Emily sat on the recamier on scimitar legs decorated in black-and-gold lacquer, surrounded by mistletoe. Her modestly cut, manilla-brown morning dress with fine Belgian lace at her wrists and neck made her auburn hair glow in the light of the early afternoon. "Yes, I seem to be doing fine," Emily replied, glancing around the parlor.
Harriet, Lady Markston, and Susan were all on the far side of the room, working on the ropes of holly, rosemary, bay, and fir. Lady Susan was in the process of making a number of bright red velvet bows, some of which would be used on her kissing bough. A little ways away from the trio, Miss Turner and Victoria were working on a centerpiece of evergreen branches entwined with ivy and holly for the pianoforte. Actually, Miss Turner was doing most of the work, but she didn't seem to care. Victoria was doing her best to mind her manners, which meant that she was a trifle more subdued than usual. Thankfully, Wellington, her constant canine companion, had been barred from this specific event.
"Do you need any help with the kissing bough, Aunt Emily?" Victoria asked, glancing toward the mess that Emily had made around her.
And it was quite a sight. She had small piles of dead mistletoe that she had discarded on one side of her, and bits of wire around that. The apples were placed on the sofa table in front of her, along with the candles and ornaments that she would eventually attach. "Oh, I can always use your help, Victoria," she said, and was promptly rewarded by a bright smile.
"Miss Turner, may I go over and help Aunt Emily?" she asked seriously, and Miss Turner immediately agreed, if only to get a brief moment of respite from her duties.
Across the room, Lady Markston watched Emily and Victoria with a look of bitter disdain. "It's so sad," she commented to Harriet, a look of pity on her very obviously painted face.
Harriet frowned, glancing toward Emily and her daughter. "Pardon me, Lady Markston?"
Lady Markston shook her head slightly, causing the magenta turban complete with ostrich feathers to sway back and forth precariously. "It's so sad watching Miss Winterhaven with your daughter. She can't have her own children, so she's trying to be a mother to your little one," she said with a dramatic sigh.
Harriet didn't know quite what to reply. Lady Markston was the best ton, but her manners of late were leaving much to be desired. Finally, she took a deep breath and replied, "Emily could have her own children if she wanted, and takes a special interest in Victoria since she is her godmother."
"Of course," Susan chimed in, glancing over at the pair. "I know that Emily is a good friend of yours, but you do have to admit that her options are very limited. She doesn't travel in the best circles, and obviously doesn't have any expectations. It's really quite sad," she concluded with false sincerity.
Before Harriet could raise a word in defense of her friend, Lady Markston immediately said, "I'm so glad that we don't have those problems, dearest. Susan has had dozens of offers in the last few years, but decided to wait for Lord Stratford. He's been dangling after her for ages, and we expect to post the banns any day now," she concluded.
Harriet gritted her teeth, feeling less than charitable toward Lady Markston and her lovely daughter. "Really? Then I wonder why he's been spending so much time with Emily?" she asked before thinking.
Lady Markston tittered girlishly, which was a rather frightening sight. "Silly! Nigel feels sorry for her! He doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable around someone like Susan, who is obviously much more beautiful and cultured," she concluded with gusto.
"Oh Mama, you make me blush," Susan said, and Harriet decided that if the snow didn't stop, she might end up murdering one or both of the ladies.
Luckily, Miss Turner came over to consult with Harriet about Victoria's routine, rescuing her from her dreadful pair of guests.
"Excuse me for a moment, Lady Ashton," Lady Markston abruptly said to Harriet, and waddled across the room. Harriet's eyes widened in horror when she realized that Lady Markston was heading straight for Emily.
"Miss Winterhaven, you're doing the kissing bough all wrong," Lady Markston announced, somehow managing to navigate her rather robust behind onto the recamier next to Emily. "Here, let me show you," she finished, taking the bough out of Emily's hands.
Emily sighed and watched Lady Markston rework the kissing bough patiently, hoping to set a good example for Victoria. When she glanced over at the child, she was looking everywhere but at Lady Markston.
"Here, isn't this better?" she said, handing it back to Emily.
