’Twas the Night After Christmas

by Sabrina Jeffries

  As soon as they entered, he took Mrs. Townsend aside and said in a low voice, “Is there somewhere I can hide my package until we leave? It’s a Christmas present for my mother.”

  Mrs. Townsend blinked. “Oh! Give it to me, and I shall put it under my basket behind the table.”

  “I hope she likes it,” he said conversationally as he handed it over. “It’s an assortment of broadsides for the pianoforte, since she enjoys playing and singing so much. Mrs. Stuart helped me pick out pieces my mother doesn’t already have.”

  “Oh, yes?” Mrs. Townsend said, and offered Camilla a faint smile.

  Camilla tried to look as if she was in on the secret.

  Pierce cast the woman a knowing glance. “I did have some trouble extricating Mrs. Stuart from here so she could advise me. Since I couldn’t say why I needed her, Mother proved stubborn. You know how she can be.”

  “I do, indeed,” Mrs. Townsend breathed, obviously delighted to be included in the subterfuge. “Your mother worries overmuch about propriety, my lord.”

  Her heart swelling at his ingenious solution for tamping down the gossip, Camilla stepped forward to do her part. “I told his lordship that her ladyship would be happy with anything he gave her, but he insisted on the music.”

  “Certainly,” Mrs. Townsend whispered. “Very thoughtful of him.”

  “You mustn’t say anything to her,” he cautioned the woman.

  “I won’t breathe a word—you may depend on me. I’ll just put this under my basket now.”

  As she scurried off, stopping every foot or so to relate this new information to the other ladies, Camilla said, without glancing at Pierce, “Thank you.”

  “It’s the least I could do,” he murmured. “Not the best story, I suppose, but it will hold.”

  “On the contrary, they’ll find it convincing. It was clever of you to think of it.”

  “One might even call it ‘sensible,’ ” he said dryly. He raised his voice just enough to be heard by two ladies standing near. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Stuart.”

  “You’re welcome, my lord.” She pasted a smile onto her lips, bowed to him, and then carried Jasper to the other end of the booth. Now that he’d gone to the trouble to mitigate any damage to her reputation, she wasn’t going to ruin it by standing with him and giving rise to more speculation.

  She spent the next few hours helping the ladies at the booth. Maisie took Jasper off again to see more of the fair, while Pierce disappeared entirely. Was he touring the fair again, looking at horses and cattle to buy? Or was he just shopping for Christmas gifts to give his Waverly cousins?

  Or his mistress.

  Her stomach roiled at the thought. As far as Camilla knew, he was still involved with that famous courtesan mentioned in the scandal sheets, and she had no reason to think he wasn’t eagerly anticipating returning to her.

  That possibility was certainly lowering. Still, it reminded her that he had no ties to her and Jasper, no reason to involve himself with her. The only association they could ever have was an illicit one. Earls, no matter how unconventional, did not marry paid companions.

  And she didn’t think she could stand having the other kind of relationship with him. To be his, but only in some secretive, shameful fashion . . .

  Sweet heaven, she was getting ahead of herself. He might not even want that. There was nothing keeping him at Montcliff, so she simply must resign herself to his leaving. Otherwise, she was going to find herself quite heartbroken when at last he did.

  Still, her spirits lifted shamelessly when he sauntered into the booth in the early evening. The sun had set, but the fair was still going, lit by oil lamps and moonlight. He’d brought a large bag of beef pasties with him, for which all the ladies were grateful. It was well past dinnertime for most of them, and they hadn’t taken a break to eat.

  As they shared the food, the ladies discussed when to close the booth. People were still wandering in, though traffic had subsided in the past hour. They’d sold nearly all the stockings, and it was getting quite a bit colder now that the sun had gone down, so it seemed unnecessary for them all to remain there on the off chance that they would sell every stocking. After another hour passed and they sold only one more, they decided to close up.

