They finished the remainder of their meal in strained silence, neither of them referencing their passionate kiss on the beach or their upcoming weddings or daring to speak at all. For there was nothing more to say. Finally, Quinton rose from his seat.
“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss Hamilton, but I should be getting back to the hotel now. The worst of the storm seems to have passed. Please give my kind regards to your mother for me.”
“I will and you are most welcome.” She remained in her chair. “Good night, Mr. Roxbury.”
It suddenly occurred to him that he would not see her again, nor could he think of an instance when he would have an occasion to see her again. Disappointment washed over him at the prospect. More than likely it was for the best that they would not see each other. He should not have even come to visit her today as it was. That was quite clear. Still he spoke his wish aloud to her. “I hope to have the pleasure of your company again sometime.”
“I wish you much happiness in your marriage.”
He startled a bit at her words. “I wish you the best in yours as well.”
“Good night.”
He wanted to kiss her good-bye. He wanted to touch her hand. Something. Anything. He looked at her as she sat with her head bent, the graceful curve of her neck appearing so fragile and delicate in the firelight. He wished he knew what she was thinking, what she wanted. “Good night, Miss Hamilton.”
Her eyes would not meet his when he glanced at her before heading toward the front door, and for that he was grateful because he did not think he could bear the look of longing he was sure he would see within them.
8
Here We Come A-Wandering
Thursday, December 4, 1873
Lisette could barely contain her outrage the next morning. “How could you do such a thing, Mother?”
“Mon dieu! Je n’ai rien fait de mal! I did nothing wrong!” Genevieve protested her innocence with wide eyes, her hands pressed upon her chest. “You are making a fuss over nothing! I did nothing but suggest a little walk and invite a handsome young man to supper in my own home. Such a fuss you are making! It is not my fault I was too ill to join you both.”
“There was nothing wrong with you! You are not ill! You deliberately left us alone!”
“He is a very nice gentleman, that Quinton Roxbury. Very handsome. Un homme très beau. Do you not agree?”
“That is beside the point. You know exactly what you were doing. You were encouraging him, Maman. But I should inform you that he is to be married next month.”
Her mother gave a careless little shrug. “Qu’est-ce qu’il en ressort? What of it?”
“What of it? What of it?” Lisette echoed in disbelief.
“He is not married yet, is he?” Her mother eyed her knowingly. “Tout est juste en amour comme à la guerre, n’est-ce pas? All is fair in love and war, eh?”
“For all intents and purposes he is a married man! We are both betrothed to others and for you to be scheming to have us alone together . . . Oh, I cannot discuss this with you another moment!” Lisette’s blood boiled at the notion of her mother’s blatant interference.
“You are blind. Ne sois pas idiote. Do not be a stupid little fool. You feel something for him and he feels something for you, Lisette. C’est la vérité. It is the truth. Do not deny it. I felt it. I saw it with my own eyes here in this very room.”
“You saw no such thing!” Lisette cried out in protest, shame washing over her. Her mother could see how she and Quinton felt about each other? It was unthinkable. “And I have had quite enough of this discussion.” Lisette hurried from the room, unable to bear listening to her mother’s outrageous words another minute.
“Lisette!” her mother called to her. “Come back! Ne t’échappe pas comme cela! Reviens içi! Do not run off like that! Come back here!”
Ignoring the pleas coming from the other room, Lisette pulled her cape and muff from the tall coatrack standing in the hallway. She grabbed her reticule, too.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Fannie questioned as Lisette opened the front door and a rush of cold air blew in.
“I’m going into town,” Lisette answered through clenched teeth.
“To meet that nice Mr. Roxbury?” Fannie said with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
“No. I am not! I am going alone! And I might just go back to London!” Lisette fled from the house, anger surging within her veins. Her own mother was conspiring against her. And it seemed as if even Fannie was, too.
As she marched with angry steps along the path to town, she wondered what was so wrong with her marrying Henry Brooks all of a sudden? Why did no one believe that she loved him? It made no sense. There had been an understanding between them for years. Why should her mother be against her on this? It wasn’t that she disliked Henry, she insisted, it was simply that she didn’t believe he was the proper person for her. And how would her mother know who was right for her? Her mother, who barely thought of anyone but herself! How would she even know what was in Lisette’s heart? Honestly! The thought of it all made her quite irate. She knew her mother loved her and only wanted the best for her, but still . . .
How could she not understand? Henry was a good man.
A good man who would be crushed to learn that she had been kissing another man.
Especially when Henry had never kissed her that way.
Oh, such kisses! Lisette had barely slept last night for reliving them. Over and over again. The pure excitement of it raced through her. The feel of Quinton’s hot mouth on hers, his strong arms tight around her body, his warm breath on her cheek. Never had she felt such sensations. Hot, surging passions . . .
She should be mortified by her actions. She knew how wrong they were. Yet the strange part was that being with Quinton did not feel the slightest bit wrong. In fact, it felt very right. She seemed made to fit perfectly in his arms. And she had wanted to stay there more than anything in the world.
Enough! She had thought enough about the man’s extraordinary kisses. They’d said good-bye last night and it was over. They would not see each other again. It was for the best. She simply had to put him out of her mind. And out of her mother’s!
