by Jenna Jaxon
“You had quite an education at Oxford, Mr. Isley.” Lady Celinda steered him away from the brougham and toward one of the brakes. “I still find myself somewhat overheated by our exertions. Would you indulge me by returning with me in the brake? I fear the brougham would not suit me in my current mood.”
“I would be delighted, my lady.” Alec laughed and his own mood lifted.
“Have you told this to Miss Crowley?” she asked as he helped her in.
“I haven’t had a chance.” Alec settled himself in beside her on the wooden bench seat. The mistletoe ball lay at their feet. “I’d no idea Somersby would be here, nor that Jen—Miss Crowley would take such an interest in him. It’s going to be difficult to get her alone to warn her.” He clenched his jaw. “She seems to have taken a dislike to me recently.”
“Leave that to me, Mr. Isley.” Lady Celinda patted his arm. “I’ll get you your opportunity.” She stared down at the mistletoe ball. “Just be sure to take advantage of it.”
Chapter 11
After luncheon, all the guests gathered in the Great Hall where the fifteen foot fir Christmas tree sat in pride of place at the end opposite the massive fireplace. Looking up at its fragrant branches, Jenny couldn’t help remembering their trek in the woods that morning. The excitement of the race beneath the mistletoe with Lord Somersby returned and she gazed about, looking for him.
She had seen him but briefly at luncheon as he sat apart with the gentlemen she’d begun to identify as his particular friends: Mr. Pace, Lord Brimmell, Lord Beaumont, and her cousin Eric. There had been much merriment at their table, to the point Mr. Pace had apparently choked and there had been a great stir as he coughed and they pounded him on the back.
“I wonder at their topic of conversation,” Jenny had said to Celinda, inclining her head toward the gentlemen. Lunch was an informal affair at Marbury Park, with small tables scattered about the largest drawing room.
Lord Somersby’s group had taken over a table in the far corner.
“What do you think would elicit such hilarity?” She only hoped it did not include her in any way. To have Lord Somersby talk about her was flattering, however, she’d prefer her name not be bandied about.
“I’d bet my best bonnet Lord Somersby is giving them a detailed account of your escape this morning.” Celinda busied herself by slathering Devonshire cream over a scone, plump with currants. “Mama simply must try to steal Mrs. Morgan away from your aunt, Jenny. Her rolls and pastries are superb.” She broke off the end of the confection and popped it into her mouth. “He’s also likely wagering that he’ll catch you underneath the mistletoe before the ball is done tomorrow night.”
Jenny thought so as well, although she said nothing to her friend.
Celinda peered over at her and leaned closer. “You might want to make sure he’s the right one, Jenny, before you have no choice in the matter.”
She’d nodded and returned to the delicious food, thoughtful if still excited.
Now she stood before the great tree, painfully aware of Lord Somersby’s presence just opposite her. He might be hidden by the spreading branches of the enormous tree, but she could almost feel his eyes on her. Her cheeks burned with a rush of heat and she danced backward a few steps, atwitter with the possibilities the ball might hold.
Aunt Arabella had set out crates of ornaments she and Uncle Marbury had collected over the years along with trays of fruit to be hung as well—pears and apples wrapped in brightly colored frilled paper and oranges completely covered with fragrant cloves. The tree would be a gloriously gorgeous sight when they had finished with it. Each guest had been encouraged to decorate the lower branches, and the festive mood from earlier had rekindled almost immediately. Ladders had been placed on either side of the tree to allow the more daring gentlemen to decorate the upper boughs. Both were occupied now, and her heart gave a little skip when she found Somersby one of them.
Celinda appeared around the side of the tree holding a sweet-smelling orange and a large crystal ornament in the shape of a star. “Here.” She thrust the orange at Jenny. “You take this and I’ll start with the star.” She stepped back, her petite features screwed into a comical frown.
“There are so few ornaments on the tree as of yet.” Jenny grinned at her friend’s concentration. “Does it truly matter where we put them?” Celinda was such a joy to have as a companion. Almost like having Margaret back again. She could talk to her, laugh and have fun. No wonder they’d become close in a short time. Even if she didn’t find her true love here at Aunt Arabella’s, she’d always be thankful she’d met Celinda.
