One Candlelit Christmas

by Julia Justiss

  While she had deliberately limited her conversation to a prosaic discussion of agricultural life—hardly the stuff of which flirtation was made—he had responded with such intelligence and genuine interest that, forgetting she meant to resist him, she’d been drawn to him anew.

  And once the distraction of the children’s presence had been removed…oh, how much stronger the urge to draw near him had become!

  By then the force pulling her towards him had become more than just the ever-present temptation of his very attractive person. And, astounded and thrilled at the Dower House to discover he possessed an interest in innovations as lively as her own, she’d allowed him to lure her into prattling away…and ended up enjoying his company far more than was good for her.

  His company and the closeness of his far-too-attractive body.

  Her recollection of what it felt like to anticipate a kiss might be several years out of date, but some memories—the most vivid, searing memories—never faded. She was certain he’d almost kissed her twice. First outside the Dower House and then beside her own front door.

  That such a handsome, vital young man desired her sent a purely feminine thrill through her. And, oh, how she’d longed to lean up and taste his lips!

  Hers burned anew at the thought.

  The fact that he had made her yearn for him so desperately when they stood not ten feet from Wellingford’s front windows, where one of her guests or servants might have seen them should they have embraced, had sent her scurrying into the house in a near-panic.

  How was she to deal with Allen Mansfell?

  Too restless to remain seated, she jumped up and began to pace.

  For a virile man like Mr Mansfell, immured in the country as he had been lately, it was probably natural to flirt with whatever feminine company was available. As the only unmarried female of appropriate age, that had to be her.

  His flirtation was most likely only casual—wasn’t it?

  Except…the marked attention he was paying her was beginning to attract notice. Even the not normally discerning Colton had sent her a questioning look when Mr Mansfell had remained in her company instead of riding back with the rest of the party.

  He was a gentleman of impeccable reputation; she was a lady of quality and his hostess. To tempt her into dalliance would be unthinkable.

  Could he be serious?

  Mayhap he was interested in her. She was only two years his elder. Younger men sometimes did marry older ladies.

  Usually rich ones, though. Thanks to Nicky’s generosity she’d not enter marriage a pauper, but neither was she by any means an heiress. Except for the neighbour who’d courted her because the lands she’d inherited marched with his, she’d always assumed any man who pursued her would do so mainly for her charms alone.

  Which brought her right back to the same question. Would a handsome man with excellent prospects who, as she’d so baldly told him, might have the pick of the ladies in the Marriage Mart truly favour a maiden years his elder? Or was he just trying to pass the time with an agreeable flirtation?

  She didn’t know him well enough to judge. But, alas, she wanted to know him better. Already she liked him far more than was prudent. And unfortunately, her desire to respond to his sensual appeal, to reach up and pull his mouth down to claim a kiss should he ever offer one again, was great and growing, whether he was earnest in his regard for her or not.

  She sighed, thinking how marvellous it would be to have a companion who shared her enthusiasm for country life, for building, cultivating, preserving and enhancing the rich heritage entrusted to her. Someone of intelligence with whom to confer and question and debate and entertain.

  A man of powerful physical attraction to excite her appetites and slowly, thrillingly, satisfy them…

  Warmth swept over her as she pictured the vivid green of his eyes, the little dimples in his cheeks she longed to trace with her finger when he smiled, the thick dark hair curling over his brow through which she imagined running her fingers, and more…

  Closing her eyes, she envisaged those broad shoulders and strong arms bared to embrace her, the muscled thighs that controlled his mount so easily gripped about her as he drove her deep into the warmth of a feather mattress—

  Goodness! She halted her by the window with a gasp, fanning herself. This was awful! Never before had she indulged in such lewd, wicked fantasies.

  What was she to do? Abandon resistance and let herself follow her emotions and senses wherever they might lead? Respond in a way that would betray her interest and risk embarrassing herself by discovering that he was only trifling with her?

  She simply didn’t know.

  How could she recapture any sense of calm when all her instincts warned that Allen Mansfell posed a more serious danger than any other man she’d encountered in all the years since losing James? A man who might lead her to jeopardise her self-respect, her independence and her health in the pursuit of pleasure…who could tempt her to abandon caution and risk not just her body but her heart.

