Mistletoe & Michaelmas

by Rose Gordon

  He smiled. “I'm afraid, I'm guilty of that, but I'm not opposed to—”

  “No,” she said, standing abruptly. “I can't…you can't...we can't.” She shook her head. “I like you, Aaron. A lot. But—” she bit her lip so hard she could feel it starting to bruise, but she just didn't care, it was the only way to keep her tears at bay, which was for the best because if she let them fall, it'd be her undoing. “I'm sorry, I just can't.”

  “Can't allow me to court you?”

  “No.” Then before he could try to persuade her otherwise, she fisted her hands into her skirts and ran straight to the house and up to her room where she could collapse on her bed and cry and sob and scream into her pillow the way she'd heard the featherbrains in London did but never imaged she'd ever have the urge to do.

  Chapter Seven

  December 24, 1816

  Ever since Aaron had laid his heart bare to her the previous afternoon, Daphne could think of little else. For as genuine as he was and for as much as she couldn't deny her attraction to him, it could never be. Her sisters would swoon and her brother would be furious if she took a sincere interest in a man who was so much older than her and was divorced.

  Daphne wiped her clammy palms on her skirts as she watched Aaron across the room. He'd made his way around the perimeter of the drawing room, making what appeared as polite conversation to many of the gentlemen in attendance, but not even one of the ladies. Odd. No, it wasn't odd. He'd told her in no uncertain terms his interest was only for her.

  Daphne wondered if he'd come speak to her.

  Unfortunately, he did not.

  “Where is your Mr. Lentz tonight, I wonder,” Gareth said, taking a seat beside Daphne.

  “He's not my Mr. Lentz.” Daphne winced at the waver in her voice, then sent a pointed nod in the direction of where Aaron had made his way onto the balcony.

  “That's too bad.”

  Daphne made lazy figure eights with the toe of her slipper. “It's for the best.”

  Gareth drummed his fingers on his knees. “I suppose you'd be the one to know.”

  Daphne nodded sadly. “I know more than I should.”

  “That might depend on what you plan to do with the information.”

  “There's nothing to do with the information,” Daphne said, exacerbated. “You do realize the two of us only met less than a week ago.”

  “I see nothing wrong with that. I knew I wanted Jane for my wife within a moment or two of meeting her.” Then, with no further ado, her besotted brother-in-law pushed to his feet and made his way over to where Jane was holding court by the north window.

  ***

  “Did you and Mr. Lentz have a falling out yesterday?”

  Jane’s direct, but not unkind, question grabbed Daphne’s attention and she stilled the hand that had been brushing out Jane’s long, dark hair. “No.” She cocked her head to the side, then resumed brushing her sister’s hair. “Why would you even suggest such a thing?”

  In the mirror, Daphne could see Jane’s reflection as her older sister's face took on a dubious expression. “Oh, nothing other than you dismissed my maid and suggested you'd help me get ready for bed and you've been pulling that brush through my hair ever since—which was—” Jane made a show of looking at the watched pinned on her bodice— “an hour ago.” She met Daphne’s eyes in the mirror, Jane’s alight with mischief. “Do you think my hair is devoid of tangles now?”

  “No.” Daphne inclined her chin and pulled the brush through her sister’s hair thrice more. “Now it is.”

  “Very well,” Jane said, reaching for the heavy hairbrush.

  Daphne relinquished her grip on Jane’s brush and bit her lip. It was a good thing her younger and closest sister Olive wasn’t there or else all would be revealed within seconds. Still, Jane was not only her sister, but her eldest sister and for whatever reason it was harder to lie to Jane than Charlotte or Michael.

  “Now, tell me what you’re thinking,” Jane said quietly.

  “Nothing.”

  Jane’s laugh filled the room. “It isn’t nothing. I might not be as close to you as Olive is, but even I know that’s a lie just as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow.” Jane grasped the grips on the side of the wheels on her chair and backed up, then turned to face Daphne. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.” She smiled softly. “And the way he looks at you.”