The fresh sea air and brisk December sunshine did much to calm her down. Yesterday’s storm had left the sky crystal clear, and the sun had melted any remaining snow and ice. It was a gorgeous, if cold, day, and by the time she reached the main part of town, her spirits had lifted a little and her pace had slowed.
As she walked by the shop windows of the popular resort town, she glanced idly at the pretty things arranged within. As she passed a charming toy shop, she decided to begin buying a few Christmas gifts. Inside, she found the most adorable toy train for Phillip, carved out of wood with wheels that spun and a bright red caboose. He would love it!
Feeling a bit more cheerful after her impulsive purchase for her nephew, she next entered an interesting curio shop. The interior was overly crowded with every object imaginable, from old furniture to ornate vases to jewelry and feathered hats. There was an endless supply of books, dishes, toys, and even an ancient suit of armor in the corner.
The elderly shopkeeper gave her a lopsided grin, his left eye covered by a patch. “Good day, miss. How can I help you?”
“May I please look around the shop for a bit?” she asked. The craggy-faced man had to be eighty if he were a day.
“Look to your heart’s content, my dear.” He waved his gnarled hand in a gesture of welcome. “If you need any help, just whistle.”
She smiled at his odd suggestion and said, “Thank you.”
As Lisette wandered her way through the maze of merchandise, she realized the store was much larger than she’d first thought. She must have spent a good half hour gazing at the shelves and tables crammed with all kinds of objects, old and new. A lovely writing set caught her eye. Made from mahogany with brass fixtures, the lid opened to reveal a writing slope and black felt-lined compartments to hold papers an
d ink and writing implements. It would be perfect for Paulette. Her sister loved anything to do with writing. She next saw a pretty jewelry box delicately carved out of wood. Looking inside, she was surprised to see a silver locket. Not one usually drawn to jewelry, she could not help picking it up.
There was an elaborate L inscribed on the front of the oval-shaped locket. Funny that it should have her first initial on it. It was a bit tarnished, but a little polishing would brighten it right up. Carefully she popped the locket open and to her delight found it was not a typical locket. This one was designed in such a way as to unfold four distinct sections to hold miniature portraits. She immediately thought of buying it for herself to keep images of her four sisters close to her heart. Lisette never bought herself anything frivolous but this piece pulled at her heartstrings. It seemed made just for her, and even engraved with an L. She held it in her hand and carefully opened and closed the four minipanels, which were so cleverly designed. She loved it!
“Have you found something special you like, Miss Hamilton?”
Startled, Lisette spun around at the sound of the familiar voice behind her. “Mr. Roxbury!”
“I did not mean to catch you unaware,” he apologized. “I was merely browsing and here you are!”
She smiled in spite of herself. He was so handsome and looked pleased to see her. After last night she had not expected to meet him again. “This is a surprise.”
“We do have a tendency to run into each other unexpectedly, do we not?”
“Yes, we do.” Lisette laughed in spite of herself, thinking this was the third time they’d met by chance in the last four days. It was quite extraordinary really.
He gestured to her package that contained the toy train for Phillip. “I see you’ve been doing some shopping.”
“Yes. I just bought a Christmas gift for my nephew.”
“And this?” He indicated the locket she held in her hand. “Who is this for?”
“I think it is for me,” she explained as she showed him how it worked, relieved to have something safe to talk about. “I can put miniatures of my four sisters inside. It is even inscribed with an L.”
He grinned and nodded in agreement. “It’s perfect for you.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought. What are you shopping for?”
“I’m not shopping at all, I must confess. I have an appointment with Lord Eaton at his office across the street, but he has been delayed. I’m merely passing time. The shop looked interesting so I came in out of the cold to wait. I left word with his secretary that I’d be here.”
Oh, he looked so incredibly fine. His handsomely sculpted face, aquiline nose, and strong jaw. A hint of a teasing smile around his mouth. His lips, so full and firm, had kissed her so passionately yesterday she thought she would faint. The air was strangely charged between them. It was true. They felt something for each other, just as her mother said. Lisette should flee from him before she did something she would regret again. Instead she made an attempt at conversation. Anything to keep from entertaining thoughts of kissing him! “Is this appointment regarding your business? Building houses?”
“Yes, I’m designing a new house for Lord Eaton here in Brighton. Perhaps someday I can design a house for you.”
At first the idea pleased her, but then she realized it would be a house that she would be living in with Henry Brooks. Her husband. Somehow she did not wish to live with another man in a house that Quinton had designed for her. Lisette shook herself at the thought. The conversation had gone far enough. It was not wise to tarry any longer with him. Nothing at all good could come of it. Yesterday on the beach was proof enough of that.
“Yes, well, I must be on my way now. It was lovely seeing you again. Good day, Mr. Roxbury.” She moved to step past him.
“Wait.”
She paused at his command and glanced up at him in expectation. He looked straight into her eyes and her mouth went dry. Heaven help her.
“I was not expecting to meet you today,” he said, “but I cannot deny the pleasure I feel at seeing you again.”
