Mistletoe & Michaelmas

by Rose Gordon

  “Wishing I'd be swallowed up by a large hole in the ground to escape this embarrassment.”

  “I hate to tell you this, but I've wished—prayed even—for that many times and it never happens.”

  “There could always be a first...” Aaron offered, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

  Her fingers itched to touch those lines. Instead, she curled them into a ball in her lap to keep her from doing anything that might embarrass either of them. “Ah, but as a well-versed man of the Bible, you ought to know there is nothing new under the sun.”

  Aaron's rich laughter echoed around them. “You are correct.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “About both.”

  “Both?”

  “There's nothing new under the sun. And—” he cleared his throat, his cheeks turning the slightest hue of pink— “for moving back and stopping me from taking a liberty I had no right to take.” He swallowed audibly. “I beg you, please forgive me.”

  A small measure of relief flooded Daphne to know he didn't interpret her response as anything other than a way to guard her reputation. “I'll only accept your apology if you answer another question for me.”

  Aaron pursed his lips and turned his head from side to side as if he were weighing the positive and negatives of her proposition. “All right,” he said, blowing out a deep breath. “Be gentle.”

  Daphne licked her lips, her mind swimming with questions she wanted to ask him. None of which summed up everything she wanted to know. Aaron seemed so comfortable with her and yet, he'd said she'd brought out the forward part of him. But he'd also said he'd become a “barnacle” to the ladies he thought he could form an attachment. He was also nearly twenty years older than her, but he'd never mentioned children. What was his story? Had he been married before? If so, did he have children, he'd never mentioned them—

  “This must be a clanker of a question if it's taking you this long to think how to word it,” Aaron drawled, flustering her. “Just spit it out, nobody will know how scandalous you are. Well, nobody but me,” he amended with a wolfish grin.

  “Gracious, has anyone other than me ever told you how incorrigible you truly are?”

  “That's your question,” Aaron said, chuckling. “Seems like a wasted question to me.”

  Daphne frowned. “You know as well as I do that wasn't my question.”

  “It's the one you asked.” Aaron stretched his long legs out on the front of the sleigh and took the reins from her limp grasp “So in all fairness, I'll answer it.”

  Daphne had the strangest urge to brain the man, but through some miracle, she refrained.

  “The answer is yes.” The roughness in his voice was impossible to miss. “But she didn't say it in a way that made me enjoy being called such.”

  Daphne's breath caught and a foreign tendril of heat coiled in her abdomen. “I—I see.”

  “I doubt you do.” His jaw tightened. “I was married once before,” he said on a sigh. He swallowed audibly. His eyes were fixed in front of them, offering her a side profile of his face, but that was enough to see his clenched jaw and the hard expression he wore on his face. “She used to say that about me.” He found Daphne's hand and brought it up to his mouth where he placed a gentle kiss on her wrist, then lowered their hands. “But it wasn't said in the same manner as when you say it.”

  Daphne bit her lip to keep from asking something that wasn't her business.

  But it was as if he knew what she wanted to ask already.

  “We were both eighteen and ran off to Scotland...” Aaron turned toward her, his eyes held a faraway look, making Daphne's gut clench. Did he still love his wife? What was the crushing sensation in her chest? She thrust away the thought. Aaron was a nice gentleman, but they'd never suit. This was only further proof—

  “I just wasn't enough for her, I suppose.” His voice was so quiet, she'd barely heard his words over the gentle snowy breeze.

  “Wasn't enough?”

  Aaron set the reins in his lap and reached one long finger up between her eyes to the spot that dratted wrinkle always formed when she was confused about something. Nodding, he said, “She preferred a country squire—”

  “Oh, I'm sorry,” Daphne rushed to say. She could feel her eyeballs bulging in her sockets; unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it.

  “It's all right.” Aaron shot her a self-deprecating grin. “He was one of the betters on her list—which is why I mentioned him first.”

  “Betters? List?” Daphne choked.