  Daphne exhaled and sat on the edge of Jane’s feather mattress. Only a fool could be persuaded to think that there wasn’t some sort of attraction between Daphne and Aaron. But it couldn’t be. “It’s just a flirtation.”

  “Oh, I agree, I’ve born witness to plenty of flirtation.”

  Daphne blushed. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Jane’s face softened. “I didn’t mean to shame you, dearest. I just meant—” She broke off, clasping her hands in her lap. A moment later, Jane licked her lips. “Daphne, I don’t think your feelings for Mr. Lentz fall in line with a simple, innocent flirtation.”

  A hard, immobile bubble of air formed in Daphne’s throat and she tried desperately to gulp it down. But it didn’t budge and the more she gulped the bigger another one grew in her chest until she was almost gasping for air! “N-n—” she stammered. “I—I—”

  Jane lifted a delicate hand, halting Daphne’s attempt to explain. “He’s a little older than you, is he not?”

  A little older was one way to word it, she supposed. Daphne gave a small, single nod.

  “And divorced.”

  Again, Daphne nodded solemnly, the lumps in her throat and chest still not receding. Though she did wonder how Jane knew of Aaron's past. Never mind. Jane had spent a lot of time indoors with their great grandfather, who, Daphne had learned was the most knowledgeable gentleman she'd ever met. There wasn't a fact or rumor he hadn't already heard, of that she was certain.

  “Can you see past the blemish on his reputation?”

  “He has none!” Daphne said more fiercely than she meant. Her hand flew to her chest then up to her throat. Her strong response had dislodged both suffocating air bubbles. She cleared her throat. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  Jane waved her off. “I’m rather glad to hear such a tone.” She grinned. “It gives me hope.”

  Daphne pursed her lips. “Just because I was quick to point out he was the wronged party, doesn’t mean—” She broke off. There was no use. The more she attempted to explain, the brighter Jane’s smile became. And that wouldn’t do. The last thing Daphne needed was for Jane to join Danby in his bold matchmaking attempts.

  “Actually, whether he was in the wrong or not—which just to be clear when there is a parliamentary divorce granted, the man is never wrong, even if he is.” She shook her head. “The point is, I didn’t ask you if he was wrong or right. I asked you if the shame of his having been divorced was a problem for you and your sudden need to defend him proved that it’s not.”

  Daphne couldn’t argue Jane’s logic, and to attempt to do so would be futile.

  “Now, as for the other important issue at hand. His age. Is it so unforgivable to you that he’s so much older than you?”

  “Unforgivable,” Daphne choked. “I didn’t think one had a choice in their age.” Truly, she hadn't given his age much of a thought except how her family might react.

  “No,” Jane allowed. “But is it something you dwell on or worry about?”

  Daphne’s top teeth worried her bottom lip. “Plenty of young ladies marry older men,” she said using Jane’s own words from when they first arrived.

  “Indeed. And to most of those matches, it’s not twenty years that separate them, but perhaps fifty between them. Would you like for Gareth to find you one of those sorts?”

  “No, but I don’t see your point.” She hadn’t lied. There were many couples with more than one generation separating them.

  “Most marriages with such a significant age gap is because the marriage is arranged, it’s business...” she met Daphne’s e
yes and impaled them, “not love.”

  Jane’s words hit Daphne like a snowball square to the chest and before Daphne could form a response, Jane was speaking again.

  “Whether you’re intending to or not, I think you’re dismissing Mr. Lentz's interest because you’re concerned about what others will think.”

  This time Jane’s words were the equivalent of a pianoforte being pushed down the staircase. “You're right.” Daphne already knew that, but to hear Jane put voice to it made her mind reel in every direction.

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  Daphne started. “Of course.”

  Jane lowered her hand to her abdomen. “Gareth and I haven't told anyone, but next year at this time we'll be a family of three.”

  “You will?”

  Smiling, Jane said, “I wouldn't have Gareth or the joy of having a new life grow inside of me if Gareth hadn't told Michael to go hang, he was marrying me.”

