by Various
Cursing himself, the blizzard that had stranded him here and fate for bringing the wrong woman into his life, at the worst possible moment, yet again, he stalked back to the parlour and shut the door firmly on temptation.
Chapter Six
Alice sagged back against the wall, her fingers to her lips.
He’d kissed her.
And on a wave of relief on discovering he wasn’t married, that she hadn’t been having inappropriate responses to someone’s husband, she’d kissed him back.
And would have kept on kissing him if he hadn’t broken away, with an oath, and stalked off, shoulders hunched, as though burdened with regret.
But she had no regrets. Not one. It was Christmas, after all. Lots of people kissed under the mistletoe at this time of year. Not that there was any mistletoe in Blackthorne Hall, but still.
Her first kiss. Probably her only kiss. For where was she ever likely to meet anyone who’d want to kiss her, ever again? Even Captain Grayling had regretted whatever impulse had driven him to do it almost at once.
Nevertheless, he had kissed her. And it had been the most wonderful, perfectly blissful experience of her life.
She drifted upstairs, her whole body thrumming to the echo of his touch.
* * *
Alice bounced out of bed the next morning, though she had scarcely slept a wink all night. Through the window she could see snow lying crisp and bright over the whole countryside, sparkling in the pale sunshine. Had there ever dawned a more magical Christmas Eve? If so, she couldn’t recall it.
It wasn’t until she stepped into the kitchen and ran up against a cold reception from Captain Grayling that she had to face the way they’d parted. From the forbidding expression on his face it was clear that he hadn’t spent the night going over and over every second of that kiss with delight.
Naturally, the moment she registered the pall of regret hanging over him was the very moment she got the job of spooning porridge into Isabella’s mouth. It didn’t help that the little girl was perched on the Captain’s knee, so that his face and hers were almost as close as they’d been the night before.
Not that she could actually look him in the face. Not knowing how differently they viewed that...episode.
Nor could she think of anything to say.
And he didn’t make any effort to make conversation.
Which meant they all sat in awkward silence, until Hopkins, who’d been outside seeing to the horses, came into the kitchen, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands.
‘Could do with clearing a path to the stables now it’s stopped snowing,’ he said. ‘Can you point me in the direction of a shovel?’
Billy thrust his empty bowl aside and leaped to his feet. ‘I’ll fetch some shovels and help you,’ he said, darting a look over his shoulder to make sure Captain Grayling had seen what a keen and willing worker he could be, before scuttling out through the door. Soon they could all hear the sound of shovelling above the noise of spoons scooping up porridge, as Billy and Hopkins set to work.
‘May I get down from the table?’ Harry had waited until Alice finished feeding Isabella, though he’d finished his own breakfast some time before.
‘Of course,’ said Captain Grayling.
Alice dipped her head as Harry went across to the window overlooking the stable yard and pressed his nose to the pane. Once Isabella wriggled out of Captain Grayling’s hold and toddled after her big brother, she and the Captain were alone at table. And still unable to speak to each other. Both of them watched as Harry lifted Isabella up beside him so she could see out, rather than looking at each other. Though she was excruciatingly aware of him.
After a bit, it didn’t seem right to keep sitting there, hoping for...well, she wasn’t sure what. For him to look at her and smile, perhaps? In short, another miracle. She’d already had more than she’d ever expected this Christmas. Respite from her cousins and her first kiss. She’d be greedy to hope for more.
So she got up and cleared the bowls from the table. Though she couldn’t prevent heaving just one sigh of regret as she made her way to the scullery. Which brought her up short. She’d better put that kiss right out of her mind. Or at least, think of it with fondness and finality, since he’d made his position clear without having to say a single word. He regretted kissing her. And she knew from experience that hankering for the impossible only made her thoroughly miserable.
Having come to that decision, she promptly went to the door and peeped through a crack to see what he was doing. He’d left the table, too, and was standing stiffly behind Harry and Isabella, who had their noses pressed to the glass as though they longed to get outside and romp in the snow.
She didn’t think she’d ever seen a more awkward family group. What was he doing, standing there, when they clearly wanted to go outside and play? He must know they were too timid to ask an adult for anything. Couldn’t he see that there would be no better way to get to know his children, and for them to come to trust him, than for them all to play together in the snow?
Evidently not. Someone was going to have to show him. And since she was the only one to have noticed his predicament, it looked as if it was going to have to be her. Abandoning the dishes for Billy to see to later, she wiped her hands on her apron and left the scullery.
‘Harry,’ she said, ‘would you like to build a snowman?’
Harry looked at her with hope in his eyes and squirmed in his seat as though straining at an invisible leash. But then said, ‘Won’t it be a bit too cold for Isabella out there? The snow is so deep. And she is so little.’
‘Billy and Sergeant Hopkins have already made a good start on clearing a pathway through it,’ said Alice. ‘And we can wrap her up well and bring her straight back inside the moment she starts to look unhappy.’
‘Isabella has never built a snowman,’ said the serious little boy, as though he didn’t dare admit to wanting anything for himself. ‘I think she would enjoy it.’
