Christmas Bliss

by A. S. Fenichel

  “I’m afraid I missed that opportunity several years ago, my lord. I made my debut and had several offers. In my youthful ignorance, I thought to not rush into marriage. I wanted another season of dancing and theater. But then Father became ill and then he died and Uncle arrived, and in the following season I did not have the time or the inclination to hunt for a proper husband. Now I am on the shelf and who would have me?”

  He had blundered the entire thing. “I would,” John said firmly.

  “You would what?” Emma’s eyes were wide and the set of her mouth grim. She looked confused and annoyed.

  I really have to work on my social skills.

  Looking at Emma fogged his mind. He looked down at the empty space where a footman had cleared his plate a few moments before and thought a moment. Why are these things always so awkward?

  He stood up and rounded the table. It did not escape his notice that every pair of eyes in the room were focused on him. Once he reached Emma’s chair, he knelt down. His heart pounded, filling his ears. He knew he was doing the right thing, the one thing that would make him happy. “Miss Trent, Emma, would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. John had never seen anything so charming in his life.

  “You’ve only just met me, my lord.” She finally managed to sputter some words.

  “I know all I need to know.”

  The countess cleared her throat. “John, perhaps it would be best if you and miss Trent retired to the library. Then you can explain to her in a more private setting as to why she should accept such an impetuous proposal.”

  His mother looked from him to the small boy, who was watching the theatrics with wide eyes.

  “Of course, Mother, you are correct.” He offered Emma his arm and the two of them moved toward the door.

  “And John?” the countess said.

  “Yes, Mother?”

  “When you return, perhaps you will be kind enough to then explain it to me.”

  He nodded and escorted Emma to the library.

  The boy looked at the countess across the corner of the table. He had managed to find the time to chew and swallow during the preceding excitement. “That was a surprise.”

  “Indeed, Oliver, it was. But I think a good surprise rather than the kind you have been accustomed to.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “Do you suppose that Sissy wants to marry the man?”

  “We shall have to wait to find out.”

  He nodded his cherubic little head and focused once again on the tasty morsels left on his plate.

  * * * * *

  “You have run mad.” Emma’s words filled the room as soon as the door was closed behind them.

  He went to her and took her hands. “Do you object so fiercely to the idea of marrying me?” He’d faced brilliant men who opposed his views and angry mobs outside the House of Lords without fear. This simple answer from this woman scared him where those things had not.

  “You don’t even know me, my lord. Last night we were both tired and perhaps the kiss went further than is proper, but that is no reason for you to feel an obligation to marry me.”

  She was clearly upset. His own pride was stung. When he’d played the event out in his head earlier that morning, she had been happy, even grateful. He’d known that was unlikely, but she appeared appalled by the idea.

  He dropped her hands and walked toward the desk in the far corner of the room. The desk became a barrier between them. His stomach churned in a way it had not since the family dog had died when he was ten years old. “I apologize for my mistake, Emma. It is obvious that marrying me is abhorrent to you. I have not had feelings of this nature before. It is possible that my enthusiasm overshadowed my good sense. I had thought perhaps that you shared my revelation or had at least come to like me as I have you. It was foolish. I hope you will forgive me.”

  Her eyes were wide and he marveled at the thickness of the dark lashes that surrounded them. Even as she was breaking his heart, he became distracted by her beauty.

  “I like you quite a lot.” She said it so softly he thought he might have misunderstood her. She walked to the desk, but did not come around to get closer to him. “I am not at all disgusted by the idea of marrying you, John. That is the farthest thing from the truth. It is only that I do not wish for you to marry me out of some warped sense of duty. I would not want to marry anyone under those conditions. Surely you can understand that.”

  Suddenly, the desk seemed an ocean separating them. He rounded the object in a matter of a second. “Then you are not completely opposed to the idea.”

  She smiled and looked at him through her eyelashes in a very coquettish way. “No. Not completely.”

  His heart began to beat rapidly. “What can I do to convince you that marrying me is the best course?”

  Emma regarded him frankly. “You could tell me why you wish to marry me.”

  “Why?” What an odd question. Wasn’t it obvious?

  “Yes, Why? What is it that has prompted you to ask for my hand?”

  He took her hand and she allowed him to pull her gently over to a large overstuffed couch. She sat down, but he continued to stand, fisting his hands. He felt as if he’d gone back to school and was facing the headmaster for punishment. His neck was on fire and his heart beat so fast he could hear it ringing in his ears. If she refused, he had no idea how he would resume his normal life. He’d discovered something in the past twelve hours. He did not have to be quite so practical and unhappy. If he let her leave, the House of Lords and misery were all that would be left to him.

  “I am thirty-one years old.” He watched her for a reaction. Her face was serene and she said nothing. “Perhaps too old for you.” He waited for her response.

  “Go on.” Her expression was unreadable.

