Mistletoe Kisses and Yuletide Joy

by Jo Beverley

  When Kitty arrived at number fourteen, Wells Street, she noted that some of the curtains were drawn back and a polished brass knocker awaited her on the handsome door. With a steadying breath, Kitty applied it.

  Almost immediately, Ned opened the door, neatly dressed in a suit of clothes that were probably correct attire for a nobleman's valet. "Good afternoon, Miss Mayhew."

  Did he guess her errand? She supposed it was possible Pol had managed to sneak out and tell him she'd been caught. She studied the man and had to admit that he didn't look like a wicked seducer of innocent maids. She'd been thinking much more of his master when she'd conjured up that image.

  Like master like man, she reminded herself as he led her across a spacious hall and up wide carpeted stairs.

  But then, shouldn't it be, like mistress like maid?

  Lord Chatterton awaited her in the drawing room, a magnificent chamber with walls covered in Chinese wallpaper, and windows draped with gold damask. The red, brown, and gold carpet was a work of art. Other works of art scattered the room. Could that painting really be a Caravaggio? And that sculpture....

  Kitty was tempted to gawk, and knew for sure that Lord Chatterton was not skulking from creditors. Even if he had outrun his funds, his family would rescue him. So why, she wondered again, had he been lurking in his own kitchen pretending to be out of town?

  He certainly wasn't skulking now. As at church, he was dressed expensively in quiet elegance and looked in command of the world.

  "Won't you be seated, Miss Mayhew."

  Somewhat reluctantly, Kitty perched on a sofa, drawing off her gloves.

  "Perhaps we can offer you tea."

  Kitty almost refused, but then decided that nothing wicked could happen over tea. "Thank you."

  Ned disappeared and his master took a seat opposite her, crossing one pantalooned leg over the other. "How may I assist you, Miss Mayhew?"

  His manner was exactly that of a noble lord giving a few moments to a lowly neighbor. It was as if he expected to be asked for a donation to a local charity.

  Since Kitty took an interest in the local home that had produced Pol she might well ask for some money before leaving. If they were still on speaking terms, that was.

  Annoyingly nervous, she was shaping her words when he spoke again.

  "If you have been pestered again by a caterwaul, Miss Mayhew, I assure you Rochester wasn't involved. We have him confined as if he were a traitor in the Tower."

  Kitty met his eyes. "Then perhaps you should lock your man in there with him, my lord."

  "Ned? You're suggesting that Ned is serenading your cat at night?"

  He didn't believe that for a moment. She also saw, distractingly, that his eyes were a rich hazel, a color that was deceptively warm. A wicked rake should have cold eyes.

  Keep your wits and your dignity, Kitty.

  "I am informing you, my lord, that your servant is trying to seduce my maid. Pol is a sweet, innocent girl raised in a charity school and without protectors other than myself."

  His brows rose. "You astonish me, Miss Mayhew."

  But again it was play acting. He was not at all surprised. Remembering him in disorder in his kitchen, she realized he was probably aiding and abetting his servant. Perhaps he intended to use poor Pol for his own low pleasures once she'd succumbed.

  Rage might have tempted her to say things she shouldn't if Ned hadn't returned.

  He carried a large silver tray holding not only a teapot and water jug, but a generous selection of cakes. He placed the tray on a side table and poured into pretty, gilt-edged cups. In moments, kitty was being presented with her tea and the milk and sugar to add to it. Not long afterward, she was invited to select from among the cakes.

  All this propriety gave her chance to regain her composure. Her fancy was flying away with her. A nobleman -- especially one like Lord Chatterton -- would not sink so low as to ruin a kitchen maid.

  Then she began to resent his silence. She was ill-at-ease and couldn't think of anything to say, but she was sure he was adept at small talk. The wretched man said nothing, however, so Kitty contemplated Ned again.

  To all appearances he was an excellent servant. He moved about quietly and efficiently with none of the extremes -- mincing or strutting -- sometimes found. In looks he was tidy and unassuming, hardly well-armed for wicked seduction. Then she reminded herself that she'd first seen him lolling around over wine and cards at ten in the morning.