“Please do not say such things to me.” She lowered her glance.
“I know I haven’t the right, yet I cannot seem to help myself when I am in your presence.”
“What do you expect me to say?” she whispered in a soft tone, afraid to meet his eyes again for fear of losing herself in their endless blue depths.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to say either.”
“I must go.”
Once again she moved to pass him but Quinton reached out and took her hand in his and she dropped the locket on the cluttered table. He pulled her close against his body. The male scent of him washed over her, causing her to tremble.
“We should say good-bye . . .” she began.
Quinton whispered in her ear, “Lisette, after yesterday I . . . You are very special to me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but if you ever need anything, please know that I would do anything in my power to help you.”
She looked up at him in confusion. His words made no sense. She was special to him? He would do anything to help her? Help her do what?
With a deliberate slowness he leaned in closer and she had the wild sensation that he was about to kiss her.
And, God help her, she was going to let him. She wanted one more kiss from this man. And then never again. She would return to London and Henry and never think of him again. But for right now, for just this moment, she would have one last kiss from this man who made her heart race so wildly with an unknown need.
“Lisette,” he murmured low, his lips so close to hers she could almost taste them.
The sound of her name on his lips thrilled her, and she trembled in anticipation, waiting for him to kiss her. Resisting the urge to lean up on her tiptoes to further the kiss, she stood perfectly still and held her breath. She waited for his warm lips to cover hers, as she knew they would. Slowly she closed her eyes in dreamy expectation.
“Mr. Roxbury, there you are!”
As if struck by red-hot pokers, Quinton and Lisette jumped apart from each other in startled surprise.
Quinton turned to face the female who called to him. He cleared his throat. “Miss Eaton.”
A young woman with pale blond hair and a very fashionable hat with a long peacock feather eyed them most suspiciously. Beside her was another young lady, who looked even more disdainful than the first.
“Mr. Roxbury, our father sent us to find you and bring you to his office now,” Miss Eaton stated, her sharp eyes darting between Lisette and Quinton, assessing the situation with a calculated glance.
Lisette felt her cheeks burn and wished the ground would swallow her up whole. Oh, to be caught at such a moment! It was humiliating. The woman must have known they were about to kiss each other.
“Thank you,” Quinton said with an even calmness that impressed Lisette. “May I present Miss Lisette Hamilton, a dear friend of mine who is visiting Brighton this week. Miss Hamilton, this is Miss Penelope Eaton and her sister, Miss Priscilla Eaton. I am designing their father’s new house here in Brighton.”
“Miss Hamilton,” Penelope Eaton said through tight lips.
“Miss Hamilton,” Priscilla echoed with a definite frown on her face.
Lisette did not imagine that the two women looked at her with a touch of scorn and disapproval. “It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Lisette murmured in wooden response.
The awkwardness could not be denied as they stood staring at each other.
Unable to bear the tension another minute, Lisette clutched her package with the toy train. The locket and writing set, everything else she had intended to buy, could wait. “I am so sorry to rush off, but I was just on my way out. Good afternoon, Mr. Roxbury. I wish you the best of luck with your venture and I promise to speak to my brother-in-law on your behalf. Misses Eaton, good day to you both.”
She avoided his eyes as she hurried past the two scowling sisters and left the shop as quickly
as she could, grateful for the cold blast of air that stung her flushed cheeks when she stepped outside. With her boots clicking furiously on the cobblestones, she made her way home without looking back at the curio shop. All the joy was gone from her little Christmas shopping spree, replaced by humiliation and shame at being found in such a compromising position with a man she barely knew. She was almost a married woman and he was as good as married! Never again, she vowed to herself as she stared at the waves crashing on the shore, never again would she let herself be seduced by Quinton Roxbury’s sky blue eyes and charming smile.
She would not think of him ever again.
She finally reached her mother’s home with a great sense of relief, forgetting that just hours earlier she had fled from her mother for throwing her into Quinton Roxbury’s path. Now she sought sanctuary inside the cottage. She had no idea if he intended to seek her out again, but for the remainder of her stay in Brighton, Lisette dared not venture from her mother’s house.
She could not risk running into Quinton Roxbury one more time.
9
When We Were Gone Astray
Friday, December 5, 1873
Quinton Roxbury tossed his coat and hat upon the rose-patterned sofa and poured himself a drink from the well-stocked bar on the sideboard.
“Whatever is the matter, darling?”
“Nothing at all,” he responded, taking a gulp and letting the whiskey burn his throat. Thinking it was best to leave Brighton as soon as possible, Quinton had returned to London by train earlier that evening, stopped by his town house for his mail, and then had come directly as planned to see Lady Olivia Trahern.
“Something is wrong,” Olivia said rather pointedly.
“You didn’t even kiss me hello and we haven’t seen each other for an entire week.”
Quinton turned around and faced Olivia. Approaching him, she gave him a practiced smile, her pale blue eyes glittering in amusement. Covering his hand with hers, she guided him to place the glass of whiskey down on the sideboard. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lithe body against his. He kissed her, for she expected it, but for some reason the desire to do so was simply not there.
It Happened One Christmas Page 8
