Serenity wanted to argue, but saw by the tense expressions on the men’s faces that she would be wasting her breath and the time they could be using to free Timothy. Nodding, she held Theodora close as she went back to the house with Ned. The lad put his hand at her back to guide her up the steep section.
The front door was thrown open as Serenity came up the steps. Branson held out his arms for Theodora as he asked about Timothy. She gave him some quick answers, but urged him not to delay. Theodora was too quiet as the butler rushed her up the stairs to her rooms, where Serenity had ordered a hot bath to be ready for her. Another should be waiting in Timothy’s chambers.
She jumped aside as a maid hurried past her, carrying a steaming container. She had not ordered a bath for herself, but she would as soon as she knew Timothy and Theodora were warm. Following the maid up the stairs, she did not pause when Melanda called from near the banister rail. She had no time for a parade of silly questions. Once she was sure that Theodora was fine, she would come back and wait for Timothy to be brought back to the house.
Melanda frowned when Serenity did not answer her. She pushed away from the railing and hurried toward the room where she knew Felix would be at this hour. He always enjoyed some brandy before dinner, especially now that Theodora had joined them, upsetting the evening meal with her childish comments.
Throwing open the door to the cozy room where a fire flickered on the black marble hearth, she ran to where he was sitting in a leather chair, his feet propped up on a petit-point stool, a glass of brandy by his side. She guessed he had been here a while, because the bottle next to the glass was almost empty and his eyes were bright as he came to his feet. He was steady on them. That was no surprise. She had never seen Felix show any signs of being altogethery even when he had been drinking for hours.
“Melanda,” he said with a smile, “you look distressed. Not at seeing me, I collect.”
She gave him her most flirtatious smile, the one he always liked. Today was no exception, for he gathered her close. “You know I am always delighted to see you.” Her smile vanished. “I just overheard Serenity in the foyer.”
“Anything of interest, or was she just filled with bibble-babble as usual?”
“Something most interesting. She and that child were bumped around when the sleigh crashed on their way from seeing the mummeries in the village.”
“And Timothy?” His arm drew back. “He went with them into the village.”
She dropped to the chair and reached for his glass. Taking a deep drink, she whispered, “He may be hurt. Serenity is not sure. Apparently he was caught beneath the sleigh when one of the runners broke.”
“Hurt?” He cursed and walked to the window where he could see anyone coming to the front door. “I have always thought my cousin was a lucky man, but now I am sure of it. If he could survive that sort of accident, he must be the luckiest man alive.”
Melanda arched a brow. “I thought you deemed him fortunate for having Serenity here.”
“Luck had nothing to do with that. If you will recall, the five hundred pounds and all was my idea.”
“I do recall that.” She frowned. “I am not sure it was the best idea you have ever had. These tales about Serenity being Timothy’s betrothed may make everything much more complicated in the long run.”
“I have some ideas about that, too. I will share them as soon as I finalize them.”
She rose and put her hand on his shoulder. “You are always brimming with ideas, Felix.”
Facing her, he pulled her into his arms. “Ideas that you like very much.”
“Very much.” She drew his mouth down to hers.
When Felix stepped away with only the briefest kiss, Melanda pouted. He blew her another kiss as he went out of the room. As he closed the door, he saw her drain the brandy from his glass and reach for the bottle to refill it. He wanted to tell her not to fret like this about Timothy and Serenity, but that would be a waste of breath.
He kept his steps to an easy stroll, so it appeared as if he had just chanced to pass by the foyer when the door opened and Timothy came in, followed by a footman. His cousin, he noted, was able to walk, although he limped a bit.
Coming down the stairs, Felix paused at the bottom. “What have you done to yourself now, Timothy?”
Timothy’s attempt to smile probably looked more like a grimace. Not that he cared. All he wanted was to be sure Theodora and Serenity were warm, as he wished to be. “I tried to drive the sleigh over myself. Fortunately the runner broke before it could slice through me.”
Felix waved aside the footman and ordered, “Alert Lord Cheyney’s valet to have a hot bath ready for him.”
“Miss Adams has already arranged for that,” Branson said, coming forward. “You are looking better than I had hoped, my lord, after hearing of your misadventure.”
“Better than I had hoped, I must own.” Timothy straightened his ripped coat and smiled. “I can manage the stairs on my own, especially when I think of the steaming water awaiting me. Are Serenity and Theodora all right?”
Branson gave him a grin in return. “Miss Theodora is with her nurse and enjoying a warming bath. Miss Adams should, by now, be doing much the same.”
“Good.” He turned away before the butler or his cousin could see his reaction to the thought of Serenity naked and sleek in her bath. How much more quickly he would be warmed by going in to watch her bathe! No water, not even if it boiled, could heat him as swiftly as that single thought.
Although he wanted to race up the stairs and into Serenity’s room to enjoy that sight, Timothy took the stairs slowly. The ache in his leg remained, and he understood why now that he had seen the long scratch where the sleigh’s runner had collapsed on it. By the time he spoke with Serenity, he wanted to be walking as if nothing had ever been amiss.
“You are limping!” Not caring what anyone thought about her speaking to him when she was dressed in her gold wrapper with her hair pulled back by a single bow, Serenity ran into Timothy’s sitting room.
