The Viscount's Christmas Miracle

by Erin Grace

  Her aunt was going to strangle her in her sleep for addressing him in such a way. But, blast it all, she couldn’t help it. There was something about the wretch that brought out her bad side.

  She looked up, expecting to find him ready to berate her, but instead found her feet nailed to the ground under the weight of his intense stare. The air seemed to rush from her lungs, her mind scrambling to thread two coherent thoughts together.

  He let out a soft sigh, tilted his head slightly and held her gaze in such a way that ignoring him wasn’t an option. ‘Are you always this difficult?’

  She swallowed then nodded as he stepped toward her. Suddenly, things about him she’d never noticed before stood out in striking detail.

  The way his coat hugged his broad shoulders. The fit of his buckskin breeches over his muscular thighs. And, his dark, tousled hair. Who would have thought windblown hair could be so appealing on a man?

  She cleared her throat, snapping her thoughts back to the matter at hand. And, just what was the matter at hand?

  Good heavens. What was wrong with her? But, now he was close. Why was he so close?

  He reached out and swept snowflakes from her shoulder. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No.’ Only her pride. She would throttle her sister and Annabelle for insisting she go riding without a proper habit. ‘Well, perhaps a little bruising, but nothing serious. I’ll have Mrs Jenkins make me one of her herbal poultices.’ Her pulse quickened. She hadn’t meant to raise the subject of her missing friend.

  He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Poultice? Then when she returns, I must ask her what she would recommend for pain.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘You mean she’s coming back?’

  ‘I certainly hope so.’ He smiled and tilted his head a little. ‘I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’d done away with the poor woman.’

  ‘No. No, you wouldn’t.’ A blend of relief and guilt filled her chest, making her heart beat race. Idiot. So much for Annabelle’s speculation.

  ‘Are you all right? You look a little flushed?’

  She glanced up, nodding as words failed her.

  By now his body was so close she could swear she felt heat radiating from his skin. Then an unfamiliar, but oddly engaging scent flooded her senses. Though different from when she spoke with him in the vicarage kitchen, she was stunned a man could smell so…so inviting. The warm blend of leather, linen and what she could only assume was intimately ‘him’, was indeed a far cry from the sour stench that always remained whenever Mr Dunford came to visit.

  Her body shuddered at the thought.

  ‘Your horse appears to be uninjured, just a little shaken perhaps? Do you think you will be able to ride?

  ‘Of course.’ Thinking straight, however, may prove a bigger challenge. Never had she been so muddled headed. Perhaps the near fall did more damage than she’d realized? She stepped away from him and began fiddling aimlessly with the reins.

  ‘Very well then, let’s get you home before the weather turns bad. The snows can be treacherous this time of year and you’re not exactly dressed for the cold.’

  She glanced down at her well-worn leather gloves and grimaced. ‘Yes. It is getting late. I had promised my aunt I would be back in time to cook dinner. She doesn’t like it when I disobey her.’

  He nodded, though seemed captivated by her every move. His attentions made her strangely uncomfortable, but she couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

  He reached out and stroked Dobbins nose. ‘I didn’t see you at the service today. I thought perhaps you were angry with me for the way I treated you at Mrs Jenkins’s. I was a complete ass. I hope you can forgive me.’

  She looked away, his remark catching her off-guard. After their last disastrous encounter, she’d considered the subject of his brother taboo. Yet now he was offering her an apology?

  Why the change of heart?

  Unsure what to make of the situation, she turned her attention to a loose piece of leather strap on the bridle. ‘I had been there, though much earlier this morning. I had helped carry in the various flowers for the arrangements.’ More like a packhorse hauling in baskets. Even poor Mr Gleeson had to lend a hand.

  ‘Ah, so I have you to thank for that extraordinary exhibition of flora?’ A wry smile curved his lips and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

  She opened her mouth to retaliate but stopped. Why that miserable…the devil was baiting her!

  Instead, she fluttered her eyelashes and smiled. ‘Not at all. You may thank my aunt. She takes full credit for all the flower arrangements. I am certain she would adore a visit from you in person. She may even ask you for tea.’