  Aaron nodded again. “One country squire, two footmen in my father's house, three unidentified men from her brief stay in London, a fifty-five year old smithy and of course my own brother.”

  Daphne's gut clenched again, but this time in a far more painful way that sent blistering bile surging up her throat. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered. She didn't know what else to say.

  “Don't be.” Something about his dismissive tone and words seemed off, but Daphne couldn't place why.

  “May I ask what happened to her?” Daphne knew it wasn't her place to ask such a question, but she couldn't help it.

  He held her gaze. “Parliamentary divorce.”

  Now it was Daphne's turn to nod slowly. Though, or perhaps because of, born the daughter of a viscount, she and her sisters had grown up like mushrooms: always in the dark about important matters and only fed whenever necessary, which meant her knowledge of parliamentary divorces was quite slim.

  “Does this change anything?”

  Daphne blinked at him, her mind spinning. “Like what?”

  His laugh was hollow. “Do you think differently of me? Or wish for me to take you back to the house at once?”

  “Wait!” Daphne threw her hand up the way Jane always did to get her sisters to stop talking. “One question at a time.” She offered him a smile in return. “Do I think differently of you? Perhaps a little.” Noting the way his jaw was tightening again, she quickly added, “But not in a way that makes me want to demand you return me to the safety of my sister and away from your immoral clutches.”

  He laughed again, only this time it was genuine and made his blue eyes sparkle.

  “Tell me, my dear, if I haven't made you want to run before you're tainted by scandal, how has your opinion of me been altered?”

  ***

  Aaron prayed those words didn't sound as desperate to her ears as they had to his own. Nevertheless, he was beyond curious about her answer and his whole body thrummed with anticipation of what her answer would be. Which was ridiculous, mind you. They'd only met just a few days ago and yet, he could think of nothing else but her and her opinion of him. Unbelievable.

  “I can't say exactly.” She idly smoothed her thick velvet skirts.

  Aaron reached his hand forward and with his fingers tipped her chin back up toward him. “Can you try?”

  Her top teeth caught hold of her bottom lip, a habit he'd noticed her doing whenever she was nervous or unsure. He didn't know why exactly, but he found the act entirely erotic and wanted so badly to lean forward and kiss her. Only the memory of her earlier reaction kept his lips where polite society would declare they belonged.

  “I don't know what to think,” she admitted at last. Her innocence, though refreshing, was obvious.

  Shame washed over him. He was taking advantage of her innocence. “I'm a walking scandal,” he said flatly.

  “But you're a vicar.”

  “Yes. Only by the grace of God.” He steered the horses to turn back toward the house. “The law was on my side, but that doesn't mean everyone's opinion is,” he explained.

  Beside him, Daphne fidgeted and dash it all, Aaron was a man, not a psychic and wasn't sure how to interpret her reaction. Unwilling to risk mortification—and his heart—Aaron didn't break the suffocating silence holding them captives as they returned back to the house.

  Then stood paralyzed as she wordlessly accepted his help disembarking the sleigh and walked up the front steps. She stopped under th
at blasted sprig of mistletoe and turned toward him. "I suppose since you weren't an honorable gentleman who helped me navigate my way up these steps today, I shall impose a most torturous punishment on you."

  "Oh?" he said around a throat full of gravel.

  "Oh, yes." She heaved a sigh worthy of Drury Lane. "Gareth took Jane for a 'picnic' in the conservatory for luncheon today. I do believe your punishment shall be for you to escort me to and from the conservatory tomorrow."

  Ignoring the nervous excitement coursing through him, he offered her a low bow, then said, “As the lady wishes.” He straightened. “Shall I plan to join you for your picnic, too?”

  “Only if the gentleman wishes.”

  Chapter Six

  December 23, 1816

  “She's quite lovely, isn't she?” Gareth, Lord Worthe, said, coming up behind Aaron and nearly scaring the breath out of him.

