As though she felt his hesitation, she eased back, eyes wide with surprise as she put her fingers to her lips. Did that mean she’d felt the same spark he had?
“Oh.”
Yes, he wanted to say. He understood every nuance she’d put in that simple word. Oh, indeed. His hands, still on her waist, tightened of their own accord.
“You were saying?” she asked as she tried to step back only to be halted by the bench on which she’d been standing.
He tamped back his desire with the reminder that he had no desire to court a woman, especially this one who challenged him at every turn. If he weren’t careful, she’d be managing him as adeptly as she did his parents.
“You must take care for I fear my parents are quite set on their holiday, and it won’t happen without you.” He released her as he spoke, breaking the physical tether even as he forced himself to look away, needing to remove the visible connection as well.
“Of course.” She turned her back to him to adjust the folds of the drapes.
Why did he have the feeling he’d disappointed her in some way?
“Did you need me for something?” she asked.
Though tempted to share just how much he needed her, admitting it would serve no purpose.
“I found someone with a chunk of a Yule Log who is willing to share it with us.”
The delight in her expression as she faced him once again made him want to share news he knew would please her every day. She’d insisted not just any wood would do, that they had to have a piece from an actual Yule Log. She wanted to decorate the new log with holly and ivy then light it with the piece from a past one to cleanse the air from the previous year’s events and to guard against evil. He was in favor of protection from both of those. The log would be burned each evening for the twelve days of Christmas.
“How wonderful,” she said. “I’m sorry we didn’t have any to share, but my mother doesn’t like the mess of a Yule Log.”
“Not all families do.” His remark seemed to put her at ease.
“Can you imagine burning an entire tree as used to be the tradition?” She shook her head at the thought. “Imagine the risk of a fire.”
“Other traditions hold less risk.”
“It’s rather silly of me, but I’ve always wanted to play snapdragon. I suppose because I read about it in a book.”
“I’ve only played it a few times. Raisins that have been soaked in brandy are placed in a shallow bowl of brandy and the spirit is lit on fire. Quite an impressive sight in a dark room. The person who plucks the most from the flames and eats them wins. The trick is to be quick.” He smiled, wishing he knew her thoughts. She seemed almost embarrassed by how little her family celebrated Christmas. “We’ll soon find out if you will enjoy it as much as you hoped.”
A genuine smile came to her lips. “I look forward to it.”
Strangely enough, he found he was as well. The Twelve Days of Christmas were holding more and more appeal.
~*~
The next evening, Violet waited on the edge of the dance floor at the Morrison’s ball for Lillian Bartley to arrive. Her mother was already speaking with some of the other mothers.
Violet hoped her friend would provide the distraction she needed to enjoy the evening.
Violet hadn’t had a moment’s peace from her whirling emotions since her kiss with Baxter the previous day. Even now, her heart fluttered at the memory of it. Silly of her, she knew. It was only one kiss. Not even her first one, if she counted the time she’d been kissed last year by Andrew Crossing, a man she’d briefly fancied herself attracted to. The kiss with Andrew had convinced her otherwise.
She had to admit Baxter had provided her first real kiss. The kind that made one see stars.
And it had definitely caused her to see stars. Good heavens. Acting as if it had been of little note had not been easy. The problem was that she didn’t want to feel this attraction to Baxter. He’d soon be leaving.
He’d turned her world upside down, unsettling her in every which way. She didn’t like it one bit. In truth, she’d expected to have some sense of control over her feelings when she became attracted to someone. The realization that she didn’t was unpleasant. Uncomfortable. Maddening.
“Why are you scowling at the dancers?” Lillian asked from her side. Lillian had arrived in London in the summer and was now engaged to the Duke of Burbridge. The love match was one to be envied, though Lillian insisted it hadn’t begun that way.
“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Violet denied, only to realize she was still scowling. With effort, she forced a smile.
Lillian studied her, eyes narrowed. “Whatever has happened?”
“Why do you ask?” To her dismay, heat filled her cheeks.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen a less sincere smile from you unless you’re speaking of your mother. And now you’re blushing. Something is afoot.” She looped her arm through Violet’s. Was it a gesture of support or a way to make certain she didn’t escape before Lillian had found out more? “Do tell.”
Now that she finally had a sympathetic ear, Violet couldn’t bring herself to speak of the kiss.
“I’m waiting,” Lillian prompted, making Violet realize she needed to share something to explain her odd mood.
“I’m helping to plan a special Christmas for the Adleys.”
“The lovely couple who live next door to you?” Lillian had met them when Violet brought her over for a brief visit a few weeks earlier.
“Yes.”
“What a wonderful idea. And such fun.”
“It should be, except that their son has arrived home and is making the planning far more difficult.”
Lillian’s eyes went wide. “Baxter Adley?”
Now it was Violet’s turn for surprise. “You know him?”
“No, but I heard Lady Alice speaking of him at the supper we both attended last evening.” Lillian drew nearer. “She said they were quite close before he left for India three years ago and now that he’s returned, she expects they’ll renew their acquaintance.” The emphasis Lillian placed on the last word made her meaning clear.
