A Christmas Scandal

by Jane Goodger

  Now he felt out of sorts and out of control. Edward was a man who liked being in control, which made life extremely difficult for him because thus far he’d had very little control over what happened to him and those around him. He couldn’t stop himself from getting ill, he couldn’t stop his parents from dying, and now it seemed he couldn’t stop the woman he loved from going on a drive with another man. He supposed that was why he’d enjoyed the military life so much. Everything was regimented, there were clear rules to follow, clear consequences.

  The two men, a generation apart, stood together in a small sitting room that was part of Bellingham’s private quarters. Sir William wore the uniform of a country gentleman: a tweed coat, brown, over a darker brown jacket, which at the moment rested in the crook of his arm. For some reason, he hadn’t wanted to hand it over to the footman. His boots were expensive but had the necessary wear and tear to prove they were well worn and not simply for show. He was shorter than Edward by several inches and pounds heavier, which made Edward slightly pleased. Edward hated sizing the man up but simply couldn’t help himself. He knew he was a rather vain fellow and for the life of him couldn’t understand why Maggie was showing Sir William such interest.

  “I do hope I’m not intruding,” Edward said, hoping nothing of the sort.

  “Oh, no. Miss Pierce is probably glad to have someone her age along,” Sir William said in that self-deprecating way of his. Edward put himself on guard. It had been his experience that humble men had traplike resolve and were especially attractive to women.

  “She actually didn’t seem all that pleased,” Edward said truthfully.

  “Do you think so?” Sir William brightened noticeably, which made Edward even more uncomfortable. What if he was right? What if Maggie did have her sights on Sir William and the feeling was mutual? What if he had to stand by and watch her fall in love with another man?

  “Do you know Miss Pierce well?” Sir William asked.

  No, but I managed to fall in love with her anyway. “No. We met in the States when His Grace was there. She is the duchess’s best friend and as I was traveling with His Grace, we did see each other quite a bit.” That sounded nicely neutral.

  “She was engaged?”

  “Not when we met.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Edward didn’t like the sound of that “hmmm.” It was full of meaning, but Edward couldn’t decipher exactly what it meant, so he gave Sir William a questioning look.

  “I suppose I was thinking myself lucky you found Miss Pierce so completely undesirable,” Sir William said with a little chuckle, a man who could not believe his good fortune.

  “I don’t find her completely undesirable,” Edward said carefully. “I’m simply not in the market for a wife.”

  “Neither am I,” he said, as if surprised to find himself contemplating such a thing. As if he were actually thinking of marrying Maggie. Edward’s gut twisted.

  “I loved my wife and I never thought I’d think about marrying again.”

  “You’ve just met her,” Edward pointed out, wondering what it was about American women that made British men fall so fast and so hard for them. Rand had fallen for his duchess within days of meeting her, even though she was hardly interested in him. And he himself nearly made an idiot of himself over Maggie, the very same Maggie who had Sir William smitten with her in a single evening.

  “I know, I know. There’s just something about her. For one thing she’s beautiful. And her eyes are…” Sir William stopped, his cheeks growing ruddy. “They are quite striking. Not just brown, but…”

  “They have flecks,” Edward said, growing testy with the man’s gushing.

  “Flecks?”

  “Green and gold.”

  “Oh. You certainly are observant,” Sir William said. The older man gave Edward a thoughtful look, which made Edward feel even more testy.

  At the sound of female voices, both men turned, Sir William with a genuine smile and Edward with something far less than a smile.

  “Ladies, how delightful you look,” Sir William said, walking toward the women.

  They did look delightful, at least Maggie did. She wore a green wool dress that hugged her body, making every delicious curve on her seem even more delicious. It was modest, with a neckline that curved at the base of her throat, but for some reason it had Edward thinking of sheets and beds and impossibly soft skin. He clenched his jaw and had to look away for fear he’d become aroused.

  Sir William gave Mrs. Pierce a small bow, then grasped Maggie’s outstretched gloved hands, bringing them up for a gallant kiss. Mrs. Pierce tittered next to her daughter and it was all Edward could do not to roll his eyes to the ceiling. He was beginning to feel like a fifth wheel.