‘I think so, too,’ said Captain Grayling and the matter was settled.
It seemed natural to help him bundle both children up in an assortment of coats, gloves, scarves and hats, and to reach for her own coat as he put on his.
‘Do you wish to build a snowman, too, Alice?’
She almost jumped out of her skin as Captain Grayling spoke the first words he’d addressed directly to her since that kiss.
‘Yes,’ she said, tilting her chin in defiance lest he think it a very childish pursuit. ‘And that mound of snow, there, the one that Billy and Sergeant Hopkins have shovelled aside, looks like a good base for the body.’
He looked as though he wanted to laugh. But instead of doing so, he turned to his children and pointed them to the very mound of snow she’d suggested.
Harry set to with a will, but Isabella was too intent on crouching down, examining the white squishy stuff and poking at it with her gloved fingers, to make much of a contribution. Eventually she looked round for Harry and, when she saw what he was doing, began to copy, by gathering tiny scoops of snow to add to their sculpture.
Alice was just bending down to show the little girl how to make her contribution stick by patting it several times, when a freezing dollop of snow hit her right in the back of the neck.
She whirled round. ‘Who threw that?’
Billy was bending over his shovel with a frown of concentration, Hopkins was leaning on his, looking extremely innocent, the Captain was busily moulding snow into the shape of a human head and Harry was looking shocked.
The boy had obviously seen who’d thrown the snowball at her. But she didn’t have the heart to alarm him further by demanding he tell her who’d done it.
Instead, she bent down, scooped up as much snow as she could, patted it into a ball and threw it at Billy.
‘Oi!’ He whirled ro
und, looking aggrieved. ‘What was that for?’
‘Someone,’ she declared, planting her hands on her hips, ‘threw a snowball at me.’
‘Well, there was no call to go throwing one at me,’ he said.
‘Oh, yes, there was, because you—’ She was prevented from accusing him of the crime when another snowball, thrown by Hopkins, hit her full in the face.
‘Can’t let anyone get away with attacking one of my team,’ he declared.
‘Not fair,’ said Captain Grayling. ‘That’s two against one.’ He ran to her side, as though to defend her, and all four adults started flinging missiles at each other. Harry swooped on Isabella and carried her out of the line of fire, behind the beginnings of the snowman. It wasn’t long before Alice joined them, laughing and breathless. Swiftly followed by Captain Grayling.
‘Harry,’ he said, as a hail of snowballs rained down upon them, ‘don’t just sit there. We need to defend our womenfolk against the dastardly foe.’
After only a moment’s hesitation, the boy saluted, said ‘Yes, sir!’ and eagerly joined in the fray.
For a moment, Isabella looked a bit bewildered. But as she saw that everyone around her was laughing and whooping—even Harry—she began to copy them, hurling her own inexpertly formed little missiles in the general direction of their attackers.
Just then the back door burst open, and Susan, a shawl wrapped over her head and knotted at her waist, came barrelling out.
‘I’ll help you, Miss Alice,’ she cried, joining them behind their flimsy barricade.
‘This ain’t fair,’ cried Billy as several snowballs splattered the front of his coat. ‘Not five against two!’
‘He’s right,’ said Captain Grayling. Then he stood, holding up his hand. ‘Ceasefire,’ he yelled. Amazingly, everyone did cease firing. With a grin for his son, he explained, ‘I will leave you in charge of defence here, Harry, while I join the men to make it a fairer contest.’
He hadn’t quite made it to Billy’s side before Susan got him on the back of his shoulder with a well-aimed snowball. With a roar, Hopkins launched the missile he’d been holding at the ready and a battle royal broke out.
Before long Alice became caked in so much snow her clothing could no longer keep it out. Her gloves were sodden and moisture seeped down the inside of her boots.
‘We’re going to have to surrender,’ she panted.
‘Never!’ Susan’s face was ruddy with cold and exertion, but she’d never looked so animated.
‘Oh, do we have to?’ Harry looked really disappointed.
‘I’m afraid so,’ she said. ‘It has been fun, but we are all rather wet and Isabella will be getting a chill if we don’t get her inside and dry.’
He sobered at once.
Alice scooped Isabella up to carry her indoors. She’d thought the men would have let her go, but, no, they kept on pelting her with snowballs all the way, with Harry and Susan fighting a rearguard action and Isabella giggling her head off.
‘That was such fun,’ panted Susan when they reached the safety of the back porch. ‘We gave a good account of ourselves, didn’t we, Miss Alice?’
‘We did,’ Alice agreed, hurrying through to the kitchen and warmth. ‘But, oh, good heavens, Harry, look at the state of you.’ He’d put up a good fight to get indoors, but in the process he’d become so smothered in snow he looked almost like a little walking snowman. As she bent to put Isabella down, a chunk of slush fell from his sleeve and landed with a plop on the kitchen floor.
He froze. Looked up at Alice as though expecting a scold for making a mess. Alice’s heart turned over. Poor little mite. She hadn’t meant to reprimand him, but her words must have sounded as though she was annoyed, because all the fun of the morning had melted from him even faster than the snow dripping from his clothing.