  Pierce had stayed out of the discussion, talking to Mr. Fowler instead. To Camilla’s astonishment, the estate manager had spent the entire day helping in the booth. The ladies had been quite impressed, and one of the widows had even flirted with him, which her ladyship had frowned over. Perhaps she did have a spark of interest in the man.

  Maisie had brought Jasper back not long ago, and after eating his share of beef pasties, the boy sat in a corner playing with Prancer.

  As they began closing up, Pierce went over to watch Jasper play. He looked pensive and somber, and said little as they packed up. He accepted his package from Mrs. Townsend with a word of thanks, then gave commands to the servants about moving the items into the two carriages.

  Jasper started to whine, but before either Camilla or Maisie could tend to him, Pierce hefted him onto his shoulder, which managed to cheer Jasper enough to stop him from being too querulous as his lordship walked back to the carriage beside Mr. Fowler and Maisie.

  Her ladyship walked with Camilla, far enough behind the men to be out of earshot. “We did very well today,” the countess said. “I believe we raised enough to not only refurbish the church’s organ, but perhaps repaint the vestibule.”

  “That’s good,” Camilla said. “It badly needs it.”

  Lady Devonmont glanced ahead at her son. “Did you have fun earlier when you were going about the fair?”

  Camilla tensed. “Yes. Although Jasper ran us both a merry chase.”

  Her ladyship cast her a shuttered look. “I overheard one of the ladies explaining that Pierce took you off so you could help him pick out a Christmas gift for me. Is that true?”

  “Of course,” she said lightly.

  “Come, my dear, you and I both know Pierce is not buying me any gifts.”

  Camilla thrust out her chin. “You might be surprised.”

  “I doubt that.” The countess lowered her voice. “Take care, Camilla. Judging from London gossip, I gather that my son has long been used to making free with women’s hearts. Pierce may be charming, but he’s still a rogue.”

  Because you made him into one by abandoning him.

  No, it would be cruel to say such a thing. And it might not even be true. Pierce might be a rogue by nature.

  “He’s not as much a rogue as you think,” Camilla said, remembering the pain in his eyes whenever he spoke of his past. “He has a lot of good in him.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean his intentions toward you are honorable.”

  “I would imagine they aren’t.” At her ladyship’s look of alarm, she added hastily, “That is, if he had any intentions at all toward me. Which he doesn’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  No. But she wasn’t about to tell his mother that. “Trust me, you don’t need to warn me that a man like him would never marry so far beneath him. I am well aware of that.”

  “It has nothing to do with your situation in life, my dear. I don’t think he cares much about such things.” She squeezed Camilla’s hand. “And I would personally be delighted to have you as my daughter-in-law. But Pierce doesn’t strike me as . . . well . . . ”

  “The marrying kind?”

  The countess sighed. “Exactly.”

  “He doesn’t strike me that way, either,” she said with forced nonchalance. “I know the situation, and I’m fully armed. You mustn’t worry about me.”

  Her ladyship gazed earnestly into her face. “I don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

  “I understand. I’m safe, I swear.”

  She was . . . because even if she did indulge in an affair with him, she would go into it knowing fully what would happen in the end. Knowing and accepting it.

  But that was a very big if. />
  It became even bigger when they climbed into the carriage and headed home. Pierce looked grimmer than she’d ever seen him. He didn’t speak, just stared out the window as the carriage trundled along.

  Jasper fell instantly asleep in her lap, and she was glad of it. She doubted that Pierce—or even his mother—had the patience to deal with a six-year-old’s questions just now.

  As they approached the estate, her ladyship said, “You should stay for some supper, Mr. Fowler. I know it’s late, but it’s the least we can offer after all your hard work today.”

  Before Fowler could answer, Pierce said, in a tone that brooked no argument, “Fowler has a great deal to do for me this evening, since he’s been busy elsewhere today.”

  “But, Pierce, surely it can wait until tomorrow,” his mother said.

  “No, his lordship is right,” Fowler said smoothly. “I’d already planned to return to Montcliff Manor for a couple of hours before I headed home.”

