Jane Goodger

by A Christmas Waltz

  Boone stared curiously after the three women, who walked away, their heads together, their mouths flapping furiously. Only the youngest one looked back and gave him a worried look. “Why do I get the feeling they were trying to cause trouble?”

  “Because you are an excellent judge of character,” Maggie said darkly. “Those are the kind of small-minded individuals that make life here so difficult for us.”

  “Us?”

  “Americans,” Maggie said. “You might as well know that there are some members of the ton who look down upon Americans as second-class citizens. Or worse.”

  “Why?” Boone asked, clearly baffled.

  “Because we don’t have blue blood. There are many people who believe Edward married far beneath himself when he married me. Even my friend Elizabeth, who is from one of the wealthiest families in America, has seen some criticism—from her own mother-in-law even. The dowager treats her like a servant. It would be amusing if I didn’t know how much it bothered Elizabeth. For generations, the English aristocracy only married among themselves or to foreign members of the aristocracy. It’s only in our modern age that it’s become more acceptable to marry outside your rank. It seems so silly, but that’s the way it is,” Maggie said, as if she truly didn’t care.

  The lively music ended, and Boone watched Amelia chatting with her latest partner before being escorted off the dance floor and toward where he stood. “And Amelia. Was she expected to marry someone in the aristocracy?”

  Maggie hesitated. “It did cause a bit of talk when she went off to Texas to marry Carson. But at the time we all thought he was a wealthy ranch owner who could allow Amelia to continue to live the life of privilege she’d become accustomed to. A sort of Texas aristocracy, I suppose.” Too late, Maggie seemed to realize what she was saying. “But she was extremely fortunate to find you, and…”

  Boone forced a smile and raised a hand to stop her. “I understand,” he said. And he did. He was beginning to understand things all too well.

  Amelia didn’t think she could dance another step. She was happy, but exhausted, and feeling slightly guilty that she had abandoned Boone for as long as she had. She was about to look for him when she was waylaid by Emily, Beatrice’s younger sister, who looked delightful in a modest white lace dress. The girl had come out only last year.

  “Mrs. Kitteridge,” Emily called out.

  “Good evening, Miss Eldridge,” Amelia said coolly.

  The girl worried her hands. “I feel simply awful about the way my sister treated you at her house. I wanted you to know that I was not party to that, not at all, and that I’m so very sorry to have been in the room at all.”

  Amelia immediately warmed to the sincerity of the girl’s apology. “Apology accepted.”

  “I don’t know why my sister puts on such airs. You might think she was married to a duke instead of that odorous Lord Havershaw,” she said, giving a mock shudder. “Have you seen him? Honestly, my sister sold her soul just so she could marry a title. Now she acts as if she’s better than everyone. But the truth is, I believe she’s simply jealous. She was jealous of you last year when Mr. Kitteridge showed such keen interest in you, and now she’s jealous because, well, because Dr. Kitteridge is simply the most handsome man any of us has ever seen.” Emily’s youthful enthusiasm was refreshing after being faced with the dour looks from her old friends. “It was so romantic the way he couldn’t keep his eyes off you while you were dancing. All of us, my friends at least, were enthralled. We all vowed to forgo the title hunt and marry only for love.”

  Amelia looked at Emily and knew she was looking at herself a year ago, when she’d believed in romantic love, that marrying the right man could make all one’s problems go away. She felt old and weary compared to the girl standing in front of her—even though she was only a year older.

  “I appreciate your coming over to tell me,” Amelia said. “And it’s wonderful to know I can have a friend in Hollings.”

  “Oh, you do,” Emily said, smiling widely.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve neglected my wonderful husband long enough. He’s been very indulgent letting me dance the night away, but I confess I’m about to expire from exhaustion.”

  “I’d love to visit with you. I’ve always dreamed of going to America, of seeing a real live cowboy. I was too young to attend last year’s Christmas Ball, so I never did get a chance to see Mr. Kitteridge.” As if realizing she was entering forbidden conversational territory, Emily pressed her hand against her mouth. “I never do know when to keep my mouth closed,” she said, blushing.