  As soon as he left, Kitty fixed her host with a stern look, determined on a response to her demand.

  He sipped his tea. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Ned as Casanova. Really, my dear Miss Mayhew, can you see it?"

  "Since I have no idea what or who Casanova is, no."

  "And everyone describes you as so well-educated."

  "Everyone...? Have you been gossiping about me again, my lord?" Kitty was genuinely appalled. What would the world -- her world -- think if he'd been going around asking about her?

  "Gossip? Not at all. But on Christmas Day I found it possible to speak of you a little. Your father was a scholar much interested in that mysterious force, electricity. Your mother assisted him in his work, but was also a scholar in her own right, with a great interest in ancient customs. They educated you at home, and widely, and you traveled with them wherever they went. You must miss them."

  The last sentence broke through Kitty's bemusement like a blow. "My family is no concern of yours, my lord. I merely want your word that your servant will leave my maid alone."

  "And I asked you if you saw him as Casanova. Clearly you do."

  Kitty sighed theatrically. "I can only assume that Casanova is a character in a play, a rakish seducer. If so, then yes, I see your man in that mold. After all," she added, with a meaningful look at him, "not all rakes are as brash as toms about it."

  He smiled. It almost turned into a grin. "Did I tell you, Miss Mayhew, that my name is Tom?"

  "How precognizant of your parents, my lord."

  He laughed, slumping back into his chair in a genuine abandonment of hilarity. He looked so wonderful in its glow that Kitty's cup and saucer tilted, splashing her skirt with the dregs.

  She hastily put it on the small table by her hand and gave thanks to be wearing black. When she looked up again he had calmed, but the shimmer of laughter still lit him. "Casanova, my dear Miss Mayhew, was a real person, dead not twenty years ago. He loved women and loved to persuade them into love with him, and in his memoirs he claimed to make them all very, very happy."

  Kitty gave thanks for an education what made her hard to shock. "Then I don't think your man is like him. He will make poor Pol very, very unhappy."

  "Don't you think you should at least give him a chance?"

  "No."

  "You don't seem to trust your maid very much."

  "She's only eighteen and an orphan. She's a very sensible girl, but I'm afraid that her head will be turned by your man's attentions. Any woman can be tempted by promises of love and tenderness, of a home and family...."

  She trailed off because of the way he was looking at her. Surely he didn't think those words applied to her?

  He merely said, "Ned's intentions are honorable, Miss Mayhew. Apparently in the past week, when he has been acting as man-of-all-work to me, he has encountered your maid in the area -- at the market, the butcher's and such. Out in the garden a few nights ago, he realized where she lived, and decided to pursue the acquaintance."

  "Pursue," pounced Kitty. "Exactly."

  "With an eye to marriage."

  "You can't expect me to believe that."

  "Of course I can."

  He appeared serious.

  "Firstly," she said, "personal servants rarely marry under the rank of butler and housekeeper. Secondly, upper servants -- which your Ned clearly is -- are as likely to marry a kitchen maid as..."

  "As a lord is to marry the daughter of scholars?" he supplied helpfully.

  "That is unlikely," she forced out, managi
ng not to snarl. "But not of the depth of improbability of your Ned intending honorable matrimony with my Pol."

  "But love can wipe away all social barriers, dear lady."

  "Not in real life, dear sir."

  He considered her a moment. "Miss Mayhew, delightful as this verbal jousting is, let us be direct. Believe it or not, Edward Kingsman, my valet and occasional man-of-all-work-"

  "Not to mention partner in all-night carousing," Kitty interrupted.

  He sighed. "Are you holding that against him? My fault entirely. I was restless and commanded his company. It is his job to do almost anything I command. What you saw, however, was the dregs of the night before. I had risen early and gone riding to clear my head, and then returned to bathe. I assure you that Ned disapproves of my occasional carouses as much as you would wish. May I continue?"

  Daunted, Kitty nodded.

