A Country Christmas (Timeless Regency Collection Book 5)

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “I think I would find his talk of farming quite fascinating,” Eloise said, looking over the miles of farmland stretching before them. “Mr. Franklin is an excellent manager of his acreage, which is why their estate is one of the most successful in the area. I think it’s to Neville’s credit to want to continue that legacy.” She could imagine the way the energy would light Neville’s eyes—and yet, after last night, the ease between them seemed extinguished. “How is Neville today?” she asked almost absently. She’d avoided him rather studiously after their discussion in the study last night, so she did not know if he had at some point shrugged off their exchange completely.

  “Cross,” Mr. Burke said. “Why are you asking after Franklin when you are riding with me?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Eloise said, though she was taken aback by the harshness of his comment. “Only, he was out of sorts last night, and I wondered if he was improving. He has been a dear friend of mine for many years, and I worry about his mood, which was so unlike him.”

  Mr. Burke did not comment directly on that and looked forward again, returning to talk of his American travels. Eloise listened quietly but found her irritation growing. First at Mr. Burke’s complaint against her, and then at Neville for drawing her attention when manners dictated that she should be focused on Mr. Burke.

  She’d avoided Mama this morning as well because she regretted having told her mother that she had a fancy and feared Mama would ask after it. That Eloise hadn’t confirmed Neville as the object of that affection made no difference; Mama knew, and it must be killing her to wait on Eloise before she could share her thoughts. Her parents’ approval was certain. Neville was an eligible gentleman, and their families had always got on very well. At least until now.

  “Why don’t we tether the horses and walk for a bit?” Mr. Burke said, drawing Eloise from her thoughts. She looked around them to orient herself and saw that someone had cleared the path around Bramble Pond—a favorite walking place in spring and summer. Portions of the trail were built up with a railed boardwalk, but most of the path was dirt and stone, currently cleared of ice and snow, for the most part. By the state of the ice on the pond, some enterprising citizens had been exercising their skating abilities. Perhaps it was they who had also cleared the path. “You’ve got hearty boots on, do you not?” Mr. Burke asked.

  “Indeed,” Eloise said. She was not opposed to the walk, only not terribly invested in this outing. She wished she’d found a way to refuse it last night. She’d accepted Mr. Burke’s invitation because it might make Neville jealous, but that reason seemed lacking in the cold light of day. What had Neville to be jealous of? He’d proclaimed his disinterest quite ardently, and though at times she was tempted to think his protests were evidence to the contrary, it was hopeful thinking that had put her in this predicament in the first place.

  If she’d never attempted to draw Neville’s notice, she would never have had such an offensive exchange with him that had now created more distance than his trip to America had. After only one day, she missed their easy friendship—missed thinking of him and only having warmth and joy surround her thoughts. Now there were questions and regrets and embarrassment and irritation. If she could go back in time, she would not have risked their friendship for the hope it might become more.

  They made their way to the posting area, and Mr. Burke helped Eloise from her horse. She had to throw her long skirts over one arm so they would not drag on the ground, but it was not long before she was glad for the exercise. It helped warm her legs, and it was a lovely winter day. The sun turned the snow cover to crystals and lit the sky like summer. Eloise tried to keep her thoughts from Neville, but they returned again and again. Was he angry with her? Did he regret what he’d said? Every thought added to the weight in her belly. They would overcome this, right?

  “Ah, it is a beautiful view,” Mr. Burke said, reminding her whom she was with.

  They’d reached one of the boardwalk sections of the pond, and Mr. Burke stepped forward and rested his elbows on the railing. They were nearly halfway around the pond, and could look out over its length and across the snow-covered moorland, where only clusters of shrubs and trees broke through the glittering white. Eloise took a position beside him, but did not rest her elbows as he did.

  “It is,” she said, sentimental of this place she loved best above any other part of England. “I know many people prefer the southern counties, where it is temperate the year round, and they can avoid the harsher effects of winter, but I cannot imagine living without each season of the year being distinct from the others.”

  “I don’t mind the snow,” Mr. Burke agreed. “But there is something to be said for sunshine all the year long. It is not so hard to visit the snow and get your fill, you know.”

  “Ah, but a visit does not connect you to the changes, and I like to feel connected. I like knowing which month I’ll trade out my summer frocks for winter ones, and that there will be full days that I don’t leave the house—I have an array of projects I can do indoors for days such as that. And we’ll have more stews in the winter, and greens in the summer, and adapt our lives to the land we live on. I love it.”

  “Hmmm,” Mr. Burke said.

  His noncommittal response drew her eye, and she found him staring at her. She looked away, brushed at some nonexistent speck on her coat, and then turned toward the path. “Perhaps we should finish our way around.”

  She’d taken two steps when he took hold of her arm and somehow spun her around until the rail of the boardwalk was pressing into her lower back. He stood directly in front of her and leaned forward so that his arms were on either side, trapping her. He smiled at her warmly, suggestively. She had her skirts thrown over one arm, leaving only one hand free to put against his chest. “Mr. Burke,” she said, trying to sound firm. The result of his taking her by surprise, however, added a breathless quality to her voice that made his smile grow wider.