  “How delightful that you’re still coming along,” Maggie said, with just the slightest emphasis on still. He doubted anyone else in the room detected that small nuance, but to him it screamed that he was an unwanted addition to their little party.

  “Ladies,” Sir William said, holding out the crook of his arm, which Maggie promptly took, her mother beaming a smile at Edward as if he were in on this little courtship.

  Edward might be miserable, but he still had enough presence of mind to admire Sir William’s landau and his bays. The horses were beautifully matched bays, strong and calm, being held by Bellingham’s uniformed livery. It was a brisk, but clear day, so the top was down.

  “Will you ladies be warm enough?” he asked, feeling the cool air through his light coat.

  “The sun is wonderful,” Maggie said, lifting her face to its warmth. Edward felt a rush of lust and longing so fierce he stopped breathing altogether.

  “She is delightful, is she not?” Sir William said next to him.

  Edward started, then nearly collapsed in relief when he saw Sir William gazing fondly at his landau and realized that was the “she” he was referring to. “And your pair is nicely turned out,” Edward said. “Beautiful animals, sir.”

  “Thank you, though I daresay Bellingham likes to take the credit for them,” he said, handing Mrs. Pierce up into the landau. She sat facing the horses and Maggie sat across from her. Edward swung himself up and took the spot next to Maggie, ignoring her small gasp, just to be ornery, his back to the two bays.

  “Sir, I would never forgive myself if I allowed an earl to sit backward.”

  Edward looked up, slightly bemused, but saw steel determination in his eyes, which made it nearly impossible for Edward to remain seated next to Maggie.

  “Such formalities are unimportant to me,” Edward said truthfully, even though he knew it was a lost cause.

  “I’m afraid they are rather important to me. I’m a bit old-fashioned, it would seem.” He stood there, waiting for Edward to move, and so he really had no choice in the matter. Once he was seated he didn’t miss the look of self-satisfaction on Sir William’s face, nor the smug one on Maggie’s.

  It seemed to Edward for the next hour Maggie delighted in torturing him. It was likely his over-lusted imagination, but each time she looked at Sir William she smiled that brilliant lovely smile of hers and each time she looked at him she scowled. Her mother chatted with him, making it nearly impossible to hear everything the two lovebirds said to each other. Clearly, he no longer had an ally with the mother. For some reason, he had been taken off the list of eligible bachelors, relegated to a man who’d had his chance and failed and so was discarded out of hand. Mrs. Pierce was polite, she tediously described a house they were building in New York, then went on to talk about her husband’s famously well-honed investments. Every once in a while, Maggie would give her mother a warning look, no doubt afraid that her mother’s bragging would appear unseemly. Which it did.

  But Edward indulged the older woman simply because doing so allowed him to sit across from her daughter and once in a while stare unabashedly as she flirted with another man. It was exquisite torture.

  At the moment, Sir William was regaling her with stories of his travels in Europe.
Edward had to admit he was an entertaining fellow, the sort he would naturally have been drawn to if not for the fact that his thigh at that very moment was grazing Maggie’s. He was congratulating himself on not dragging the man to his feet and throwing him from the landau when Sir William, laughing at something Maggie said, actually reached out and briefly laid his hand upon her knee. Maggie was enjoying herself so much, she hardly noticed, but Edward found himself jerking forward, hand outstretched, ready to yank the offending hand off her knee. By the time he’d done so, the hand was gone and Edward was left looking rather foolish in midlunge and was staring into the startled expressions of Maggie and Sir William.

  “I think a bee stung my back,” he said, improvising quickly.

  “A bee? This time of year?” Harriet asked, looking around as if she might actually see the nonexistent bee.

  “Something bit me,” Edward insisted. “But all is well now.” He smiled at Maggie, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. “You were telling us about Mount Vesuvius, I believe,” Edward prompted.

  “Yes, when I was on the continent as a much younger man, the volcano erupted. Quite a sight.” Sir William continued on with his story about lava and Neapolitans who’d gone about their business ignoring the steam spewing from the famous volcano. Edward stared at the passing scenery, laughing when the others did, making responses when asked a question. But for the most part, he was ignored, perhaps even merely tolerated.