“Well, I like to make an effort with each ornament.” Her friend darted forward to hang the star at the end of a branch just above her head. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful. I can’t wait to see it all decorated. I’ve never seen such a thing before.” Jenny held her orange up, contemplating where it might look best with seriousness equal to Celinda’s.
“Could someone please hand me the angel?” Lord Somersby called from his perch on the ladder near the top of the tree.
“Oh, here it is.” Celinda gently clasped the delicate figurine, an angel fashioned out of gold foil, her skirt a lovely blue over the gold, with wide gold wings. “Here, Lord Somersby. Let me help you.”
Before Jenny could grab her, Celinda began climbing the steps, heading for Somersby some ten feet above her.
“Lady Celinda,” the lord called, turning pale and clutching the swaying ladder. “Go back down, please!” His grip on the wooden rung was so tight his knuckles showed white, the bones threatening to break through the skin.
“Be careful, Lady Celinda!” Jenny started toward them when a searing touch on her hand made her jump.
“Jenny.”
She whirled around, toward the sound of Alec’s deep voice.
“Alec, thank goodness. Can you please help Lady Celinda down before she and Lord Somersby come to mischief?” She pointed at the young earl now hanging precariously onto the rungs as Celinda handed up the angel.
“I believe rescue has arrived.” He grinned and indicated the enthusiastic crowd gathering at the base of the ladder.
Jenny released the breath she had been holding as Mr. Pace clutched the rails to steady them and Lord Beaumont grasped Celinda’s free hand. She had apparently succeeded in passing the angel to the fuming lord.
“I need to speak with you, please.” His bright blue eyes pleaded more eloquently than his words.
“Right now?” She wanted to make sure neither Lord Somersby nor Celinda came to grief.
“Yes, and privately. No one will notice.” He stemmed her immediate protest by curling his fingers around her hand.
The heat from his hand shot up her arm and her face flushed, as if she had a sudden fever. She glanced around and found Alex was correct. Everyone’s attention was focused on Celinda and Somersby. No one would mark it if they went apart, at least not if they were quick. She nodded and he pulled her around the corner into the somewhat secluded vestibule.
Once there he dropped her hand and she immediately began to cool down. Such an odd reaction to him. She stared at her hand, now perfectly fine. Ten seconds ago it had threatened to catch fire. Was she coming down with an ague? She didn’t feel ill, though. On the contrary, the sensation had left her excited and strangely happy. A smile on her lips, she turned to Alec. “What did you want to speak to me about?”
He stared at the floor and shuffled his feet, his hands clenched at his sides. At last he raised his head to stare at her with eyes the color of a cold sky. “What is between you and Somersby?”
His words took her so aback she stepped backward, bumping into the cool stone wall of the entry hall. “Are you jealous?”
How thrilling if he were. Not that she wanted such attentions from Alec of all people, still if her budding relationship with the earl had provoked a jealous streak in her longtime acquaintance, she couldn’t deny a certain delight deep in her heart.
<
br /> “Of course not.”
Her little bubble of satisfaction burst with an almost audible pop. Resisting the urge to stamp her foot, Jenny groaned and rolled her eyes. It might be impolite but Alec was being most annoying, dragging her away from the fun at the tree to ask her questions that were none of his business. She opened her mouth to tell him so, and stopped, glad she hadn’t moved away from the wall.
His eyes flashed and his lips straightened into a thin, harsh line that sent a shiver of fear trickling down her spine. “Have you set your cap for him?”
The impudence of the question melted her alarm. “What business is it of yours if I have?”
“Considering we are betrothed, I think it’s very much my business.” He leaned toward her, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her head.
His looming presence addled her senses, leaving her breathless and scattering her thoughts like a whirlwind did autumn leaves. He was so close if he moved one more inch their lips might meet. What would it feel like to have Alec’s lips on her skin, her hair, her lips? The breath she’d been holding escaped and she sank back against the wall, her head bumping the rough stones as she raised her face to his. She stood transfixed, his mouth becoming her whole world as they moved closer.