"Yes, thank you, Lady Markston," Emily replied primly, none of the dislike she felt for the lady apparent in her voice.
"You know, it's been pointed out to me that my future son-in-law has been spending a good deal of time with you. I hope you don't misunderstand his intentions," she said confidentially, a mean little gleam in her cold blue eyes.
"Intentions?" Emily asked, a bit puzzled.
A tight smile appeared on Lady Markston's thin lips. "You must know of his relationship with Susan. They are planning to be married after the holidays. If he's spending any time with you, it's because he's terribly good-hearted and feels sorry for you."
Emily's heart lurched in her chest. He doesn't like me at all, her mind cried in agony. He's just making some sort of game of my feelings, she thought, all of her insecurities suddenly taking over the logical part of her mind. "Really?" she said in a soft, barely audible voice.
Lady Markston smiled broadly, certain in the knowledge that her arrow had hit the mark. "I knew you'd understand. You should really feel quite complimented that a fine gentleman like Lord Stratford has taken any interest in you at all," she said, patting Emily on the leg reassuringly before she got up and left.
Victoria looked at Emily, who was obviously quite upset. "Don't believe her, Aunt Emily," Victoria said, her voice confident.
"Victoria, Lady Markston is a neighbor of your Uncle Nigel's. I'm sure she knows him quite well, better than you or I," Emily responded, staring at the kissing bough in her hand blankly.
"Lady Claredon may want to marry Uncle Nigel, but I don't think he wants to marry her."
Emily frowned. "And how do you know that, Victoria?"
Victoria looked away and turned away. "I can't say. But I know Uncle Nigel doesn't like Lady Claredon as much as he likes you. So please don't let that mean lady make you sad," she finished, her blue eyes large and pleading.
"I won't let Lady Markston annoy me, Victoria."
"And Aunt Emily? I don't think that Uncle Nigel is being nice to you because he feels sorry for you."
Emily smiled softly down at the little girl with the blond hair and the innocent blue eyes. How trusting she is, Emily thought, still very disturbed by Lady Markston's words. "I don't know, Victoria. As you get older, you'll see that men don't always act or think the way ladies do," she finished, a vision of the very attentive Roger Manning in her head. With my luck, Lord Stratford will probably turn out to be as much of a rogue as Roger Manning, she thought, dreading her next meeting with Nigel.
Seven
"Having an impromptu fete was a wonderful idea!" Susan exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as much as the blue topaz necklace that graced her milky white neck.
Harriet smiled docilely, and glanced around their small ballroom. Miss Turner was commissioned to play the piano, and, although the fete only included the house party, everyone seemed to be having a grand time. Of course, she could have invited everyone in the county, but no one could have arrived, since the snow hadn't let up at all. Everyone was so busy with their various Christmas decorations that they failed to notice the fact that their finished decorations were whisked away by the servants as soon as they were completed.
The room was resplendent with garlands of bay, fir, rosemary, and pine twigs offset by perfect red silk bows. The pianoforte sported a large centerpiece of evergreen branches intertwined with ivy and holly, and Emily's kissing bough hung in the center of the room, adorned with candles, red apples, and ornaments. All in all, the room couldn't look more festive, H
arriet decided, watching Henry and Lady Markston finish the dance.
"Are you both enjoying the champagne?" Harriet asked, glancing over at Lady Markston, who was now standing silently next to her daughter.
"Why, yes, you've been a most generous host," Susan said politely, her eyes fixed on Nigel. He was in the far corner of the room, talking with Emily.
"It's quite a pity about St. Thomas's Day," Lady Markston droned, her jonquille turban and gown quite out of place in the middle of the winter.
"Yes, it is," Harriet began with a smile. "On St. Thomas's Day we usually have a number of the women coming by to beg for sweets. It's grand fun, and, of course, there's also the wassailing."
Lady Markston nodded in agreement. "We always go wassailing on St. Thomas's Day at our country home—the stories I could tell you! More than one marriage has arisen from the festivities, since some of the gentlemen couldn't quite hold their ale," she finished, a sparkle of mirth in her eyes.