  She’d just begun another agitated turn about the room when her chamber door swung open and Bella waltzed in. ‘Aunt Merry! Isn’t my new dress beautiful? Mama had it made specially for Christmas.’

  Gladly Meredyth put aside her agitation to focus on the child. ‘It is lovely,’ she told the little girl pirouetting before her. ‘I’m surprised, though, that your mama is letting you wear it before Christmas Day.’

  ‘Oh, she wanted me to wait. But I asked and asked. The last time I asked she was lying down with a cloth on her head, and she told me to wear it and go to the devil.’

  While Meredyth choked back a laugh, Bella continued, ‘Your dress is pretty too, Aunt Merry. But gentlemen will like it better like this.’ Reaching up, the child tugged the neckline lower, until it revealed the rounded tops of Meredyth’s breasts.

  Appalled, Meredyth stared at the little girl. ‘Heavens, Bella, who told you that?’

  ‘Nobody,’ the little girl said. ‘When we were in Italy last summer, I watched the gentlemen who met Mama. If her gown showed some of her bosoms, they stared at her all night.’

  Merciful heavens—the child was barely six years old! Meredyth thought, aghast. She was wondering whether she ought to warn Clare when Bella added, ‘Mr Mansfell will watch you too. You like him, don’t you?’

  Meredyth was about to reply that she liked all her guests, but then her mind caught on the image of Allen Mansfell, looking down her bodice, his eyes lingering on her breasts. At the idea, her nipples swelled and burned, while a slow melting started lower, in her core.

  She didn’t realise she’d gone silent until Bella, with a little clap of glee, said ‘You do like him!’

  ‘Of course I like him, Bella,’ Meredyth replied, belatedly attempting a recovery. ‘His brother Thomas has been Colton’s best friend for years.

  ‘He’s almost as handsome as my papa,’ Bella allowed. ‘He likes you too. During the ride today he watched you all the time.’

  Had he been staring at her during their drive? Half-pleased, half-alarmed, Meredyth felt a blush warming her cheeks even as she protested, ‘I’m just the sister of his brother’s friend.’

  ‘He does like you,’ the child insisted. ‘Mr Mansfell likes Aunt Merry!’ she sang, dancing around the room. ‘Aunt Merry likes Mr Mansfell!’

  Now, that was just what she needed—the mischievous Bella drawing attention to her conduct towards Allen Mansfell while she was still at sixes and sevens trying to decide how to act around him. Searching for a way to silence the child, she said, ‘A lady never announces her interest in a gentleman—’tis terribly vulgar and your papa would be most disappointed in you. You must promise me you won’t say anything.’ While Bella stared at her, considering, she added a little desperately, ‘I’ll make sure Cook bakes ginger biscuits every day.’

  Bella nodded seriously. ‘I promise, Aunt Merry.’ Her solemn expression giving way to an impish grin, she cried, ‘Ginger biscuits every day! You like Mr M
ansfell very much!’ Giggling, she skipped out through the door.

  Meredyth wiped a handkerchief over her flushed brow. She could only hope Bella didn’t take it into her unpredictable head to do say or do something awful.

  Given that appalling observation about lowered bodices, she wouldn’t put anything past the child. Whether she’d persuaded Bella to silence or not, though, she didn’t dare mention the matter further. No matter how aghast she was at having to rely, in such a delicate matter, on the dubious discretion of a precocious six-year-old.

  Now, however, she must descend to the parlour lest she be late for dinner. More jittery than ever, Meredyth pulled on her gloves and walked out.

  Several hours later, Meredyth sat before the mirror at her dressing table, brushing out her hair for bed. The events of the evening replaying in her head heightened her agitation and indecision, and she knew it would be hours before she could capture sleep.

  In honour of the family’s first night together they’d dined early, so as to include the children. Entertaining the youngsters while she conferred with Twilling to keep the dinner service running smoothly had helped to occupy Meredyth—and dilute the unsettling effect of having Allen Mansfell in the same room. Though she admitted, with a reminiscent shiver, she’d still sensed his presence, even when her eyes and attention were directed elsewhere.