  As if responding to some unspoken challenge, his smile widened a little as he stepped closer to her, only this time she made no effort to move away. Was she mad?

  ‘So, after all her efforts, it would be very inconsiderate of me to tell her that, as a child, Henry was quite allergic to most flowers. Every spring his nose would swell up and he’d suffer endless sneezing fits whenever fresh blooms were brought into the house. And, although by manhood he’d seemed to grow out of most of his allergies, he still refused to have flowers indoors.’

  She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle as she imagined the horror on Henrietta’s face at being told her flowers were the epitome of the late Mr Holsworthy’s childhood suffering.

  ‘Oh. Oh, I do beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to laugh. At least, not at your poor brother’s misfortune.’

  ‘Why not? I certainly did as a child. I was a horrible little beast if ever there was one. Though Henry did give me my comeuppance.’ He reached up and touched his jaw. ‘He always did have a powerful left hook. Besides, I’d condone any subject that makes you reveal that smile. You should wear it more often.’

  The hue in his eyes had suddenly changed into a vibrant blue which near sparked with fire.

  Her throat constricted and every drop of moisture in her mouth evaporated like a shallow pond in summer.

  What was this? Humor? Wit? Charm? My God. He was human after all.

  Since meeting him at Nellie’s, she thought him many things, though none of them to be recommended. And certainly nothing she’d repeat out loud.

  Dobbin nudged her back, sending her into his ready embrace. Blasted horse. ‘Sorry.’ She pushed against his firm chest and pulled back, as heat flooded her cheeks, though he seemed unwilling to let her go. ‘I really should be going now.’ The smile faded from his face, but he didn’t appear angry, more disappointed.

  ‘Allow me to help you.’

  ‘Oh!’ Her legs were swept from under her before she could utter a single word of protest and she found herself resting once more against his chest. Only this time she could feel the sturdy beat of his heart, and how solid he was beneath that shirt and coat.

  Such strength. He was obviously not a man to be reckoned with.

  ‘Thank you.’ Her husky words were a whisper at best as he gently placed her onto the saddle.

  He took her left boot and placed it into the stirrup. ‘I will accompany you to the vicarage to make certain you get back safely.’

  ‘Oh, no. No. Please. I can manage.’

  Flustered by the prospect of being seen with him by her aunt, she reached down to shoo him from the saddle, but instead touched his hand with hers.

  The brief contact sent a surge of heat hurtling from her toes to her head, filling her with a dizziness she couldn’t explain. Stunned and confused by her reaction, she tried to look away but instead found his face mere inches from hers.

  Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it pounding in her ears and all she could do was focus upon his lips. Full and masculine, they were the most desirable lips she’d ever seen. And before she could think better of it, she let out a small sigh, closed her eyes and softly brushed her lips over his.

  Once, twice…then the very stars themselves collided.

  Chapter 8

  ‘They require a lady’s maid at
Etford Park?’ Lily reached out and steadied herself against the back of the kitchen chair then slowly sat down. Remnants of the evening’s baking lay strewn across the old wooden table. Of all her efforts in cooking, she considered her apple pie the most decent so far. Well, at least it was edible.

  And, in the coming weeks her futile skills would be pushed to their limits. Around the kitchen sat linen covered bowls filled with brandy soaked dried fruits waiting to be transformed into highly questionable Christmas cakes and puddings. Countless mince pies, gingerbread and other ‘treats’ would be turned out and no doubt devoured by her aunt’s various ladies’ groups and parishioners.

  At first, she thought her aunt would make her stop cooking altogether for it was truly terrible. But, after catering to the good people of Speckles Wood for nearly a year now, she’d come to the conclusion that when it came to free food, people were rarely choosy.

  Henrietta paced the floor, rubbing her pudgy hands together, as her beady little eyes gleamed with a type of greed she’d never seen before.

  True, her aunt had always demonstrated a want of money and the finer things, but this time there was something about the look on her aunt’s face that sent a disconcerting ripple along her skin.