  "Edward Kingsman believes himself in love with Polly Cooper, general maid at your house. As you pointed out, she is really not worthy of this honor-"

  Kitty opened her mouth to retort, then thought better of it.

  "Or at least," he amended with a smile, "could be said to be flattered by it. All the same, his regard is genuine. I gather that in the five years she's been in service at your house you've given her extra education. Apparently, she would be able to hold her own in a much higher level of the servants' world."

  "Pol is the equal of anyone," Kitty said.

  "In the eyes of God, I am sure you are right," he responded smoothly. "I, however, am not sure this match is wise, though I would certainly be willing to arrange matters so that Ned could marry and stay in my service. You, too, have doubts, as any sensible woman must. But it is hardly fair, Miss Mayhew, to forbid a match before we know if it is based on a genuine attraction."

  Bludgeoned by reason, Kitty relented just a little. "So what do you suggest, my lord?"

  "A courtship. I suggest we permit them to meet and learn about each other just as people of our own station would."

  Such a marriage would be a wonderful thing for Pol, if it worked out. "I would like to believe that Mr. Kingman's intentions are honorable, my lord, but I can't put blind faith in that. What if we permit them to meet and he is less than honorable?"

  "He gets her with child? I'd make him marry her, never fear."

  "But would that be fair to her? Foolish though it is, a woman can be seduced without the man being an ideal husband. I wouldn't want Pol trapped for life with an unpleasant and even resentful man because I allowed her too much freedom."

  "I rather thought we'd outlawed slavery," he murmured.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "If we can regulate the freedom of others, does not that make them slaves?"

  "I would never have taken you for a radical free-thinker, my lord."

  "You'd be astonished by the workings of my mind, my dear Miss Mayhew. Why not become acquainted with them as we allow our slaves to assess one another?"

  "What?" Kitty was sweating, and the heat was stimulated by something in his eyes.

  "I'm suggesting that we let Ned court Pol, and that we act as chaperones. I'm sure it will be a tedious duty, but in the process we can each learn something of the other's mind."

  "Chaperones," echoed Kitty. "But why two? One would suffice."

  "Are you willing to entrust Pol to Ned with only me as guardian?"

  Kitty most certainly was not. "Then perhaps I should be the chaperone."

  "But can I abandon Ned to that arrangement?"

  Kitty glared at him, but could see he meant to be difficult about it. And really, there was no reason to be nervous. She and Lord Chatterton would be chaperoned by Ned and Pol.

  He smiled slightly, as if he could read her mind. "I'm living here with just the one servant. It puzzles you, doesn't it? If you agree to my plan, I promise to explain all."

  "I don't indulge in vulgar curiosity," Kitty lied. "But as you say, it is only fair to allow Pol and Ned to become acquainted. How is it to be arranged?"

  "I suggest that each evening we four gather, alternating houses. We can talk, play cards, do whatever amuses us for a few hours. After some days of this, surely everyone will be clearer in their minds."

  "Everyone?"

  "Ned and Pol will know their minds. And we will know whether to approve or not."

  Kitty was still unaccountably nervous. "I would think you would have other things to do with your evenings, my lord."

  "Not just now, no. Well, Miss Mayhew?"

  "How long is this to go on?"

  "The servants here will begin to return on January 6th, the day after Twelfth Night."

  "Mine will be back on the 7th."

  "So, we have ten nights."

  "It seems an imposition on you, my lord."

  "No more of an imposition than it is for you, Miss Mayhew."

  "But I live very quietly, especially now I am in mourning. You..."

  "I?" Humor crinkled his eyes. "I need a break from my life of endless dissipation. Have pity, Miss Mayhew. Ten days of healthy suppers with very little wine and early bedtimes -- I'll be fit as a fiddle by Twelfth Night."

  He was fit as a fiddle now, no one could deny that. Kitty hadn't really thought of it, but he didn't look like a worn-out libertine.

  That was irrelevant anyway. She must do what was best for Pol. She didn't think of her maid as a slave, but she did feel some responsibility. She could no more agree to her wandering about with a man unchaperoned than she could agree to such behavior for a young sister.

