She felt a sharp pinch of shame on comparing her trifling misfortune to that of Mrs. Hartley.
No wonder Lord Kirtland thought her a spoiled brat.
Emma watched as the baron paused in his labors to help Toby thread a ribbon through one of his creations. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Anne staring pensively into the fire, a sad expression stealing to her face as she thought no one was looking.
“Mrs. Hartley,” she said after a moment’s thought. “Do you and your brother plan to visit London this spring?”
“Why, I—that is, Noel hasn’t ” she stammered.
“I daresay you would enjoy it immensely. Though I cannot vouch the same for Lord Kirtland.”
Anne looked rather startled.
“No doubt he would be forced to spend much of his time fending off a host of your besotted admirers.”
“Oh, w-what an absurd notion,” mumbled the young widow in some confusion. Her cheeks, however, took on a pretty pink glow. “I—I am much too old to attract a second glance from a gentleman.”
“I would love to show you some of the shops on Bond Street,” continued Emma, ignoring the other lady’s blushes and stuttering. “I know any number of dressmakers and milliners who would delight in the opportunity to fit someone with such a pretty face and lovely figure.”
Anne’s blush deepened to a vivid shade of red. “Y-you are simply being kind,” she whispered, though it was clear the compliment had affected her deeply. She cleared her throat. “I have read in La Belle Assemble that to be fashionable, one must purchase a bonnet at Madame Therese. Is that true?”
“Oh, as to that, I should advise you to visit a little shop off of Bond Street where the prices are not only better, but the styles more flattering and the workmanship superb. ”
The two ladies then fell into an animated discussion on fashion, which soon turned into a description of the various balls and assemblies that Emma had attended during the past Season. Anne hung on her every word, and even Toby stopped with his tossing of the spillikins to listen to the descriptions of the colorful gowns, lavish suppers, and the latest music from the Continent.
“London!” cried the little boy when Emma paused for a bit. “Uncle Noel, can we see the horses at Astley’s while Mama and Emma dance a waltz? And taste the treats at Gunther’s?”
The baron’s expression was hidden in shadow. “We shall see, imp.”
Before Toby could make any further demands, Noel scooped him up from the floor and tossed him over his shoulder. “Come, give me a hand in fetching more wood for the fire,” he said, giving a quick wink at his sister. “I have learned that men are never welcome when the ladies fall to discussing these sorts of topics.”
When the two of them returned a short while later, Emma had brought a spark of merriment to Anne’s eyes and a smile to her lips with a humorous account of some musicale gone awry when the featured singer had imbibed a glass too many of champagne. The sound of their laughter took several minutes to die down.
“Lady Emma, do tell Noel the story of Mr. Patterson ending up in Lady Chalford’s fountain,” urged Anne as she stifled another giggle.
“I shall be happy to do so if you are sure he will not be bored by it—but please, you must simply call me Emma. All my friends do.”
The young widow blushed again, this time with pleasure. “I would be happy to do so, if you will do me the honor of calling me Anne.”
The intimacies agreed upon, Emma dutifully recounted the requested incident, drawing a chuckle from the baron and a quizzical look from Toby.
“How can a gentleman be in his cups?” demanded the boy. “Even if he were as small as me, he would never fit more than several toes in such tiny things.”
“Quite right, lad,” replied Noel dryly. “Perhaps in another few years I shall be able to explain to you just how such an odd thing can come to pass. But not now.”
“Why not—”
A warning glance from his mother caused the protest to die on his lips. “Oh, very well,” finished Toby, trying hard to conceal a yawn.
Not fooled in the least, Anne rose from her chair. “I think that a certain young man is ready for bed,” she murmured, watching her son’s chin slump to his chest. “If you will excuse us, I shall take him up to his bedchamber.”
She flashed a shy smile at Emma. “I am sure that you, too, have had enough excitement for one day. Noel will assist you up to the guest room, and I will be along to help you settle in as soon as I have seen to Toby.”
