One Candlelit Christmas

by Julia Justiss

  He’d have to proceed carefully. While he wished to leave her in no doubt about how appealing her found her—he doubted he could conceal that fact in any event—he must also keep his conversation free of any innuendo that might make Miss Wellingford uncomfortable. There would be no deep kisses and fondling on balconies for her. No taking liberties with her person until she was well and truly wed. He respected, even admired that. After all, he’d not want a wife who gave a come-hither smile to every passing rogue each time his back was turned.

  A wife like Susanna who, with heavy-lidded eyes and an unspoken invitation on her pouting lips, had imbued her every utterance with sensual overtones, driving him mad with lust and jealousy.

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘Shall we go, then?’

  Giving him a nod, she signalled her mount to a trot, taking care to maintain some distance between the horses. With his body already urging him closer, faster, he found her caution frustrating, intriguing—and very enticing.

  Like a beautiful, high-strung, unbroken filly, Meredyth Wellingford would have to be soothed and gentled if he wanted her to come to him. Allen found it unexpectedly appealing that to woo this lady he would likely have to win her mind and heart before he could beguile her senses. And the better acquainted with her he became, the longer he spent in her company, the more fervently he desired her to do just that.

  ‘Thomas told us you took over the daily management of your father’s estates after your return from the army,’ she was saying. ‘You seem to relish the responsibility?’

  ‘I do,’ he affirmed. ‘I enjoy watching the fields go from damp earth after spring ploughing to fragile shoots to vigorous stalks and to the gold of harvest. I like consulting with the tenants on ways to increase yields, improve the land and keep the property in good repair.’ He chuckled. ‘I like beauty, order—and the smell of whitewash and paint.’

  ‘Then you shall definitely enjoy stopping at the Dower House,’ she replied with a grin.

  At that moment a quail burst from the woods. Miss Wellingford’s mare reared up, neighing and fighting the bit. Before Allen could signal his mount to assist her, she had soothed the animal and settled her back to trot.

  ‘Well done!’ Allen said. ‘For an instant I feared your horse might bolt, but you controlled her beautifully. What an exemplary horsewoman you are!’

  Miss Wellingford shrugged off his compliment. ‘Growing up in the country as I did, I expect ’twas inevitable.’

  ‘Not at all. My sisters both ride, but neither can match you. You move as one with the horse. It’s a pleasure to watch.’

  Though he truly had not intended to imbue the remark with any innuendo, her eyes widened as she lifted her wary gaze to his. Once again he felt almost compelled to draw near her. His fingers itched to brush the golden tendrils from her brow, to trace along the fine leather of her gloves to the soft bare skin of her wrists.

  Her silver eyes turned smoky, almost as if she could read his thoughts. When she sighed and ran the tip of her pink tongue over her lips, leaving them moist and glistening, his pulse jumped. His heart hammered in his chest and he felt such a surge of desire he nearly lost his seat.

  Shaken, exulting, he struggled to get himself back under control. Ah, yes, passion ran deep in Miss Wellingford. He ached to explore it. Now.

  Maybe he wouldn’t wait until the beginning of the Season to begin openly courting her…

  Chapter Four

  While he reached that pleasant conclusion, Miss Wellingford’s mount had trotted on ahead. ‘Are your father’s holdings far-flung?’ she asked as she turned back.

  She’d increased the distance between them again. But not for long, he vowed. ‘The Grange is his principal estate, but several other sizeable properties have come into the family through marriage and purchase,’ he replied, urging his mount nearer. ‘I visit them every several months.’

  ‘You get to travel, then? Does that suit you?’

  ‘I enjoy it. Papa does not—all the jolting about on horseback tires his bones, he says. Besides, since my sister married the owner of a neighbouring estate Papa prefers to remain at home and enjoy his grandchildren.’

  ‘Your family is expecting some from you soon?’ she asked, carefully avoiding his eyes.

  Was that a glimmer of interest? He certainly hoped so. Encouraged, he replied, ‘They are not pressing me to marry, but I’m sure they would welcome it. Nor am I averse to the idea, if the time—and the lady—are right.’

