by Cheryl Bolen
"Since I presume your wife will be sanding yours, it's not fair that Miss Lippincott get all the shorter ones." Spencer didn't approve of the way Annabelle Lippincott was being thrown at him. Adam and his wife must have thought they would be a good match. He inwardly groaned. He, too, had once thought so.And he'd thought Anna had too.
Adam shook his head good-naturedly. "You're always so devilishly logical, old Pythagoras. You want to take the even-numbered years, and I'll take the odd?"
"Sounds fair."
"Remington offered to have some of his staff make the swords for us," Adam said as he came up behind Spencer, "but I told him this was something we needed to do."
Spencer took his first slender scrap of hardwood and placed it in the vise. "Indeed." He cut the first one into two lengths of a foot and a half each for the youngest lads, then he sawed each into a point and removed them from the vise, freeing it for Adam's use.
Anna's lavender scent surrounded him. "Here, I can begin to sand one," she said. She had donned the apron and removed her gloves. He wouldn't allow himself to think about how lovely her hands were.
He stiffly handed one to her, then began to select a smaller piece for fashioning a hilt. Why in the devil did she have to stand so near? In spite of the way she intruded on his thoughts, he found a block of wood suitable for a hilt, took the knife, and began to whittle on it.
"I know you're a perfectionist," she said in a soft voice, "but I'd advise you to saw the hilts. It would take you entirely too long to carve out the perfect design you have in mind. They might not be finished until Christmas next year."
He spoke in a low, measured voice. "It's easy to see that you're an indulged only child used to ordering people about." His words had been calculated to hurt her, though not as savagely as she'd once hurt him.The pity of it was, every word she'd uttered was right. He was a perfectionist. It would take him hours to carve just one that would satisfy him. He did need to cut the hilts with a saw.
He'd forgotten that in a very brief amount of time she had come to know him better than anyone ever had.Or ever would.
He refused to look at her. He knew his words had stung. He'd intended for them to sting.
Her silence filled the cavernous building like ghostly aura. A moment later, she sniffed. He'd made her cry.
No matter how thoroughly she had trampled his heart, hurting her brought no pleasure.He was suddenly aware of how very cold it was. There was no fireplace here to keep them warm. Not that any amount of heat could ever thaw the iciness she had driven into his heart.
Over the next hour he and Adam sawed and nailed, and the two women sanded madly, smoothing the long blades.
Twice Adam frowned at him. He'd been careful to speak so low Adam could not have heard the cruel words he'd said to Adam's guest, but Adam was perceptive enough to know that Spencer was being rude to this woman.Finally, Spencer relented. "Do you know, Miss Lippincott, about your cousin's home for orphans?"
"My cousin has a home for orphans?"
Spencer nodded. "I believe she's setting it up with an inheritance from her uncle who was murdered."
"I had heard about her uncle's wretched death--he was related on Emma's father's side, so no relation to me--but I didn't know about the orphanage."
"It's only in the planning stages now. They've just found a property for it, and Mrs. Birmingham is busy working with architects to build a home large enough to house as many orphans as possible."
"I cannot think of a worthier project--and just the very thing I would expect of my sweet-natured cousin. I should like to help her in any way I can."
His back to her as he worked on a toy sword, he asked, "From Lower Barrington?"
She drew a long breath. "Emma has asked me to stay in London, to live with them. It's something I'm considering. Now that I know about the orphanage, there's a great appeal in knowing there may be something at which I could be useful."
He agreed. He, too, felt the need to help London's orphans. The plight of the city's hundreds, if not thousands, of orphans had always troubled him. Why in the devil was it that he and Anna always saw things in the exact same perspective?As he held a length of wood and sawed it, his hand was too close to the saw's blade. Before he could pull it back, the saw sliced into his index finger. "Blast it all," he hissed, jerking his bloody hand away.Annabelle did not hesitate. She sped to him, seized his hand, and wrapped the linen of her nearly floor-length apron around the gushing wound. "Allow me to press it tightly until the bleeding subsides."The others moved to them.
"It's nothing," Spencer said. "I just nicked my finger with the saw."