An awkward silence descended over the room once she and the child had left. The baron took up the poker and turned to jab at the dying flames in the hearth while Emma carefully refolded a length of ribbon. A log hissed and crackled as it fell from the andirons, causing her head to jerk up.
“Well, I suppose I had best see you settled for the night, then.” He approached the sofa, hands jammed in the pockets of his coat.
Emma felt her cheeks go as red as the glowing coals at the thought of being taken up in his arms again. Embarrassed by how much the idea sent a frisson of heat through her, she shrank back against the cushions.
“M-my ankle is really much better. I am sure I can manage the stairs by myself if you will just steady my arm.”
“And risk further injury?” He shook his head, a grim expression coming to his face. “Not a wise strategy, Lady Emma. I, for one, do not wish to have to report to the duke that his daughter’s condition was made worse while under my roof by another act of foolishness that I might have prevented.”
Like the banked fire, his voice had lost all of its earlier warmth, and the chill of his tone was matched by the rigid line of his jaw.
So, she thought to herself, he must still think of her as a willful, spoiled termagant. No doubt he had been merely feigning the apparent thaw in his feelings in order to please his sister.
Although the notion of it hurt far worse than the throbbing in her ankle, Emma was determined to mask her own true feelings as well as he had done.
“As you are no longer in the military, Lord Kirtland, you need not consider yourself responsible for the actions of those under your command. My father would hardly line you up before a firing squad for dereliction of duty, even if you were at fault,” she managed to reply. “So don’t worry. You will not s-suffer for my s-sins.” To her dismay, the last words were accompanied by a tremble of her lip and the spill of a tear.
“Oh, the deuce take it,” she cried in embarrassment, wiping at her cheek with an angry swipe of her sleeve. “Please leave! You have already made it clear I am naught but an onerous burden without another lecture to show how much you loathe my very presence in your house. Anne will help me, or I shall stay here on this sofa for the night. Indeed, I should be happy to crawl to the stable if it meant I could avoid another moment of your grim, disapproving stare!”
Noel’s expression, which had indeed been quite grim, changed to one of shocked surprise. “You think I disapprove of you—” he began.
“No—I think you simply despise me.” The tears were flowing more freely. “Not that I care at all what you think,” she added between watery sniffs.
He took a step closer. “Of course you don’t. And why should you, when apparently I have shown myself to be a tongue-tied ass.”
There was a shuffling pause while he cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have little experience with Polite Society, having lived for the most part in the company of plain-speaking soldiers. Please forgive me if my manners appear rough and unpolished in comparison to what you are used to. I—I meant nothing of the sort.”
“Oh, you needn’t apologize,” murmured Emma, instantly regretting her outburst. No doubt he would now think her more childish than ever. “Rather it is I who should beg pardon for indulging in such a fit of vapors, as well as for becoming a veritable watering pot.” A few small drops still clung to her lashes. “ I-I am not usually prone to tears.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “I am sure you
are not. In fact, you have shown more courage than many of my veteran troops, putting on a brave face with what I know must be a very painful injury.”
Ducking her head to hide the blush that his unexpected compliment brought to her cheeks, Emma stammered something unintelligible in return.
“But now I am sure you must be truly exhausted,” went on Noel. “Both from discomfort of your ankle and from being pressed into service as a nursemaid and a lowly laborer.” His expression twisted into one of wry regret. “I am sorry you did not land in more congenial company, Lady Emma. However, I hope you will at least put up with my grim face long enough that I might see you comfortably settled upstairs.”
This time when he bent forward, Emma made no move to sidle away. His arms slipped around her and lifted her from the sofa. The baron was right—his manners and bearing were indeed different from all the other gentlemen of her acquaintance. As her head settled against his shoulder, she realized she couldn’t begin to imagine one of the dandies of her set doffing his elegant coat to wrestle with a giggling child. Neither could she picture any of them deigning to mess with cloves and oranges in order to create a Christmas decoration for a mantel he had just cleaned with his own hands.