  “I have seen dozens of my friends fall in love and marry. To be quite honest, I thought them all idiots when they would come to me and tell me how the girl’s beauty shone like the sun or her eyes were brighter than the moon. I would laugh and congratulate them, all the while thinking that they had lost their minds.”

  She continued to watch him with an expression of both caution and delight.

  In that moment, he realized it was the dichotomy of her that attracted him so completely. She was young, yet played the role of a much older woman, taking care of her father and then her brother. Her beauty was beyond compare, yet she seemed to have not taken notice. She had been raised to be a lady of leisure and privilege, yet took it upon herself to steal out in the night with a small child in order to protect him. There was nothing about her that made any sense and yet she was perfect.

  He sat down next to her. “But it was I who was the fool, Emma. Now I know what it was they saw. When I look at you, I see the whole of my life laid out before me. Your eyes are brighter than ten moons and your beauty is so much more extraordinary than the sun that the comparison is ridiculous.”

  He paused and took a breath. Her hands had somehow made their way into his and he was looking into the depths of those stunning blue eyes. “But this is not the only reason why we should marry, Emma. While I have never met a more beautiful or appealing woman, it is the way my heart clenches when you enter the room. It is that from the moment I saw you in the light, I could see our children running around behind you. I have never thought to marry, my love. Throughout my adult life, it has always been my plan to remain a bachelor until the necessity for an heir arose. Then you popped out of my shrubberies and suddenly, waking up with you every morning for the rest of my life has become more important to me than taking my next breath.”

  He was prepared to go on. His training in the House of Lords made him rush to complete the argument.

  She raised one slim hand to his lips, curtailing any further remarks. “That will do, John.” She laughed and her eyes sparkled with joyful tears.

  “It will?” he asked. The sensation from her fingers touching his li
ps filled him with excitement.

  “Yes. I think that will do quite nicely.”

  He waited, but she didn’t go on. His stomach clenched, causing him physical pain. She was laughing at him. She thought him ridiculous. His heart sank and he looked down at his feet, wondering what he was going to do for the rest of his life without Emma Trent.

  Of course, she was right. He’d met her less than twenty-four hours ago and now he was proposing and trying to come up with flowery prose to impress her. I’m an idiot. No grown man proposes after so short a time.

  She still sat looking at him. When she finally opened her mouth, he felt himself cringe before she spoke what he was sure would be a rejection.

  “I can think of nothing that will make happier than becoming your wife, John.”

  His head popped up. Had he heard her correctly? “Are you saying that you will marry me?”

  “I am. I cannot believe it myself, but that is exactly what I am saying.” Her smile was bright as she dashed away tears.

  There was still laughter in her eyes, but now he could see it was joyous laughter. She was not mocking him. He began to breathe again. His mind started to function. He hadn’t realized that he’d shut down, body and mind. His thoughts had already turned to mourning the loss. Now his heart pounded with renewed vigor. His brain churned with all the things that had to be done. “We…we should leave immediately for Scotland.”

  “Scotland?” Her voice rose.

  He tried to keep his voice level. It wasn’t easy, since his feet seemed to want to jump for joy. “My love, I know it seems rash and I would surely prefer it if we could have a short engagement in town and be seen about. However, the issue of your uncle makes that impractical. I think it would be best if we were married immediately and then I can make haste in dealing with him.”

  She stood up and began to pace slowly around the room. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

  He watched her carefully as she thought through everything he’d said. He couldn’t help smiling at the way her nose wrinkled as she considered the consequences. Then his eyes traveled down to her waist and he thought about how it had felt to hold her. He longed to go to her now and crush her against him.

  She stopped and stared out the garden window. Before he could stop himself, he was behind her. She did not move away, but leaned back into his embrace. Her hair smelled of lavender and a spice he did not know. Fiery curls escaped down her neck, and he wound one around his finger, dipping his head to kiss the soft lock. He could not stop there and his lips touched the warm skin of her nape. She leaned her head to one side affording him better access. A low moan issued from her lips when he traced a line with his tongue along her neck to her ear.

  “John, your mother is just in the next room,” she warned.

  “She can wait.”

  Her muscles relaxed and melted into his chest. He tightened his embrace. Mine. His heart surged with protective instinct. The happiness he experienced with that thought almost undid him. He had to steady his legs and he began to worry that these waves of emotion would not settle down. How could he manage from day to day if every time his wife entered the room he became woozy? His wife. His good fortune pushed every other idea or worry away. Emma was going to be his wife and the sooner he made that happen, the better.

  Still, he had to keep his head for the time being. He straightened and moved a few inches away. “Perhaps you are right,” he said.

  She turned and looked at him. Her face was a mixture of confusion and joy. He wondered if she knew the power she wielded over him.

  “I think it best if we leave for Scotland before the hour is out. It will not take long for your uncle to discover your whereabouts if we remain here,” John explained, while shifting his stance in an effort to find comfort again in his straining trousers.