  “What is it about this family that likes to startle the unsuspected?” Aaron muttered. He refused to be embarrassed that he'd just been caught shamelessly staring at Daphne from across the breakfast room, and by her brother-in-law no less.

  Lord Worthe shrugged. “I'm not sure I'd consider the whole family guilty of doing such a dastardly deed.” He gestured to the line that no longer existed for the sideboard in the breakfast room. “Just us clever ones.”

  Aaron shook his head and reached for a plate. “An unnerving amount of confidence seems to be another common trait among your breed.”

  “I'd say you have that trait, too.” Lord Worthe spooned a large helping of coddled eggs onto his plate. “Otherwise, you wouldn't have such an interest in Daphne.”

  Aaron's mouth ran dry. Did Lord Worthe disapprove of Aaron's interest in Daphne? He hadn't considered it until now since the earl had had more than one opportunity to speak to Aaron privately about it. He inclined his chin. “Do we need to speak privately, my lord?”

  Lord Worthe speared a pear slice from the bowl and then shook it off onto his plate. “I don't know, Lentz, do we?”

  Aaron repressed a groan. What was it about the nobility that made it impossible to just say what they meant? His cousin, Lord Mulwick was the same way. It irritated Aaron to no end. “Does it displease you that I have spent so much time with Miss Daphne?” He hated the way that sounded, but quite honestly couldn't think of a better way to word it while in such a public place.

  Next to him, the irritating Lord Worthe chuckled. “Not at all.” His face grew more serious, almost dark. “As long as your intentions are honorable.”

  “They are, my lord.” He meant that, too. He might be more forward with her than was appropriate at times, but nobody could ever doubt that his intentions were good.

  “Again, I ask you, Lentz, should we arrange a time to talk somewhere more—” he cast a pointed look over his left shoulder, a reminder they were in a room with no less than twenty other people, who thankfully were on the furthest end— “private?”

  Understanding took root in Aaron's thick skull. “You mean about...” he started in a low whisper.

  Lord Worthe who'd just finished filling his plate nodded once.

  Aaron was a bit taken aback. Was her brother-in-law and acting guardian ready to marry her off to anyone? A sick feeling formed in his stomach. “I don't know if…” He swallowed. “It's a little soon, is it not?”

  Lord Worthe shook his head. “I don't think so. I knew my wife only a matter of days before becoming betrothed.” He shrugged. “Sometimes when you know, you know.”

  “Indeed.” And Aaron did know. Ever since he'd first seen her, he'd known something was different about her.

  “Enjoy your breakfast—” the earl waggled his eyebrows— “and luncheon.” He gestured to where Lady Worthe and Daphne were seated in the back corner of the room. “I must be off to more attractive company. You're welcome to join us if you'd like.”

  Aaron had planned to anyway, but to be polite accepted not that he'd be a good eating companion this morning now that he'd just as good as received Lord Worthe's blessing on a match between him and Daphne.

  ***

  There was something different about Aaron today, but Daphne couldn't puzzle out what it was.

  He'd seemed more quiet and reserved at breakfast. At least his voice anyway. His eyes spoke a different story. They were deep and intent as if he were lost in deep contemplation of how to move a mountain. She'd never tell him this and risk inflating his ego, but she rather liked seeing him brood. It made him more masculine somehow.

  “Are you ready for our picnic?” the object of her thoughts asked, giving the small hamper in his left hand a small swing.

  “Yes.” She took his arm and allowed him to lead her into the blustering outdoors. Thankfully the conservatory wasn't that far from the house and would at least have a more agreeable temperature than the front lawn. “Brrrr. Aren't you cold?”

  “Of course I am, but it wouldn't be very manly of me to vocalize it, would it?”

  She allowed him to open the door to the conservatory for her. “I see your point. But if your idea is to hide how cold you get out in the weather, you gave yourself away with all those furs you've been wearing.”

  “Pride only goes so far.” He closed the door to the conservatory behind them, then placed his open palm on the small of her back. “Let's find a place as far away from the door as we can.”