  She’d had a respite when the ladies withdrew, leaving the gentlemen to their brandy and cigars while the feminine contingent escorted the children up to bed. But from the moment the men had rejoined them in the parlour Allen Mansfell had singled her out to receive his particular attentions, joining her at the tea tray, remaining by her side as she poured, chatting with the company while he assisted her in distributing cups.

  By the time he’d solicited her to be his partner at whist more members of the company than just Colton had been casting speculative glances at them. She had tried to avoid looking at him and focus on the game, but even that innocuous entertainment had seemed to underline the intellectual connection they’d made at the Dower House. Somehow they’d seemed to anticipate each other’s hands, nearly always choosing the correct cards to play, as if they had been partners for years.

  After they’d carried the rubber, Mr Mansfell had leaned over to murmur, ‘I love the way you follow my lead.’

  ‘I follow when it pleases me,’ she’d responded, feeling her cheeks heat.

  ‘Then I shall strive always to please you,’ he had replied, his eyes gleaming with approval and the promise of something more.

  He meant to pursue her. There was no other way to interpret the remark, was there?

  As the evening had continued, it had seemed his gaze was always on her. Seeking to escape his scrutiny even as she’d enjoyed the heady thrill of knowing she was the object of his attention, she had gone to the pianoforte, meaning to quell her agitation in music.

  Once again he had followed, standing so close as he turned the pages that she’d made a number of blunders in performing pieces she’d long since mastered. Rattled, she’d switched to playing a simple folk tune, but when she had begun to sing he had surprised her by joining in, his deep bass a pleasing counterpoint to her soprano.

  While the company had clapped their enthusiastic approval of the duet, he’d bent to murmur in her ear. ‘See how beautifully we blend together?’

  With his lips lingering just above her ear, his virile body a mere touch away, her mind had skipped immediately to other things they might blend. She’d had to beat her senses back from a heated contemplation of bared bodies and tangled limbs.

  And though she ought to resent his ability to so easily fluster her, paradoxically she also found it immensely appealing that he understood and appreciated the same things she did—from farming to thatching cottage roofs to the concept of the washing machine. She liked it that he could anticipate which card she would play, that he enjoyed making music with her. It had seemed so natural to have him at her side, watching her, smiling that intimate smile, engaging her in animated discourse…making her burn with a longing that demanded satisfaction.

  Yes, she concluded with a sigh, she could all too easily envisage blending Allen Mansfell into her life—and her bed.

  His final comment of the evening had been the most disturbing—and thrilling—of all.

  While discussing Faith’s upcoming presentation, Clare had expressed the hope that Faith might make a match quickly, sparing the family the necessity of remaining in town for the entire Season.

  ‘Faith should take all the time she needs to make her choice—or not make one,’ Meredyth had protested. ‘Several Seasons, if necessary.’ With a fond glance at her younger sister, she’d added, ‘She mustn’t settle for any man but the one who can make her happiest.’

  ‘A girl in her first Season should be allowed to revel in the admiration of her suitors,’ Mr Mansfell had commented unexpectedly. ‘Though an older, more experienced lady might well be able to come to a decision more quickly. Do you not agree, Miss Wellingford?’

  He had fixed intense green eyes on her, making her stomach flutter and her breath grow short. ‘Y-yes,’ she’d allowed, ‘I expect a more mature lady would know her mind quickly.’

  Sarah had shot her a glance, her eyebrows raised. Meredyth looked away, but had seen the same inquisitive expression on the faces of Nicky, Clare and Sinjin. Only Hal and Elizabeth, gazing at each other raptly, had seemed oblivious to the undertones.

  The party had broken up soon afterwards, allowing her to escape to her room before Sarah or Clare could corner her and ask the nature of her relationship with Mr Mansfell. How could she answer them when she didn’t know herself?

  Nothing formal had been stated. Yet the innuendo of his speech combined with the marked attention he’d paid her under the full gaze of her family must mean Mr Mansfell harboured serious intentions towards her…mustn’t it?