Alarm bells sounded in her mind as he closed the tiny gap between them. She shot her hand to his chest and pushed with all her might, trying to propel him away from her. “You promised we would not marry.” Her whole body shook with the effort of fending him off. Especially difficult as deep down, a small but insistent part of her longed to feel the touch of his lips.
“If I need to marry you to keep you from making a wretched mistake, I’ll do it.” He still strained toward her, his eyes fixed on her mouth.
She shoved harder against him. “Who is a ‘wretched mistake’? Lord Somersby?”
“Yes.” He breathed a sigh and stepped back, regret in every line of his body. “The man’s a cur, Jenny, and no fit husband for you. He’s not at all what he seems.”
“And how do you know that?” Her breath came in great, painful gulps. How dare he slight Lord Somersby? Alec must be jealous of her regard for him.
“I knew him at Oxford. He was a year ahead of me, but I knew of him.” Alec’s frown darkened his whole face. “I know that he ruined a man’s life on a damned wager.”
“What?” Blood pounded in her ears. “You’re making that up.”
“I wish I was.” He looked around and sighed. “I can’t go into it right now. I believe we’re about to have company. But I swear to you, Somersby is a gentleman in name only. And if he’s shown an interest in you, it’s because he wants something or his father does.” He grasped her shoulders. “He doesn’t love you, Jenny.”
“How could you possibly know that?” She fought to keep her voice down as she twisted about, trying to escape his grip. The last thing she wanted was to be discovered in Alec’s arms.
He opened his mouth, shut it, shook his head and released her.
She stumbled back against the wall, grateful for the solid mass that kept her from sliding to the floor. Panting she stared at him, unable to snare a single one of the myriad thoughts careening around her head.
He slid his hand down her jaw until it cupped her chin. “Trust me, I do. Besides, he doesn’t deserve someone like you.”
Her body trembled at his tender touch. His hand so warm, his eyes pleading.
Alec grasped her other cheek as well and pulled her toward him. “Jenny, I…Damn!” He released her and stepped away so abruptly she staggered forward.
Before she could catch herself, Lord Somersby rounded the corner into their secluded spot . Celinda followed on his coattails, thank goodness.
“Well, well. Are we interrupting a little tryst here?” Somersby’s voice sounded light, and playful, but he frowned as he eyed first her, then Alec.
Dear God, what must she look like? She raised a hand to her hair, afraid Alec’s hands had mussed it. Her cheeks on fire, she hastily smoothed s few errant strands into place. Oh, but she could kill Alexander Isley right now.
“Of course not, Lord Somersby.” Celinda stepped forward smoothly. “Just two old acquaintances catching up. But you must come, Miss Crowley, and see how beautiful the angel looks that Lord Somersby so gallantly placed at the top of the tree.” She snared Jenny’s arm and drew her out of the entry hall, away from the dangerous look in Lord Somersby’s eyes and the equally perilous determination on Alec’s face.
Jenny’s heart beat frantically, although she had no idea which man caused her pulse to race so. She only prayed she found out before the two gentlemen decided for her.
* * * *
Lord Somersby waited until the ladies had disappeared into the Great Hall before turning on Alec, a snarl on his lips. “You’d do well to leave Miss Crowley alone, Isley.”
“Why is that, Somersby?” Alec crossed his arms and leaned back, affecting a careless air in hopes of preventing himself from throttling the lord who bristled before him. He’d never wanted to plant a facer on anyone so much in his life. “Miss Crowley is an old friend of my family. Of course I will assist her in any manner possible.”
“I think she can dispense with your assistance.” Somersby glared at him, eyes narrowed. “I won’t stand by and watch you ruin her reputation.” He straightened his shoulders, puffing his chest out. Slowly, he clenched his hands, though they remained by his side.
“The pot’s calling the kettle black there, Somersby,” Alec shot back, curling his own fists. If Somersby wanted to have at it, he’d be oh so happy to oblige him.
“I didn’t drag her into a secluded spot alone.” A sneer twisted Somersby’s mouth.
