Christmastide With His Countess

by Ellie St. Clair

  Relief descended upon Scarlett when the ladies finally retired to the drawing room. As she rounded the table, eyeing Hunter beginning to light his cheroot, he reached out a hand to take hers, giving it a gentle squeeze and bestowing upon her a small smile before she continued on her way. It was so quick she wasn’t sure anyone else noticed, but warmth began to spread through her chest at the fact that he had taken a moment to show her that he did appreciate her — that he was thinking of her, despite Lady Raymond’s attempts at stealing all of his attention.

  She couldn’t help her returned smile, though she felt her mother’s hand on her back, urging her into the next room.

  Scarlett chose a seat on the rose-patterned upholstery of the settee but had to stifle a groan when Lady Raymond settled in beside her, her pink skirts floating prettily around her ankles.

  “Oh, heavens, I ate far too much,” the woman said with a laugh. “I keep telling myself I must stop, or I will soon be much too round, but then dinner is set in front of me and I just can’t help myself! How I long for a figure like yours, Lady Oxford.”

  Lady Raymond smiled at her and shame began to work its way into Scarlett’s stomach, as she wondered if perhaps she had read too much into Lady Raymond’s former actions. The woman had been nothing but kind to her and perhaps she was just being friendly with Hunter, catching up with an old acquaintance. Scarlett was simply being the jealous wife, schooled from years of her mother’s own doubts and suspicions.

  “And I would love to have curves such as yours,” Scarlett responded truthfully as she regarded her own average height, average size, slightly too-small breasts.

  Lady Raymond smiled at her conspiratorially.

  “You are a lucky woman, Lady Oxford,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

  “Oh?”

  “Your husband is the most wonderful man I know,” she said with a wistful sigh, and then giggled at Scarlett’s raised eyebrows. “Oh, I know I shouldn’t say such things. Jeremy is a nice enough man to be sure, but when we were younger, I had always hoped that Hunter would see me as more than the friend of his little sister. I took a long time for me to grow into a woman, you see. It wasn’t until after I was married to Jeremy that I convinced myself it was time that I show Hunter just how womanly I could be, if you know what I am saying. You don’t mind me telling you these things, I hope? It’s just that from your own disregard for your husband and your preference to spend most of your time apart, I am under the assumption that yours was more of an … arrangement. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  Lady Raymond leaned back, the smile still on her face, her eyes crinkling in the corners as though they were young girls sharing secrets. Only that wasn’t the case at all. This woman was speaking of Scarlett’s husband as though he were nothing more than a toy to be shared, to be preferred by one woman over another. How dare she? Anger grew in Scarlett’s belly, burning so hot that when she tried to speak it came out as a sputter.

  “I— Lady Raymond, I think— that is not—”

  “Oh, I’ve shocked you. I’m so sorry. I know that I should be better. Jeremy is always telling me that I need to watch my words. I do, but it’s just the two of us now and we understand one another, I believe.”

  “We do not understand one another,” Scarlett hissed. “You are speaking of my husband, Lady Raymond, and I will not be part of this conversation one moment longer. You have insulted me and my marriage, and I will not have it. Please keep your distance from the two of us.”

  “Scarlett?” Lavinia came wandering over to the two of them, a look of concern on her face. “Is anything the matter?”

  “Nothing to be concerned of, Nia,” she said, not wanting to embroil Hunter’s sister in a conflict that involved her friend. Scarlett stood and sat down at the pianoforte instead. She wasn’t proficient, but she would do anything to get away from Lady Raymond and her vile words. “Nothing at all.”

  19

  Scarlett was unusually quiet on the sleigh ride home. Hunter only wished he could ask her whatever was the matter, but with her mother sitting next to them, he knew he couldn’t trust that she would be completely open and honest, and so instead he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a moment to rest on the short ride home, tired from his lack of sleep the night before. The thought made him smile, and he looked forward to the night to come.

  Well, hopefully, he thought, opening an eye to look at his wife, who was gazing out at the passing landscape. Her freckled nose was slightly wrinkled, her brow furrowed, and he wondered what it was she was thinking about.

  When they returned to the house, he didn’t give her a moment alone to begin brooding over whatever was bothering her. He hadn’t known her long, but he had come to realize that Scarlett had a tendency to work things over in her mind until she made them into something much more than they were, which could only lead to all sorts of misconceptions.

  He followed Scarlett’s silvery gown through Stone Hall. The light of the moon filtering in through the windows and shined off the fabric, and she looked as though she was an elfin princess among the boughs and holly lining the room. She was nearly to the stairs when he reached out and caught her against him.

  “Hunter?” she asked, looking up at him in surprise. “Is something the matter?”

  “You’re being careless,” he said, looking down at her. “You walked right under the mistletoe and didn’t even notice.”

  He didn’t give her a moment to think, but brought his head down, his lips coming to hers, kissing her softly, gently, showing her that his feelings toward her were more than just passion — that he loved her and wanted her to be with him, to show him the same expression back.

