“At least this will all be over soon and I can be off home, away from these fools. Christmas in England is nothing like at home. They’ve no heart, only pomp. ’Tis a great sacrifice you make, for your people, to exile yourself here among those pompous fools in Parliament.”
“Please, for my sake, pretend to enjoy the day.” He had promised not to ruin the holiday for the children of the house, even though he had most certainly ruined it for Kate. No doubt she’d have infinitely preferred that he sneak into her room for another reason entirely--and sneak out again before anyone was the wiser.
And now he’d made her unhappy by cutting short her courtship games. Would she be gracious once the duke had announced the happy news of their engagement? Or would she choose the way of Maeve and make him pay in some fashion? He shook his head. The least he could do was to indulge her, if she did take a small measure of revenge. He needed her on his side, if he intended to accomplish his political goals. His home life would be infinitely easier with a willing wife, as well.
CHAPTER THREE
The dawning of Christmas day had been Kate’s favorite morning of the year for as long as she could remember. Even before the duke came into their lives, to marry Miranda and change their financial status for the better, she had loved the excitement of the day. The sight of the infant who appeared in the small creche during the night, the plum pudding baked from a special family recipe over two hundred years old, all held special significance to her.
In those days, they had not had the tree, of course. That was a custom added just recently. Kate had heartily approved the first year when she had hurried down the stairs to see the gifts which might have been left in the night and saw the first magnificently transformed spruce glittering with candles and crystal ornaments. Miranda had ordered the crystal to be handmade in the shape of fairy tale characters from her favorite fairy tales and had spoken not a word to her sisters about the surprise.
This morning, however, the sight of the tree only made Kate want to cry. Marriage meant leaving one’s family. Leaving the home she had come to love. She sighed, reminding herself that she and Sean would be in London. Though, on her dowry, they would not have a lavish life style, they would be more than comfortable if they were not so frivolous as to order hand blown glass ornaments for their tree next Christmas.
“Aunt Kate, do you see Rapunzel? I cannot find her this year.” Three year old Margause was a serious child, very much like her scholar parents, Hero and Arthur. There was a tremble to her lips as she asked her question.
“She’s up here,“ Kate reassured her, pointing to Margause’s favorite ornament.
“Good.” Shyly she added, “May I kiss her?” The ritual was one that had begun last year when Margause was two. Kate smiled as she lifted the ornament from the tree and lowered it. Margause kept her hands carefully behind her back and she leaned in to kiss Rapunzel’s crystal head.
“Thank you Aunt Kate.” Margause beamed now, her traditional Christmas task complete, freeing her to enjoy herself again with her cousins--Valentine’s rowdy boys, Edward and Henry, and Juliet’s mischievous son Will.
As she watched Valentine’s wife Emily cradle her sleeping daughter Anne in her arms, it struck Kate, with a moment of wonder, that within a year or two, she might have a child of her own sharing the joy of Christmas with the family. If only she could shake her unease at the way things had gone…
She could barely bring herself to look at Sean, who was much better at hiding his feelings than she, apparently. His smile seemed genuine as he heard the children exclaim at the sight of the lighted tree, at the opening of each gift. He spoke easily to her sisters and brother. The one thing he did not do, whether for her own comfort or his she could not say, was to approach her--or even glance her way.
Though she avoided the mistletoe hanging in the doorways, Kate was otherwise careful not to let the children see that she was not as joyful as usual on Christmas morning. She hugged each child after they had unwrapped the gifts she had given them--roses she had created and named after them. Her nephews thanked her dutifully, and then abandoned her roses onto the nearest convenient tabletop.
Only Betsey sensed her unhappiness, but even her dearest friend thought the feeling stemmed from a more prosaic source than it truly did. “They’ll appreciate such a present more when they’re a bit older—old enough to gift a favored young woman with a few dozen, I’ll wager.”
