No one in Hyde Park recalled two little girls in red capes. No one at Gunter’s had served them. Wolf was running out of places to look.
“I know you gave them money to purchase Christmas gifts. Perhaps they went shopping on Bond Street?”
So Wolf drove up and down, asking acquaintances—and stirring the scandal broth by having a pretty, windblown woman up beside him. Neither of them cared.
Margaret could not help noticing the unkempt ruffians on the streets, the former soldiers begging for alms, the shifty-eyed women. Any one of them could have recognized an opportunity in two prosperous-looking little girls.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
She was chilled to the bone by her dire thoughts. “Maybe we should go home in case there is a demand for ransom.”
“My man will know what to do. And I will pay it,” he added, “so do not worry about the amount.”
Margaret bit her lip. Now she’d lost her heart as well as her nieces.
*
The girls had not disobeyed her, not by much anyway. They had not crossed the street, had not gone exploring London on their own. They were right next door, in fact, with a proper escort. Well, not quite proper. They were picnicking in Lady Bartlett’s carriage house, in her carriage, with their new good friend, Oscar, Lady Bartlett’s profligate nephew. Oscar was just as eager to be out of his current temporary abode and the current lecture as the girls were to be out of theirs, if for different reasons.
Yesterday the hugger-mugger had sounded like a lark to Oscar, but yesterday he had been foxed. In truth, most days he was foxed, or suffering from the effects of being castaway the night before. He’d thought he’d play the hero to the adoring girls. Better, he’d claim to be rescuing them from some dread fate, slavers or procurers, he had not decided which. He’d be a hero indeed, and Lord Wolfram would reward him. Miss Todd would reward him. Auntie would reward him. Then he could pay his debts and be gone.
Today, a shade more sober, he was nothing but a blasted babysitter. After eating the provisions they had brought, and drinking from his own supply that he kept stashed in the little-used coach, he was bored. Teaching the infants how to play at dice took up an hour. A nap while they read storybooks took another. He woke up with a stiff neck from sleeping against the side of the carriage, cold, out of sorts and out of spirits in his flask. This was a bad idea, he decided, almost as bad as the silly little twits thinking they could wrest a proposal of marriage out of that downy bird, Wolfram.
“You might as well go on home, brats, ’cause a top-of-the-trees goer like Wolf ain’t never going to marry your aunt. A viscount and a penniless nobody? Hah! He could have his pick of the heiresses and beauties and ladies of title. He’s been diddling you all along, and you are too young to realize it. He’ll make her an offer, all right, to be his ladybird. If she ain’t already.”
Katherine kicked him in the shin. Alexandra bashed him over the head with the picnic hamper.
*
In one way, Oscar was right. The children’s disappearance was not bringing Wolf and Margaret any closer. Distress was not conducive to tender feelings, and a crisis was no time to be thinking of matters of the heart. Right now, the would-be lovers were barely speaking to each other. Margaret wanted to call in Bow Street, positive her nieces had been kidnapped. Wolf wanted to wait until nightfall, certain the girls would return on their own without scandal or public knowledge. Margaret was shredding her damp handkerchief. Now she would have to hem yet another one, dash it. Wolf was pacing in front of the window, staring out at the street. Soon he’d need a new carpet, damn it.
“Oh, where can they be?”
“Don’t you think I would have them back if I knew?” he snapped.
“You have no need to speak so harshly. I am not blaming you.”
Wolf was blaming himself. He should have hired a nanny. He should have packed them all off to his country place. Hell, he should have sailed to the Antipodes while he had the chance.
Margaret was blaming herself. What did she know about children? She should not have left them with ancient Aunt Bolton. She should not have tried to be a mother while still being Lady Bartlett’s companion. She should have taken the girls to Cousin Fernell’s, where there were nursemaids and governesses and strict rules of behavior. They might have been miserable, but they would have been safe. She should—
“Here they are!” Wolf yelled, after rushing to the hall and flinging open the front door. Lady Bartlett’s nephew was dragging Alexandra by the arm while he carried Katherine, kicking and pounding on his back, over his shoulder.