“I haven’t enjoyed anything as much as such labors—as you call them—in a long while,” she said softly. There was a shy hesitation. “Or such company.”
Noel gave a low chuckle, and she could feel the light tickle of his breath on her neck. “You need not go that far in doing the pretty, Lady Emma. While I, too, find Anne and Toby delightful to be around, I have no illusions about how pleasant my grim visage has been to you.”
His tone turned more serious. “As I have said, my skills are sadly lacking when it comes to playing a proper gentleman.”
He pulled her closer to his chest on starting up the stairs, and Emma was suddenly aware of the faint tang of orange and clove mixed with the masculine undertones of bay rum and leather. That, along with the heat emanating through the thin linen fabric of his shirt, made her feel a bit light-headed.
“ I-I. . . “ she stammered in some confusion. “That is, y-you. . .”
The baron appeared to take no notice of her stuttering.
“While you seem to have a knack for putting people at their ease,” he went on in a low voice. “For weeks I have been racking my brains for a way to bring a smile and some life to Anne’s face, yet you managed it so easily. My thanks—that was truly kind of you.”
“Oh, l hardly deserve much credit. No lady on earth can remain blue-deviled when talking of the latest fashions and fancy balls,” she jested, though his heartfelt praise had brought a lump to her throat.
“Ah, is that the secret?” His tone was as light as hers. “I shall keep it in mind, though I fear such topics will prove just as difficult as fine manners for a rough country farmer to master.”
They had reached the doorway of the guest room, and Noel paused to nudge the door open with his boot. It took only a stride or two to reach the narrow bed. He set her down, then quickly stepped back. “Anne will be in shortly,” he said, turning to light the candle on the small pine table. “Is there anything else you have need of?”
Emma hesitated. “Just a list of the tasks I should tackle tomorrow, so that I might continue to earn my keep.”
“That, at least, is something I can manage with no difficulty at all. They will be sent up with your water and crust of bread.” He allowed a momentary grin. “Good night, then, Lady Emma. You had better sleep well.”
“Good night, Lord Kirtland.”
Noel pulled the door shut behind him. Lud, had he really made such a fool of himself? His lips compressed as he recalled each and every one of his stilted words. She must truly think him a bumbling nodcock for his brusque manner and lack of polish.
Not that it mattered, he reminded himself. A Diamond of the First Water—and one of the most sought-after heiresses in all of London—was hardly going to take note of an impoverished country baron, no matter how charming or affable he might strive to be.
Especially one with a grim, disapproving visage.
His expression grew even fiercer, though the grimace of disapproval was directed at himself for entertaining, even for an instant, such a silly notion that she might find him. . . agreeable. Just because she had hinted that she had enjoyed the evening, and the company. . .
Don’t be an ass, thought Noel.
Of course she had only meant Anne and Toby! And who could blame her, given his offensive behavior? Muttering an oath under his breath, he headed back downstairs. There was still a great deal to accomplish before Christmas Eve, and while he may not have any idea of how to go on in a drawing room, he could at least perform a host of practical skills. But at the moment, the fact that he knew how to loosen the bolt of a stove and concoct a polish for pine did not afford him nearly the same satisfaction as it had yesterday.
Chapter 5
“Oh, Toby, do be careful!”
The boy just managed to avoid tangling his feet in the long garland of holly that Emma and Anne had just finished knotting together, but the little hop caused him to tumble headfirst into a basket of pine boughs. The two ladies began to giggle as he righted himself, a profusion of green needles clinging to his sable curls.
“Why, he looks the very picture of a Christmas imp,” remarked Emma as her laughter subsided.
“And is quite likely to wreak some mischief before the day is done,” said Anne with a smile. “Come, Toby. If you wish to be of help, you may hold the end of this holly rope while I arrange it over the dining room mantel.”