  “There is but one thing keeping me in this part of the country right now,” he said, looking from her eyes to her lips and back again. “Is it too bold to say it’s you?”

  “Me?” she asked, swallowing against the sudden dryness in her throat.

  “You’re a coy one, I’ll give you that, and I have to admit that it took me some time before I understood your intent, but then last night sealed it in my mind.”

  “Sealed what?” she asked, looking to both her right and left, even though she knew they were very much alone. She kept her hand on his chest and felt the railing pressing into her back, despite the layers of clothing.

  “Your attraction to me,” he said, still smiling and oblivious to her discomfort. He leaned in, and she pushed against his chest—hard. He stumbled backward as she righted herself and swallowed her rising fear. She would not allow her fear to be misconstrued, however, especially since it seemed that Mr. Burke had already misconstrued a great deal. “I am very sorry if I gave you an impression of affection, Mr. Burke. You are personable and kind, but it is only your friendship I have interest in pursuing.”

  He stood still for a moment but then stepped forward, sweeping one arm behind her back and pulling her toward him so quick and hard that the air in her lungs was pushed out in a sound very much like a gasp which he, also, completely misinterpreted. “Ah, yes, your country manners are enchanting. I would have liked to have found some mistletoe, but all the same . . .”

  Eloise opened her mouth to protest again, but his lips immediately pressed against hers, and his hand moved to the back of her head, trapping her in a kiss she did not want. She dropped her skirts and pushed against his chest with both hands, but he quickly captured both her hands in his free one and pressed his mouth even harder against hers.

  Eloise knew nothing of kissing; she had seen very few in her life and experienced none. Mr. Burke was insistent and crushing, and despite her ignorance, she knew that a kiss was not meant to be stolen and hard and driven by something that was not beautiful.

  Anger reminded he
r that she was not powerless. She raised her foot, pushed it out from under the folds of skirt now further encumbering her, and then raised the heel and drove down into the top of Mr. Burke’s boot. The thick leather prevented any injury, but it did startle him enough that he pulled back and loosened the grip holding her hands. Eloise pulled back one hand and slapped him as hard as she could, the crack of it ringing through the trees as he stumbled backward with a grunt. She did not waste a moment gathering up her skirts in a messy bundle that exposed her petticoats. She held the skirts to her chest as she turned back the way they’d come and ran.

  Without her arms for balance and limited view of the ground in front of her, she worried she would stumble on the uneven ground, but she pulled the cumbersome clothing closer to her chest and picked out the easiest portions of ground before her. She could hear Mr. Burke behind her, calling her name, but she did not stop. What a horrid man! Tears rose to her eyes. “Don’t you dare cry,” she told herself as she blinked away the moisture.

  “Eloise!”

  He was getting closer, and she increased her pace, even though she knew she couldn’t outrun him—not with a dozen yards of heavy fabric working against her. And then the inevitable happened: she placed her foot wrong, tripped, stumbled, and fell forward. Only those yards of heavy fabric protected her from landing on her face, but when she tried to scramble to her feet, the skirts wrapped around her like tethers. She felt Mr. Burke’s hands take hold of her shoulders and tried to pull away while throwing her elbow back to connect with his ribs.

  “I am only helping you up,” Mr. Burke snapped when she wrenched one shoulder out of his grip. “Don’t fight me!”

  She would fight him, if it made sense, but it suddenly didn’t make sense. She gave in, letting him help her to her feet and straighten out the skirts of her habit so that she could once again hold them folded over her arm in a decent manner. They stood there, then, looking at each other. Her chest was heaving, and her face was hot. Someone had to say something, but she would not thank him for helping her to her feet!

  “I have no interest in you, Mr. Burke,” she said hotly. “And I am offended that you would take such a liberty with me. You are not a gentleman.”

  “I beg your pardon,” he said tightly. That he was angry instead of embarrassed was no credit upon his character. “But perhaps you ought to guard your attention better than you have. I had every reason to believe you were interested in improving our connection to one another after the interest you’ve shown in me.”

  “In you?” she spat. “Only an arrogant man would assume he was the recipient of a woman’s attention above all others.”

  Mr. Burke’s eyes squinted in confusion, widened in understanding, and then narrowed in offense. “All others,” he repeated. “Or just one.”

  She said nothing, but her cheeks turned hot all over again. She looked away and fussed with her skirts, wishing she had guarded her tongue. She expected him to say something—tease her or laugh, at least—but instead he pushed past her on the path and continued toward the horses. Eloise rolled her eyes and then fell in step behind the gentleman who was anything but!

  He arrived at the horses first and had one foot in the stirrup before he looked her way and let out a heavy breath of realization that she would need his help to mount—how she wished she didn’t! He came forward without a word and helped her into her saddle. They journeyed back to the house in silence and only when they reached the lane to Eloise’s house did either of them speak.

  “It was a wager,” he said suddenly, causing Eloise to look at him in surprise.

  “What was a wager?”

  “The kiss.” He seemed to be trying to keep hold of some sort of bravado. “It’s a game Franklin and I have played for years—the first to win a girl’s favor is the victor—and so that was all I was doing, trying to win.”