“Here they are,” Oscar echoed, “all safe and sound. I found your chicks hiding out in m’aunt’s carriage house, don’t you know. I brought them back as soon as I discovered they were runaways. I knew you’d be worried.”
Wolf reached for his purse.
Safe in her aunt’s embrace, Alexandra spoke up. “You liar! You told us yesterday where to hide, and you ate our luncheon. And you called Aunt Maggie bad names and you said Wolf only meant to—”
Margaret clapped a hand over the child’s mouth.
“And you cheated us.” Katherine tossed a pair of dice at Oscar’s feet. They landed with a three and a four showing.
Wolf put his purse back. “You knew the brats were next door all along? You thought we might be worried?” Wolf would never strike a child, but Oscar was not as lucky. Nor was he as handsome, when Wolf’s right fist rearranged his nose. “That’s for upsetting Miss Todd.” Oscar’s expensive clothes were not quite as elegant either, when Wolf kicked him down the stairs and out to the street. “And that is for besmirching her name.”
Oscar ran away before Wolf could recall the loaded dice.
Then Wolf turned to the children.
They ran faster than Oscar.
*
They were almost out of time, with Christmas just days away. A week later the solicitor would be on his way home, so the girls knew they had to act now to get what they wished.
They did not really want the fur muffs Wolf was giving them, the ones that were supposedly hidden in Mrs. Olive’s rooms. They did not want the new dresses Aunt Maggie was sewing when they slept, nor the doll clothes Aunt Bolton was making for them. Katherine and Alexandra did not want Aunt Maggie to go back to work, or Wolf to go back to his lady friends. Most of all, they did not want to have to live with flea-witted Cousin Fernell and his fusty family.
What they did want for Christmas was a pair of parents. Loving ones, healthy ones, permanent ones.
By hook or by crook, fair means or foul, they meant to see their aunt and Lord Wolfram wed. They had to be betrothed before the solicitor returned and made other arrangements. They must be promised, and promising to keep Alexandra and Katherine.
This time the girls had money to finance their latest strategy. Wolf had given them a handful of coins to buy presents, but they were giving him their father’s pocket watch for Christmas, and giving Maggie their mother’s diamond earbobs. The kitten they were giving Aunt Bolton was free, waiting in the stable mews, and Maggie had bought small gifts for the servants from all of them.
Wolf’s generous sum was not enough, not for what they intended. So they borrowed from Aunt Bolton, and begged Mrs. Olive for a bit of the household funds. It was for the good of the house, wasn’t it? Even Dora and Phillip tossed in a coin, and Wolf’s valet just happened to find a pound note in one of his lordship’s discarded coats.
So they took all the money and they bought…
Chapter Eight
As the last stage in a successful courtship, having dispensed with the duenna, bind your dearest to you with stolen kisses. Remember, however, you are wooing a bride, not a bedmate; do not frighten an innocent young lady with your lust. For the sake of your would-be sons, beware the miss who gives her favors too freely or returns your passion too enthusiastically. Alternatively, if the female kisses like a dead fish, run as if the devil were nipping at your heels.
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—George E. Phelber, A Gentleman’s Guide to Courtship
“MISS T—” Wolf began to shout, on finding that one of the colonel’s exotic vines had run amok in his entryway. Then he made a closer inspection of the rampant vegetation, peering into the parlor, then the library. “Mistletoe? My entire house is dripping with mistletoe?” Wolf started laughing. Then he started kissing the children and Aunt Bolton and Mrs. Olive and Dora, all of whom had been hiding behind doors to see his reaction.
Kissing balls hung from every door frame, strands of the vine dangled from the chandeliers and the wall sconces. Shiny green leaves and white berries decorated every chair back and banister rail and drapery rod. Picture frames, mantelpieces and bookshelves had nosegays of the stuff tied with red ribbon. “I did not know this much mistletoe existed in all of England!”
