Christmas Bliss

by A. S. Fenichel

  Her head was spinning. Two days ago, she thought she’d be lucky if she could find a hack that would take Oliver and her to Plymouth without them being killed in the street. Today she was to be married to an earl. “I must have been hit on the head by some thug in the street and this is all a strange dream.”

  “Pardon me, miss?” The gown the maid was pressing had been sent over by a modiste that the countess used. It was stunning in dark green with a cream underskirt.

  “Nothing.”

  Emma was supposed to be making a list of things she needed for her wedding, now to be held on Christmas day at St. George. How on earth the countess had managed that was beyond her comprehension. The parchment in front of her remained blank as she stared out the window.

  “Shall I help you into your dress, miss?”

  Emma turned toward the lady’s maid. She held the stunning dress up as if it was a prize. “I suppose you should.”

  She barely noticed the process of dressing and having her hair trussed up in an ornate fashion. All she could think about was getting married. Was she making the right decision? She didn’t even know John Scarborough. He was a stranger. She had taken tea with his mother many times, but all she knew of him was that he was never at home. He spent all his time in Parliament, sitting in his family seat and arguing politics.

  She knew little about the subject. What would they talk about? Her body trembled with fear. She had lost her good sense.

  Once they were married, she would never see him. Thoughts of his warm brown eyes and soft kisses flooded her mind. She would be alone all the time. This should have made her happy. After all, she would have the countess for company and Oliver would still need her. So why did it trouble her that John would never be home? It wasn’t exactly the dream marriage she’d imagined as a young girl. She should, at her age, be happy with any marriage. Yet she still longed for something more.

  Love. She sighed.

  “There you are, miss.” The maid sounded exuberant, and with good reason. When Emma looked in the glass, she barely recognized the woman staring back.

  “Thank you. You have done a lovely job.”

  “I’m pleased you like it.”

  The room felt as if it were closing in. She rubbed and twisted her fingers together until her knuckles turned white. She stood. “Do you know where his lordship is?”

  The girl looked confused. “You don’t like your hair,” she said.

  Emma thought the maid might burst into tears. “I love my hair, Jane. I just need to see his lordship.”

  Jane’s expression relaxed. “He is likely in the library at this hour.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged the maid impetuously. The poor girl seemed completely at a loss for what to do.

  Emma dashed out of the room. She meant to run down the steps and confront John. She reasoned that she should call off this madness before it went too far.

  The nursery door was slightly opened and she could hear Oliver talking. She peeked in. His little brown head was bent over a book and a young girl sat next to him.

  The maid acting as nanny looked up and smiled brightly. “Miss Trent, you look beautiful.”

  Oliver looked up. “Are you going out, Sissy?”

  “I am. What are you doing?”

  “Beth and I are reading a book.” He made the announcement with a great deal of pride.

  Emma entered fully into the room. “When did you learn to read, Oliver.”

  He grinned happily. “Beth does most of the reading. I just pretend.”

  “I see.” Her brother looked happy. He was rested and healthy. He had not woken up with the terrors the night before. It was the first full night’s sleep the child had enjoyed in nearly a year. She could not remember the last time she had seen him play. Her eyes grew moist with tears she would not allow her brother to see.

  How could she deny him a happy childhood? The Earl of Compton would provide a safe place for Oliver.

  She inhaled deeply. “I will see you in the morning, Oliver.”

  He ran over and she leaned down for a kiss. It was wet, but she dared not wipe off his affection. “See you, Sissy.”

  * * * * *

  John’s head was bent over his desk. The library door had been left open. In fact, she had noticed since arriving in the Scarborough townhouse that most doors were left ajar. In her own home, her uncle was constantly secreted away behind a locked door.

  She didn’t even know if her fiancé had a temper. Did he mind being disturbed while working? She cleared her throat nervously.

  His head came up and his mouth turned up in a smile that lit his eyes up with joy. “You are the most stunning thing I have ever seen.”

  Obviously, he doesn’t mind being disturbed. Her heart beat wildly from the effects of his gaze. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  “Nonsense. You are always welcome. Mother will be down shortly and we can leave for the Treechery ball.”

  The room started to spin. Everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours swirled around Emma’s mind. The edge of her vision darkened. I’m going to faint. That’s something new.

  “Emma?” John’s strong hands gripped her arms firmly. She had no idea how he’d gotten across the room so quickly, but he lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all. Before she could say anything, he had placed her on a soft sofa and was sitting beside her.

  “I’m all right.”

  “Clearly, you are not.” His voice was composed, but she could hear strain behind the calm.

  When had she learned that his voice became slightly higher when he was upset?

  The butler appeared in the doorway.

  “Dorsey, lady Emma is feeling a bit under the weather. Can you call for some tea?”

  “At once, my lord.”

  They were alone again.

  “Do you faint often, Emma?”

  She looked up into his eyes and she could clearly see his worry. Reaching up, she touched his freshly shaven cheek. He was dressed for the ball. His white cravat had been intricately tied.

  “I have never fainted before. I supposed it is all the excitement.”

  “I see.” He frowned and a small crease marred the space between his eyes.