She turned to Emma and added in a lower voice, “I am sure that you would welcome a bit of peace and quiet, along with a respite from such mundane labors.”
Emma waved off her new friend’s tentative words. “Nonsense! If you will pass me the ribbon box and the pine boughs, I shall start on the garlands for over the windows while you are busy in the other room.”
“But the sap is quite sticky. And the needles can be terribly prickly.”
“Yes, and the berries from the holly can make a gooey mess.” Emma wiped a smudge of red from her nose and grinned. “No doubt I already look as gloriously disheveled as Toby, so I have no intention of missing out on the fun in order to avoid wreaking further havoc on my appearance.”
Anne looked a trifle unconvinced, but as Toby was already tugging on the twined leaves and threatening to undo all their hard work, she let out a small sigh. “Very well. However, I shall not be long.”
Once alone, Emma brushed an errant curl from her cheek and took a moment to survey the small parlor. Its transformation was nearly complete—the woodwork glowed with its fresh coat of fragrant wax, the mantel was festooned with greenery, the brass fender gleamed like a newly minted coin in the reflection of the roaring fire, and the spicy scent of oranges and cloves perfumed the air. Even the draperies had lost their coating of dust, though the baron must have risen at dawn to have managed the task.
All that was left to do was arrange the swags of pine boughs above the painted casements.
Her brow slowly furrowed as she watched the cheery flames dance up from the burning logs in the hearth. Strangely enough, though the room was hardly larger than the sewing room at Telford Manor, it seemed so much cheerier than the vast formal drawing room where she and her family were accustomed to celebrating Christmas.
Emma looked around once more, trying to puzzle out why. The decorations at the Manor were exquisitely tasteful—hothouse flowers spilled from cut-crystal vases, the greens were always wrapped with expensive ribbon and arranged in perfect symmetry around the windows, while all manner of exotic fruits filled the silver epergnes.
But somehow, in comparison with the lopsided paper stars cut by Toby, the simple stoneware crocks of pine and holly, and the slightly crooked rows of cloves stuck into the oranges, they seemed rather. . . spiritless. It was, she admitted, as if her home, though perfect in outward appearance, had grown hard and cold with the
lack of laughter and sharing.
Lud, now she thought about it, when was the last time she and her father and brother had spent more than a fleeting moment with one another’s company over the past few months? The answer caused her frown to deepen. She had become so engrossed in her own concerns that she had not given a thought to. . . well, to a great many things, it seemed.
“Sorry,” said Noel gruffly, as Emma flinched at the sound of the logs dropping into the wooden box by the hearth. “But I wished to bring in another load in case it begins to snow.” He brushed some bits of bark from his sleeve. “I trust your ankle is not worse this morning?”
With a start, Emma realized she had forgotten all about her injury. “On the contrary, sir, I have not felt the slightest bit of discomfort.”
The comers of his mouth gave a slight twitch. “Perhaps if you give such a convincing reply to Dr. Dumberton, you might be able to persuade him to release you from confinement sooner than expected.”
Biting her lip, she forced herself to ignore the pinch of disappointment caused by his apparent wish to be rid of her. “Speaking of confinement,” she replied, “I was wondering whether you might allow more than one visit by my cousin today, as well as permission for him to bring a friend with him this afternoon.”
All trace of humor disappeared from the baron’s face, and his shoulders stiffened.
“Ah, I suppose it is not to be wondered at, that you have tired of the company of—”
“No!” she protested. “That is not what I meant at all. What I was thinking was, Charles has invited a friend down from Sussex. A widower, actually, with a daughter only a year or two younger than Toby. Mr. Harkness is a very nice gentleman, and it occurred to me that the two of them might provide pleasant company for Anne.”
She hesitated for a moment. “It would do her good to meet other people and see a spark of admiration in the eye of a gentleman other than her brother.”
Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas Page 11