  Panic flushed her face. “I cannot leave Oliver.”

  She would go to Scotland. His heart did a flip-flop. He lifted his hand to touch her cheek and then thought better of it. He thought it best to keep his hands off until after the wedding. He was a grown man. He practiced restraint every day. He could wait a few hours. “Of course not. The boy will be safer with us. He shall come to the wedding and we shall ask my mother to join us. It will certainly make the marriage more legitimate and less scandalous.”

  * * * * *

  The countess was not as easily convinced. “Have you lost your mind, John?”

  He felt calmer now that he knew what to do. His emotions were in check since Emma had gone upstairs to see if the maid could find any clothes in storage that would fit her.

  He sat at his desk writing several letters that would have to be delivered that morning. He couldn’t just disappear without informing his party and several business associates of his departure.

  Joy roiled in his belly and not even his mother’s raised voice could tarnish the feeling. “Actually, I have never felt better, Mother.”

  “I do not see the need for such a rush. Besides Christmas is only four days away. We have balls, the theater, we have obligations here in town.”

  He had never seen her so unnerved.

  He put his pen down on the desk. “You yourself told me not ten minutes ago that Drake Trent was a ruthless, violent man. You told me that he has been seen beating his staff on more than one occasion and that he bludgeoned a fine horse to death because it lost a race.”

  “Yes, but you cannot think he would use such violence against his own family.”

  He gave it a moment’s thought. “I know that men of a violent nature are dangerous to those they control. I cannot properly protect Emma or Oliver if I am not her husband. I certainly can’t file with the courts for stewardship of Oliver’s money until we are married.”

  She sat down in the chair across from him, took several moment to calm herself and when she spoke, her voice was serene. “John, you are a man of reason and influence.”

  “Are you maneuvering me, Mother?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled. “Continue.” She was even more stubborn than he, so he may as well listen. She would have her say one way or the other.

  “You have the ability to get a special license. You can be married within a week. A Christmas wedding, perhaps.” Her eyes lit up.

  He could see she liked this idea. It actually appealed to him as well.

  “Surely you can hold off any ugliness from the uncle for a few days.”

  He could do all the things his mother suggested. He had enough friends in high places to make all of that happen and his mother could arrange the church for a Christmas wedding in only four days.

  “Do you really wish to spend three days in a carriage with me and Oliver? Not to mention spending your wedding night with us.”

  She had played all her cards and she had won.

  “I will discuss it with Emma.”

  His mother beamed. “Very wise, son.”

  He smiled, all the while knowing that his mother was mostly pleased that she had gotten her way. “Now, Mother, tell me what you know of the Trent finances.”

  Her smile faded. “As far as I know, Emma’s father was a wealthy gentleman who inherited money and property that afforded him a very comfortable lifestyle.”

  “And Drake?” John asked.

  She pursed her lips in a way that made her look as if she’d tasted something sour. “Drake was the second son. Everything was entailed to the eldest. His brother gave him a very handsome allowance and a nice home somewhere in Derbyshire, I think.”

  “Did Drake receive the profits from that property?”

  “From what I am told, and you realize this is gossip, John.”

  “I’m certain that your sources are better than most, Mother.”

  She shrugged. “Drake gambles heavily. He also drinks to excess. I understand he likes to wager his business dealings as well. In doing so, over the years, his brother had to buy his own property back on more than one occasion.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met Drak
e Trent. To be honest, I barely remember Emma’s father.”

  His mother smiled. “You were young, then at school and then too busy after your father died to take notice.

  A terrible thought occurred to him. “Mother, have I neglected you?”

  Her eyes enlarged for a moment. “I have always been very proud of you, John. You work hard at the things you believe in and even at those you don’t. I have always felt very lucky that we share an honest and open relationship. It is very unusual for a son, especially one who is an earl, to ask his mother’s opinion on a business deal or a political question. I have enjoyed our debates when we disagree as much as our discussions when we’ve been in agreement.”

  He grinned. “I expect that I would be laughed out of the House of Lords if they knew how many times you swayed my opinion, especially on questions of the rights of women.”

  “Yet you continued to seek my counsel,” she said.

  John got up came around the desk before taking his mother’s hand and kissing it. “Who better to ask on that subject than an intelligent woman?”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Thank you, John.” She stood up. “In answer to your question, I have not felt neglected. I have noticed in the last few years you have not been happy. I wish I had broached that subject with you.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I appreciate you saying that, Mother. You should know that it would not have changed my course of action. I am a bit stubborn, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  She laughed and dashed the unshed tears away. “I think that you and Emma will be very happy.”

  He smiled. “And you are always correct, Mother.”

  “Of course.” She gave him her sternest look, but the smile was still in her eyes as she left the library.

  Chapter Four