  Shame flooded Daphne for her resistance of Aaron and the feelings she had for him. “Thank you, Jane,” she said softly. “I know exactly what I must do.”

  Chapter Eight

  Later that Night

  At the Ball

  Not for the first time since Aaron had told Daphne the extent of his feelings, he was tempted to regret having told her. Not that it mattered so much, he'd lain his heart at her feet and she'd trampled it. It would have happened the same way either here or in London had he waited to pursue her then, he supposed. He nearly snorted, which would have been quite painful since he'd just taken in a deep sip of his champagne punch.

  It all mattered not. What was done was done. It was over between them. Sure last night, he'd noticed her looking in his direction, but she'd never come up to talk to him or even gestured him to come to her. He sighed. That wouldn't be happening any more than ladies of the ton would stop their matchmaking schemes.

  “How have you enjoyed your visit?” The duke's voice caught him unaware.

  Aaron swallowed his discomfort and forced a smile. How ironic the only gentleman he'd ever known to play matchmaker had to pick this very moment to appear. “Very much so. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “I'm glad to hear it.”

  “Ah, love has been in the air this trip, my boy.” Danby said, idly rubbing his hands together.

  “Do I need to perform a wedding tomorrow?” Aaron fought the tension in his shoulders. When the duke didn't respond, Aaron added, “Two?”

  Danby shook his head, a slight smile on his lips.

  “Three? Four?” Aaron stared at the still smiling man. Gads, how many of his grandchildren had he unwillingly shoved into holy matrimony? “I draw the line at five, Your Grace. Your hospitality was good, but not that good.” Aaron half-expected the man to at least chuckle at that. He did not.

  “And what of the company?” Danby wondered as he looked out over the crush of finely dressed people congregated in his ballroom.

  “You have a very nice family.”

  At that, the duke did laugh. Loudly. “And I'd wager you'd like to become part of my very nice family.”

  Aaron fisted his hands in his pockets and forced a shrug.

  “Come, boy,” the duke said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I have matters to discuss with you.”

  As if by sheer will of their own, Aaron's heavy feet followed the duke out of the ballroom and down a dimly lit hall. “Couldn't we have discussed this in the ballroom,” Aaron wondered aloud as they passed another sconce that hadn't been lit.

  “No.” The duke thumped his cane on the hardwood floor. “This matter is of the utmost importance and must be discussed in private.”

  Aaron doubted that. Well, only a little. It wouldn't surprise him if one or two of the people on the list of potential bridegrooms didn't know of his own fate yet. A twinge of disappointment settled in Aaron's chest. He wouldn't have minded if his name had made that list… No, he wouldn't even think of that.

  “Keep up, Mr. Lentz. We're almost there.”

  Aaron frowned. Where was there? He was certain the duke's study was on the other side of Danby Castle.

  “Let's go out here.” Danby opened the large door to the front of the castle and threw a skeptical glance over each of his shoulders before poking his head out the open front door and craned his neck to do a slow sweep of the porch.

  Aaron stared at the man. Perhaps age was becoming his own undoing. The man's mechanisms weren't that private. Besides what man who still had his wits about him would bother to eavesdrop on the front porch during such bone chilling weather? Not Aaron.

  “Out here, boy. Plans for weddings and love everlasting don't make themselves.”

  Repressing a grumble that was on the tip of his tongue, Aaron stepped past the threshold of the door and then came to an abrupt halt when he realized the duke had led him to the most delicious sight he'd ever seen: Daphne, dressed in a shimmery blue ball gown, with a fur coat draped over here, gaping in the middle...standing under the mistletoe…

  ***

  Daphne had never been so nervous in all of her life. That should be a ridiculous notion. Aaron had always been so forward and obvious about his feelings for her. He wouldn't reject her now that she'd come to her senses, would he? She hadn't actually thought of that before, but now that she stood like a simpleton underneath a large bough of mistletoe and she glimpsed him standing lifeless in the door as Danby wordlessly excused himself, the very real possibility was foremost in her mind.