  Once again a slight blush tinged her cheeks. ‘As an exemplary young man of good family and excellent prospects, I’m sure you’ll have your pick of the Marriage Mart. The Dower House is just down this lane.’

  He turned his horse to follow, admiring the bounce of her trim posterior on the sidesaddle. If he could assume her remark was sincere rather than idle flattery—and nothing he’d yet seen of her led him to expect she would indulge in that—it appeared she found his character as appealing as he found hers. A most gratifying prospect. Mutual admiration might easily lead to the friendship and tender regard he now believed created the best foundation for a happy union.

  She pulled up at the Dower House, a compact but spacious half-timbered building that appeared to date back to Elizabethan times, and waited for him to assist her. He did so with pleasure, savouring the feel of her trim waist under his fingers as he helped her from the saddle.

  Before he could make any more of that momentary closeness, an older man, having apparently heard their approach, trotted out the front door. ‘Good day, Miss Wellingford—sir,’ he said, bowing. ‘We’ve just finished the front parlour. Would you like to inspect it?’

  ‘Very much,’ she replied. Nodding at Allen to follow, she set off after the foreman. Not sure what he would have done had they not been interrupted, but sorry he’d not had the opportunity to find out, he trailed after them.

  They crossed the entrance hall, its wooden floor sanded and its walls bright with fresh paint, and entered a side room, also freshly painted and boasting a handsome coffered ceiling.

  ‘The heater be fully installed now,’ the foreman said. ‘You sure it warms better than the old fireplace, miss? It’s not so big.’

  ‘True, Baxter, but the smaller size draws less cold air from the room and allows less heated air to escape up the chimney, while the shallow sides and angled back reflect more of the fire’s heat into the room,’ she explained.

  The workman still looked dubious. ‘If you say so, miss. Now that we know how to do it, refitting the other rooms will go more quickly. I’ll be getting back to it.’

  ‘Thank you, Baxter.’

  ‘You’re having Rumford fireplaces installed in all the rooms?’ Allen asked.

  ‘You’re familiar with the design?’ she asked, sounding surprised.

  ‘Yes. After reading the Count’s treatises on heating devices, I sought out some examples. I’ve also seen the double boiler he developed, and a model of his stove.’

  Her eyes brightened with enthusiasm. ‘I viewed his stove in London too. I’d like to install one here, but his design is too large for the kitchen.’

  ‘You sound quite knowledgeable,’ Allen said, surprised in turn—and impressed. ‘Have you read Rumford’s treatise?’

  ‘No, but Hal—Mr Waterman—told me about them. So many new devices are being developed! Preferring this house to the Hall—and such a drafty, crumbling wreck it was then one could scarce blame her!—my mama moved here after my father’s death, living here until her own demise. Nothing about the house has been altered since before my grandfather’s day. Since it required renovation anyway, I decided to incorporate into its refurbishment as many of the new designs as I could.’

  ‘So Hal has interested you in his technologies too? His zeal is contagious. He’s been a good friend since Oxford, and the breadth of his knowledge still amazes me.’

  ‘Quite true,’ she agreed. ‘I’ve known him for years—since my sister Sarah married Lord Englemere.’

  A bri
ef blush came and went in her cheeks, making Allen wonder if she’d ever had a tendre for Hal. A surprisingly intense satisfaction filled him that his friend was now safely wed to the lovely Elizabeth.

  ‘Have you invested in any of his ventures?’ she asked.

  ‘Alas, working the land does not allow one to quickly accumulate the extra coin necessary for investing. I do hope to give him some blunt towards a proposed scheme for rail transport, but in the main I’ve focused on domestic improvements. As you seem to have.’

  ‘Let me show you what else I’ve had installed, then,’ she said.

  To his surprise and delight she took his arm. Enjoying the little sizzle of contact, he let her lead him out of the parlour.