  ‘Yes. Yes! Haven’t you been listening? Foolish girl. Captain Holsworthy has a guest who is without a lady’s maid and he asked me…me, to assist him in finding a suitable replacement. Well, truth be known he’d actually asked your uncle to consult me on his behalf, but it doesn’t signify. Oh, you have no idea what an incredible honor this is. He must have been so pleased by my efforts with the funeral flowers. Just imagine what my ladies committee will think of a Holsworthy needing my humble assistance.’

  ‘And, have you found someone?’ She regretted the question the moment the words left her mouth. She had a terrible feeling about what was to come.

  ‘Well, I did have to give the matter serious consideration, of course. After all there were so many suitable candidates. Mrs Edgley’s daughter, for one. What a lovely girl, and such pretty manners…’

  Sybil could also talk the wheel off a cart.

  ‘…And then there was Mrs Cranford’s niece, Hazel, who is most excellent at needlepoint. But, considering my position, and my dedication to home and charity, I have decided that you should go.’

  A cold ball of lead formed in her stomach. ‘No. No, I couldn’t.’

  Henrietta rounded on her so fast it made her jump.

  ‘Why not?’ Her aunt’s hands gripped her shoulders, fingers digging deep into the thin fabric until it grew so painful she swore her skin had been cut. ‘You are always complaining about your lot. And when a golden opportunity arises to make something of yourself, you refuse it!’

  She winced and tried to shift from her aunt’s tight grip, but to no avail. ‘Could I at least consider it?

  Henrietta let go and flung her arms skyward.

  ‘Stupid girl. Who do you think you are? Making the captain wait at your leisure.’

  ‘It is not at my leisure. I could answer him tomorrow. Though I think I must decline his offer. I don’t know the first thing about being a lady’s maid.’ Lord. If there wasn’t already a color red deeper than magenta, then Henrietta had just invented a new shade. The woman looked like she was about to have an apoplexy.

  ‘I shall not hear of such utter nonsense!’ She blinked as Henrietta’s shriek shook dust from the ceiling beams. ‘You have been far too spoilt for far too long. Just who do you think you are, my girl? You come here with little more than the clothes on your back. I take you in out of the goodness of my heart. I clothe you. Shelter you. Feed you and your ravenous family.’

  ‘Ravenous? A sparrow could barely survive on what you allow us. We get the table scraps and soup.’

  ‘Oh, so mighty and proud, are we? There is nothing wrong with what you are given, and all at my expense.’

  She crossed her arms. ‘Don’t you mean my uncle’s expense?’

  ‘Such brazen impertinence I have never seen. Our income comes from Lord Etford’s gracious mercy, an income that is barely enough to sustain two of us, yet we share without quarrel. If anything, you should be thanking his lordship on your hands and knees for the position and be grateful about it. Besides, there is little point in arguing. I have already informed the captain of your acceptance. Do you dare inform your uncle you choose otherwise?’

  Her mind began to spin, and she raised her fingers to her temples and rubbed them.

  Yes, she had long thought about leaving the wretched place, but not like this.

  She didn’t know the first thing about being a maid. Why couldn’t the captain have been in need of a governess instead?

  Henrietta’s complexion faded to pale pink as she examined the cooling apple pie on the windowsill.

  ‘I see you are thinking the notion over. While you are thinking, you may wish to consider your dear mother.’

  She looked up, brow furrowed. ‘What about?’

  Henrietta inhaled deeply, let out a sigh of satisfaction then picked off a piece of pastry crust from the pie and popped it into her mouth.

  ‘If you were to start earning an income, then perhaps you could help pay her share of your board.’ Her aunt licked the crumbs from the tips of her fingers then helped herself to another bit of crust. ‘Just think about how many more goods she could make and sell with her profits.’

  ‘Are you saying that you would take my money instead of my mother’s?’

  Henrietta fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Precisely. You see, by accepting the post, you would be doing the right thing for all concerned. You would be helping with your family’s keep, allowing your dear Mama to save some extra money, and even earn something for yourself. What isn’t there to appreciate about the opportunity, hmm? Not to mention you would be living in such a fine house. Imagine the quality food! You could not possibly want for more.’