  “You will learn,” Amelia said, laughing goodnaturedly. “And perhaps someday I will tell you the entire sordid tale.”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “Is it truly sordid?”

  “I shall endeavor to make it so,” Amelia said with a wink.

  It took her only a few minutes to find Boone outside, staring glumly toward the well-kept lawns of Meremont, even though it was far too dark to see much of anything. It was cool, but the air felt wonderful after the heat of the ballroom.

  “I’m sorry I spent so much time dancing,” Amelia said.

  “I don’t mind.”

  Amelia’s shoulders slumped. He should mind. A man who loved his wife certainly would have minded. “I’ve never danced with so many men in one evening,” she gushed, watching his expression carefully for even one sign of jealousy. Even though that had not been her intent while dancing, a small sign of jealousy would have been heartening. “During my first Season, I had to be more careful with whom I danced, but as a married woman, I can dance with anyone I please.”

  “Except me.”

  Was that a glimmer of anger? Good. “Yes, but you don’t mind. There aren’t too many husbands who would be so completely understanding. I’m so very lucky.”

  “Lady Hollings mentioned a Christmas Ball.”

  “The Rotherham Ball,” Amelia said, a feeling of dread hitting her. She would most certainly be invited, but would certainly not go. It was at that ball one year ago that she’d made such a fool of herself with Carson. It was at that ball she’d convinced herself she was falling in love. She absolutely would not attend. “I think we should send our regrets if we do receive an invitation.”

  “I want to go.”

  Amelia looked at Boone with complete surprise. “It’s a terrible crush and not at all fun. The people who attend are old and…and boring. And there’s dancing all night. Dancing and more dancing. I’m afraid I won’t see you all night if we attend.”

  “I want to go,” he repeated, this time with such steel in his voice, Amelia was startled. “I enjoy watching you dance.”

  She let out a rather unladylike snort of disbelief. “I’ve had my fill of dancing. Some of the people who go to such balls aren’t very nice,” she said, feeling desperate to somehow convince him that she did not want to attend without telling him the real reason why. “It’s not like in Texas where everyone accepts everyone else. It’s different here.”

  “Are you saying you’re ashamed of me?” For some reason, Boone seemed to be purposely antagonizing her, which was completely unlike him. He was being ridiculous, and she told him so.

  “If you must know, last year I made a spectacle of myself at the ball.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s of no consequence now,” she said, thinking it was better not to bring Carson into their conversation when Boone was already acting so jealous. “I’d just rather not attend such an event. I’m not part of that world any more.”

  “Then you are ashamed of me.” He’d been looking out to the gardens, but he faced her, his expression stony.

  “No, you ninny, I’m ashamed of myself.”

  “You have to face them sometime,” he pointed out with maddening, cold logic.

  “People can be cruel, especially members of the ton. They delight in other’s failures,” she said. “Why, some women I thought were my friends hinted that I wouldn’t be welcomed in the same
circles simply because you don’t have a title or means. There are some people who think less of me for marrying you and are rather delighted by my fall. That’s all. I told you it was silly.”

  “Is that what you think?” he asked.

  “Honestly, Boone, right now I think I should punch you in the eye for being so completely stupid.” Instead, she punched him in the chest, then stalked off.

  In two steps, he caught her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. She stared at his hand holding her arm.

  “Well, at least you’re touching me,” she said scathingly.

  He dropped her arm as if scalded, his cheeks turning ruddy.

  “Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve touched me?” she asked. “Do you?” She shook her head, horrified at the pleading tone of her voice. “I know you didn’t want to marry me any more than I wanted to marry you. But we are married.”

  He reared back slightly as if she’d hit him again. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be,” he said with dead calm.

  She gasped, and he looked incredulously at her, as if surprised that she would even react to such a cruel statement. “Do you mean that?” she whispered, her heart aching in her chest.