Timothy smiled tightly as he looked past her. She glanced over her shoulder to see his valet by the door.
“Henry,” Timothy said quietly, “I believe Miss Adams wishes to speak to me in private.”
Henry nodded and closed the door to the hall. He bowed his head toward Serenity as he crossed the room and went through another door.
Her eyes widened when she realized that the second door led to a bedchamber. She had not guessed that Timothy’s office was connected to his private rooms. Shaking her disquiet about her reputation from her head, she grasped Timothy’s arm and steered him to a burgundy settee near the hearth.
“Sit,” she ordered. “How badly are you hurt?”
He brought her to sit beside him. “It does not look as horrible as it feels. Just a very deep scratch and a bruise that would label me a hero if anyone were to see it.” His smile disappeared as he added, “If you had not insisted I wear a heavy coat, I might have lost my leg.”
“Oh, no!”
He drew her hands down from her mouth and folded them between his. “That did not happen, Serenity, thanks to you. I shall be walking around like a peg-leg pirate for the rest of the day and mayhap even tomorrow, but, by the time Grandfather’s ball arrives day after tomorrow, I hope I shall be able to spin you about the room with no excuse for stepping on your feet, save for my own lack of grace.”
She tried to smile, but it was impossible. Caressing his wind-scraped cheek, she whispered, “I would be glad to sit and watch the others, if that is what is necessary.”
“Nonsense! How else can I see the envious expressions on the faces of all the other men if I do not twirl you about the room?” He smiled. “I am fine, sweetheart. Really, I am.”
“I did not want to leave you lying there beneath the sleigh. I thought …” She buried her face against his chest, unable to speak the horrible words that revealed her deepest fears. To lose even a moment of the short time they had left together se
emed the greatest tragedy she could imagine, even more catastrophic than losing her past.
His lips touched her hair before he whispered, “It is over. You and Theodora suffered no more than a few bumps and having your wits scared out of you. My injuries are not much more serious.”
Looking up at him, she asked, “What happened? Why did the sleigh overturn?”
“It clearly had a weak spot. When the horse was frightened and bolted, one of the runners collapsed. Fortunately the road was bumpy, so you and Theodora were thrown out before you could be badly hurt.”
“Frightened horse? What frightened the horse?”
“I did not see, but something must have, because it was doing fine until it let out that cry.”
She rose and rubbed her hands together. They were so icy not even his touch could warm them. “I do not like this, Timothy.”
“I should think not. It was a harrowing experience.”
“No, that is not what I mean. I do not like the fact that I have been in two vehicles that were upset in such a short time.”
“I should think not.” He surged to his feet, then winced. Waving aside her gasp of dismay, he asked, “Are you suggesting that these two incidents might be related?”
Serenity hesitated, then shook her head. “That is silly, I know. I am unsettled from this, and I am not thinking clearly. The carriage accident was several weeks ago and miles from here.”
“You are upset.” He took her hands in his again. “Let us speak of something else.”
“What would that be?” She smiled as his touch broke through the ice clamped around her heart, easing that cold more than her bath and thick wrapper had.
He pulled her up against him. “Of how each man in Cheyney Park shall wish he could be me when he watches me whirl you about in my arms.” When he started to turn her about as if they were waltzing, he groaned.
“Sit,” she urged, steering him back to the sofa. “You should be resting instead of trying to jest me out of my dismals.”
“I had enough rest in the snow.” Despite his words, he sat and let her lean him back against one arm. He was silent as she went to the bedroom door.
At her knock, Henry opened it. His eyes became round when she told him what she wanted, but he brought her several pillows from the bed. Thanking him, she closed the door before coming back to the settee. She put one pillow under Timothy’s leg and reached to put the other behind his head.
Taking the pillow, he tossed it to the floor. She gasped when he caught her wrists and drew her down toward him. His fingers swept up her back to bring her mouth to his. The desire she had seen in his eyes when he was lying in the snow she now tasted in his kiss. When she leaned across him, his heart thudded beneath hers, the most delicious melody she had ever heard.
She laughed when he sprinkled kisses across her cheeks, but when he caught her face between his hands and tilted it so his gaze held hers, she saw an intensity she never had before in the depths of his eyes.
“What is it?” she whispered. She did not want to do anything to bring this moment to an end. Too many of their other kisses had been intruded upon or come to a swift end. She wanted this to continue until she wanted no more, which she guessed would be a time that would never come.
“Felix tells me I am a want-witted beef-head,” he answered in a low voice.
“Does he?” She watched her finger trace his beguiling lips. “And why does he say that?”
“Because he thinks only a want-witted beef-head would resist sampling every pleasure a beautiful woman like you could offer him.”
Her eyes wide, she drew back. He kept his arms around her, so she could not stand. Slowly he leaned her back over him again.
“He is right,” he whispered. “I am a want-witted beef-head, because I do want you, Serenity.”
“Timothy, you know this is just a game.”
“Is it?” He gathered her close to him as he murmured against her hair, “Is it, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” The word slipped past her lips in a breathless moan when his tongue teased her ear.