  While she had never said as much to him, he could feel the returning pressure of her lips, and it gave him hope — hope that she would remain with him, would no longer turn him away.

  Hunter broke the kiss, and placed a hand at her back, leading her through the corridor to her bedchamber. He didn’t leave her there, however — he followed her in, and when she turned and noticed that he wasn’t leaving, she sat down on the edge of the bed while he stoked the fire in the grate. Apparently, the servants hadn’t yet returned to their duties, for the room had a chill to it. He noted Scarlett pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and he wanted to go to her, to warm her in ways that would be much more entertaining, but first, he needed this moment to have a frank conversation.

  “Scarlett,” he said, sitting down in the chair next to the fire, “would you like to tell me what is bothering you?”

  She looked from one side to the other, until she finally met his gaze with a sigh. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Lady Raymond.”

  “Madeline?” he asked. He wasn’t entirely surprised. Madeline had been slightly overeager in her attentions toward him, but he had known her his entire life, as she had been one of Lavinia’s best friends since childhood. Her flirtatiousness at dinner was nothing new; it was just how she was. She had always had a bit of a tendre for him, but that was just the remains of girlish infatuation. Though, if Scarlett cared so much, did that mean that she felt something toward him? Hope began to build anew.

  “Yes, Madeline,” she repeated, flinging her name back at him. “Hunter, have you … that is … have you and Lady Raymond ever … been together?”

  “Been together? With Madeline? You mean, in a physical sense?” His eyes widened in shock and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Absolutely not! She’s … she’s Madeline. She’s like a sister. Nia’s friend. Don’t tell me you are jealous.”

  Scarlett began to play with her hair. “No, of course not,” she said, but her face told a different story. “She said some things to me, however, that made me believe otherwise.”

  “Oh?”

  “She told me that she has always been interested in you, but only recently showed you her womanly ways. And that she had no problems in saying such things to me because our marriage was simply an arr
angement and we care nothing for one another.”

  Incredulity coursed through him. Would Madeline really say such things? But seeing how distraught Scarlett was, knowing that she wouldn’t fabricate such a thing, made him believe otherwise. What reason would she have to create such a lie?

  “I’m sorry that she said such things to you,” he said gently, reaching out and taking her hand in his. “But no, Scarlett, I have never even thought of Madeline in such a sense. She is nearly as much sister to me as Lavinia herself. As to our own marriage — no one has any business speaking of it, though until this past week, I suppose that what she said is correct. But no longer.”

  He reached up, cupping her chin between his index finger and thumb. “Now, come here, wife. We have some business to attend to.”

  She smiled at him tremulously. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head as she bit her lip. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” he said, pulling her to her feet as he threaded his fingers into her hair. “Since I married you, Scarlett, I have been faithful to you, I promise you that, despite the fact that you have wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “Truly?” she asked, her eyes watering ever so slightly. “All those months alone?”

  He smiled ruefully. “I wouldn’t say they were an easy three months. But I always told myself that when I did marry, I would give it my very best, and, well, had I been unfaithful to you from the beginning, that wouldn’t have set us off on a good start, would it have now?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Not at all. You have been a good husband to me, despite how horrible I have been to you.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” he said, dipping his head. “I should have come to you sooner. I was too wrapped up in my work. I didn’t put any effort into what we had.”

  “I didn’t give you much reason to.”

  “I never much believed in what you call the Christmas spirit,” he mused. “But I think I’ve been convinced now that miracles do happen.”

  “Christmas spirit isn’t about what’s around you,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes shining. “It’s from within.”

  He kissed her then, taking her lips with his, drawing her flush against him. He hungered for her in a way he could hardly explain. No other woman had ever called to him like this before. He didn’t know if it was because she was his, or if it was Scarlett herself who made his blood pound through his veins, but he was desperate. He had been so long without her — or any woman — and now he couldn’t get enough.

  He picked her up, placing her on the bed, and began undressing her as though he were unwrapping a package. He began softly, delicately, but was soon removing her clothes in a frenzy. When he finally had her completely bare, he took a moment to appreciate the true beauty that lay below him before he undressed. Hunter tried to go slow, to take his time, but she hauled him to her before he could do anything further, and with a few quick movements they were gasping, groaning, and finally finding fulfillment with one another.

  It was glorious. As he lay there afterward with his wife sleeping in his arms, he never wanted to be apart from her again.

  Hunter should have left by now, Scarlett mused a couple of days later. The roads to London were clear, and the weather, while freezing, had held. Though she wondered exactly why he needed to leave so soon. He spent a good deal of time sequestered in his office, and now she wandered down the hall from her bedroom, knocking on the door before poking her head in.

  “Hunter?”

  He looked up from his papers. For a moment, his gaze was hazy, unreadable, but soon enough he came back to the moment, grinning as he saw what — or whom — his interruption was.