  Eloise’s mouth fell open, but no words came for several moments. “Neville put a wager on . . .” She couldn’t say it—couldn’t finish. It was a game they had played for years?

  “Yes,” Mr. Burke said with a crisp nod. He did not meet her eye. “I’m sorry for the distress it caused you. Apparently, country girls are different from those in the city. You have my apology and promise that I shan’t seek your attention again.” With that, he turned and kicked his horse into a run.

  Chapter Eleven

  Neville was watching out the window and pacing in front of the hearth, as brooding men are apt to do, when he saw Burke returning through the front gate. He paused only long enough to confirm it was him before hurrying to the armchair beside the fire and picking up a book so that it would not look as though he had been watching through the window while pacing in front of the hearth. He listened intently for the door to open, Bribson to take Burke’s coat and hat, and Burke’s footsteps coming toward the parlor. Only when Neville focused on the page did he realize the book was upside down. He righted the book at the same moment Burke crossed the threshold.

  Burke walked straight to the fire, stretching out his hands to the flame and letting out a sigh of relief.

  “Ah, there you are,” Neville said as though he’d barely noticed the other man had been gone. “Did you have a nice ride?”

  Burke shot a somewhat glowering look over his shoulder, then paused, repaired it, and turned back to the hearth. “Yes, it was quite good.”

  Neville tried not to clench his jaw too tightly. “Good?” he repeated.

  “She really is a most exceptional girl, that Eloise. Handsome, wholesome, but with a passionate side she keeps well hidden.”

  Neville swallowed. “Passionate?” His tone was as dry as a crust of bread.

  Burke smiled over his shoulder and then turned toward the door. Neville was out of his chair and blocking the way in a thrice. “You did not take advantage of her,” he growled. It was a ride on a very cold day. Surely that would prevent anything improper—to say nothing of Eloise’s own boundaries. She would not allow Burke liberties.

  Burke was not smiling as he held Neville’s eyes, but Neville sensed a debate taking place in the other man’s mind and tried to brace himself for details he might not want to hear. Yet he felt he had to know it. He had already concluded that it was not impossible that Eloise had affection for Burke and that Neville’s attempts to warn her had driven her to Burke. What he would not do to go back in time and play his part differently last night.

  “I did not take advantage of her.”

  Neville swallowed in relief and began to step aside so that Burke might leave the room after all. He should have trusted that Eloise would never—

  “But I did win the wager.”

  Neville spun back around and stared at Burke. There was no wager, he thought, but Burke’s cocky grin was back in place and Neville’s stomach was stone. He could not make his mouth form a single word.

  “Only,” Burke said with the shrug of his shoulder, “I daresay my expert opinion must deem those seemingly kissable lips as rather deceiving.”

  Neville’s hands began to tighten into fists at the mental image of Burke and Eloise.

  Burke continued, “Yes, most definitely deceiving and rather disappointing, if I’m to be quite honest. It seems that a country girl really is no match for a man of Town, and as I made my way back from our ride, I decided to pursue my recreation elsewhere—in Newport, I think. My uncle’s family is wintering there this year. I’ll leave tomorrow morning and arrive in time for tea. Would you care to join me and throw off the shackles of village life while you’ve still got the chance?”

  Neville’s thoughts were a jumble, but his hands began to relax at his sides. “You are leaving?”

  “Yes,” Burke said, raising his eyebrows. “Is that not what I’ve just explained?”

  “But you kissed Eloise.”

  Burke let out a sigh and busied himself adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “So I did. And I found the experience wanting, so I shall move on.”

  “You can’t kiss Eloise and then leave town,�
�� Neville said, battling with his own desire for Burke to go. He wanted nothing more than to be free of his friend, who had become a barnacle during the last day and a half, but if Eloise had kissed him and he disappeared . . . “You must do right by her.” The words nearly stuck in his throat. He felt sick.

  “Do right by her?” Burke said with a laugh. “I don’t owe Eloise anything. It was a kiss. Just one. And plenty enough to make up my mind.”

  “And what of her mind?” Neville said, putting his hands on his hips and pushing away his own confusing feelings for Eloise in order to focus on his devotion to her as a friend. “Eloise is not one to hand her kisses out like lemon buns; if she kissed you, then she has affection for you. You can’t leave without a word to her. She’ll be heartbroken.”

  “And how many women have you kissed and never seen again?” Burke said without the playfulness he’d adopted to this point.

  “That is in Town,” Neville explained. “And I had no prior connection to any of those girls. It was a game.” A game Neville was increasingly humiliated to have played. How could he be so ignorant of those young women’s feelings? Could not those girls have all been like Eloise—kind and good and believing his attention was more than it was? Watching Burke play with Eloise’s heart this way put his own actions in contrast, and the shame cut him deeply.

  Burke held his eye a moment, then shrugged. “A game I am still playing,” he pronounced. “And I am ready to cut my losses and move to a new table. Come with me or stay here; it makes no matter to how I’ll play my hand.” He took another stride toward the door, then paused and turned to look at Neville. “I must say I’m surprised at your cry for noble intention. I was beginning to think that you had designs of your own upon Eloise, but if that were so, you would be glad for my departure, I think.”