whirled about.
A figure rose from a wing-backed chair.
Penview.
“Oh no!” Tillie’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Never fear, dear girl. Just wait and watch. Wait and watch.”
Felicity’s posture showed her displeasure, and Tillie’s heart went out to the poor girl. But it was Penview who drew her attention. His pompous, egotistical pose was gone, and in its place stood a young man whose head was bowed in shame. He was saying something to Felicity.
“What do you suppose—”
“Ah-ah-ah! Wait and watch. Wait and watch.”
His long finger waved toward the window as he spoke.
The two figures exchanged words, and a moment later Felicity stepped toward Penview. Not in a challenging way, but in such a way that it was clear she was offering support.
He shook his head and turned slightly away. His hand swept roughly through his hair.
Felicity stepped closer. Penview’s shoulders shook as if he spoke with abject emotion, and a moment later Felicity moved close enough to place a hand on his arm.
He straightened, then turned. Her lips moved, and with each word he seemed to straighten more.
“They’re reconciling!” Tillie cried. “Uncle John, did you—”
Tillie turned to embrace her uncle.
But the bench beside her was empty.
Chapter 13
“I’m telling you, he’s a matchmaker.”
Tillie reached for another kernel of popped corn to add to her string. It was quite long now, and took both Frank’s hands to keep the long strand from becoming tangled.
“And do stop eating the cranberries,” she scolded.
The pretty chain was nearly long enough now to stretch around the large evergreen tree by the summerhouse. Christmas wasn’t truly over for Tillie until she’d wrapped every tree in popped corn and cranberries for the birds and squirrels who were brave enough to poke their noses out of their winter nests.
“I doubt your uncle had any idea we’d fall in love when he demanded I lend your father my diplomacy skills,” he chuckled.
“Oh no? Well George and Corinne aren’t so sure.”
Now he laughed outright. “What do George and Corinne have to do with it?”
“Well, the Broughtons weren’t even going to come! But Uncle John wrote them and somehow persuaded the family to attend, and voila! George met Corinne and you shall never see a happier pair.”
