“It’s a shame I didn’t have a chance to say good-bye. I wanted her to give a message to her mother for me, but I suppose it can wait.” Victoria Tarleton was an elegantly tall woman who possessed the same coloring as her daughter. She picked up her needlework and sat upon a large chair by the fire. “It’s very chilly out today,” she murmured more to herself than to her daughter. “The fire feels nice.”
Emmeline glanced nervously at her mother. “Is Mr. Roxbury still here?”
Victoria barely looked up from her embroidery, carefully stitching the leaves of a cascading floral bouquet. “Why no, he just left. He and your father went somewhere together. Something about looking at property for houses.”
“Oh, he’s gone already?” Emmeline could barely conceal her disappointment. Quinton had left without speaking to her, without even saying good afternoon. Had he no desire to be with her at all?
At her despondent tone, her mother glanced up. “What is the matter, Emmeline?”
“I just thought . . .” She paused, unsure about what was happening. “I just thought it would have been nice if my fiancé had seen fit to call upon me.”
Victoria set down her embroidery. “Now, now. You mustn’t be put out, my dear,” her mother said in an attempt to soothe her. “Quinton is a very ambitious and busy man. You should be pleased that your future husband gets on so well with your father. Not many men get along with their father-in-law.”
“Yes, I am pleased by that, of course. But just whom is Quinton marrying? Me or Papa?” Emmeline folded her arms across her chest in a fit of pique.
“Your father is helping Quinton with his project, which would lead to a political career,” her mother said matter-of-factly. “Do you not want your husband to be successful?”
“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. Perhaps her mother was correct and she was overreacting, Emmeline reasoned. But still, she would have liked to have had Quinton show her some regard. Some interest, at least. Was that too much for a girl to ask of her fiancé?
12
Oh, Tidings of Comfort and Joy
Tuesday, December 9, 1873
Henry was not waiting for Lisette at Victoria Station when she finally arrived back in London a week later. He had said he would meet her train, but he wasn’t there. Feeling a bit put out, Lisette forced a smile at Davies, the young footman from Devon House who usually picked her up from the station. He carried her bag and helped her into the waiting carriage.
Davies had given her no explanation as to why Henry had not been there to meet her, so Lisette was left to wonder. Guilt immediately consumed her. Had Henry somehow learned about her kissing Quinton Roxbury? The chances for that were practically nonexistent, she knew, for who could have possibly informed him of such a thing? No one could know what had happened between them, aside from the two Eaton sisters, and they only had their suspicions. Logic had no place in her mind, however, and her guilty conscience ran rampant with worry. Did Henry sense on some intuitive level that she had been untrue to him and that was why he had not wanted to meet her as promised at the station?
On the other hand, she was a bit relieved not to have to face him so soon. What if he recognized the look of betrayal on her face? Could one tell by looking at her that she had been kissed so passionately by a man other than her fiancé? Oh heavens! Her stomach rolled at the very thought.
Worrying, she twisted her gloves in her lap as the Waverly carriage rolled through the crowded London streets. When they arrived at Devon House, Davies helped her out of the carriage. As always, she trod quickly up the front steps. The door was opened by Granger, and Lisette greeted him with a smile.
“Good evening, Miss Lisette,” he said in his usual even tone. He helped her remove her cloak and handed it to a waiting footman. “Lady Waverly would like to see you in the dining room on a matter of the utmost importance.”
Her heart pounded at the unusual request. “Is there anything wrong? The baby?”
“It is not for me to say, miss.”
If something were truly amiss, she doubted Granger would be so calm. But whatever could be so urgent that she barely had a moment to remove her cloak?
She hurried after Granger and stood aside as he flung open the doors to the formal dining room.
A loud chorus of “Surprise!” almost knocked her backward.
Covering her mouth in shock, she stared at the people gathered in the formal dining room, which was festooned with decorations and bedecked with flowers. It was some sort of a party. For her. What in heaven’s name?