* * *
Captain Grayling froze, too. If she scolded his son now, it would undo all the progress Harry, nay, both his children, had made this morning. And yet he had no right to expect anything from her today. Some women, he knew, would even take this opportunity to have their revenge on him, through his children. Especially after the way he’d leaped on her like a ravening beast last night. Then flung her aside without explanation as guilt swamped him.
‘Hurry and get out of your wet clothes, Harry, while I see to Isabella,’ she said, fumbling her hands out of her sodden gloves. ‘We need to all get warmed up as quickly as we can,’ she explained with a smile. ‘I don’t want either of you catching a chill.’
He let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. With little smiles and encouraging gestures, Alice was letting Harry know her concern was for him, not the state of the floor. He should have known Alice wouldn’t punish a child for a sin the father had committed. She wasn’t that sort of person.
‘Take Isabella over to the stove,’ said Alice, while Harry unbuttoned his coat with the jerky movements of someone who’d just been let off the hook, ‘and get yourselves warmed up while I take your coats back to the porch, where they can drip without making any more mess.’
When she drew near, to pass him, the urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her lovely mouth was so strong it was all he could do to resist. But he couldn’t do that to her. Not in front of the others.
Not at all, dammit!
They’d think he’d started up a dalliance with her if he kissed her in public. Though a dalliance was all he could have with her since he’d become an earl. He’d been on the verge of asking her if she’d be his mistress a dozen times that morning. Only to draw back on a wave of shame. She wasn’t that sort of girl. Oh, the way she’d looked at him, the way she’d kissed him, might lead some men to think she’d be willing to oblige. But she hadn’t given him any flirtatious glances or coy smiles to remind him of their scorching kiss. On the contrary, she’d been awkward around him. She hadn’t even been able to look him in the face at breakfast. And then the way she’d played in the snow with his children had opened his eyes to how very young and innocent she was.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, to keep from reaching for her trim little waist as she hung up his children’s damp clothes. It would be the act of a monster to debauch her, for his own selfish pleasure.
She turned, then, and looked from him to his children and back, as though willing him to go and reassure them that all was well. The trouble was, all was not well with him. He wanted Alice so badly that he was almost shaking with it.
He gritted his teeth.
Last time he’d met a woman he felt this strongly about, he’d persuaded her to marry him. And it had been the worst thing he could have done to her. Since he was no fool, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Alice didn’t belong in the world he was going to have to move in now, any more than Lizzie had belonged in the army. Society would never accept a housemaid into their midst. People would snub her and slight her, and make her miserable.
This time, he wasn’t going to be selfish. This time, he was going to do the right thing. He was going to stay away from Alice, and focus on his children’s needs. To that end, he took himself off to the stables, to gather some horsehair for Izzy’s doll.
* * *
‘Captain?’
Jack looked up, some time later, from the hank of horsehair in his hand, to see Billy standing before him, with a few bits of wood in his hand.
‘I thought these would do to make a sword for Harry,’ he said. ‘And I got some twine to lash the bits together.’
Straight away, his mind went back to the night before, when they’d first discussed Christmas presents for his children. Presents that Alice had thought of.
She’d make a wonderful mother for his children...
But no. Marrying a woman not of his class would cause no end of problems. Not only for her, but his children, too. They’d suffer
ed enough upheaval in their lives already. They needed stability, tranquillity, not a stepmother who’d be awkward and unhappy because she wouldn’t fit in with his new role.
‘And I just wondered if you’d like a capon or a goose for yer Christmas dinner.’
‘What?’ He’d been so deep in thought that he’d forgotten Billy was standing there. ‘A capon, you say?’
Billy’s face brightened. ‘You could get to the village on ’orseback, I reckon. I’ll show you the way.’
Just what he needed. To go on a fool’s errand and end up buried in a snowdrift, no doubt.
Still, it would get him away from Alice for an hour or so. And maybe getting buried in a snowdrift would cool him down.
Nothing else seemed to be working.
Before he set out, he went back to the kitchen, to let them know where he was going and why. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to think he’d disappeared, just as the lad was starting to trust him.
Jack found the children seated on a pile of cushions by the stove, clutching mugs of hot chocolate and singing the Sussex carol.
His heart clenched, almost squeezing a drop of moisture from his eye. It had only taken one day for his children to start behaving like real children. He’d made a start with Harry, but most of it was down to Alice. She’d broken through all the awkwardness and got them romping together in the snow, and now they were sprawled on either side of her, relaxed and happy. Singing. Even Isabella was trying to join in, warbling, news, news, whenever it came to the chorus.
He stood still, silently watching, loath to interrupt in case he shattered the moment. When they came to the end of the last verse, Harry raised his cup to his mouth and drained the last of his drink, leaving a little chocolate moustache on his upper lip. For once he’d forgotten he was supposed to be immaculately turned out, his behaviour rigidly controlled.
Until he saw his father standing, watching. And then he straightened up and adopted a guilty expression, which wrung Captain Grayling’s heart. And helped him come to a decision.
A decision which would atone for all the ways he’d let his children down thus far in their young lives.