"Emma, can you cut some strips from your apron to bind Mr. Woodruff's cut finger?" Annabelle asked.
He could bloody well hold--and wrap--his own bloody finger, but he dare not speak harshly again to Miss Lippincott. He'd have her crying and Adam fuming.
It was bad enough that he looked so inept he could not saw a simple piece of wood, but now he looked as if he couldn't press his own finger. Worse yet was the close proximity to Anna. Her beautiful hands pressing his, her sweet scent, her very nearness all robbed him the ability to even think. He only felt. And it wasn't the stinging pain of sawing in his bleeding finger that he felt.With a potent hunger to draw her within his arms, he felt her presence.The sound of horses distracted him, and he peered from the window to see Lady Fiona driving her own curricle. A moment later she came into their workshop carrying a basket. "I've brought tea."
"We've had an injury," Emma declared. "Mr. Woodruff's sawed into his finger. We're going to wrap it now."
Lady Fiona shielded her eyes with a hand. "I cannot look, or I shall be sick. I've only brought some tea to help warm you. I hope it's still hot."
"That's very kind of you," Emma said. "It is rather beastly cold here, but we'll be finishing soon."
"If Woodruff would stop sawing himself," Adam added with a broad smile. Redirecting his attention to Lady Fiona, he asked, "Where've you been? It looks as if you've come from the direction of Great Acres."
The lady sighed. "I did. I was hoping your mother and the Agars had come. Nick's so worried about Verity."
"Are they here?" Adam asked hopefully.
Lady Fiona's brows lowered. "No.""I know they'll be here for Christmas Day," Emma said brightly.Adam's wife was jolly good about trying to cheer her husband. In this instance, it did little good. Adam looked dejected.
Lady Fiona did not stay but quickly took her leave. Spencer felt badly that his bloody hand had likely dispatched her.
Emma came to him with two strips of white fabric an inch wide."Be sure to shake off the wood particles from the sanding," Annabelle cautioned. "And make sure the back side of the linen--the clean side--faces his cut."
Spencer met Annabelle's gaze and rolled his eyes.
"Oh, dear, I'm being didactic again."
Emma laughed. "I am used to being ordered about by you, my dear cousin."
"I beg that you warn me to close my mouth when I'm in one of my commanding ways." She eyed Spencer almost apologetically. "I'm very sorry, and more than that, repentant."
He wasn't certain if she was talking to Mrs. Birmingham or to him.
Anna's pressure worked. The wound had stopped spewing blood. Once Mrs. Birmingham wrapped it, the four of them stopped for a cup of tea that was no longer hot.
* * *
Annabelle held the warm cup and in her hands and avoided Spencer's gaze. When he'd snapped such cruel words at her earlier, tears had sprung to her eyes. No one in her eight-and-twenty years had ever spoken to her in such a callous manner. The sensitive man she had once fallen in love with would never have hurt even the most insignificant insect. Yet he did not hesitate to hurt her.
What had she ever done to draw such hatred from him? What had occurred during the last eleven years to harden him so?As she thought of his meanness, she realized he was still the caring man she'd once known--to everyone except her.
His hateful words had been delivered
for one reason. He wished to repel her. He most certainly had done that. The way she felt at present she wished she would never again have to speak to the man, never again have to endure his icy companionship. But because of her love of Emma and respect for Emma's husband, she must force herself to be civil to Spencer Woodruff. Adam thought very highly of him.After the tea, they returned to their work and finished the last four swords. The men then helped the ladies sand the last ones in the day's waning light."Did you find any paint that hadn't hardened?" Adam asked.
A disappointed look on her face, his wife shook her head.
Spencer shrugged. "If they can't be silver, they might as well look like wood. What lad wants a green sword?"They laughed.
For the walk back to the house they were forced to pair up. The snow had melted, and the sun had sunk almost completely behind the manor house. In front of Spencer and her, Emma and Adam walked arm in arm, chatting happily. She and Spencer said not a word. It was as if each of them were completely alone.