  Except to stay as far away from the captain as possible.

  After their encounter earlier this afternoon, she didn’t think she could ever look him in the eye again. Hoyden. How could she have kissed him? Surely, he must detest her beyond measure. And, yet, he hadn’t rejected her aunt’s offer to have her serve as a maid. Perhaps he wishes to use the opportunity to take his retribution? Or worse, subject her to ridicule she no doubt deserved. Blast it all. Living under the same roof with him would be intolerable.

  Regardless, there was little choice.

  Henrietta was right. She would take the position and try her best. It was all she could do. And, at least while the job lasts, she would help her mother save a little money, and even put a few coins away herself. She would need money if she planned to leave Speckles Wood.

  Her stomach tightened, but she nodded all the same. ‘Very well. I shall take the post.’

  ‘Ah. Now you are seeing reason, and about time too.’ Henrietta had already helped herself to a large portion of the pie and was adding a generous dollop of fresh double cream. ‘I shall expect half of your wages every week.’

  ‘Half?’ But, she wouldn’t even be living here anymore.

  ‘Naturally.’ Her aunt nudged the kitchen door open with her hip and paused before entering the hall. ‘As I said, it takes a lot to run this household. Three extra mouths to feed and all. I’m sure you wouldn’t begrudge the extra for your mother and sister.’

  And, before she could reply she was left alone in the room. Sagging in the chair she let go a deep sigh.

  Perfect. A maid. Worse. A maid at Etford Park. She was trapped.

  Gabriel sat in the seclusion the library, cognac in hand as he watched the last glowing embers of a dying fire. The mantel clock struck three times, its metallic chime echoing in the early morning silence.

  It wasn’t unusual to find him still awake at such an ungodly hour, quite the contrary. But this wasn’t London with its endless soirees, clubs and distractions. No. This was Etford Park.

  Yet, it wasn’t his ennui keeping him awake this time, nor was it the nightmares
of battlefields and fallen soldiers. Lord knew the day had been one of the longest in his life, exhausting to say the least. After all, it wasn’t everyday day a man buried his only brother.

  Yet, still it was other thoughts keeping him from slumber. Thoughts of Lily Bowden and that blasted kiss.

  His body quivered, loins tightened at the memory of the most erotic experience he’d ever encountered. If he hadn’t been certain of her innocence, he could have easily hailed her as the most skilled courtesan in all of England.

  When he’d caught her riding along the hill, he suspected he glimpsed a side of her she kept well hidden from view. Her lovely countenance was fresh and untainted by powder or paint. Her eyes sparked with such intelligence and honesty he felt unwittingly obliged to reveal aspects of himself he hadn’t visited for a very long time.

  He was even shocked to find himself smiling in her presence.

  So long he’d thought to have conquered his own emotions, locking them away securely where they could never be toyed with again. And yet, here was this slip of a girl doing just that.

  When had he become so weak?

  And, now she would be working within the walls of his home. Why hadn’t he rejected Mrs Talbot’s suggestion to have Lily as Cecily’s maid? He clearly hadn’t been thinking straight at the time. Having Lily there would be too tempting, too hard not to take up where they’d left off this afternoon.

  Especially as he was due to marry Cecily soon.

  His former fianceé wasn’t naive enough to believe theirs was a love match. Far from it. They both knew where they stood and would have to accept that apart from their union in name only, they would forever lead separate lives.

  Another relationship, of any kind, had been the last thing he was looking for. But one thing struck true. He wasn’t prepared to share Lily with any other man.

  What could he offer? He’d already made up his mind to have her. And, if she agreed to be his mistress, he would give her everything she desired. Jewels. Clothes. Money. Not to mention a palatial townhouse in a fashionable part of London. Surely, if her kiss was any indication of the desire she felt for him, then she’d have no reason to refuse him. After all, she was a sensible, independent girl and certainly not the kind to expect something such as love.