  “Aaron?” she said quietly.

  “Daphne.” He took a step toward her, then another. In daylight he was handsome, but in the moonlight he was absolutely breathtaking. Strong and broad, his sculptured face was cloaked in shadows, making him only that much more attractive.

  Daphne licked her lips as he closed the gap between them. “Aaron,” she breathed.

  He came to a stop directly in front of her, but didn't say anything.

  “I've been thinking about you,” she confessed.

  His expression didn't change. “Good things?”

  “That might depend on who you ask...”

  “You.”

  “Well, in that case...” she bit her lip and lifted her eyebrows— “I'd say they're good.” She relaxed her face and took a deep breath. “But you might not agree.”

  Aaron's hands found hers. “A beautiful young lady is standing in front of me—under a large sprig of mistletoe, I might add—saying she's been thinking about me, thoughts which she'd considered good.” He intertwined his fingers with hers. “How could I possibly disagree?”

  Nervous excitement and a sudden crippling doubt warred within her. “I—I don't know. You might have changed your mind.”

  “Changed my mind?” He gently tugged on her hands. “What would I change my mind about?”

  “Me,” she breathed.

  Aaron released one of her hands, and brought his free hand up to her face. The fingers of his gloved hand, reached into the thick, red scarf that was wrapped around the bottom of her face. “I haven't changed my mind.” A small, reassuring smile took his lips and he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “But have you?”

  She nodded, unable to speak. “I wouldn't say I changed my mind. It's more like I saw reason.”

  He grinned.

  Not trusting her voice again, Daphne tilted her head up to indicate she'd purposely positioned herself under the mistletoe and was ready for his kiss—were he still inclined toward her that way.

  His smile faded and his Adam's apple worked in his throat. Then, without another word or warning, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers.

  Warmth radiated from within her and went to the ends of her fingers and the tips of her toes and everywhere in between.

  “Mmm,” she murmured when he pulled back.

  But he only pulled back for a moment before his lips were back on hers. Harder this time, but not uncomfortable, just more delicious pressure. His lips moved on top of hers, around hers and she melted into his embrace.<
br />
  Aaron placed one last, searing kiss on her lips, then pulled back, two lines forming between his eyebrows. “Does this mean?” His ragged words made her want to pull him closer to her and never let him go.

  “Are you asking if I'll allow you to court me?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “If you're willing to kiss me out here where anyone could see, I'd hope you'd be willing to at least allow me to court you.” Because if she didn't allow him to court her after kissing him that way, he just might die with want of her!

  “Court me?” Daphne's sparkling amber eyes grew round and she twisted her lips. “No, I don't think so.”

  Aaron's heart skipped a beat or three. “No?”

  “No,” she confirmed.

  Instinctively, Aaron pulled away. If she wasn't going to allow him to court her, he'd better let her go now. It was already too late, but now that he'd kissed her even a moment longer would just torment him more and prolong his agony. “We need to return back inside before someone finds us.” He noted the way she winced at the sharp edge of his words, but he couldn't care. He'd be damned if he had to marry yet another lady who didn't want him.

  “Can we stay out here for just a few more minutes?”

  “No.” He pulled away from her, walls of ice building up around his heart faster than he could breathe.

  “Please, Aaron,” she said, reaching for him. Something akin to panic was in her voice, but he couldn't be certain if that was really her who was panicking or him. “Can you give me just a few minutes?”

  “I already have.”

  “Yes, you have,” she conceded, pulling her hands back from him. She took in a deep breath and her eyes glistened with what appeared to be tears. “But what about a few decades?”

  “Decades?” He knew he sounded like a fool repeating everything she said, he just didn't care as his mind raced to make sense of exactly what she was saying.

  “Yes, decades.” Daphne moved closer to him and looped her arms around his neck. “The way I see it, we could have at least four together.” She placed a kiss on his lips. “And if you behave yourself perhaps five.”