“And I didn’t try to kiss her underneath the mistletoe.”
“Hah.” Somersby swept away the objection with a wave of his hand. “A pleasant game in full view of the company, including her aunt and uncle.” He raised his chin to look down his nose at Alec. “You certainly had no compunction against kissing Lady Celinda. I meant to do nothing more with Miss Crowley.”
“Except she didn’t want you to, did she?” Alec did nothing to disguise his gloating tone. If Jenny had wanted the earl to kiss her, she wouldn’t have run.
Somersby’s scowl smoothed into a smug smile. “Oh, she did, but not in public it seems.”
“What?” Alec grabbed the pristine blue jacket and threw the earl against the stone wall hard enough that his head bounced and his teeth clicked. “You kissed her in private?”
“No, no I didn’t.” A flicker of fear shot across Somersby’s face.
Alec breathed a sigh of relief and loosened his hold. Somersby slithered out of his grasp and backed away.
“She told me, after she avoided me during the running of the mistletoe, that she preferred we meet under it in a more private moment.” Somersby smiled and Alec had to stop from grabbing him again. “And I intend to oblige the lady at the Christmas Eve Ball tomorrow. Did she tell you she’s given me the first set?”
“You touch her in any improper way and it will be your last dance, Somersby.” A stab of pain hit Alec just below his breastbone. Now he wouldn’t be the one to lead Jenny out for the first dance of the ball. Somehow he’d never found the right moment to ask her in the past few days. Suddenly it was too late. He’d lost her to Somersby. Alec glanced at his adversary, who continued to smirk.
“You’d best be quick to secure another dance with Miss Crowley, Isley.” The young blood strutted before Alec. “Once we are betrothed I believe I will insist on claiming all her dances.”
“Betrothed!” Alec’s head spun. She couldn’t have betrothed herself to him so quickly. And why would Somersby want to marry her? Had he found out about the fortune promised by her aunt? He didn’t know for sure, but the way his father talked it wasn’t common knowledge. “You can’t marry her. I—” Alec stopped himself just short of blurting out their betrothal. He’d given Jenny his word and until she gave him leave, he couldn’t tell this popinjay an
ything.
“You what? Object? None of your affair, Isley.” Somersby smoothed the rumpled fabric of his jacket where Alec had grabbed him. “My father’s ready to contact her father. It just takes my proposal and the deal is done.”
“What deal?” Alec remembered all too well Somersby’s last deal.
The earl waved a hand. “A mere figure of speech. Are you so provincial you don’t know one when you hear it?” Adjusting his jacket one last time, Somersby stalked off.
Alec’s hands ached with longing to plant the scoundrel a facer. No one deserved it more. He needed to send a message to his father immediately, telling him of Somersby’s boast about a betrothal. Although he’d been determined to let Jenny choose the man she wanted to marry, he’d been truthful when he’d told her he’d marry her to keep her from making a mistake.
His pulse thumped loudly in his temple and his heart beat a tattoo as an image slowly formed in his mind. Him in church, dressed in his best, unable to stop his wide, lopsided grin. Next to him stood Jenny, incredibly beautiful in a long pink gown, her cheeks tinged a deeper hue with a blush, her eyes shining.
The vision burst apart, startling him back to the empty entry hall. Good lord. Had he actually come full circle? Did he want to marry Jenny?
Chapter 12
Jenny could hardly hold still as Brooks stuck a final hairpin into her coiffure for the Christmas Eve Ball. The maid twined tiny white flowers and pearls into the hair piled luxuriously on top of her head, a few tantalizing tendrils escaping to frame her face. Staring in the mirror at the overall effect—white flowers, white silk gown with silver over-netting, white gloves—made her look like…
“A snow queen! The very image, Jenny.” Celinda had entered and stood behind her, approval and satisfaction in her face. “All the men will grovel at your feet and beg for dances all night long.”
“I doubt that very much, Celinda.” Jenny snorted with laughter and turned from the mirror to admire her friend’s toilette. “You are too exquisite for any of them to take notice of me.”
