Christmastide With His Countess

by Ellie St. Clair

  “Wait!” Marion called as Scarlett made to leave. “One more thing.”

  She came up beside Scarlett, fastening small diamonds hanging from wires to her ears.

  “Earrings? Oh Marion, I’m not sure—”

  “They’re small and tasteful, and they look lovely on you,” said Marion. “Have a wonderful dinner.”

  Scarlett let out a little snort but allowed Marion to send her on her way like a doting mother. If she didn’t know any better, she would think Marion was trying to push her together with her husband. But her maid knew her far better than that to think such a ploy might work — didn’t she?

  6

  Hunter ran a hand through his hair as he tried to concentrate on the numbers in front of him. Despite his protestations to Scarlett, her words resonated with him, and he resolved to determine if what she said had any truth to it. In his study, he found the general ledgers, though he knew Stone would keep the detailed records in his own office.

  Nothing seemed untoward, no funds missing, although the overall sum for rents did seem slightly high. He would visit his tenants and meet with Stone tomorrow, he decided, for a proper review of the accounts. Then after that, it would be back to London.

  But first, dinner with his wife.

  His wife. He didn’t know what to make of the woman. She was an enigma, and it was rather trying to determine what sort of mood she would be in. One moment she would let her guard down, showing him a side that was warm and inviting. And then the next she would be closed off once more, presenting him with that icy facade. He still wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve such treatment, but he was going to find out.

  He left his study at the same moment she stepped out of her bedroom down the hall. She didn’t see him, not at first, and he took the opportunity to study her side profile. She looked a temptress this evening in her crimson gown, the red shimmering in the glow of the light from the wall sconce. With her defenses down, her vulnerability emerged, the uncertainty etched on her face. It wasn’t a side to her he had ever seen before, and as he took her in, she became more human in his eyes and less of a puzzle.

  She must have sensed his presence, for suddenly she jumped slightly and turned toward him.

  “Lord Oxford,” she said with a curtsy.

  “If you call me Lord Oxford one more time, I swear I will…”

  “You’ll what?”

  He swallowed hard as suddenly all sorts of delicious punishments came to mind.

  “I’ll pelt you with another snowball,” he finally managed.

  “I believe I handled myself just fine earlier today,” she retorted but with a smile.

  Hunter held out his arm to her, and she took it tentatively. She was lovely, that much was certain, despite the snarl that came from within from time to time. He led her into the dining room, holding out her chair while she sat down gracefully. She was just to his left, his place set at the head of the table. It was slightly more intimate than a typical dinner, and he wondered if they had been placed this way on purpose. His dining room was comfortable, with its carved wall panels, watercolors, and tapestries, and despite the elaborate gilded chandelier and the fact that the room could seat over forty people if they wished, it still felt like the perfect setting for the two of them.

  “That is a beautiful locket you wear,” he said as their soup course was served.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, and he noticed the way she unconsciously caught the necklace between her fingers.

  “May I ask whose visage you carry inside?”

  Her cheeks turned pink, and his heart seemed to stop as suddenly the pieces of the puzzle began to fit themselves together. She must love another. That was why she hadn’t wanted to meet him, to marry him, why she pushed him away. She was—

  “My mother’s.”

  He let out a sigh of relief at the error in his assumption.

  “Have you always worn it?” he asked.

  “Since I left home,” she said. “We are close. Closer than most mothers and daughters, I would say.”

  “I suppose that may be because you have no other siblings,” he said, trying to do all he could to learn more about her.

  “I am all she has,” she said, biting her lip.

  “Well, your father is with her,” he said helpfully and was shocked at the dark look that passed over Scarlett’s face.

  “That just makes things worse,” she muttered.

  “Pardon me?” he asked, wondering if he had heard her correctly.

  “Nothing.”

  “Your parents are not agreeable with one another?” They wouldn’t be the only couple of the ton to not be amiable, that was for certain. Yet he hadn’t sensed any ill will at the wedding.

  “They get along fine,” she said, her posture stiff. “As my father also does with his mistress and other ladies, while my mother waits at home for him — the man she loves — to return to her.”

  Hunter was speechless, and Scarlett brought a hand to her hair, beginning to worry a strand that framed her face in response to his astonishment. He closed his jaw.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.” Her words came out in a rush. “Forget I mentioned anything about it. My apologies. I’ve ruined dinner, and it hasn’t even started. My parents are fine.”

  He sat there staring at her, as suddenly it all began to make sense. Why she held him at arm’s length, why she hadn’t wanted to marry. She didn’t want to end up like her mother. She was like a wounded dog, lashing out to protect herself before another could hurt her even worse.

  “Scarlett, I—”

  “I said I do not want to discuss it.” She picked up her wine and took a long swallow.

  “Very well,” he said softly. “It must be difficult to be away from your mother now.”

  Scarlett’s lashes fell, hiding her eyes.

  “It is,” she said. “I do visit, though, as she is less than a half day’s ride away.”