That information brought back Violet’s scowl. “I can’t say that I care for Lady Alice, nor do my sisters.”
“She’s not a nice person, but most men seem to ignore that as she’s quite beautiful.”
“Humph.” Men were idiots not to see beneath her façade to her true self.
“Maybe we just don’t know her that well,” Lillian suggested.
Violet lifted a brow, not believing that for a moment. “I think she’s revealed her true self to us because she’s deemed us unworthy of being considered her competition. Burbridge doesn’t look at anyone other than you.”
“I do love that man.” She glanced down at the beautiful engagement ring on her hand as though to remind herself he was hers.
“And he loves you. What exactly did Lady Alice say?”
“Nothing much more.” Lillian studied Violet. “Why don’t you set your sights on the mysterious Baxter? If nothing else, it would annoy Lady Alice to no end.”
A denial died on Violet’s lips as the man in question came into view and moved directly toward them.
“Good evening,” Baxter said as he bowed, an amused glint in his eyes as though entertained by her surprise at his appearance.
Violet introduced him to Lillian, and they briefly exchanged pleasantries.
His regard returned to Violet. “Would you do me the honor of this dance?”
Violet didn’t need to look at her friend to see her pleasure at the invitation. Now that Lillian was engaged, she seemed to think all her friends needed to find love as well.
“I’d be delighted,” Violet said. And she was, no matter how much she told herself not to make too much of it.
He offered his elbow. Before she knew it, he’d swept her onto the dance floor, his hand warm and firm at her waist as the other held her hand for a waltz.
“Are you enjoying the e
vening?” he asked.
“Yes, and you?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment as though debating his response. That only made her more curious as to what it would be.
“Some things in London never change.” He sounded rather disappointed at the revelation.
“As in some people never change?” Was Lady Alice here, she wondered. Had they had an encounter of some sort? She didn’t care for the ache the notion brought.
“That is probably more apt.” Then he shifted his focus to her, causing her to catch her breath. Something about his close regard made her feel as if the rest of the world fell away.
“You are a refreshing change,” he said. Before she could ask what he meant, he added, “You look especially lovely this evening.”
Her stomach dipped at his words, especially at the way his gaze lingered over her gown. The pale lavender wasn’t a color she often wore as it made her think of her namesake, violets, and she’d been teased enough in her younger years to prefer to avoid the possibility. Choosing it as a fragrance was more subtle she hoped.
“Thank you. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I nearly didn’t come, but a friend of mine convinced me to meet him here. How nice to find you in attendance as well.”
He drew her closer as they turned on the dance floor. His moves were smooth and effortless, making her feel as if she were gliding instead of taking the required steps of the dance.
The result was lovely, and she couldn’t help but smile. “You’re an excellent dancer.”
The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “She says with a touch of surprise.”
She didn’t bother to deny it when it was true. “Perhaps we should add dancing to the Christmas festivities we’re planning for your mother and father.”
His gaze caught on something past her shoulder. Something—or someone—who caused a darkness to shutter his expression. It was as if he’d stepped away from her even though he still held her in his arms. “You’ll have to ask Mother.”
If she hadn’t come to know him so well in the past week, she might not have noticed his sudden withdrawal. Was it in reference to the dancing suggestion or something else? Whatever caused it, she didn’t care for the result.
Before she could discover anything more, the music swelled then drew to a close. He escorted her back to Lillian in silence, giving a curt “thank you” before moving behind her, quickly disappearing amid the other guests. Within a few moments, he stood speaking with Lady Alice.
Violet felt as if she’d been sampled only to be set aside for something better. Why had she thought for even a moment that she might be attracted to the man? She turned deliberately away, uncertain why his actions bothered her so much.
With effort, she searched for a topic to distract both herself and Lillian from Baxter’s behavior. “Are your brother and his lovely wife here?”
“I do believe you’re trying to evade answering my question,” Lillian said.
“What question would that be?” Violet fought the urge to search the dance floor to see if Baxter and Alice were now dancing, telling herself she had no desire to know. She didn’t want to see him look at Alice the way he’d looked at her.
“The one I asked prior to that dance,” Lillian said, a sparkle in her eye that Violet didn’t care for. “Why don’t you set your sights on the mysterious Baxter Adley?”
Violet leveled her friend a glare that might’ve wilted a weaker friend but only made Lillian smile broader. “I wouldn’t consider Baxter Adley as a potential suitor if he were the last man in London.”
The clearing of a throat behind her made Violet realize she’d said the statement louder than she intended. A long moment passed before she realized it had been a male throat that had cleared.
No. Surely it couldn’t be.
She quickly turned to face the eavesdropper to see Baxter standing directly behind her. His gaze held hers for a long moment—long enough for her to realize he’d heard every word.
The frost in his green eyes speared straight into her heart.
Then he stalked away, exiting out the terrace door.