  If she had a young sister, then chaperoned social activities would be exactly what was called for. She could see no reason to refuse the plan, though a part of her wanted to.

  Very badly.

  Another part of her, however, was suddenly looking forward to the next ten nights more than she could ever have imagined. She was very curious about this man.

  "Very well, my lord. But I reserve the right to put a stop to the plan if necessary."

  "And I the same. Perhaps after a few unclandestine meetings, both Ned and Pol will find the magic fading. Familiarity, after all, is said to breed contempt."

  "And `Sweets grown common lose their dear delight,' my lord? I think I understand your purpose now."

  "And your Shakespeare caps my Aesop. You understand all too little, Miss Mayhew, despite your scholarly upbringing. So, tonight. Your house or mine?"

  Kitty rose, pulling on her gloves to hide her fluster at the simple question. "Yours," she said, since she wasn't ready to have him invading her territory. "But what will people think to see me visiting your house every other night?"

  "Not to mention my coming to yours. Perhaps," he said, pulling the bell-rope, "through the garden and mews, like a hopeful tom? There's actually a gate, if you care to unlock it."

  Kitty wished he would stop making these suggestive remarks. They didn't mean anything, but they unsettled her, and he knew it. She feared he not only intended this courtship to cool Ned and Pol's ardor, but to provide amusement for himself in teasing her.

  Before she could put words to any of this, however, Ned was there being informed of their plans. Kitty immediately felt ashamed of her earlier suspicions, for no one could doubt the shining delight that lit his face.

  Just as Pol's face had glowed at merely speaking of him.

  It was undoubtedly that plague called love.

  So be it. As Kitty left the house, she decided to try to make this match work for Pol -- regardless of Lord Chatterton's cynical intentions.

  ((---))

  By way of exploration, Kitty returned the back way, finding that a narrow footpath from the mews led down the back of the gardens on Suffolk Street to Charles Street. It was clearly a well-used shortcut. As Lord Chatterton had said, there was a gate in her garden wall, but it was firmly locked and covered by ivy. She remembered it now from childhood explorations, but wondered if it could be opened after all these years.

  She took the path down to Charles Street and returned home
to explain the plan to Pol. Again, it was as if a candle lit behind the girl's eyes, they shone so.

  "Oh, Miss Kitty. Thank you! I know he's above me, but he's such a lovely man...." Tears started. "Thank you. Thank you!"

  Kitty gathered the girl into a hug. "Don't make your eyes red, dear. And mark, this is just to let you become acquainted. You might find you don't like him so well, or he you."

  Pol sniffed and blew her nose on a handkerchief, one of the ones Kitty had given her as a present. "I know that, miss. But at the moment, I just want to be able to spend time with him. I think of him all the time. I know it's daft, but I do. All the time."

  Kitty laughed. "Sounds like love to me, Pol. It can fade, but why not enjoy it while you can?"

  And that, she thought, was good advice for herself. She knew she was thinking of Lord Chatterton far too much, and was intrigued by his teasing ways. If she accepted that it was just in fun, she could enjoy it and give as good as she got.

  Memories of that nighttime kiss flickered. She could bear a repeat of that, too. Perhaps while Ned and Pol were exploring their love, she could enjoy a safe little flirtation with a dashing nobleman. It was a chance not likely to come her way again.

  And she could satisfy her curiosity, too. She did want to know why he was lurking almost alone in that magnificent house over Christmas.

  "Very well," she said to Pol, "but if you want to go a-courting, we'd best find a way to open that gate. The gentlemen might be happy to climb the wall, but I most certainly am not."

  It wasn't too hard. An old bunch of heavy keys provided one that turned the lock, though it took some squirts of oil to get it moving with ease. Kitty made short work of the ivy with a pair of garden shears, whilst Pol dug up two small bushes that had been planted where the path should be.

  Kitty surveyed their work with satisfaction, but then laughed. "You know, we really should have made the men come over and do all this."

  "Oh no," said Pol. "I think we have to each take care of our own ground."

  And that, thought Kitty, was very wise indeed.

  Chapter Four