  Daphne couldn't argue with that. With the weather as atrocious as it was and the walls of Danby Castle closing in more and more each day, it would seem the only means for people to escape the duke would be to picnic in the conservatory.

  Aaron steered her toward the back corner. “The sun seems brightest over here.” He set the picnic hamper down and knelt beside it. The hinges creaked when he opened the top. He pulled out a large blanket.

  Daphne reached for the blanket and began spreading it out.

  Aaron stood and took an end of the blanket. His fingers brushed hers and even through the layers of gloves, she could feel the heat of his body.

  “Come, let's eat,” Aaron said, dropping back to his knees on the blanket. He reached for the hamper and pulled out a thermos. “Cook made a batch of turtle soup for my lady.”

  “Oh,” Daphne feigned surprise. “Is someone else joining us?” She bit her lip and cocked her head to the side.

  “No.” Aaron reached forward and used his thumb to release her bottom lip from the hold of her top teeth. “Only you.”

  A lump of unease filled her throat. He'd made such a comment several times before, but today something about it was different. She couldn't tell if it was the look on his face or his tone or the calm in his movements or even just the intensity in his eyes. Perhaps it was all of it. She didn't know and it would be dangerous to think about it. They were...friends? No. Well, yes, they were friends. But were they more than just friends? They'd spent an unmarked amount of time, alone no less, with one another since arriving. So much so that she hadn't even met her other cousins. Just seen them all in passing.

  “Daphne?”

  Aaron's voice pulled her to present. “Yes?”

  “Are you feeling well?”

  Daphne realized her hands were trembling and she clasped them together. “I—I don't know.”

  Aaron was by her side immediately. He wrapped his left arm around her and guided her to the little concrete bench about ten feet away from where they'd spread out their blanket. “Sit,” he murmured, helping guide her down to the bench. He sat with her and removed the glove on his right hand and used his bare fingers to brush away the hair on her forehead. “Do you feel over warm?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn't really bring you turtle soup,” he offered, concern filling his blue eyes.

  “I know,” she admitted quietly. “I also know you're not meeting anyone else.”

  Aaron nodded once. “Then what is it?”

  “You.”

  “Me,” he said flatly. He released a deep breath. “I'm being too forward again.”

  Da
phne held up her thumb and middle finger. “Just a touch.”

  Aaron blew out another breath, then folded his arms across his chest, stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. “I'm sorry. I really am.” His Adam's apple worked. “I know I shouldn't, but I just can't help it. When you're in the room I can't look elsewhere. When you're not there, I can't think of anything else.”

  Daphne's body felt numb. Aaron was better than what she'd ever dreamed of. He was genuine and true. There was nothing about him that made her think his interest in her was only about connections or money or any of the other reasons that men in London wanted to marry. But what about his past? Was she just his means to a second chance?

  “After Janette, I never imagined I'd ever find anyone I could ever come to care about again. But then I saw you...”

  “So I'm just your second chance at happiness?” she asked unable to keep the shrill from her voice.

  His body jerked a little. “No.”

  “But you said.”

  Aaron groaned. “Forget what I said.” He turned to face her took her hands in his. “It didn't come out how I meant it.” Rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs, he said, “It wasn't the divorce and black mark on my reputation that nearly killed me. It was her—” he swallowed— “rejection.”

  Daphne's heart ached for him and the pain stamped on his face.

  “The moment I found out about her infidelity I started building a rock wall around my heart and set the last brick in place the day the ink dried on the decree. It's not that I still love her, because frankly I struggle with that even though the Good Book teaches it, but I vowed to never trust another with custody of my heart again. And then I met you...”

  Daphne's heart leapt up into her throat and the room spun around her. “I can't.”

  “I understand that we've only just met and I'm not asking you to marry me—”

  The relief Daphne thought she'd have at such a statement did not flood her as she'd thought it might.

  “—but if you'd consider allowing me to court you this Season in London.”

  “Court me? London?” That made absolutely no sense. “But you live here in Yorkshire. And like it.”