“Everyone helped,” Katherine proudly explained. “Mrs. Olive wove the balls and Aunt Bolton tied the bows. Mr. Paul climbed the ladder.”
“What did Dora do?” Wolf asked, although he thought he knew, by the maid’s blushes.
“Oh, she and Phillip tested the mistletoe to make sure it worked,” Alexandra told him.
“And did it?”
Dora’s face was as scarlet as the red ribbons. “Like a treat, my lord, like a treat.”
He would have to have a talk with young Phillip, it seemed, and promote him to under butler so he could afford a wife. “I see. And I see that I am going to be busy as a bee going from flower to flower. Why, my lips might wear out before Twelfth Night at this rate.”
“Oh, no,” Katherine said. “You are supposed to pick a berry for each kiss. When there are no more berries, you cannot claim any more kisses.”
Wolf looked around, pretending to count. There were enough berries to last a philanderer until next February. “Hmm. I better not waste any more on little girls, then. Do you know any big girls waiting to be kissed?”
“Silly, you are supposed to be kissing Aunt Maggie!”
“I am?” He feigned surprise, while Aunt Bolton laughed. “I suppose this means I have your permission to pay my addresses?”
The little girls looked at each other in confusion. This was Wolf’s address, and he paid the bills without asking anyone.
He asked the same question in different words. “You approve of my suit?”
The results were the same incomprehension. His clothes were fine.
“He wants to know if he can court your aunt,” Mrs. Olive bent down and whispered to the girls.
“Oh, yes!” Katherine clapped her hands together, beaming until her older sister kicked her.
“Only if your intentions are honorable,” Alexandra told Wolf, with her two years of added maturity. “Our Aunt Maggie deserves nothing less.”
“She deserves a prince,” her sister chimed in, “but Qu’inn is too young, and he’ll go back to India anyway. Prince George is too old. You’ll do.”
Wolf solemnly thanked the precocious poppets and assured them that his intentions were indeed aboveboard.
“That means you are going to ask her to marry you, doesn’t it?”
Wolf took a deep breath. “It does.” The world did not end with that admission, so Wolf repeated it. “Yes, I am going to ask your aunt to be my wife, and you, my fine conspirators, to be my family. Now all I have to do is convince our Maggie that I will, ah, do.”
“You are a rake, aren’t you? That’s what Aunt Maggie said.”
“Why, so I am. Between my skills at seduc—at romance, and your mistletoe, she is bound to say yes.”
*
She didn’t at first. Kissed breathless and witless under the guise of Christmas kisses, Margaret did not hear the question. Her bones were bending, her muscles were mush, her scruples were strained. She would have fallen to the floor in a heap—a panting, yearning, open-armed heap—if Wolf had not been holding her up against his strong, hard body.
His body growing too hard, he sat down with her in his lap. Luckily a bunch of mistletoe was pinned to the back of the chair, so they could continue the season’s best greetings. Wolf forgot to pick the berries. He forgot the question. He forgot he’d forgotten to lock the library door, dash it.
Lady Bartlett charged in, poor Phillip in her wake, trying to stop her. He might as well have tried to stop the fog from rolling in. The lady was incensed at the damage to her nephew, the crumbs in her carriage, and the surgeon’s bill she was forced to pay for Wolf’s handiwork.
Now she was incensed at the lack of morals, the audacity in the afternoon, the misbehavior under a mistletoe excuse.
“Why, I never!”
She had been married. She had, presumably, once at least. Still, Wolf stood and set Margaret on her feet behind him, where she could pull her skirts down and her bodice up. Nothing could be done about her gloriously loose hair and reddened lips, or his discarded neckcloth. Fortunately—or not—the old shrew’s entrance had instantly shriveled the most blatant evidence of their activity.
She shook her fist in Margaret’s direction. “You are dismissed, Miss Todd. I would not have a woman of such low character in my home. As for you, Wolfram, it serves you right, you libertine. You’ll have to marry the nobody now, you know.”