“Do you think?” Kate smiled, trying to imagine the energetic young boys growing into young men--suitors as importunate as Sean, no doubt.
“I have no doubt of it.” Betsey helped Margause, who had kissed her rose gently and was now struggling to put it behind her ear.
Kate was grateful she had had the wisdom to strip the thorns from the stem. She wished she could strip the thorns from her upcoming marriage so easily. She wanted to cry at the thought that she might never see her greenhouses again, despite the fact that the duke had promised they would be hers no matter where she lived. She wasn’t a fool. Roses needed a watchful eye, constant attention, even when they weren’t yet in bloom. As the London wife of a political figure, she would have little time to travel to the greenhouses. At best, she could supervise someone else’s work.
She comforted herself with the knowledge that Ceddie, a young stable boy she had stolen from the stables to help her in the greenhouses, was ready to take over. She would tell the duke so, too. The boy was talented and if anyone would be a good guardian of Kate’s work, he would be.
She had always known this day would come, but somehow, this morning, it seemed so heartbreakingly close. She sighed. There would, of course be compensations for her loss. Children. Sean. She shivered as a heat rose up through her to sweep away her chill and she glanced at him surreptitiously. He had been in her bed that very morning. Her fingertips still remembered the shock of his warm and muscled chest. The beat of his heart. Warm and strong and so very sure that marriage was right for them.
As she watched, a puppy with a red bow tied carelessly around its neck toddled over and sat on his foot. He bent to pet the pup with careless grace. She wished she could be as certain as he was. Could let go of the last of her reserve and believe they were meant to be, as he had professed. But, without her dowry, Sean would never have been able to consider marrying her, not that the sum would allow them to live in the lavish comfort that a duke’s household allowed her.
She glanced more openly toward her future husband, who was laughing now with Valentine’s oldest son over the antics of the puppy. One question quivered through her, stopped her from fully embracing the future with him. Would he want her without the dowry?
As if he knew what she thought, he glanced at her for the first time that morning and gave her a wink before turning his attention back to the puppy, which was intent upon chewing off the toe of his boot. He seemed so happy. So comfortable. So sure of himself. He sampled from the bowls of nuts and oranges freely, and his appetite was not impaired in the least when they all went in to Christmas dinner. He heaped his plate as dishes of turkey and roast vegetables were paraded by, despite the fact that the duke’s announcement loomed at the end of the meal.
Kate herself only picked at her food, pretending to eat so that her sisters might not notice that she was upset. Betsey, however, noticed immediately. “Kate, are you ill?”
“No.”
“I’ve never seen you turn down plum cake.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Don’t you want to know if you’ve been lucky enough to get a gold piece?”
She glanced at Sean quickly, and then back to her plate. “I don’t think my wish would come true, even if I did.” She pushed her plate toward her friend. “Here, you may have it, if it is there.”
Betsey turned to glance where Kate had. A merry smile brought out her dimple. “Are you ready to accept his offer, then?” Not for the first time, Kate wished her friend did not know her quite so well.
“No,” she answered, just as Si
mon stood to make his traditional Christmas toasts. The first of which, of course, would seal her fate forever.
“I have great news, very fitting for this day.” Simon glanced at Sean, and then at Kate. “Kate has, at last, accepted Lord Blarney’s request to be his wife.”
He allowed a moment for the natural congratulations that announcement elicited. Kate forced herself to smile, and wished she could feel the joy that emanated from her sisters.
Juliet could not resist teasing her, “I didn’t believe you would ever concede the battle to him, Kate. You seemed to be enjoying your wooing much too much to give in to marriage.”
The duke added quickly, as if to take attention away from Kate’s sudden pallor, “She has not only accepted him, Juliet, she has agreed to be married on Twelfth Night.”
“Twelfth Night?” Juliet’s look grew speculative.
There was a tiny hesitation in the smiles and congratulatory murmurs. Betsey’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened on a question, but closed without asking it after a sharp look at Kate’s expression.