  Her hand seemed to move of its own accord when it reached up to smooth his brow. “I’m sorry to be such trouble, John.” She didn’t know how to continue. She’d never been good at small talk, so she would have to go forward directly. “I’m not at all sure we should be getting married.”

  “I feared that might be the case.” He made a move to leave the couch. She caught his arm and he remained at her side.

  “It’s all so fast. What if we are making a terrible mistake?”

  His eyes lit up and he smiled. Immediately her heart leapt. How was she going to stand being married to a man she clearly cared for, but who would never be home?

  “I know this is all quite impetuous,” he began. “I’ve never done a rash thing in my life until yesterday, Emma. It is entirely possible that the risk outweighs the good in this situation, but I truly do not think so. I want you as my wife. I can think of nothing better than spending my days trying to make you happy.”

  “You spend your days in the House of Lords.”

  “I think I have good reason to cut back on my time in politics from now on.”

  “Won’t your party miss you?” Her head cleared, but her heart still pounded wildly.

  He shook his head. “For a very short time, I assure you. They existed before I took up the cause and they will continue long after I’m gone.”

  “I don’t want you to change your life for me.” She sat up tentatively and was pleased to realize that she felt no dizziness.

  John opened his mouth, but the maid arrived with the tea and he waited until she left the tray. Emma poured the tea while he got up and went to the table near his desk. Removing a crystal decanter, he returned to the couch. He poured some of the amber liquid into his cup and raised an eyebrow at Emma.

&n
bsp; She nodded and he added the same to her cup.

  “That’s the thing.” He picked up his tea and took a sip. “I can’t wait for that change. I had no idea how unhappy I was in my life until you walked into it and I caught a glimpse of what happiness looks like. I don’t feel as if it would be giving up something. You and Oliver will fill my life quite nicely. Should we be lucky enough to have a few children of our own, it will be even better.”

  The idea of children had not even occurred to her yet, but it had obviously crossed John’s mind. He wanted children. In the past two years, she had given up all hope of ever marrying and having a family of her own. Her mind reeled with the idea.

  She was so caught up in an imaginary world of little Johns and Emmas running around with Oliver that she didn’t realize she had not responded.

  “Don’t you want children, Emma?”

  She shook her head a little to push aside the distracting images. “I do. I love children. I just never thought… It doesn’t matter.”

  He moved in close and she could smell his spicy, masculine scent. She thought her faintness might return, but she looked up into his eyes and any idea of fainting slipped away. In fact, she felt strong and sure as his lips touched hers. His mouth caressed hers as if it was only a breath of air.

  “Tell me what doesn’t matter, Emma.”

  “I missed my seasons for the marriage mart.” She would have said more, but his mouth covered her completely. His tongue requested entry and she complied. It was over all too soon and he nipped at her bottom lip. Every touch of his hands and the melting together of their lips increased her belief that she was falling in love with John Scarborough. Her entire body hummed with joy.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  Her brain took a moment to process what he wanted to know. “I had given up.” She returned her gaze to his eyes. He still held her and his hand at her waist created heat that emanated from head to toe. “I never expected to have a family again.”

  He grinned. “You shall have that and more, my dear.”

  John kissed her forehead and released her waist. It was disappointing to have him move away from her. His hand still left its warmth on her skin even through the layers of clothing.

  “Shall I tell Mother that we will not attend tonight?”

  Emma took a deep breath. It was going to be a long night of smiling and charming the members of the ton. She had to get her mind focused on the task at hand. “No. The countess already told me that we must be seen in public before the wedding. She’s correct, and I’m feeling much better.” She gulped down a healthy amount of the strong tea, then put it down. It wouldn’t do to get drunk before facing society at the ball.

  * * * * *

  As they entered the Treechery Ballroom, John’s hand covered hers where it rested on his arm. “Relax. Everything is going to be fine.”

  The countess stood at her left. An elegant smile lighted her face. As she spoke, her expression never faded. “Not to worry. Once this is over, we can get on with things. People just like a good gossip. You’ll dance, sip some lemonade and then we can leave. We need only stay long enough to ensure that you two are seen together and make it obvious that I am in full approval of the match.”

  The room twittered with whispers that began at the entry and made their way around the large hall. Heads bent to discuss who the Earl of Compton had on his arm. She heard her name, as it too made its way around the room.

  A roar filled the space. It sounded as if a large animal had been mortally wounded. Every head in the room turned to try to identify the horrible sound.

  Emma did not turn. There was no need for her to try to recognize the noise. Nothing, save Drake Trent, made such an uproar. Her hand tightened on John’s arm and she looked up into his reassuring eyes.

  The determined footsteps of her uncle echoed across the ballroom. He walked straight through the crowded dance floor. Couples made an effort to get out of his way. The ones who didn’t notice him in time were moved forcibly if they dared block his path. He stormed single-mindedly toward Emma, nearly tripping Lady Pleatwipple as he cursed and yelled his way across.

  Emma squared her shoulders for battle and turned to face him, but John was there beside her, blocking her uncle and warding off the blow which was sure to have come next.