“Then it is a game where we both can be winners.” His hands framed her face once more as he pressed her mouth to his.
A scream came from behind Serenity. Leaping to her feet, she stared at Mrs. Scott, who stood in the doorway. The housekeeper stormed into the room just as the other door opened, and Henry rushed out.
“My lord!” Mrs. Scott chided, wagging a finger at him as if he were a child. “I would think you cared more for Miss Adams than to treat her like this.”
Timothy smiled as he pushed himself up to sit. It never had been proven that the housekeeper had a system of spies throughout the house, listening at keyholes, but he suspected that Grandfather was correct in surmising that she did. “Mrs. Scott, I am kissing Serenity because I do care for her.”
“Don’t try to trip me up with your wit, my lord. You know what I mean.”
“Her reputation, do you mean?”
“Exactly.” She crossed her arms in front of her, her foot tapping against the floor. She included an abashed Henry in her glower, but the valet wisely said nothing.
“I have to say I was not thinking of anything but her sweet lips at the moment, Mrs. Scott.”
“I would say that is shameful, my lord.”
“Would you deprive me of the very best medicine that is sure to get me back on my feet?”
The housekeeper looked down at him, her toe striking the floor even faster. “On your feet is not your goal, my lord, if I may say so.”
“It seems you have.” He laced Serenity’s fingers through his and smiled up at her. When she smiled back, her eye closing in a lazy wink, he was startled. He had not guessed Serenity would find this so amusing. There was so little he knew about this fascinating woman—so little she knew about herself. He wished they had the time to discover it together.
Mrs. Scott frowned at both of them, but he saw the good humor in her eyes as she raised her hands in defeat. “What else can I say? It is not as if I have to force you to agree to do the right thing and marry her. You already have offered her marriage.”
That was the wrong thing to say, he knew instantly, because Serenity stiffened beside him. When Mrs. Scott walked out, leaving the door open as far as it could go, he put his hand on Serenity’s arm to keep her from leaving.
“Sweetheart—”
“Please do not call me that.” She lifted his hand off her sleeve as she glanced at Henry.
“Henry,” Timothy said, without pulling his gaze from Serenity’s abruptly pale face, “you are excused.”
“If you think that wise, my lord.”
“I think it would be less wise for you to remain here just now.”
“I understand.” Henry’s tone suggested exactly the opposite, but he hurried back into the bedchamber, closing the door in his wake.
Serenity flinched as the door shut. “I think I should go and check on Theodora.”
“I will go with you.
“Timothy, I really want to be by myself. I am so confused.”
Standing, he put his hands on her shoulders. All his amusement was gone. They had been interrupted too often. The house would grow only more crowded over the next two days as guests arrived for the birthday assembly and the New Year’s celebrations. “I understand because I am confused as well. I know this betrothal is only …” He glanced toward the hall door.
Again her face grew pale. “Please let me go. Anything you or I might say now could be the careless word that ruins everything.”
“Especially if we spoke of how wondrous you were in my arms.”
“Timothy, this is senseless. All we will do is hurt each other more.”
He knew she was right, but he also knew he could not let her walk away like this. Where had the line between charade and the truth gone? They were one and the same now, and he did not know what that was.
Sixteen
Serenity looked over her shoulder into the glass. The lacy tra
in of her gown was matched by the white ruffles that edged the sheer fabric opening on the front of her gown to reveal the scarlet underdress. Silk flowers were woven through her hair and along the edges of her sleeves. At her throat, a necklace glittered with diamonds and rubies amid pearls.
“You look so lovely, Miss Adams.” Nan rocked from one foot to the other, unable to hide her excitement.
“Thanks to your help.” She touched her upswept hair. “You have a true gift for doing hair, Nan.”
“I enjoy it.” She giggled, sounding as young as Theodora. “I practice on the kitchen maids when Mrs. Gray is not watching.”
“I shall keep your secret.”
She dampened her lips and said, “I would like to continue being your abigail after you and Lord Cheyney are married.” She gulped. “I hope I was not too presumptuous to ask like this.”
“Not at all.” Serenity rubbed her hands together, then took the fan her abigail held out to her. The web of half-truths seemed to be closing in around her more every day. “I will speak with Mrs. Scott about your desire to continue serving as an abigail.”
There! That was the truth. Even if Nan could not continue to serve her, the young woman might be able to assist any guests who called at Cheyney Park until Theodora was old enough to put aside her nurse and need an abigail’s attentions. It seemed wondrous to speak the truth.
Then why was she so reticent to tell Timothy what was in her heart?
Serenity hurried out of her rooms, hoping to avoid having to answer that question. As she came down the stairs to the floor where the ballroom doors had been swung wide open, Timothy stepped out of the shadows of the stairwell and held up his hand to her.
She stood, frozen on the stairs, as she admired the way the candlelight gleamed off his golden hair and emphasized the breadth of his shoulders in his coat that was the same scarlet as her underdress. Unblemished white breeches and a waistcoat with holly and ivy embroidered across its front were the perfect complement to his smile.
“How beautiful you look,” he said, as she convinced her feet to carry her the rest of the way down the stairs.
A Christmas Bride Page 17
