“You bitch!”
“Language, sir! Now, let me be clear. You’ll abandon your pursuit of Lady Jane and then you can slink off into the weather if you wish, but I will stay here and make the most of my holiday.” Constance smiled, so brightly that it made his chest ache. “I will enjoy the merriest Christmas of my lifetime knowing that you are enduring your worst. What do you say to that? Providence has come round to give me justice after all these years!”
“Justice?”
“I have the whip hand over you, little brother.”
He shook his head slowly. “Only for a short time. Once I let Jane go, your prize loses its power.”
“Are your affections for her so shallow? I will not let you double back for her, Nicodemus. Scandal can be resurrected. Do you think her next love won’t mind proof of his bride’s sins? Do you think a husband more forgiving than a mother?”
“I think you’ve already taken this too far.”
“Have I?” Constance sighed. “We shall see.”
“Get away from me.”
Constance smoothed out her skirts, a woman calmly preparing to take her leave. “There is one good thing to come from all of this.”
He said nothing, unable to speak past the searing rage that choked him.
She sighed and smiled. “I’ve finally said my piece and can feel the weight of it falling from my shoulders. Years of dreading you being happy when I was so miserable—and now, I have nothing to fear. I will leave for London after the holidays, brother, but only because I think I like the idea of you being entirely alone. Yes, let’s savor your loneliness for as long as we can, shall we? Good day, Arthur Nicodemus Phineas Chesterfield.”
She sauntered back toward the house and never saw him lean back against the oak tree in defeat.
It was hard to find Jane alone without drawing suspicion from the ever-watchful mothers. Laughter drifted out from the drawing room and Nick prepared himself for an awkward entrance, pacing a little in the corridor. He wasn’t in the mood to be a brooding audience of one for their parlor games though he might have to if—
“Lord Athmore?” Stephen came down the main staircase. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. I was just…”
“It’s a bit of a crowd in there, isn’t it?” The question held no edge.
The family resemblance was striking and Nick took comfort in it. “I envy most men for their ease.”
Stephen nodded. “Most men probably envy you your talents for staying out of the fray. It can be harrowing for a bachelor to tread above the traps.”
Nick couldn’t think of anything to say. He wanted nothing more than to lose his bachelor status if that meant winning Jane. But he couldn’t have her at the cost of her reputation and Stephen, as her brother, would shed all pretense of friendship if he thought that Nick was a villain.
My happiness unravels with a single hair comb.
“Athmore,” Stephen said, his voice low. “Are you fond of Jane?”
Nick nodded.
“Are you an honorable man?”
Nick managed another nod, as solemn as if he were taking an oath. “Yes.”
Stephen smiled. “Then please wait in the study there and I’ll see what I can do.” Stephen pointed toward a far door at the end of the floor. “It shouldn’t be too long.”
Nick’s confusion was hard to swallow but he complied, heading for the downstairs private study. He had no idea what he was waiting for but the request had been so unexpected, he’d given in without a fight.
But the reward came quickly in the guise of Jane slipping through the door, a vision in a dress of ivory and yellow. “Lord Athmore? Stephen said you wanted to see me.”
“I’m…is this acceptable? Your mother approved of you coming to see me?”
Jane smiled. “Stephen called me away under the pretense of helping him to find a shirt he had Irene mend. For once, I am the one employing a lookout, so it seems the tables are turned a bit. We should have a few minutes. The others were quite enrapt in a game of matches and chance.”
“I find I like your brother more and more.”
“I feel the same. Stephen is a wonderful brother and a gifted conspirator.” Jane took a few steps into the room to join him, drawing closer. “I am happy to see you again—like this. Away from the others. Ever since your sister arrived, it’s been a bit…awkward.”
“Awkward is an understatement.”
“She seems to enjoy bringing chaos into the room and I was worried that you might think that all is spoiled between us.” Jane smoothed a curl back from her cheek nervously. “You withdrew again.”
“I—retreated but it wasn’t the best strategy. I’m sorry for that.” Hell, I’m going to be sorry for that for the rest of my life. “Constance is a waking nightmare.”
“That seems a bit harsh.”
Nick’s breath caught in his throat. “She’s demanded that I end my pursuit of you, Jane.”
“I take it back. You were being very diplomatic about her.” Jane pressed her fingertips against her lips. “I—I need to practice keeping more of my thoughts to myself.”
“No. Change nothing, Jane.”
“Is she the reason I have seen even less of you?”
“A gentleman would lie.” His grip on the back of the chair was a viselike hold that whitened his knuckles. “If I were clever, I should have planned some story…left my sister out of it and then I wouldn’t be…”
“Would a gentleman lie?”
“Jane. I wonder if the worst for me has happened already but that it doesn’t matter if I can just convince myself that your happiness is…preserved.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“My sister found your hair comb in my rooms. It was stupid of me to keep it after I found it in the trunk yesterday but I—I couldn’t find the proper moment to give it back and I was so wary of a misunderstanding. I knew scandal was the one thing you dreaded more than anything.”