  I am not alone. I shall never be alone again. Was that reason enough to marry a virtual stranger? Perhaps. For a moment, she stared up at John’s handsome profile. His face looked completely serene, but in his eyes she could see a ferocity she’d glimpsed the day before when he’d proposed. She found herself riveted by the idea that now she would see his temper.

  Her curiosity nearly had her forgetting that her uncle was upon them.

  Drake Trent arrived before them with a grunt. Emma looked at her uncle and forced a grin. “Good evening, Uncle Drake. I hope you are enjoying yourself.”

  He had a hulking figure and his stomach protruded so far over his trousers that his evening coat could not be secured. Red-faced and twisted with hatred and rage, his usual neat appearance was disheveled and his eyes were ringed with dark circles. The little hair that remained on his bulbous head stood straight up and he was covered in perspiration.

  He narrowed his gray eyes. “How dare you speak as if nothing is amiss? You are an abomination and that bastard brother of yours is no better.”

  John’s voice remained soft enough to not be heard by the eager crowd, but it was harsher than she had ever heard before. “I cannot have you speak to the lady in such a way, Trent. Even if we were alone, which clearly we are not, you are out of order.”

  She could see that her fiancé seethed just under the surface. He had let her hand drop from his arm, but the muscle of his jaw ticked and his lips were drawn in a straight line.

  As if Drake had just noted that he was not alone with his niece, he looked at John and then around the room. “I can see that my family has inconvenienced you, my lord. I can’t tell you what trouble I’ve had with the pair of them over the last year. You have my apologies. I will take them off your hands immediately.”

  “Yes. The young lady has been gracious enough to inform me of much of the trouble.”

  At that, her uncle’s face turned bright red and he raised his right arm. “How dare you speak of our family business to strangers?”

  The back of his hand was descending in the direction of Emma’s left cheek.

  The countess cried out. “John.”

  A great gasp rose up from the crowd.

  John reached out and caught Drake Trent’s wrist just before it connected with Emma’s face.

  Emma, for her part, never flinched or cried out. She stood her ground, prepared to be struck down. She had felt the force of her uncle’s punch many times and would not cower as if she was a scullery maid at his temper.

  John’s voice was barely contained. “I’m afraid I will not allow you to strike my fiancée, Trent. I don’t care what your relation is.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me how to…” Drake didn’t finish the sentence. It had taken a moment, but John’s words finally sank in.

  He looked at his niece. His face burned so red, he looked to be having an episode of some kind. “What have you done?”

  “John and I are to be married, Uncle Drake. Don’t you want to wish me joy?” It was not usual for her to wish anyone harm, but Emma would not have minded if God had ended her uncle’s life at that moment.

  Again, the people of the ton gasped as one. The room rang with murmured voices, while everyone watched the scene with rapt attention.

  “I’ll kill you,” he hissed.

  “I think not,” John said. “If you are wise, you will vacate Oliver Trent’s home and never come near my family again.”

  As if John had not spoken, her uncle continued. “You little whore. How did you manage to trick the Earl of Compton into marrying the likes of you? I’m sure I can guess the answer to that.” His face twisted, as ugly as his implication. “I’ll go to the prime m
inister, the Regent if I have to, and have the whole thing disallowed. That little bastard will never have what is mine.”

  “Enough!” John grabbed Drake by the collar and lifted him up onto his toes, no easy feat considering the size of the man. John dragged him out of the main ballroom and into the foyer. Emma and the countess rushed after, followed by as many onlookers as could fit in the entry.

  “You will never speak to Emma that way again. If you do, the consequences will be dire. If you do not leave this house immediately, I will entreat Lord Treechery to call the watch. Have I made myself clear?”

  Her uncle’s face was nearly purple with rage. Once again, Emma thought he might drop dead before the whole of society.

  Unfortunately, he did not.

  He nodded once, shook out of John’s grip and strode to the door where the footman already had his cloak and hat waiting.

  John straightened his waistcoat and turned. To her surprise, his lips turned up in the most charming smile as he looked from her to the crowd. Her heart clenched at the sight.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m happy to have been the entertainment for the evening, but I’m afraid the show is at an end. You may look on as I dance with my fiancée. I shall not begrudge you that, since she is the most stunning lady in the room.”

  His mother leaned in. “I believe that is your cue, my dear. Close your mouth and go and dance.”

  Emma turned to see the countess smiling brighter than she had ever witnessed before. It was not that Margaret Scarborough was a dour woman, but she was not given to shows of great joy. However, at that moment, she looked as if she might burst with glee. Her son had made a public scene. Emma could not imagine why that should please his mother so thoroughly.

  John’s hand touched the small of her back and she turned. “Shall we, Emma?”

  She took his arm and allowed herself to be led out onto the dance floor, where the musicians had the good sense to play a waltz.

  Emma’s heart beat so hard that she was sure everyone looking on could hear it pounding against her breast. Heat bathed her face and neck, but she did not feel she would repeat the fainting spell of earlier. He had made a scene to protect her. The stoic Earl of Compton had made of fool of himself for her sake. The world had gone completely mad, and she was at the center of it.