Before Harriet could add any of her own stories, Aubrey appeared at her side, his gold-and-puce-striped waistcoat the most colorful part of the room. "Susan, would you care to dance? I do believe Miss Turner is striking up a waltz," he said amiably, glancing at her slim figure.
For the impromptu ball, Susan had decided upon a cream underdress with an overtunic of pale blue muslin. A blue-and-gold cashmere shawl was draped around her shoulders, and she knew that she was undeniably the most attractive woman in the room. "Of course, Aubrey," she said, strolling out onto the floor with him, despite a look of censure from her mother.
"Can I get you a drink, Emily?" Nigel asked, gazing soulfully into her luminescent green eyes.
Emily smiled slightly and looked down at her gloved hands. "You'll think me the greatest widgeon, Lord Stratford," she began, and he immediately said, "Nigel." She blushed and glanced over at his shining black Hessians, desperately looking for something to focus on. "You'll think me the greatest widgeon, Nigel," she began again, "but I don't care for champagne. It gives me the most dreadful headache," she admitted shyly.
Nigel's eyes roamed over her svelte figure. She was wearing a bottle-green satin gown cut in the Grecian style that fell into folds about her slender form. A gauzy scarf of pale green was draped around her shoulders, and made her eyes seem the most improbable shade of green. "I confess, Emily, that champagne isn't a favorite of mine, either. I don't think anyone else here has the same aversion, though," he commented, watching Susan drink what must have been her eighth glass.
"I'd agree completely, but I don't doubt that was Harriet's intention. Everyone was rather on edge today, and I think she wanted to make her guests… relax a bit more," Emily finished, her eyes lingering on Nigel's clothes.
Tonight he wore a Spanish blue coat with a white waistcoat and black pantaloons over white silk socks. His white cravat was carefully tied, and his wild black locks had been coaxed into something that might have resembled the Brutus style, had his hair been shorter. His golden eyes focused solely on Emily, and she squirmed under his gaze.
"You look enchanting tonight," Nigel commented in the soft, lover-like tone he used when he was alone with her, and she turned an even deeper shade of red.
Emily looked up and met his eyes. "You'd best watch what you say, my lord, or your fiancée might take exception," she said, glancing over toward Susan.
"For an intelligent female, you certainly seem a bit cork-brained concerning Susan, if you don't mind me saying so. I am not and do not plan to be married to Lady Susan Claredon," he finished, and the severity in his voice made Emily firmly believe his declaration.
"Then I would suggest you speak with Lady Markston. She believes your nuptials are forthcoming," Emily said, and was rewarded by a scowl.
"Lady Markston is a bedlamite. She can keep claiming that I'm going to offer for Susan, but that won't make it happen. Would you like to waltz?" he said suddenly, noticing that Miss Turner had once again begun his dance of choice.
"I'm not the most graceful dancer," Emily admitted reluctantly.
He stood up and held his hand out for her. "It doesn't matter," he replied, and led her out to the floor.
"Look at them," Lady Markston hissed, taking the glass of champagne out of her daughter's hand.
Susan pouted. "I can have another glass of champagne if I want," she said, sounding like a spoiled child deprived of a sweet.
"You've had quite enough. Your future husband is out waltzing with a nobody and all you're doing about it is consuming more champagne than anyone else in the room! You're a grave disappointment, Susan," her mother said in dire tones, disapproval etched on her heavily painted face.
"Oh Mama, he's just toying with her. Nigel will propose— don't get on your high horse," Susan said, glancing over at Aubrey. He met her eyes across the room and smiled lazily at her.
"I think not. And don't think I don't know about the flirtation you've set up with Lord Langely. He's a rake if I ever saw one, and I most certainly don't approve of his interest."
"Yes, Mama," Susan sighed, suddenly terribly bored with this coze with her mother.
"And, at the earliest opportunity, I do expect you to remind Nigel of his duties. He's neglecting you shamelessly for that du vieux temps spinster and I don't like it," Lady Markston concluded, and Susan sighed, resignation written on her face.
Emily was in heaven. Nigel's strong arm was wrapped around her a trifle too tightly for propriety, but she didn't really care. The waltz Miss Turner was playing wafted through her mind, and she felt incredibly relaxed and alive at the same time.