  “I’m sorry, I can come back later,” she said, taking a step backward.

  “No, no,” he said, beckoning her in. “You are always a pleasant interruption.”

  She walked into the room, running her fingers along his huge mahogany desk. The furniture in here was solid, the walls filled with portraits of previous earls. His father was the marquess, as he would be one day, but he was proud of this seat, which had become part of his family a few generations earlier.

  “Do you look forward to becoming the marquess one day?” she asked suddenly, the question falling to her mind, as she realized that her own role would change then too. No longer would she be the mistress of this one home, which had become so familiar to her.

  His grin faltered slightly. “No, not overly,” he said, leaning back in his chair as he contemplated her. “As you have seen, I am not particularly adept at running even one estate. I have no wish to oversee multiple properties. It means less time away from my duties in London.”

  She nodded, knowing better than any that what they wanted didn’t so much matter, as what would come, would come.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked.

  “Well, since you speak of London…” she said, finally turning from the back wall and sitting in front of him. “I was wondering when you plan to return. Do you … do you really have to?”

  He frowned, running a hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

  “We do not return to actual Session until the first of March,” he said, swirling his quill pen between his fingers. “But as you know, the truce papers were signed shortly before we left for our recess. I’m concerned about the outcome, it is true, and prefer to be involved in further decision. We think they are true papers, but one never knows for certain unless you are in the room when they are signed. Besides all that, there are matters that may not seem of great importance to most, but that matter to me. The child mills, the prisons, the asylums. I must garner support in order to try to create change. These things take time, and I need other lords on my side.”

  She nodded. She agreed with him, as much as her heart was telling her otherwise.

  It would also mean returning to London, to society. Did she want that? She could hardly handle one barbed comment from Lady Raymond. If she were to return to London for the season, those situations would be rampant. Could she do it?

  “I admire what you are doing,” she said carefully, not wanting to promise anything.

  "Very good,” he said with a nod. “Nia has been pestering me about attending her New Year’s ball. I’ll stay until that is over and then return to London, at least for a time. You are more than welcome to return with me, you know that. In fact, I would very much love you to.”

  She nodded but refused to commit to anything, though she appreciated the fact that he was allowing her to make the decision.

  “My mother said she will return home shortly,” she said, and while he tried to hide his relief, she saw it cross his face nonetheless. “I thought you’d be pleased,” she added, unable to keep the ire from her tone.

  “Your mother is wonderful,” he said, and when she raised an eyebrow, he continued. “Really, she is. It’s just that … she does not seem to be particularly fond of me.”

  “My mother worries about me,” Scarlett said with a sigh. “She is concerned that you’ll leave me, as my father left her.”

  “I will never do that,” he promised her. “Now—”

  “My lord?” Abbot interrupted him, and at Hunter’s look of consternation, he continued hurriedly. “My apologies, my lord, truly, but—”

  “But I would not wait and therefore your faithful butler felt it best that he hurry on ahead of me to warn you.”

  Scarlett gasped at the cold voice at the door, turning to see Hunter’s father enter. He had a similar look to Hunter, but where Hunter was warm and affable, the marquess was cold and calculating. The smile he gave Scarlett made her shiver. She had hardly spent any time in the man’s acquaintance — simply the morning of their wedding. Her father had conducted the other necessary arrangements.

  “Lady Oxford,” he said. “How lovely to see you. And the two of you together. When I heard word that my son was spending more than a week outside of London, I knew there was something that m
ust have been keeping him here. Attempting an heir, are you?”

  Scarlett gasped at his forwardness, looking at Hunter, who rose and came around his desk, standing in front of her as though he was protecting her against his father. She knew Hunter respected him and had worked hard to live up to his expectations, so she was shocked at the marquess’ rudeness toward her.

  “Father. What are you doing here?”

  “Wonderful to see you as well, Hunter. Your mother and I decided that we wanted to see our children at Christmastide.”

  “You both hate Christmastide.”

  “Yes, well.” He shrugged. “Here we are. Lady Oxford, a moment alone with my son, if you please?”

  “Would you mind providing us with a moment or two, Father? Scarlett and I were conducting some business, I suppose you could say. I will speak with you directly afterward.”

  “Business? With your wife?” He raised an eyebrow at his son. “Very well. I will have to go join the ladies.”

  Scarlett shot up immediately, his words bringing her to the sudden realization that her mother was alone with Lady Rockingham. From what she knew, Hunter’s parents were not exactly the warmest people. A barb from his mother could completely undo her own mother, who did not have a particularly strong countenance.

  “It’s fine,” she said, standing, placing a hand on Hunter’s arm. “I will leave the two of you. I’ll see you at dinner, Hunter.”

  She began to walk out of the room but her husband caught her fingers, pulling her back toward him, placing a kiss on her lips before he turned to look at his father, as though he had to prove to the man that their bond was one that was more than one forced upon them by their parents. Lord Rockingham smirked.