  “Why can’t you tell me the real reason you don’t want to go to that ball?” he asked with deceptive softness. “Why can’t you tell me that it’s where you met and fell in love with Carson?” He stepped away from her, his gray eyes as cold as the Irish Sea on a stormy night. “I’m an idiot. I fully admit it. And I’m jealous; I’m crazy with it. I don’t like men dancing with you, and I don’t like that you met Carson at that damned ball. I don’t like the fact that he kissed you, touched you, before I did. I don’t like the fact that you’re probably thinking of him when I touch you.”

  Amelia winced and made a sound of denial and Boone stepped forward, some madness consuming him. Maybe it was watching his wife in the arms of other men all night, maybe it was the way she smiled up at them, maybe it was the way they stared down at her, their eyes filled with unguarded lust. Maybe it was that he knew he wasn’t good enough for her, and never would be.

  You piece of shit. You little piece of shit.

  Maybe it was that he loved her and knew she would never love him. He didn’t know what drove him at the moment, only that he couldn’t stand the thought she didn’t love him, couldn’t take one more false smile, one more touch that meant nothing beyond the satisfaction of some carnal need. She was backed against the wall, looking up at him as if she’d never seen him before. She looked frightened, and he reveled in that fear. He wanted her to be afraid. He wanted her to feel something, anything for him other than pity or gratitude.

  “Boone, don’t.”

  He put his hand on her throat, gently. So gently he shook from it. His other hand braced the cold stone, and he curled it into a fist, scraping his fingertips on it until they hurt, a voice screaming in his head: Love me, love me. Please God, make her love me.

  “You’re scaring me.” He felt her swallow against his hand, felt her fear.

  He blinked and dropped his hand, pushing harshly away from the wall. My God, what was wrong with him?

  “I have to go,” he said half to himself. “Somewhere.”

  Amelia was silent, staring at him, tears coursing down her face. She had cried before, but she’d never cried because of him, because of his cruelty. He took a step toward her and she winced.

  “I don’t know where to go,” he mumbled.

  “Just go away,” she said, turning her face from him. “Just go away.”

  Chapter 20

  Amelia pressed herself against the wall, shivering, tears streaming down her face. How had everything gone so wrong? She’d never seen him so angry, never seen his gray eyes so cold. She dashed away the tears and took a deep, shaky breath, her heart slamming against her chest when she heard the French door to the terrace open.

  “Amelia?”

  “Oh, Edward,” she said, throwing herself into her brother’s arms.

  “What’s wrong? I just saw Boone and he looked like death. Did he hurt you?”

  Amelia shook her head, still clutching her brother’s lapel. “No. But we had a terrible row and he said awful things to me. He actually said that we shouldn’t have gotten married at all. He was cruel and Boone is the kindest man I’ve never met. I’ve never seen him like that.”

  “All couples fight,” Edward said, patting her on her back.

  “Not like that. I think he’s leaving me. I told him to go. Oh, Edward,” she sobbed. “I have to find him. He was so unlike himself. I don’t know what to do.”

  “For now, you have to get yourself together. Chin up, right? You can’t let everyone at the ball see how upset you are.”

  Edward handed Amelia a handkerchief and that almost made her start crying all over again, for it only brought back memories of how kind Boone had been to her when Carson had broken her heart. She’d dampened more than one of Boone’s handkerchiefs. She dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose with gusto.

  “Just leave it out here for now. We’ll retrieve it in the morning,” Edward said, looking at the sodden cloth warily.

  Amelia nodded and gave him a brave, watery smile. “How do I look?”

  “Like you’ve had a terrible row with your husband,” Edward said dryly. “But if you smile enough, people may overlook your red eyes. I’ll escort you around the perimeter and get you to your room. Then I’ll look for Boone once everyone clears out. It’s nearly three, so I imagine some have already left.”

  When they returned to the ballroom, it was clear that many of the guests had already departed, for which Amelia was grateful. She smiled and nodded and clung to her brother’s arm, nearly collapsing from released tension when they finally reached the hall that led to Meremont’s guest suites.