"You're a wonderful dancer," Nigel whispered, holding her even closer.
Emily blushed. "You're giving me Spanish coin, Nigel. I'm probably the least accomplished dancer here, save Victoria."
"I think not. I can't recall a time I've enjoyed a waltz more," he said in a sultry voice, his hazel eyes gazing passionately at her.
"You know, Harriet mentioned that Henry's cousin Aubrey had something of a reputation around Town, but I think she purposely forgot to tell me that you're also quite the rake," she said, trying to keep her voice light and humorous.
Nigel chuckled and led her over toward their chairs as the waltz ended. "I must have you speak with my father. He'd be proud to hear that such a lovely young woman thought I was a rake," he said, his arm holding onto her as if his life depended on it.
Before Emily could reply, Susan appeared next to the pair, a pout on her perfect rosebud lips.
"Nigel, you've been most inattentive this evening," she exclaimed, and playfully hit him on the arm with her fan. "I demand that you dance with me," she said, licking her lips sensually.
Nigel raised an eyebrow but refused to relinquish Emily's arm. "I'm not as young as I used to be, Susan. I was rather looking forward to sitting out a set," he replied sardonically.
"Wonderful! Mama has some matters she wants to discuss with you," she exclaimed, and skillfully took Nigel's arm and began to lead him over to her mother.
Emily was hard-pressed not to giggle as Nigel mouthed an "I'm sorry," to her, as he left her standing in front of the lyre-backed mahogany chairs that sat against the ballroom walls.
"Would you care for some company?" a voice behind her asked, and Emily turned around in surprise. Aubrey was standing behind her, motioning to a chair. "Unless you'd care to dance," he said with a smile.
"I think I'll sit out this set," she replied, taking the seat Aubrey offered and watching Henry and Harriet on the dance floor.
"I'm glad you're presently without a partner. I was afraid I was going to have to dance with Lady Markston," Aubrey said with an easy smile.
"Yes, I can see where that prospect might be a trifle daunting," she replied.
They both glanced casually around the room, and Aubrey finally commented, "I'll bet you a guinea that they don't get married."
Emily frowned. "Who? Nigel and Susan?"
"Precisely. Lady Markston is eager for the match since their property is adjacent. It's obv
ious that the marriage would be a misalliance, especially since Nigel seems to have developed a tendre for you," he concluded, and Emily's eyes widened in shock.
"A tendre? For me? Surely you must be wrong," she said in a soft voice, hoping that he wasn't aware that she was quite taken with Nigel.
"No, it's quite obvious, but you needn't worry. Stratford has a sterling reputation—won't try to take advantage of you or any such thing," Aubrey said casually.
Emily was speechless. Does Nigel really have a tendre for me? she thought, before immediately dismissing the idea as ridiculous. Peers of the realm don't court spinsters who are connected to trade unless they're polite. Very, very polite, she decided, her mind once again in a whirl.
Later that evening, after the ladies as well as Aubrey had retired, Nigel and Henry sat alone in the library, in front of the blazing fireplace.
As they sipped their respective glasses of brandy, Henry casually remarked, "Harriet wanted me to speak to you about Miss Winterhaven, Nigel."
Nigel frowned and studied his friend. Henry seemed ill at ease, and looked everywhere but at him. "Why?"
Henry continued to squirm. "Your preference for Emily has been noticed, and there have been comments made," he said vaguely, staring into the blazing embers.
"Commented on? By whom? It's no one's business what I do and who I do it with," Nigel proclaimed, his blood boiling. How dare anyone comment on my relationship with Emily, he thought angrily.
"That's not the point. It's been suggested that you're simply toying with her, since she is a spinster with no expectations, or that you're trying to get into her good graces so she'll sell you the pendant," Henry replied calmly.
"Is that what you and Harriet think? That I'm simply using Emily for my own devices?"
Henry looked into the fire. "I don't know, Nigel. Harriet and I adore Emily, but you have to admit, she isn't the type to attract the attention of the Earl of Stratford, or any other peer, for that matter."
Emily's Christmas Wish Page 9