  “Do you plan on seeing her soon?”

  “I had thought to leave for a visit when you depart for London.”

  “Ah,” he said, and the conversation died between them. Finally, he added, “I expect I will leave tomorrow after I visit some of my tenants and meet with Stone.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes flying up to meet his at his words. “You have decided to look further into what I have told you of, then?”

  “I have looked at the general ledgers,” he said cautiously. “I must do more investigating before I can accuse Stone of anything. I really don’t think there is any cause for concern, though, Scarlett. The man has been with my family for years.”

  “Then his word is worth more than your wife’s?”

  He took a deep breath as he tried to keep his patience.

  “I am going to visit them, tomorrow, Scarlett, does that mean nothing to you?”

  She shrugged. “It is something, I suppose. They will be pleased to see you, I am sure.”

  Hunter hadn’t realized his butler, Abbot, had entered the room, but he started when he heard him speak behind him.

  “I am sure they would like to see the two of you together,” he said, and Hunter turned to him in surprise. The butler didn’t make eye contact with him but also didn’t seem embarrassed at speaking so out of turn.

  “Perhaps they would,” he murmured as he turned back to his venison.

  And now that he finally knew the reasoning behind Scarlett’s reluctance to draw closer to him, he was going to do all he could to break through the wall she had built around herself, and find a way through. The problem was, he only had a day to do it, for much more urgent matters awaited him.

  Scarlett fidgeted with the stem of her wine glass. Why had she told Hunter of her parents? She hadn’t intended to share anything with him, but then it had just slipped out. Fool, she cursed. Now he wore that self-satisfied grin as though he had figured out everything about her. It was but one piece of information. In reality, he knew nothing.

  She desperately searched f
or a way to change the subject, suddenly remembering Marion’s request.

  “I have a rather odd question for you,” she said, bringing the drink to her lips.

  “Yes?” Hunter asked, raising his head, and when his eyes met hers with such intensity, shock coursed through her, sending shivers down her spine, all the way up to her suddenly quivering center. She blinked rapidly as she struggled to release herself from his spell.

  “Ah, yes,” she said. “It’s about your valet.”

  “Spicer?” An eyebrow arched quizzically.

  “Yes,” she said, forging on. “Is he attached to anyone?”

  “Besides me?” Hunter asked with a laugh.

  “A woman,” she said sardonically.

  “Why?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “Are you interested?”

  “No!” she exclaimed, but seeing his teasing grin, she relaxed. “My lady’s maid, Marion. She had … questions about him.”

  “How very friendly of you,” he said, a curious expression crossing his face, and she tilted her nose up into the air.

  “Do you take exception with the fact that I see to the affairs of my lady’s maid?”

  He shrugged. “Not at all. Most ladies wouldn’t take the time to speak of such things with a servant, lady’s maid or not.”

  “I am not most ladies.”

  “That, Scarlett, I am beginning to understand.”

  She eyed him then, taking in the small smirk that teased the corner of his lips, and she wasn’t sure whether she should be complimented or insulted. She chose to let the matter rest and said nothing, but simply waited for him to answer her.

  “Spicer is unattached, as far as I am aware,” he finally said. “Whether he has interest in your maid, I have no idea. I don’t suppose you would like me to look into this matter?”

  “Would you?” she asked hopefully. She didn’t want to be indebted to him for anything, but Marion had done enough for her that she owed her this at least.

  Hunter sighed. “Fine,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “I will speak to Spicer, but that is where my part in this matchmaking business ends.”

  “Wonderful,” she beamed at him. The fact that he was willing to see to the affairs of his servants was promising, for then perhaps he would begin to open up to changes with his tenants as well. Tomorrow would be interesting, she mused. She hoped his eyes would be opened to all that he had been blind to, as he was always so focused on his affairs in London.

  “Tell me, Hunter,” she said, seeing the surprise on his face, and she smiled inwardly that she had achieved her purpose. “What do you enjoy so much about attending the House of Lords? I know many a man who is not nearly so regular as you are. Yet it is more important to you than all else.”

  He was silent for a moment, as he seemed to be contemplating her question, and likely considering what she might be insinuating regarding his attention to their marriage.

  “All who are part of the House of Lords have been born into the role,” he said, his blue-green eyes beginning to gleam. “It is a privilege, and yet many see it as a burden. I do know, Scarlett, that perhaps I should be a slightly better landlord, get to know the people, and all that. But we have the ability to create change, to make all of Great Britain a better place. Yes, some issues that come up may seem so small as to not be worthy of our time, but the truth is, what may seem like a tiny matter makes a consequential difference to someone, somewhere.”

  “I cannot say I have seen much change in the past number of years.”

  “No.” He shook his head and rolled his glass between his fingers. “This may be true. But I hope that will not be the case for much longer. There are … places, Scarlett, that you cannot even imagine. Where children work harder than a grown man should. Where prisoners or the insane are treated worse than pigs. And why? Simply because someone has been given the authority to treat them so? These people must be protected. And who else can do so if not us?”