  When the group returned, all smiling faces, cheeks rosy from the brisk air and sunshine, Edward bid them all good day and headed to the duke’s library. Or rather, escaped to the library to brood and be alone.

  For the next several days, he threw himself into his work, pausing only to say good-bye to his aunt and her brood when they returned to his estate. Apparently his aunt had found an exciting prospect for a governess, a young woman who’d been the oldest of a large family and who was used to the chaos of children. In one week Advent would begin, and the children, excited that meant Christmas was growing closer, wanted to be home.

  Maggie, who had been using the library to write her letters, stopped appearing. Edward didn’t see her, didn’t want to see her. He was doing the gentlemanly thing and bowing out. He’d lost, and it appeared Sir William was going to win. He’d be better off without someone like Maggie in his life anyway. Just look what she did to him, turned him into a blathering idiot, a besotted fool, the very kind of man he used to ridicule. It was likely only lust anyway. He hadn’t sought out his regular female companionship in months, so it was clear to him he just needed a good bedroom romp.

  On the third day of his self-imposed exile, he stood in the center of the library and looked about. Every crate had been emptied, every book briefly examined. The room was beginning to look more like a library than a warehouse. Now would come the meticulous cataloging, comparing old lists of books from the former dukes, determining whether he should pursue those books, their worth. It seemed like an endless task, he thought rather happily. Thanks to his meticulous uncle, his estates ran exceedingly smoothly, so he didn’t feel at all guilty for ignoring his own holdings. Well, perhaps a small twinge. For some reason, it was taking far longer to organize his friend’s library than he’d thought, considering the amount of time he’d been devoting to the task.

  It was warm in the room, the duke’s new central heating kicking on with a vengeance. It was either fiercely hot or downright chilly in any given room of the mansion, but he didn’t say a word. The duke and duchess seemed inordinately pleased with the heat and would beam smiles at each other every time they heard the pipes clanging loudly indicating the furnace was on. Their obvious happiness with every aspect of their lives was becoming annoying.

  Loosening his collar and tossing his cravat aside, he was heading toward the nearest window when he heard a female laugh and stopped dead. The sound came again and Edward realized it was his sister, not Maggie. Then his sister let out a squeal so loud his heart nearly jumped from his chest. He turned about, rushing from the room to see what horrible thing had just occurred, when the sound came again.

  He found her clutching a piece of paper, her face alight with joy, jumping about as if unable to contain the happiness that little piece of paper had wrought.

  “Good God, Amelia, I thought you were being murdered.”

  “I shall die of pure happiness,” she said dramatically, waving the paper, which he now saw was an invitation, about in the air.

  “I take it that is a well-coveted invitation,” he said, quickly losing interest.

  “Only to the Lady Rotherham’s Christmas Ball!” Another earsplitting screech followed.

  “Do we know Lady Rotherham?” Edward asked, craning his neck to see the invitation.

  Amelia looked at her brother as if he were crazy. “Of course we don’t. We’ve never met. We never go anywhere, so how on earth would we know Lady Rotherham?”

  Edward gave his sister a strained smile. “Then I fail to see why you are so excited.”

  Suddenly her demeanor changed. “I’m not. Not really. It’s just that I’ve never been to a Christmas ball and I daresay it sounds wonderful. I do love the Christmas season. It seems as if we haven’t truly celebrated Christmas in years and years.”

  Edward felt a sharp twinge of guilt. Since his parents’ deaths he’d avoided such family festivities, thinking that Amelia felt the same as he. Now he realized his sister had missed out on nearly every Christmas tradition he’d grown up with. He hadn’t even put up a tree for her.

  “The ball is in London,” Amelia said, a tiny bit of distress in her voice, as if he would reject the invitation because of that. Was he such an ogre? “There will be all sorts of interesting people there. It’s not that important,” she said, so seriously that Edward knew immediately that she would kill to attend the ball. “But I suppose I would like to go. I could wear my new gown.”