Chapter 5
Dinner was far too solemn. Even worse, Spencer once again found himself next to Annabelle. Her sensuous lavender scent infused him with a longing like he hadn't experienced in years. But he could not yearn for this woman who'd made it impossible for him to ever love again. He was determined to be strong against his weakness, his weakness for her.
The Birmingham men were obviously worried about their sister's delayed arrival. The always-joyous Emma Birmingham was determined to divert everyone's attention to happier matters. "We had a great deal of fun today fashioning the toy swords." She sighed. "Unfortunately, it's not looking as if we'll be able to paint them."
"You finished then?" Lady Fiona asked.Emma nodded. "Barely before we lost our daylight."
Their hostess nodded. "It was beastly cold."
Nick glared at his wife. "I didn't like you being out in the cold for so long. Why did you not tell me you were going to Great Acres?"
Her soft smile vanished. "I had hoped to return with happy news."
Emma steered the conversation away from worrisome topics again. "Tell me, Lady Fiona, did you and Emmie finish your baskets?"
"We did, and we're to deliver them tomorrow."
"Your little girl is so lovely--and so well behaved, too," Anna complimented.
Lady Fiona smiled, then met her husband's proud gaze. "We thank you. She has brought us much joy."
"Tomorrow I'll take her to help me get the Yule log," Nick said.
"First, she and I will deliver the baskets and the lads' swords, and then she will help me gather holly to adorn our house, dearest."
A smug smile on his face, Nick could not hide his deep affection for his daughter, though he spoke dryly. "The child won't be able to sleep tonight for her excitement."
Lady Fiona's sparkling eyes met her husband's. "She loves every minute spent with her Papa."
Little Emmie was an extraordinarily lovely child. Spencer had thought, years earlier, that he would enjoy having sons, but now he knew little girls were just as cherished. Seeing Nick and the way he loved that child made Spencer even more aware of the emptiness in his own life. Just thinking of his niece and nephew melted something inside him. And they weren't even his own. They already had a loving father and mother. How gratifying it must be to have children of one's own."You two are very blessed," Annabelle said in solemn voice.
Her words as well as her tone confirmed her regrets that she had no children, no husband. It was as if Anna had once again stolen his own thoughts. It had always been that way with them.More the pity.
Before he softened too much, he reminded himself it was her own fault she was childless."Indeed you are blessed," Emma added. Her looks conveyed so much. She and Adam must also want to become parents.Spencer inwardly sighed. He would have preferred staying home alone in London over being surrounded by three blissfully happy couples who reminded him how lonely and miserable was his own existence.
He shouldn't blame them for the way he felt in their company. Being with Anna accounted for his melancholy. He wished to God he'd never met her.
She had ruined him for anyone else.
Lady Fiona favored Anna with a smile. "Emma tells me she's trying to persuade you to make your home in London with her."
"Emma is too kind. It's a great deal to think about. My home has always been in Lower Barrington, but I have no siblings, no parents, just a distant cousin of my father's who's now the baronet and living in our ancestral home."
Emma nodded. "A fourth cousin we never knew."
"You still live with him?" Spencer asked Annabelle. It was the first personal query he'd put to her since he'd been shocked over seeing her the night before.
"Oh, no." She gave a feeble little laugh. "I'm the spinster in the dowager cottage." A blush hiked into her cheeks.
A blush on some women accentuated their ruddy complexions, but on Anna's milky skin it was lovely."I would say a young woman like Miss Lippincott has a far greater chance of attracting a husband in London than in Lower Barrington," Adam said.
Spencer stiffened. "Some women are happy to remain unmarried." He almost said something about her formerly having been promised to another man but remembered he wasn't supposed to know anything about her past.
Before the conversation got too personal, cheerful Emma directed it elsewhere. "I am so happy, Mr. Woodruff, you've come to us for Christmas. I've been looking forward to the opportunity to get to know you better. Adam speaks of you so often."
"I do hope he's not cursing something I've done to displease him, for I do that a great deal."
Adam chuckled. "He's telling the truth. He's always reining me in when I'm taking too much risk with our clients' funds." He shook his head. "Spencer's always right. It was the same when we were at Cambridge. His understanding was so superior to the rest of the students, the faculty begged him to continue on. They wanted him stay there teaching the rest of his life."