  It was clear from the quick glance he shot Pierce that the two of them had worked that out before they’d entered the coach. Camilla stifled a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

  “Oh, very well,” Lady Devonmont said, clearly unaware of the ambush being prepared for her.

  As soon as they arrived, Jasper woke up enough to climb down from the carriage. While the rest of them headed inside, Mr. Fowler rode off in Pierce’s coach-and-four to Montcliff Manor.

  The footman took their coats, and Camilla told Jasper to go upstairs with Maisie to have his supper. “I’ll be up in a bit to tuck you in, muffin,” she said. He looked too tired to complain that she wasn’t joining him.

  “I’m sure they held dinner for us,” her ladyship said as soon as Maisie and Jasper left. “It may be a bit cold, but—”

  “Mother, I wish to speak to you in the study,” Pierce interrupted.

  Her ladyship blinked. “In the study! About what?”

  “About something we should have discussed years ago.”

  That put her fully on her guard. “I don’t think this is the time or place.”

  “It’s either in the study now, Mother,” he said firmly, “or else here in front of the servants.”

  The two footmen who’d been helping them with their coats exchanged furtive glances, and the countess paled. With a tight nod, she swept ahead of him down the corridor that led to the study.

  Camilla stood there, uncertain what to do.

  Pierce turned to her. “I want you there, too.”

  “Are you sure? She might be more honest with you if I’m not.”

  “I doubt that. She told you more of the truth the other night than she’s said to me in my entire life.” He offered her a rueful smile. “Besides, if you’re there, I might actually keep my temper long enough to get at the truth.”

  “If she’s being her usual stubborn self, I may not keep my own temper.”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He held out his arm. “Come, it’s time to ask her the hard questions. I don’t think I can do it alone.”

  “All right.” She took his arm, but her heart flipped over in her chest. What did it mean, that he wanted her with him at such a moment? She tried not to read anything into it, but it was hard not to.

  As they walked down the corridor, another thought occurred to her. She’d never been in his father’s old study. She’d asked her ladyship about it once, and the countess had said she didn’t like to go in it. To her knowledge, Pierce never went in it, either. So why had he picked it for this discussion?

  When he opened the door and they walked in, Camilla felt an instant chill, and it wasn’t just from the lack of a fire in the room. What little furniture there was lay under canvas cloths, and the place looked as cold and barren as a mausoleum. His mother stood with her back to them, staring at the shrouded desk. Pierce visibly stiffened and cast a quick look around, as if even being in the room caused him pain.

  Apparently the same was true for his mother, because as soon as he closed the door, she shuddered before she faced them.

  When she saw that Camilla was with him, she gave a start. Avoiding Camilla’s gaze, she said, “She shouldn’t be here.”

  A dark scowl knit his brow. “I wouldn’t be in this house at all if not for her. I wouldn’t have spent the past week here, nor would I have considered, even for a moment, dining with you or spending time with you or even going to the bloody—” He caught himself. “She has championed you and fought for you from the beginning. So she at least deserves to know why.”

  His mother swallowed hard. “Pierce, I do not wish to—”

  “Why did your cousin come to the fair to see you twenty-three years ago?” he asked bluntly.

  The color drained from his mother’s face. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.” Pulling away from Camilla, he approached the countess. “I remembered something today at the fair. I remembered seeing you argue with Gilchrist. Barely two days later, he was here at the house and Father was arguing with you about it. And not long after that, I was banished.”

  He stared her down. “So I ask you again, Mother, why was he here? What did you argue about? What did he tell Father that day?”

  She tipped her chin up. “Nothing. Not a blasted thing.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he said. “Gilchrist obviously knew something about you—or perhaps about me—and whatever it was held enough power to give Father a hold over you that caused you to give up your only son. So damn it, I deserve to know what the man said!”

  “I did not give you up!” she cried. “Not in my heart. Not for one day.”

  His eyes were ablaze. “It certainly felt that way to me.”

  Her face crumpled. “I know. But we can start anew, forget the past—”

  “Not until I have the truth from you.”