Emily, Valentine’s wife did not seem surprised, but no doubt her calm demeanor was due only to the fact Valentine had told her what had transpired earlier. He told his wife everything.
Fortunately Emily was not one to judge, and her smile was wide and genuine, aimed directly at Kate, as if to reassure her that all would be well. Betsey squirmed in her seat in shock and Kate, afraid her friend might explode from curiosity, managed a gesture that conveyed she would tell all as soon as they were retired and in private.
There was some comfort in her family’s support, though. They obviously liked and admired Sean and did not feel that the match was unlikely to be successful. Much of that had to do with their opinion of Sean, she knew, because her family uniformly worried that Kate herself would bring wrack and ruin upon all she touched.
Perhaps she should trust her heart at last, instead of listening to the warning her head gave her about men who needed to marry for money. Perhaps.
She retired as early as she possibly could and was not at all surprised to hear the secret knock that let her know Betsey had followed.
She opened her door wide, near to tears. She hadn’t been prepared for things to move this quickly, but none of her sisters would sympathize. Betsey would understand.
“What will I do without you?” Betsey’s thin, strong arms embraced her and Kate felt the tears that had been threatening all day push behind her eyes.
“I hardly know what I will do.”
Betsey released her and stepped back, the blue eyes relentless as they searched her expression. “Are the rumors true, then?”
Kate blinked away the urge to cry and turned her head away as she smiled. “How should I know? Since I am the subject of the foolish things, I have heard not one whisper.”
“Of course not. I didn’t hear a thing until I went down into the kitchens.” Betsey’s voice was low, a habit they had acquired when they were the youngest girls and Kate’s sisters had been fond of listening in and reporting to Miranda any transgressions that might be revealed by the unguarded conversation. “They’re saying Sarah found him here, in your bed.”
“True enough, I’m afraid.”
“How did--” She cast about, as if searching for the polite way to ask the unthinkable.
“He climbed through the window.” She thought again of the tree, the danger, and shook her head at his daring.
Betsey asked, hesitantly, “He climbed through your window--”
She nodded.
Betsey’s ivory skin pinkened with sudden outrage. “If he hurt you I will not let you be forced into a marriage--“
“No. He did not hurt me. He didn’t even wake me. He only climbed in my window and into my bed.” This morning seemed so far away, so unreal. Except that she could feel the heat of him against her skin if she closed her eyes.
“He didn’t—disrobe?”
“And folded his clothes neatly right here,” Kate smoothed her hand over the seat of her dressing table chair. “Before climbing into my bed. Without waking me.” She looked at her friend. “Do you think Battingston, if given the chance, would climb into your bed without a stitch and then not wake you?”
Betsey ignored her reference to Battingston, although her cheeks pinkened even further. “He took off all his clothing, then folded his garments before getting into your bed? And he didn’t wake you?” She pressed her lips together and her blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you shouldn’t marry him.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s no good reason to refuse. I’ve only been tormenting him because I’m afraid.”
“You? Afraid?” Betsey smiled in disbelief.
“Terrified, actually. I know it is the way of things, nevertheless, I don’t relish the idea of being a man’s possession, with no legal rights of my own.”
Betsey asked quietly, “Then why have you even contemplated marrying the man?”
Kate shrugged. “I have to marry. I can’t live with Valentine and Emily, or Simon and Miranda my whole life.”
“I wondered if you might feel the same way I did, but I was afraid to ask.” Betsey said softly.
“You have no need to feel like a burden. You know how Simon adores you, and you are helpful around here. There is no one better with at spying out those rare herbs, unless it might be your mother. You will always be welcome here. I don’t think the same could be said for me.”
Betsey’s voice was warm with sympathy, even though her words stung. “If you behaved with a little more decorum--”
“Even so. I’d be like that unfortunate Lady Penelope who lives with Battingston and his family--one room and only let out to walk the gardens a share a meal with the family.”