"Fortunately for us," Nick said, "the Birmingham family's used to getting what we want. Adam made leaving academia most enticing for Woodruff, and we brothers could not be more well pleased that he's joined us."
"I lack for nothing," Spencer said, "for the first time in my life."
Anna's eyes met his. He'd forgotten how very blue they were. Like the deep blue of the Cornish seas. "I'm very happy for you."
"Nick refers to you as the fourth Birmingham brother." Lady Fiona bestowed a lovely smile upon him.He was not unaffected. His gaze moved to Nick. "You cannot know how much that means to me."
After the stuffed quail, meat pies were being passed around the table, Nick was pouring wine, and the diners were concentrating on their food. Spencer's thoughts were on Anna's words. Would she have married him then if he was as well-to-do as he was now? Would she change her opinion of him now that he was no longer poor?
Even though she was the only woman he'd ever wanted to unite himself with, he would not have her now. Especially if her view toward him had changed because his financial position had changed.
* * *
Once they had taken the same seats they'd sat in the previous night at the card table, Emma's gaze went from Spencer to Annabelle. "You two make a fine couple."
"At whist," her husband added.
Annabelle could feel the heat boring into her cheeks.
"It's nice, too, that you two are of a similar age, though I know it's not proper to ask a woman about her age," Emma said in her perpetually cheerful manner. "Being the same age gives you more in common to talk about."
"We've done little conversing," Spencer snapped, his gaze riveted to the stack of cards in the center of the table.
They'd done little conversing because he thought of her in much the same way he'd regard the rug upon the floor. He'd obviously wished she weren't there. He had completely ignored their previous acquaintance.Adam started to deal.
She eyed Spencer. "It's not I, sir, who's averse to conversing."
"Pray, Annabelle," Adam said, pausing in his dealing
, "don't be offended by Woodruff's curt manner. That's just the way he is."
"Oh, I'm not offended. I've lost the ability to be upset by a man's disinterest." She could feel Spencer's eyes on her, but she would not look up, especially since she had just humiliated herself. Her spinsterhood had nothing to do with lack of offers and everything to do with the man sitting across the table from her.
"Forgive me if I sounded offensive," Spencer said.
She looked up and met his gaze. There was nothing contrite about it. Which completely changed her original polite response. "You're forgiven, Mr. Woodruff, not that I'd given a thought to your dismissal."
"If I seemed dismissive, it's because things from my past may have hardened me."
Was his childhood not happy? He'd always spoken highly of his parents and sisters. Was he ostracized at Cambridge because of his lack of fortune? Surely nothing that had happened in his successful adulthood could have made him so bitter. If anyone had the right to be bitter, it was she.
"Woodruff's just a confirmed bachelor who's been badly wounded by cupid's arrow,"Adam said.
Nothing Adam could have said could have wounded her more. She felt as if an arrow had shot straight through her heart. He had jilted her but had loved another woman so potently that he could never even be civil to another female. She found herself wondering what the other woman had looked like. She would, of course, have been beautiful. Annabelle could not understand how any woman could turn him down.
Nor could she understand why, after all these years, he still had the power to hurt her so. Why, after all these years, did she still love the man?
Adding to her humiliation were her cousin's not-even-remotely subtle attempts at matchmaking. She would have to talk to Emma in the morning. Did she not understand how embarrassing were Spencer's rejections?
She needed to get her mind off Spencer Woodruff. "Emma, your dress may be the loveliest I've ever seen." How pleased Annabelle was to see that her cousin who'd never been permitted to wear anything other than sprigged muslin was now undoubtedly one of the most well-dressed women in all of London. She wore a soft silken dress of pale green that was accented with ivory lace and richly embroidered flowers of the same ivory. She no longer looked like a girl straight from the school room. The low scoop to the bodice of her dress confirmed a hint of her womanly breasts. How self-conscious Annabelle was over the fullness of her own breasts which were barely contained within the bodice of her blush-coloured gown.Emma happily blew a kiss across the table to her husband, unable to suppress her happiness. "It's because of Adam I'm able to afford such lovely gowns."