She began to recognize faces in the room. Colette and Lucien grinned at her. Lucien’s parents, Simon and Lenora Sinclair, looked on in delight. Her younger sisters, Paulette and Yvette, smiled like a pair of little cats that ate the canaries. Lord Jeffrey Eddington was there, too, an amused expression on his handsome face. Her Aunt Cecilia, Uncle Randall, and her cousin Nigel stood in the room also. She registered that Mrs. Brooks and Henry were standing there, as well as a number of their friends.
Henry!
Henry was there! Beaming with pride and excitement, he moved quickly to her side, placing his arm around her shoulder and drawing her into the room.
“Welcome home, my sweet Lisette. We decided to surprise you with a little engagement party. I told your sisters about our June wedding plans and they insisted we celebrate.” He confessed sheepishly, “It was my idea to surprise you.”
“That’s why you were not at the station,” was all she could think of to say to him before she faced the room full of beaming friends and relatives. Relief washed through her. Henry did not know about her and Quinton. And he never would as far as she was concerned.
“Congratulations! We’re so happy for you!” Everyone called out to her as she was hugged and kissed by her family members. Henry was shuffled aside as one by one they gathered around her.
Mrs. Brooks squeezed her hand tightly, her face glowing with joy. Her white hair was pinned sedately upon her head, and her gray eyes, so like those of her son, gazed at her fondly. “My dear, I couldn’t be happier for you and my boy. I have hoped for this for a long time, and I am proud to call you my daughter-in-law.”
“Thank you,” Lisette said, too choked up with emotion to say more.
Mrs. Brooks was a kind woman, and Lisette genuinely cared for her. Thinking of how she’d almost ruined everything and hurt all these people who loved her and expected her to marry Henry by acting so recklessly with Quinton Roxbury, she grew a little nauseous.
She was then overtaken by her Aunt Cecilia. The woman’s pinched face was accentuated by her tightly pulled back blond hair, making her look even more sour than she was.
“Well, it seems as if your young man has finally come around, Lisette. We were beginning to have our doubts about him. He dillydallied long enough about proposing to you. However, I still think it was foolish of you to forgo the opportunity of a Season. Your mother should have insisted on your having a Season, but Genevieve always did let you girls run a bit wild and never took pains to assure you a proper upbringing.” She sighed and shook her head in disappointment. “With Lucien’s connections and your pretty face and sweet disposition, there is no telling what kind of match you could have made. But you seem determined to defy convention, much as Juliette did.”
“I hardly think that my betrothal to Henry Brooks defies convention, Aunt Cecilia.”
“Perhaps,” she murmured with definitive regret. “But it does seem such a tragic waste of a perfectly good opportunity to meet a more eligible type of gentleman, Lisette. And Colette has been too occupied having children to properly introduce you to society. Why, she has hardly entertained at all since becoming Countess Waverly, and you have not attended a single social event of any note!”
“Truly, Aunt Cecilia, I have no interest in such pursuits.” She nodded her head with forced politeness. “It’s been lovely talking to you.”
With as much haste as she could muster without appearing obvious, Lisette moved away from
her aunt, eager to be free of her negative commentary. Before she could find a moment to herself, her youngest sister demanded her attention.
“Oh, Lisette, it’s so exciting!” Yvette squealed, her eyes sparkling with delight. Her sixteen-year-old heart was thrilled by the romance and glamour of an upcoming wedding. “I am so happy for you and Henry! I shall be a bridesmaid, shan’t I?”
“Of course you will,” Lisette responded automatically. “It wouldn’t be a happy wedding without my sisters beside me.”
“I think I already know the perfect material for our dresses! I saw the most heavenly shade of rose silk at Madame La Fleur’s shop only yesterday. It would make such an elegant gown. And June is the best time of year, too. A June bride! We should have the wedding at Lucien’s country estate, down on the lawn overlooking the river. The roses will be in bloom then, too. Don’t you think that would be lovely?”