Chapter Eight
Violet sighed as she tried to focus on the Christmas dinner menu that Mrs. Adley had asked her to review. The holiday was only a week away, so she was once again in their drawing room.
But Baxter was not. He’d been out each time she’d visited his parents since he’d overheard her cruel comment. His absence had stolen any opportunity to apologize.
Two days had passed since the ball when she’d declared she wouldn’t consider him as a suitor. Which had been a ridiculous thing to say since he hadn’t asked to be or called upon her or sent her a token or flowers or...
She shook her head at the long list that clearly proved he wasn’t interested in her.
Except for that kiss.
Oh, that kiss! The lilting sensation in her stomach had her drawing a long, slow breath at the memory.
If he hadn’t annoyed her with his quicksilver change in moods while they’d danced coupled with his interest in Lady Alice, she wouldn’t have said such a thing. She’d relived the terrible moment over and over. Though she didn’t think she’d actually hurt his feelings as that wasn’t within her power—was it?—she still regretted her words.
Sorely regretted them.
Wished she could take them back with every fiber of her being.
It was none of her business if he chose to renew his relationship with Alice. Never mind that kiss Violet and Baxter had shared. Did she think he deserved better? Yes. But some time in the middle of the night, she’d realized that if Alice was who he wanted, then maybe she would make him happy. He deserved to be happy. He was a good man who loved his mother and father and was doing all he could for them. That didn’t mean Violet had to like his choice.
Mrs. Adley had said he was seeing to some business affairs. Was it true or was he avoiding her?
She brought her attention back to the menu, trying to think of something helpful she could add. “Does Mr. Adley like roasted goose?”
“Yes, though we haven’t had it for an age.”
“Where is he?” Violet asked, realizing she hadn’t seen him for some time.
“He went on one of his rambles. He should be returning soon.” A frown marred her brow, suggesting she thought he was overdue as well.
“I hope he comes back before the weather worsens.” Violet rose to study the gray sky. A fine mist had started since her arrival at the Adleys’ nearly an hour ago. A sheen coated the street. She couldn’t help but shiver at the sight. “I wonder if it’s freezing.”
Mrs. Adley joined her at the window. “Oh dear.” She studied the area, her look of concern evident. “I would’ve thought he’d return before it grew too treacherous.”
Unease settled on Violet and refused to let go. “Should I go in search of him?”
The older woman paused for a long moment, as though considering her offer. “Let us give him a few more minutes before we worry. He hasn’t been gone that long.”
Violet reached out to gently squeeze her arm. “No doubt he’ll arrive at any moment and admonish us for our concern.”
Mrs. Adley gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure you’re right.” She turned back to the table where they’d been sitting. “Mrs. Watsford makes a delightful Twelfth Night pie.”
Violet nodded as she moved back to stare at the list. “I look forward to sampling her recipe.” The pie was made of chopped meat, dried fruit, sugar, and spices, some of which would be leftover from the Christmas feast. “Though I confess I’ve never eaten it all of the twelve days until Epiphany.”
“But if you don’t have some each day, you won’t have twelve months of good luck.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure if I believe in that particular tradition.” The topic wasn’t enough to distract her or Mrs. Adley from Mr. Adley’s absence. Although only a few minutes had passed, Violet couldn’t wait any longer. “Wh
y don’t I ask the footman to join me in searching?”
The sound of the front door closing had them both hurrying to the foyer only to find Baxter handing his hat and gloves to the footman. His black wool overcoat glistened with raindrops.
His gaze caught on them briefly before he turned his attention to unfastening his coat. “Is something amiss?”
“Your father has yet to return from his walk.”
“That’s not like him,” Baxter said, holding his hand out for his things before the footman could set them aside. “He usually avoids walking in poor weather. Samuel, why don’t you and I go in search of him?”
“I could ask a footman from my household to aid in the search.” Violet wanted some way to help as much as she wanted Baxter to forgive her. If only he’d look at her—
“With luck, we won’t need him,” Baxter replied, his gaze at last meeting hers, the flatness there making her regret her wish and causing her chest to tighten. “Samuel and I will have a quick look before we request more aid.”
“Then I shall come too,” Violet offered only to have Baxter raise a hand to halt her.
“Ice is forming on the street and walkways. ’Tis too dangerous.”
Though she wanted to insist it was the least she could do, and how sorry she was about the other night, she said neither. “Perhaps if I kept to the grass—”
“Wait here,” Baxter said as he donned his top hat, his tone brooking no argument.
The black hat made his eyes all the greener. Something about the sight made her want to step closer to adjust his overcoat so that it buttoned tightly about his neck. What was wrong with her?
With a last puzzled glance at her, no doubt because of the way she continued to stare, he and Samuel stepped to the door. “We’ll return with him shortly. No need to worry, Mother. Perhaps you could request that Mrs. Watsford prepare tea. Something warm to drink will be most welcome for all of us upon our return.”
“Of course.” His mother limped down the hall to do as he suggested.
“Baxter,” Violet pleaded, wanting to do something—anything—to help. And to apologize.
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