  ‘How I wish I might have interior gas lighting as well, such as I have seen at several houses in London!’ she told him as they walked down to the kitchen. ‘But I expect it will be years before we have a gas works near enough. Still, along with the Rumford fireplaces we shall have a saltpeter vat for chilling, and a Sidgier washing machine in the laundry. Are you familiar with that?’

  ‘No. Do tell me how it works.’

  For another half an hour, her gestures animated, her manner friendlier than it had been at any time previously, Meredyth Wellingford took Allen through the house. She showed him the double-caged rotary washing machine, the improved gas lamps Hal had brought her back from Scotland, and described how the workmen were altering all the fireplaces to accommodate the shallower, narrower Rumsford stoves.

  Allen followed her about, charmed, delighted and impressed that Miss Wellingford not only shared his interest in household improvements but demonstrated a thorough knowledge of how the new devices functioned. Enjoying the discovery that she possessed so unusual and unexpected an understanding assuaged somewhat his body’s disappointment that her tour did not include the bedchambers.

  It required but little imagination for him to envisage himself slowly disrobing her before a glowing Rumsford hearth, combing those golden tresses through his fingers as he pulled her head close and took her lips…

  His chest and his loins tightened at the thought. Dispelling the image with reluctance, he told himself that for the moment he would have to be content with fanning the small flame of friendship their shared interests had created in Miss Wellingford. More carnal pleasures would have to wait for later…but not too much later, he promised himself.

  They ended their explorations where they had begun, in the front hall. ‘Shall we return to Wellingford Hall now?’ she asked. ‘You must be famished!’

  ‘A glass of ale does sound appealing,’ he admitted. ‘But I’ve enjoyed this afternoon tremendously. Thank you so much for the tour.’

  ‘You’re very welcome.’

  She looked up at him, smiling faintly. A warmth seemed to envelop them, binding them closer, making him fiercely glad he was standing with her, inhaling her sweet rose scent, savouring the feel of her hand on his arm. Just one small movement and he could lean down and kiss her…

  His head had angled downwards before he halted abruptly, his brain warning his eager body that it was too soon. Loath to rush into something that would frighten her off, or spoil the camaraderie they’d just enjoyed, he stepped back.

  Ignoring the clamouring of his disappointed body, instead of claiming the kiss he craved Allen offered her his arm and walked her down the front steps to the waiting horses. Allowing his hands to linger at her waist just a moment longer than necessity dictated, he assisted her into the saddle.

  ‘It’s a handsome property,’ he said after he’d remounted his own horse, determinedly pulling his thoughts from admiring the luscious curve of her hips. ‘I can understand why you are lavishing such attention on it.’

  She shrugged. ‘It will be my home some day, when Colton brings home his bride.’

  ‘Are you so sure? I’m already surprised the gentlemen have left so lovely a lady unclaimed,’ he said, glad for this opening to question a fact he found increasingly puzzling.

  To his surprise, a sadness settled over her face. ‘There was one gentleman. Like you, my fiancé was a soldier. He died in India several years ago.’

  Saddened for her—but relieved to know she was not irrevocably set against marriage—he said, ‘I’m sorry. It was not just in Waterloo and on the Peninsula that we lost good men. Did you…abandon society after his loss?’

  Keeping her horse beside his this time as they rode, she said, ‘Not exactly. I went to London when my other sisters Emma and Cecily were presented, while James and I were still engaged. Just after he died Mama’s health declined, and she could no longer leave Wellingford. I stayed with her until her death. Since then there has been one thing or another—repairs to the Hall, overseeing the manager in bringing the farms and fields back into order, attending my sisters at their lying-ins, and most recently the trip abroad. But I plan to accompany Faith to London for the Season next spring.’

  ‘I’ve heard a great deal of what Miss Meredyth Wellingford has done for her family,’ Allen said as they started down the gravel drive to Wellingford Hall. ‘But what does Miss Wellingford want for herself?’

  She looked down at her hands on the reins. ‘A place to belong,’ she said, so softly he had to strain to hear her. ‘Where I am loved and valued. Not a burden.’