Lisette was in no frame of mind to discuss wedding details at the moment. “We shall talk all about the dresses another time, all right, Yvette?”
Overwhelmed with Yvette’s enthusiasm, she once again stepped aside to have a minute to herself, to catch her breath from all that had happened. Still weary from her train journey and the surprise of facing an unexpected party, she simply needed to be alone for a moment to stop her head from spinning. She had just reached the doorway unnoticed when a voice stopped her.
“Well, well, well. Running away so soon, are we?”
She turned to see Lord Jeffrey Eddington, a longtime friend of Lucien’s and therefore a close friend of hers and her sisters. He gave her one of his infamous smiles, the one that charmed everyone in an instant and had melted many a female heart in London. With his masculine good looks, dark hair, and piercing blue eyes, Jeffrey was almost irresistible. Lisette had grown to adore him and his teasing ways over the past few years.
Feeling instantly lighter, she could not stop the genuine smile that crept over her at the sound of his voice. “Hello, Jeffrey!”
“Sweet little Lisette. You’re finally going to do it, are you?”
“I’m still getting married before you, Jeffrey,” she pointed out to him.
He shook his head, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “But you forget, I’m not getting married. Ever.”
“You only say that now because you haven’t met the perfect lady for you yet. But you will, mark my words.”
He offered her a mischievous grin and winked at her. “There’s no such perfect lady now that you are marrying Henry Brooks.”
Helpless to do anything but laugh at his outrageous flirtation, she teased him back. “I’m too good for the likes of you, Jeffrey.”
“That is the truth. You’re the sweetest one of all your sisters and I must admit I have great affection for you, Lisette. You hold a special place in my heart.” Jeffrey handed her a glass of champagne.
She accepted the crystal glass filled with sparkling wine. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“You look as if you could do with a little champagne. You seem completely overwhelmed.”
She sipped the cool liquid most gratefully. “Is it so obvious ?”
“Only to me. And the fact that I caught you trying to sneak away from your own party.”
Lisette began to explain. “Jeffrey, I’m just tired from the trip—”
“Is it the surprise party or the idea of marriage to Henry that has you in such a state?” he asked pointedly.
“Honestly!” She forced herself to laugh a little. Lord Eddington could be most impertinent at times, even with the best intentions.
“Call it off whenever you wish. There’s plenty of time.” He took her free hand in his, his expression becoming unusually serious. “You are not Mrs. Henry Brooks yet, you know. You can run away from all of this if you want.”
It was not the first time someone had mentioned this to her, that she should not marry Henry, and again the words disconcerted her. The image of Quinton Roxbury came to her. In an attempt to keep the conversation with Jeffrey from becoming too much closer to the truth, she answered him sarcastically, “I’ll keep that option in mind as the day draws nearer.”
“Good. If you need an escape route, just send me the word.” He gave her a knowing look, his blue eyes saying more than he voiced aloud. He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it.
Lisette had the oddest sensation that Jeffrey was more aware of her uncertain feelings about marrying Henry Brooks than anyone in that room. Then again she never knew whether Jeffrey was teasing or telling the truth. He had that way about him. Before she could respond to his comment, however, Henry approached them.
“Do you mind if I steal my fiancée away for a moment ?” Henry asked with a proud grin on his face.
“Not in the least!” Jeffrey exclaimed, gallantly stepping aside.
Lisette handed Jeffrey her glass of champagne with a smile. He nodded in understanding.
Henry took Lisette’s arm and led her from the room into the adjoining study. They sat beside each other upon a leather sofa.
“You were surprised by the party, weren’t you?” Henry asked.
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “I was most surprised. Thank you.”
“No, there’s no need to thank me. I wanted to do something special for you. To thank you.”
“Thank me?” she asked. “Whatever for?”