  Edward held out his hand, clearly expecting her to place the invitation into it. He had every intention of escorting her to the ball, but it wouldn’t hurt to make her squirm a bit. She stared at his extended hand, pretending not to know what he was requesting.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see the invitation.”

  Amelia made a small face, then dutifully handed it over, crossing her arms impatiently. It was a simple invitation, requesting the honor of their presence. He handed it back slowly, a gesture full of suspicion.

  “What?”

  “You tell me.” His sister put on a familiar mulish expression. “Tell me or I will not accept.”

  “Oh, you are truly the most horrid brother a girl could have,” Amelia said, but it was clear she did not mean it. “I heard through Miss Sterling that Carson Kitteridge is going to be an honored guest. That’s all.” She gave a shrug as if it didn’t warrant any further conversation.

  “Carson Kitteridge?”

  “The American cowboy.”

  Edward gave his sister a blank stare as his mind recalled the conversation at a recent dinner party in which his sister was gushing about some poster she’d seen. “And that’s what has you screeching to high heaven? You are very lucky you didn’t break any of the duchess’s fine crystal.”

  Amelia scowled at him. “He’s far more exciting than anyone around here. At least he’s lived.”

  “Carson Kitteridge, hmmm? It sounds like a made-up name. A stage name. His name is probably Elmer.”

  “Or worse, Edward.”

  It was Edward’s turn to give his sister a face. No one watching the pair would have thought Edward was an earl and Amelia a lady.

  “Well. Can we go? Miss Pierce will most certainly want to attend. Do you think you could get an invitation for her? Or perhaps I should ask the duchess. Or perhaps Sir William received an invitation and plans to ask her.” She smiled at him and he smiled right on back.

  “Perhaps. And yes, you can go.” She jumped into his arms, letting out yet another happy squeal. “I’ll see what I can do about Miss Pierce. I’m certain once
Lady Rotherham realizes she is a guest of the duchess an invitation will be forthcoming. When is it, anyway?”

  “December seventh.” She calculated quickly in her head. “Two weeks!”

  “I cannot wait,” he said dryly. Edward turned to go, but his sister stopped him. He was surprised to find her expression sincerely somber.

  “I think Sir William is going to propose. So does Miss Pierce.” She studied his carefully passive face. “I thought you might want to know.”

  “I am happy for them both,” he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral, a Herculean task given what his gut had just done.

  “Are you?”

  Edward let out a beleaguered sigh. “I really cannot say why you would think I even care.”

  “All right, Edward.” Amelia brightened immediately. “I’m going to hunt down the duchess and talk to her about the ball with Miss Pierce. Too bad she’s stuck in bed, she’ll miss all the fun this season. It shall be the event of the winter. Everyone says so.”

  With that, she ran away, happily clutching her invitation.

  Maggie thought her face just might crack for all the smiling—sincere and false—that she’d had plastered on her face all week. When she was with her mother, it was a sort of hysterical smile, one that begged her mother to please, please return to the mother she’d known most of her life, the sweet, distracted, gentle woman. When she was with Sir William, the smile was sincere. She truly enjoyed his company. She did. Just as long as he didn’t look at her in that certain way that fairly made her skin crawl. It was very distracting to realize that the man she’d targeted to be her husband, the one who seemed to want to be her husband, was the one she least wanted to kiss.

  And when she smiled in front of Lord Hollings, on those rare, wonderful, horrible times she saw him, her smile was utterly false. She’d tried avoiding him, which wasn’t all that difficult since he spent most of his time in the library, but when she saw him it was as if something sucked the wind from her lungs, made her heart stop for just an instant. Made her wish he’d look at her with something more than the indifference she saw in his eyes. She was not paying attention to Sir William to make Lord Hollings jealous, but it would have been a bit gratifying if he were. She’d thought that first day when he’d forced himself upon their carriage ride that’s what he’d been doing. But he’d been quiet, almost sullen on that ride, and since then nearly completely absent from all the house’s activities. Sir William had become rather a fixture in the grand mansion, coming to dinner, inviting her for strolls, sitting with the family in the evening to listen to Amelia and her play the piano. She realized Lord Hollings had never heard her play.