  Scarlett stared at him in shock. He was not the man she had thought he was, not the man she had assumed him to be. She had thought he simply enjoyed his role in the House because it was a sort of prestige above most others. But he actually appreciated his capacity to do something with his position.

  “You are wrong,” she finally said.

  “What?”

  “I have seen some of these places myself.” She leaned forward on the table toward him though sat back hastily when she saw Hunter’s eyes dip near level with the table and she suddenly recalled her rather low neckline. She cleared her throat. “You are right, Hunter. We are born to play a role. And I believe a part of that role is to help others who are less well off than we are. I have been to hospitals, to orphanages, and visited with the men, women, and children, have seen what they needed, have provided what I can. And I think that what you are doing is admirable.”

  He blinked, clearly as shocked by her words as she had been by his.

  “So what you are doing with my tenants — that is an extension of charity work you have done before?”

  “I suppose.” She shrugged. “It is a start, anyway, though I should like to do more.”

  He nodded. “Scarlett. We seem to have similar goals, similar ideals. What do you say we stop working against one another and try to do this together?”

  She stilled, her fork halfway to her mouth. Did he mean it? It was more than she would have expected a man to allow for his wife. She paused. Was there a reason for his offer? In her experience, when a man gave a woman something she desperately wanted, it was only because there was something he needed from her in turn.

  “I would say,” she said with some hesitation, “we could discuss it.”

  “Very well, then!” he said, a smile breaking across his face, lighting his handsome features, and it seemed as though her heart flipped over in her chest. “Tomorrow, after our visit? Before I return to London?”

  “Ah, yes,” she said, disappointment crashing over her. One cordial conversation and she completely forgot the nature of their relationship and their two distinct lives, separate from one another. She well knew that the House didn’t sit again until March. Was he really that eager to get away from her once more? She should take this opportunity, however, to take hold of what he offered her. “Tomorrow.”

  What would the day hold?

  7

  Hunter knew better now than to look for his wife in the house. Sure enough, after he trampled through the fresh snow that had fallen overnight and entered the stable, there she was, making her rounds from one horse to the next. The woman loved the animals, that was for certain. He didn’t recognize the mount she had ridden the other day, and he assumed she had brought the horse with her.

  “Of course,” she said when he asked that very question as he strode into the barn, causing her to whirl around at his voice and the sound of his footsteps through the straw. “I could never leave Star behind. Why, he would have no way to understand what was happening or why we were being separated. We have also been together long enough that no other horse knows me as he does.”

  “He’s a fine horse,” he agreed, coming to stand next to her, as he stroked the horse’s mane, his hand less than an inch from Scarlett’s, their shoulders brushing. He could feel her stiffen beside him, and she stepped back, but not before her scent washed over him. She smelled like … spruce trees, he thought, and something akin to frankincense. For all he knew, it could have been some kind of love potion, for the way that it captivated him, pulling him toward her.

  “…take the sleigh?”

  Hunter shook his head, realizing that he had been so focused on watching her walk away from him, her hips swaying back and forth beneath her riding habit, that he hadn’t listened to anything she was saying.

  “I asked if you would want to take the sleigh out this morning.”

  “The sleigh?” What was she on about? “Why in heaven’s name would we want to take the sleigh? It’s old and it’s cumbersome, and it will take us much longer to trav
el from one place to the next.”

  “Not today,” she said, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “Did you not just walk across the same yard that I did? It’s covered in a foot of snow! The wheels of the carriage are likely to become stuck and then you will never find your way back to London. We cannot simply ride the horses as I have items to take with me. Besides,” she said, chewing her lip and a wistful look came over her eye. It was then he knew that she had him. How could he say no to a face like hers, the one time she asked something of him? “It’s near Christmas, and a sleigh ride is always fun this time of year.”

  It was his turn to bristle. She had shown him not an ounce of warmth, but suddenly she was the type of woman who became nostalgic over Christmastide celebrations? “Christmas is but another day on the calendar, Scarlett,” he said, shaking his head. “There is nothing significant about the day, besides the fact it is a religious holiday, and all the sleigh rides and dinners won’t change that.”

  He had said it nonchalantly, but when he looked over at her, he was shocked by the incredulous expression she wore on her face. Her hands were on her hips, her eyes wide and her lips parted slightly.

  “What?” he asked, running a hand through his hair, which he never allowed Spicer to wet on his head, despite the current style. He didn’t have time to worry about vanities like that. “Did I say something to offend you?”

  “That’s … so sad,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “How could you not care for Christmas?”

  Pieces of dust and straw circled her head in the light that entered through slats in the wood of the stable, highlighting the beautiful planes of her face, and she looked so crushed that he felt guilty for a moment — which was ridiculous.

  “It’s just never been important,” he said, brushing by her, not wanting to discuss it any further, and seeing her staring at him so, those hazel eyes boring into him, made him want to tell her anything she wanted to know.