He took her hand in his and pulled her close to him. “Oh, my sweet Lisette, you have been so patient, waiting for me all these years, when you could have accepted any number of offers from other men. Gentlemen from aristocratic families who are far wealthier and better prepared to provide for you than I.”
“Henry, what are you talking about?”
His steady gray eyes held her gaze intently. He seemed almost shy with her when they had always enjoyed a rather easygoing friendship. She studied his attractive face. He had a straight nose, an intelligent brow, and a wide mouth covered with a neatly trimmed beard. Sandy brown hair was combed back from his earnest and eager face.
She tried, she really tried, not to compare him with the golden beauty of Quinton Roxbury, but it was suddenly impossible not to.
“I know you could have had a Season and you didn’t. If you had, you would have been deluged with marriage proposals from the most eligible bachelors in town. I know your family didn’t approve of your decision to refuse a debut. You gave all that up to marry me instead. And who am I? Merely a struggling solicitor. Lisette, you have been nothing but constant and loyal to me since the day I first met you.”
Lisette’s cheeks flamed in sudden embarrassment. And overwhelming guilt. She had not been constant and loyal to him while she had been in Brighton. She cringed at the memory of kissing Quinton Roxbury on the beach. She did not deserve someone as good and kind as Henry Brooks.
Making her feel even worse, he continued to compliment her. “You are so lovely and special. I don’t know what I would have done without your support while I was working for my uncle. Knowing that you would be mine kept me going. I am the luckiest man in the world to have you as my wife.”
Hot tears stung her eyes and she blinked rapidly to keep from weeping in front of him. “No, I am lucky to have you,” she cried, “and I promise to be a good wife to you.”
“I know you will.” He leaned close to her and placed a kiss upon her cheek.
On impulse Lisette placed her hands on either side of his face to draw him into a kiss. A real kiss. Although surprised by her overture, he willingly obliged her and she kissed him almost feverishly, pressing her lips against his. His mustache tickled her face, but she persisted, waiting for that all-consuming desire to overtake her as it did when she kissed Quinton Roxbury. Henry pulled her closer to him, his arms wrapping around her in a firm grip and easing her against the back of the sofa. Now that was more like it. Lisette leaned her head back and opened her mouth to him, something she had never done before. Without hesitating, he accepted her unspoken invitation and slipped his tongue inside her warm mouth. They kissed fo
r a minute and she knew instinctively that Henry was thrilled by it.
When he quickly broke away from their embrace, she stared at him. Red-faced and breathing heavily, he had a smile from ear to ear. Pleased beyond recognition, he shook his head in disbelief at their unexpected intimacy.
“I am luckier than I have a right to be,” he uttered hoarsely. “But as wonderful as that was, my dear, we should stop now.”
“Yes,” she choked out. This time she could not stop the tears spilling from her eyes.
Henry immediately froze at the sight of her crying. “Forgive me, darling. I should not have kissed you that way.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a monogrammed linen handkerchief, which he used to dab at her cheeks. “Lisette, please don’t cry. We are engaged. It’s not wrong for us to kiss. I only said for us to stop before things went any further.”
She nodded and sat up straight, taking the handkerchief from him. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. Her tears were not because they had kissed but because of how that kiss made her feel. Or more precisely, how it did not make her feel. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She mustered a smile for him.
“I think you are overwhelmed with excitement and exhausted from traveling all day on the train. I bet you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. Let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”
“Yes, that would be wonderful.” Her stomach was in such a knot she did not think she would be able to eat anything, but she wanted him to feel that he was helping her.
In a tender gesture, he brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face. “You are so lovely, Lisette.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, almost unable to bear another kindness from him.
“I have something for you first. It’s the reason I wanted to see you alone for a moment. Although that kiss almost made me forget completely.” He reached into his other pocket and withdrew a small box. He handed it to her with an expression of nervous excitement on his face.
With a trembling hand, she took the box from him and opened it. Inside was an elegant gold ring set with a single pearl.
It Happened One Christmas Page 11