“You found my comb!” Jane’s hands trembled as the joy of the discovery was marred by the tragic look in his eyes. “Your sister…” The implications finally sunk in. “Your sister found my hair comb in your bedroom.”
“Yes.”
“She is…suspicious then?” Jane took a deep breath. “Why not just tell her that you found it in the corridor and intended to return it to me when you could or—”
He reached for her hand and a sweet silence encircled them both. “I would sell my soul to be so quick and have come up with that story in the moment. I did try to tell her it was innocently dropped and found. But my sister’s malignant imagination doesn’t really bother to ask for another version of events before she concocts her own.”
“Oh, dear.”
“She’s threatened to tell your mother a sordid tale of your ruin unless I…I’m to abandon what bungled courtship I’d thought to manage.”
“Oh.”
“From that reaction, I suspect the loss may be felt more cruelly on my end—”
“No. Not at all! But if I stomped my feet in frustration or argued that I desired nothing more than you—would I not reveal myself as a wanton and wicked creature and lose some of your esteem for me?”
Nick swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No. But let’s drop that line of conversation because it’s making it hard for me to…think clearly.”
“Tell me what you want. Tell me what you desire, Nick.”
“If I say it out loud, I think we’re sunk.” Nick took a deep breath. “Now is not the moment for declarations of my feelings or a soul-wrenching admission that I don’t think I will ever be whole or solid without you, Jane. Look at me. I’m supposed to be valiantly sacrificing my own happiness to spare you, remember? A selfless gesture? Which is grinding my pride to dust, by the way, because what I want to do is prove that I’m worthy of winning you and that I can manage one evil sibling without allowing her shadow to curdle the butter on your dinner plate, damn it!”
Jane gasped.
; “I’m sorry. My language was not meant for a lady’s ears.”
“No,” she said quickly with a shy smile. “It’s just—that is the longest speech I have ever heard you give and it was quite—impassioned.”
“If I am ever free to tell you that I love you, Jane, I should like to not be having a simultaneous discussion about how much I hate my sister.” Nick raked his fingers through his hair. “But since that is never going to happen, let’s just recall this as history’s worst confession of a man’s desires ending with a cowardly retreat from your presence and wish each other well.”
Jane’s smile widened. “I think I love you, too.”
“That makes it worse.” Nick began to smile, despite his foul mood. “It really does. Thank you.”
“You are very welcome,” she said, her lips trembling. “But Lord Athmore, please, say nothing. Give me tonight. It’s Christmas Eve and I think I can set this right.”
“Jane. Constance is not going to be put off. I don’t see a way out.”
“You don’t have to see it. You just have to have a little faith.”
Faith.
“In you? I have mountains of it.”
“Then I love you even more, Nicodemus Chesterfield.” She slipped out the door and shut it behind her before he could compose a worthy reply.
She loves me.
She loves me and I am going to let her go.
Jane walked back into the hallway, numb and lost in thought, ignoring the portraits that had once again witnessed her adventures. Nick intended to cut off their budding romance to save her reputation and protect her from Constance’s cruelty, but Jane was in no mood to surrender her chance at happiness and not to another woman who would only find more ways to torture Nicodemus once she had a taste of this power.
“Jane! Is something amiss?” Stephen asked as he came out from the alcove near the conservatory doors. “Do I need to challenge the poor man to a duel?”
She punched him weakly in the shoulder. “Hardly! But…walk me to my room, dear brother.”
“As you wish,” he replied formally, his expression pleased at the promise of any additional mischief. “Lady Jane.” Stephen held out his arm and walked her up the stairs. “Come on, little sister. Let’s have it.”
“Did the party’s plans change for the day?” she asked. “Mother had arranged an outing of the ladies into the village. There is a charming display of ornaments in all the shop windows.”
“It’s still set.”
“When does she wish to leave?”
“I understood within the hour. The women were talking about which bonnets to wear…it was a very riveting conversation.”
Jane hesitated. Time was running out and the scheme that was forming in her mind threatened to unravel as fear unfolded icy nails down her spine.
If it goes wrong…
“Bonnets always are.”
“Jane? What are you up to? Tell me everything.”
“Come to my room and let me confess what I have in mind.” Jane took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I need an ally and for all the favors I have rendered to my friends and even to you, I am praying that you’ll help me without asking too many questions. It is time for a Christmas miracle, Stephen.”
The delight on Stephen’s face was impossible to disguise. “I do love intrigue and if it has anything to do with securing your happiness with a certain stoic Earl of Athmore, then I suppose I’m in.”
“Truly?”
“I like your earl. He’s a quiet man and he looks at you as if he would hurl himself onto broken glass to save you a cut heel.” Stephen shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? I’ve a soft spot for romances that don’t involve me.”
“Stephen! Do you mean it?”
“For once, Jane, let the mischief be yours for the making.”
“And if it goes wrong? Mother may never forgive us.”
He shrugged his shoulders again, a cavalier. “Oh, I think if she knew it was in the pursuit of a husband, she’d forgive you almost anything, Jane. What have you to lose?”
“Nothing,” she sighed.
“Then come on. Tell me what’s going on and let’s see what we can come up with together, all right?”
Jane nodded and embraced her brother and her last hope.