  ‘Here among your family I can see you already have that.’ Reaching the front entrance, he jumped down from his horse, handing the reins to a waiting groom, who led away their mounts away while he helped her to alight. ‘Do you not long for…more?’

  This time he could not resist the temptation to leave his hands on her waist well past the time necessary for her to steady her balance. Loath to remove them, he stared down at her, forgetting his question, oblivious to any answer she might have given him, lost in silver eyes that widened, then darkened, in lips that parted in seeming invitation. His breath drying in his throat, once again Allen fought against the urgent need to kiss her.

  Abruptly she stepped back, breaking the spell. ‘Th-thank you for your escort, Mr Mansfell,’ she said, her voice breathless to his ears—or maybe it was the sudden thunder of his heartbeat that made her sound faint. ‘I shall see you at dinner, I’m sure.’ After giving him a quick curtsey, she hurried up the steps.

  Watching her walk away with a lithe grace, while he stood silent, waiting for his pulse to steady, Allen found himself smiling. Though his desire for her was even sharper after the interlude they’d just shared, somehow, with a sense of euphoria and calm expectation filling him, he felt less impatient.

  He meant to wed Meredyth Wellingford, he realised, the decision resonating with a satisfying feel of rightness. He’d seen enough of women to know what he wanted and didn’t want in a wife. Indeed, he wondered suddenly, was it truly necessary to wait until next spring’s Season to go down on his knee before her?

  Having known each other by reputation for years, they had no need of a long courtship in which to discover each other’s character. His time thus far at Wellingford had demonstrated that they shared even more interests than he’d suspected. Better still, since the moment they’d met he’d known there lay between them a deep vein of sensual attraction just waiting to be mined—one he was more than eager to explore.

  Tasting her loveliness was a pleasure worth waiting for—an eventual delight anticipation would make even sweeter. He’d earn that moment by building on the rapport this afternoon had created, coaxing her along the path from admiration to affection down which he felt himself already tumbling, until her resistance to the pull between them vanished and she willingly gave him her hand.

  Without being too conceited, he felt he could offer her as much as she offered him. Lovely as she was, Meredyth Wellingford was a bit old for the Marriage Mart. In their bedazzlement with the fresh young beauties making their first bows, less thoughtful men might overlook her. She deserved a man who truly appreciated her charm, her unique talents…and her passion.

  If he could induce her to reciprocate his reg
ard as she already reciprocated his desire, and to look as favourably as he did on the idea of marriage, perhaps they could reach an understanding even before he and Thomas left Wellingford for the Grange.

  An understanding, he thought, his enthusiasm for the idea building, that might allow them to announce their engagement at once, sparing him having to waste the crucial start of another agricultural season trapped in London trolling the Marriage Mart.

  A spring in his step, Allen mounted the stairs to Wellingford Hall. He could think of no more delightful a Christmas gift than having Meredyth Wellingford agree to become his bride.

  Chapter Five

  Dismissing her maid after dressing for dinner, Meredyth lingered in her chamber, hoping a moment of reflection might settle her nerves.

  Settle them she must. Otherwise, perceptive as Sarah was, Meredyth couldn’t be certain her sister’s current condition would distract her from noticing the agitation still afflicting Meredyth after her ride with Allen Mansfell. The chaotic mix of confusion, yearning, anxiety, and raw desire churning within her was so distressing and embarrassing she didn’t feel she could bear discussing it—not even with the sister to whom she’d disclosed every other secret of her life.

  Just how had Allen Mansfell invaded her placid, well-ordered existence, and within the space of two short days shattered all her hard-won calm and contentment? Making her burn with desires she’d thought permanently extinguished and yearn for an intimacy she’d long felt impossible to ever recapture.

  Even with the children accompanying them she’d been unable to harden herself to his charm. With a good-humoured amusement that made him all the more appealing he’d displayed neither surprise nor annoyance at this addition to what was to have been their private ride. Instead, with the twinkle in his eye telling her he’d recognised her ploy, he’d joined in her efforts to entertain her young charges and helped them cut and load their greenery.