  And, should he actually have such intentions, how should she respond to them?

  Hardly daring even now to contemplate so flattering a possibility, she allowed herself to consider the answer.

  There was heat aplenty between them. Of that she had no doubt. She liked him immensely. He amused her. She felt herself increasingly drawn to him. Yet she still had no desire to bestow her hand on a man whom she did not truly love, who did not vouchsafe a similar passion for her in return.

  Was there, could there be more, if she abandoned caution and let her emotions run free? If he convinced her he had in fact fallen in love with her?

  Exuberant, heedless, full of the optimism of youth, she and James had tumbled into love without consideration or reflection. Wiser now, with her emotions tightly leashed, she knew the growth of her affection for the man she was striving to resist was so different a process from her first foray into love that her previous experience was no help to her at all.

  Throwing herself fearlessly open again to the possibility of love…leaving herself vulnerable to the kind of heartbreak which had once nearly destroyed her…Did she dare attempt it?

  A sudden rap at the door made her start. Hoping that her caller wasn’t Sarah, come to demand what was transpiring between her and Allen Mansfell, Meredyth bade the visitor enter.

  Chapter Six

  To her relief, it was Faith rather than her perceptive older sister who walked in. Automatically Meredyth shifted her attention from her own worries to whatever concern had brought her little sister calling.

  ‘Too excited about London to sleep?’

  ‘Yes, that too,’ Faith said. ‘Although if I do no better at attracting other gentlemen than I have with Thomas Mansfell I shall vastly disappoint all of you.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Meredyth said roundly, giving her sister a hug. ‘With your grace and sweetness of character, the London beaux will fall at your feet. And don’t despair of Thomas either. He may not realise how grown-up and lovely you’ve become until he sees your beauty reflected in the admiring eyes of other men.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Faith said. ‘I
do so like him. But then, as you said—and I do thank you for it, sister—I hope to enjoy the attentions of a number of suitors before I choose one to wed. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.’

  Feeling a niggle of unease, Meredyth said, ‘Then what did you want to discuss, my dear?’

  Faith grinned at her. ‘I may pine for a Mansfell admirer, but you, big sister, already have one—and how very particular he is!’

  When Meredyth tried to demur, Faith shook a finger at her. ‘Even Sarah, ill as she’s feeling, noticed how marked his attentions are. Then Colton told us Mr Mansfell rode with you to inspect the Dower House, subjecting his elegant apparel to the hazards of paint and plaster. Now if that doesn’t show the seriousness of his intentions, I shall eat my lace fichu!’

  ‘He’s interested in renovation,’ Meredyth protested. ‘He’s soon to commence similar work at the Grange.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Faith allowed. ‘But he’s also very interested in you! Which only shows how clever he is, for he could never find a more excellent a lady than my darling Merry! Only promise you will not wed before the end of the Season, for I’ve quite counted on having your support.’

  ‘Of course I shall stay to support you!’ Meredyth replied, trying to decide how little she could get away with revealing to her sister. ‘I’ll admit Allen Mansfell has paid me some attention—but only, I expect, to pass the time. You make far too much of it.’

  Faith shook her head. ‘Not at all! Do you not know what happened last Season?’

  Another pang of foreboding resonating within her, Meredyth said, ‘Perhaps you’d better enlighten me?’

  ‘Colton says Thomas told him his brother went to London last spring to look for a suitable wife. Clare and Sinjin were in town then, and Clare says soon after Mr Mansfell arrived he fell headlong in love with Miss Susanna Davies—a great beauty who had many suitors vying for her favour. Though she showed a great partiality for Mr Mansfell, she never entirely discouraged her other admirers, driving poor Mr Mansfell quite distracted with jealousy! Just after she finally accepted his proposal Lord Wildemere came to town, and was immediately smitten with Miss Davies. Wildemere, you may recall, is connected to the Howards, and a number of the old families of rank and position. With her father’s and His Lordship’s persuasion, Miss Davies was induced to break her engagement to Mr Mansfell and accept Lord Wildemere instead.’