“You’re not missing tonight’s party. I don’t care what you say,” Sanders announced as he laid out Nick’s evening coat. “Musicians, the decorations, it’s to be a grand dance and the maids are even putting holly sprigs in their mob caps.”
“I am not really in the mood for holly sprigs.”
“It can’t be as bad as all that!”
“It can and stop looking at me as if I’d sprouted horns.” Sanders continued brushing off the wool, sparing his friend none of his opinions. “Stop sprouting them and make sure you choose your studs. I set out three pair for you.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to the party,” Nick crossed his arms.
“No, but I think if you’re planning on making a run at it, you need to try to look happier about the matter, your lordship.”
Nick sighed. How did a man feign happiness when he was in a tragic spiral?
“Pack my things. We’ll leave after the celebrations tonight or at first light. I promised Jane I would be here for the festivities and that I would dance with her. I will give myself that one gift and the memory of it…if nothing else.”
“If nothing else?” Sanders stepped back. “What did I miss? I know I’ve been a bit distracted lately. Mind you, I meant to tell you that Lady Weston’s maid, Irene, is…the loveliest thing, your lordship. Virtuous. Don’t mistake me. But if we leave so soon, I’ll miss my chance! I think I’ve nearly won her over and if ever a man deserved some good luck, I’m raising my hand. Are you sure? That we have to go?”
Nick groaned in frustration. “I’m sure. Make the most of the evening, Sanders, and then for God’s sake, don’t crow about your good luck the entire way home. Understood?”
Damn it. Does anyone get to be happy at Christmas?
Chapter Eight
The Christmas Eve party was a feast for the senses and transformed the ground floor of Rivercrest Hall into a fairyland of evergreen garlands and red ribbons. Along with the houseguests, several of the local gentry had joined the gathering, the annual Weston tradition of mingling with their servants and tenants for this special night. Formality lost its hold and good-natured laughter underlined the bright music that was playing in the ballroom. Agatha sat with her friends, their chairs on a dais to keep a close eye on the progress of their precious chicks.
Lady Portland leaned over to say, “Goodness, but Athmore looks very…determined, does he not?”
Agatha sighed. “I cannot tell. He seems set on her but I wish the man would smile more. Young people today have no grasp on the fine art of flirtation or romance, do they? Is it a dance or a battlefield?”
“There is something to be said about the art of war,” Lady Portland sighed. “It does bear a remarkable resemblance to the art of love sometimes.”
“Well, so long as prisoners are taken…”
To Nick, it was a bittersweet dream. Jane was in his arms and he had defiantly claimed every dance he could manage, all the while ignoring Constance’s glaring looks.
Nick’s anxiety grew. It felt as if the night were flying by until Jane whispered in his ear. “Lord Athmore, I need you to smile. And when I say the word, I need you to walk me out of this room.”
“Walk you out?”
She nodded. “At that instant. Because most of all, I need you to trust me.”
Nick forced himself to smile, then felt a more organic and genuine expression overtake it. She was so beautiful and so impossibly kind. Nick could only look at her as if all the world’s treasures were in his arms. “You needn’t have to ask, Jane. I do trust you.”
“Then we have nothing to fear.”
Stephen touched an imaginary brim of a cap as he passed his mother’s chair, com
pletely aware of the feminine generals surveying the field. His mother could be described as many things, but subtle did not make the list.
He circled the dance floor until he was next to the lady he sought.
“Lady Constance. Do you dance?”
Constance blinked at him in surprise, her attention diverted from the couples turning about the room. “I? Do I dance?”
Stephen smiled. “Dear lady, I cannot be addressing any other Lady Constance.”
“I—have not danced in many years.”
Stephen looked at her in astonishment. “You are jesting!”
“I am not. I am…long past the worries of a wallflower, sir.”
Stephen sobered. “You mean to refuse me. I understand. There is no need for exaggerations and wild tales to do so, Lady Constance. I have eyes. You are too beautiful and stately a woman to not receive your fair share of requests for a dance and to deny it—I’d prefer it if you just said that you had no desire to dance with me. I like it when you speak your mind.”
Her cheeks reddened, her eyes sparkling at his flattering words. “You do?”
“I do,” he said. “There is nothing more attractive than a woman who knows her own mind and who is not afraid to take control.”
“Oh, my!” Constance began to smile. “Even you will admit that asking if I dance and asking would I dance with you, they are two different questions.”
“Are they?” Stephen looked into her eyes, as if he sought the answer to a great philosophical question. “Will you dance with me, Lady Constance?”
“Yes.”
He did not wait until the next dance had begun, but stepped forward, pulled her into his arms and swept her onto the floor. Her gasp of surprise was only slightly audible and by the time they’d made one complete circuit of the room, Stephen had command. He deliberately deployed every rakish trick he could think of, pressing her a little too closely, sighing over her perfume and using his upper body to augment the sensation that she was light on her feet.
The battle-axe is murdering my toes but such are the sacrifices a brother makes…
As they crossed paths with a waltzing Nick and Jane, the siblings locked eyes and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
A Very Matchmaker Christmas Page 23