  “I’ll find him for you. Don’t worry.” He kissed Amelia’s forehead, before turning down the hall to Boone’s room, ready to choke the life out of the man who’d made his little sister cry.

  But Boone wasn’t in his rooms. He wasn’t in the house at all.

  Boone sat on the floor in the cottage and watched the sky lighten, his entire body numb. It was a blessing, finally, to stop feeling. To stop wishing that someone could love him. He sat like a child would, legs slightly splayed, his back against one wall, his palms facing up as his hands rested on his thighs. When Edward knocked on the door, he didn’t answer, simply shifted his eyes to the door and waited. He was so damned tired.

  When Edward entered the room, he stared at his brother-in-law without interest, and if Edward decided that Boone needed a beating for frightening his sister, he’d just take it. Just let him pummel him over and over like a ragdoll. He didn’t care.

  “You look like hell,” Edward said, coming over to where he sat. He dragged a nearby chair closer and took a seat. “Amelia’s quite upset. What happened?”

  “I think we both realized this was a mistake.”

  “What is a mistake?”

  “Forcing Amelia to marry me. Thinking I could make her happy. I can’t. And she deserves to be happy, to be with a man who can make her happy. I thought it would be enough, me loving her. It’s not. It’s killing me. Eating me up inside. Driving me crazy, making me say and do things I shouldn’t.” His hands curled into fists. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Edward let out a chuckle and Boone glared at him. “You are an idiot, I will give you that,” Edward said. “The first time I proposed to my wife, she said no. And I would have died for her. For a long time, it hurt like hell. When you believe the person you love most in this world doesn’t love you, it is hell. So, yes, I understand.” Edward pulled out a flask and offered it to Boone, shrugging when the other man shook his head. He took a drink, then capped the flask. “Do you know for certain Amelia doesn’t love you?”

  “Yes,” he said tiredly. “I’m sure.”

  Edward smiled and shook his head. “I’ll let the two of you figure it all out. I just wanted to make sure you wer
e still in England. I’ll tell my sister you’re here, if you don’t mind.”

  “Please don’t.”

  Edward let out an impatient breath. “You don’t strike me as a particularly stupid man, but I’ve been wrong before.” With that, Edward sat up and left the house without another word. Boone didn’t move, just followed his brother-in-law’s departure with eyes that burned from weariness.

  Amelia was waiting for her brother when he returned, and rushed at him the moment he walked through the door, pulling him into the privacy of his library. “Did you find him? Is he all right? Is he planning to leave? Oh, for goodness sake, Edward, tell me.”

  “May I take a breath?”

  “Edward.”

  “He’s at your cottage. He’s fine. And I don’t know if he’s planning to leave or not,” he said.

  “Oh.” She walked over to the nearest chair and slumped into it, completely deflated. “Is he really fine?”

  “Actually, no,” Edward said, and Amelia’s heart wrenched. “Let me give you some brotherly advice. Go to him, Amelia. Tell him how you feel. Please, for God’s sake, end the poor man’s suffering.”

  Amelia stood up and began pacing. “If I tell him I love him and he doesn’t love me, then I’ll be devastated, Edward. Truly devastated.”

  Edward busied himself at his desk for a time. “Bring him food,” he said, without looking up from his work. “He looked hungry and there’s not a morsel to eat in that house. If you don’t return today, I won’t be alarmed.”

  “Then you think…”

  “Just go, Amelia.”

  Amelia grinned and hurried to the kitchens to see what the cook could gather up for them. Running to her rooms, she fetched a warm cloak, and ran back down the stairs to the kitchens to pick up a basket filled with food. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Morrison,” she said, and fairly skipped out of the kitchen.

  He loved her. He must love her. Else why would he get so jealous of her dancing, why would the thought of Carson kissing her make him angry? As she walked, she repeated over and over those words, he loves me, he loves me. But when she reached the cottage, she stopped, her heart pounding in her chest. What if he wasn’t there? What if he was still angry? What if the man she loved didn’t love her?