Betsey stiffened. “Lord Battingston cares for his sister a great deal.”
Kate remembered the last time Battingston and his family had called. He had indeed been solicitous of his sister—much as he might have been for any burden in his care, relative or not. “True, just as Valentine cares for me. But still, men do not seem to know what to do with a woman who’d rather fence than float around a ballroom--although I do love the waltz.”
“I think you are simply frightened of the change.” Betsey said with sudden surety.
Kate wasn’t fond of change, but she didn’t believe that was the heart of her worry. “If it were only that simple.”
Betsey, however, was certain. Her certainty rode over Kate like a horse bearing for home and a bucket of warm mash. “Nonsense. You have never been one to welcome such a sudden change--especially one not of your own choosing.”
Kate felt a desperate need to change the subject before Betsey’s certainty had her heading for a wedding across the border just to rid her of all doubt. “Are you telling me that you would elope with Battingston if he asked?”
She’d hit a vulnerable spot with her friend, and she regretted it as soon as she saw the color drain from Betsey’s face. “Battingston has a duty to his family and I am only a governess’s daughter. Do stop speaking of him as if he is a beau of mine.”
“He loves you, everyone can see that. If he only dared to face his mother’s wrath, you would be married by now.”
But Betsey only laughed, a trifle wearily. “You are truly incorrigible, you know.”
Incorrigible. And hopefully marrying a man who would love and respect her--as well as not attempt to change her. “Let’s hope Sean knows it, too, shall we?”
Betsey had no sympathy for the man, obviously, as she answered tartly, “He deserves only what he gets, coming into your bed like that, shameful man.” A wicked glint sparked in her blue eyes. “Perhaps if he’d had the sense to wake you, you wouldn’t be so full of doubts now.”
Would she have? Kate wondered. “Do you think he loves me?”
“He acts as if he does, Kate, but does anyone truly know another’s heart?” Betsey had a faraway look on her face and Kate suspected she thought more of Battingston than she did of Sean. “If you
are truly not certain, perhaps you should explain the unusual circumstances to Miranda. Surely she would not force the marriage then? Or have you already explained to her?”
Kate frowned. “I wasn’t in an explaining mood when I saw them--they had already tried and convicted me anyway. Besides, everyone knows I’ve led him a dance with the intention of accepting him eventually.”
With a sudden frown, Betsey added, “I suppose that’s to Lord Blarney’s credit then, that he found a way to force your game to end, without actually taking advantage of your person.”
Kate was surprised at the conservative viewpoint from her partner in childhood crimes. “He wouldn’t have done anything last night he won’t do on our wedding night.”
Betsey shook her head. “Still, it seems gentlemanly to me that he waited--just in case he was struck down by a carriage, or some horrible disease before you could be married. You won’t have to worry a moment that you might be left with an illegitimate child.”
Kate was surprised how much the thought of a disaster preventing her rapidly approaching wedding distressed her--unlikely as it was. “I suppose you’re right, but I find it difficult to imagine the blasted man ever succumbing to something so mundane as a carriage accident.”
“Good.” Her friend grinned, all dark thoughts banished for the moment. “Then perhaps you’re not doing something you’re going to regret.”
“How could I?” Kate asked wryly. “If any man has surely proved his love and devotion, it must be Sean McCarthy. He could have broken his neck climbing in that window.”
Betsey laughed. “Good. Then keep that thought in your mind whenever you have doubts in the little time you have left before the wedding.”
“What? That he’s not likely to die before Twelfth Night?”
“No.” Betsey’s smile dimmed. “That he loves you enough to risk a broken neck to marry you.”
He waited to see what form her revenge would take. To his surprise, she did nothing but keep him at a wary distance, even as she spoke her vows. There was a look in her eye, a question. He read it easily enough. She wondered if he married her for her dowry alone.
A Very Romantic Christmas Page 18