  “My cousin said nothing, I swear! You know how your father always was.”

  “Yes, but he only banished me from this house after Gilchrist came here. That can’t be a coincidence.” Pierce set his shoulders. “So tell me this. Am I really Father’s son?”

  Camilla groaned. Pierce knew nothing about subtlety, at least when it came to his mother.

  Her ladyship gaped at him, then lowered her brow to a fierce glower. “If you are implying what I think you are—”

  “I’m not implying anything,” he snapped. “I’m trying to get at the truth. And it seems to me that the one thing Father could hold over your head, the one thing that would make him banish me from this house, is that you bore him some other man’s child!”

  “Some other man’s—” She muttered an oath under her breath. “Anyone can look at you and tell that you’re his son!” She drew herself up with all the dignity a countess could muster. “And how dare you accuse me of . . . of . . . ”

  “I wouldn’t blame you for marrying with a babe in your belly, especially given what I’ve learned of your situation. I only seek the truth—the reason for why Father hated me so much that he sent me away. The reason for why you let him send me away, and keep me away until his death. And the only reason I can come up with is that I wasn’t his.”

  Casting him a blistering glance, she turned for the door. “I’m not going to stand here another moment and be accused of such a thing in my own home.”

  “It’s my home now, remember?” he cried as he followed her, his face alight with righteous anger. “Mine. The house is mine. The estate is mine. It’s all mine. You may be queen of this particular part of it, but it’s only because I allow it. So the least I deserve from you is the truth!”

  She paused in her march to the door to glare at him. “And the least I deserve from you, as the woman who brought you into this world, is a modicum of respect.”

  That seemed to stymie him. He stood there a moment, his jaw taut and his manner stiff. When he spoke again, his voice was laden with pain. “I’m not asking this because of the years that you left me in the care of my relations, nor even because of the letters I wro
te to you that remained unanswered.” There was a sharp hitch in his tone. “I’m asking because ten years ago, I stood in this very room and told you and Father that I wished to come home so I could learn how to run the place that would one day be mine.”

  Her face turned ashen.

  “I see that you recall that day, too. You may also recall his response.” He glanced over at Camilla with anger glittering in his eyes. “My father told me that if I didn’t get my ‘damned arse’ out of his house and his sight, he would have the footmen forcibly remove me.”

  Camilla’s heart lodged in her throat. She could easily imagine a twenty-one-year-old Pierce, determined to demand his due, being confronted by such a blatant rejection from his own father.

  How had he stood it? How could he even stand to speak of it now?

  With his hands curling into fists, he turned back to his mother. “If you recall, I told him I wouldn’t leave unless he let me speak to you alone. He laughed, but he allowed it. He walked out and left us together.” His face darkened. “Because he was sure of you, wasn’t he? Sure of his hold on you even then.”

  “Pierce, don’t,” her ladyship whispered. Her gaze, torn with agony, flitted briefly to Camilla. “Please don’t talk about this in front of her. Leave it between you and me. I beg you.”

  “I won’t leave it,” he said hoarsely. “Not unless you tell me the reason for all of it. That’s the only thing I want. An explanation. Any explanation.”

  Camilla’s heart sank. He’d brought her in here only to use as a weapon against his mother. “Pierce, leave it alone,” she said in a low voice.

  “She won’t tell me!” His gaze locked with his mother’s. “So I have to make her tell me.”

  “Not like this,” Camilla begged.

  “If you insist on revealing to her the awful things I said that day, then go ahead.” His mother’s shoulders were shaking. “But I won’t stay here to witness it.”

  As she turned again for the door, Pierce cried, “If you walk out on me again without giving me an explanation, Mother, I swear to God, I’ll leave for London in the morning, and that will be the end of anything between us!”

  She halted at the door to glance back at him with a look of pure torment. “All I can tell you is this,” she choked out. “I love you, son. No matter what I did or said during all those horrible years, no matter how things might have appeared to you, I never stopped loving you.”