Margaret inhaled sharply, but Wolf spoke first: “Miss Todd is a somebody who serves me precisely right. Further, you are already housing a cardshark and an ivory tuner in your house. I would not think of permitting my betrothed to return there. Good day, madam. Oh, and you had better keep your dog close. Without Miss Todd to walk the beast, your pet is at risk. Our Punjabi hunting cat took a fancy to a poodle in the park today. Who knows but that he is even now out stalking plump pigeons, or pugs.”
Lady Bartlett gasped and fled.
This time Wolf locked the door behind her and an interested audience of children, servants and distant relatives.
“You do not have to marry me,” Margaret said when he returned.
He stood in front of her, clasping her hands. “Of course I do.”
“But your honor is not at stake, not over a mere companion. As Lady Bartlett said, I am a nobody, so no one will care. And my reputation no longer matters. If the solicitor does not have news of an inheritance, I shall take the girls to our cousin’s house. He will have to give us shelter, so I will not be seeking another position.”
Wolf ignored her, kissing her into silence. Despite her brave words, Margaret knew she would miss her good name. Feckless Fernell would make her life a misery if he got wind of her fall from grace. She would miss Wolf’s kisses more, though, so did not protest when she found herself back in Wolfs arms, back in a daze.
Wolf feared consummating the marriage before the engagement. Lud, those shiny mistletoe berries—and his radiant beloved—were hard to resist, but he did. He stepped back and said, “To the devil with Lady Bartlett and her gossip-mongering. I do have to marry you, though, because I will not be happy without you. I might not even survive without you. For certain I will not take another bride, so my entire line will die out, without you. I cannot imagine how I lived before you tumbled into my life with your imps. It was no life, and I do not want to return to that empty void.”
“But—”
“Sh. Let me finish. I love you, Miss Margaret Todd, and I want you for my wife, forever and ever.” He let out his breath. “There, now I am done. You are supposed to say you love me back and are honored at my offer and yes, you will make me the happiest of men.”
“I do love you, Lord Wolfram. And would gladly be your bride, but…”
“But you have doubts.”
“I love you so much, I would die if you looked at another woman.”
“You have ruined me for other women. I cannot imagine wanting a female who is not you, and your nieces would make my life wretched if I did. But I always intended to honor my wedding vows, which is why I never took that step. I never found the woman I thought I could be faithful to. Now I have.”
“People will say mine is cream-pot love, that I woul
d marry you for your money.”
“Shall I give it all away, then?”
She laughed. “Of course not. The girls need an education, and our sons—”
“We are going to have sons? Then we had best marry for their sake.” He led her to the chair and seated her. Then he took a ring out of his pocket, a single diamond set in a gold band. “I was going to wait until Christmas to give you this and ask for your hand in return. Will you accept it now, and me?” Margaret held her hand out for him to put the band on her finger. Through tears of joy she admired the beautiful ring, and the wonderful man who was kneeling at her feet.
“I have nothing for you but a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on it.”
“I am going to need it to mop my brow, dealing with your nieces. Zeus, that makes them my nieces too, doesn’t it?”
“Yours to raise and love and teach how to avoid rakes.”
He looked at the ring as if he wanted it back. “I am not sure about that last.”
“You have a few years to get used to the idea. But you have made me so happy, I would give you so much more.”
“More than a family, more than a love I never thought to find?”
“I dreamed that you might love me, but never dared hope. But I am not what you were looking for, a well-bred young lady of means and polish, one who could make you a comfortable match. I am not of your world, not well dowered and not all that young. Worse, I fear ours will not be an entirely comfortable marriage.”
“I will try not to shout.”
“And I will try not to turn your house into Bedlam.”
“No matter. Our marriage will be a joyous one.”
“Just like the season.”
“Like every season, with you.”
Thank heaven for mistletoe…and little girls.
An Enchanted Christmas Page 30
