“Do you like to ride, Miss Bellevue?” Lord Keegain asked unaware of her musing.
“I do,” Jane said shortly, “but I should hardly consider myself an expert horsewoman.” Best to keep herself out of temptation, she thought.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Reynolds interjected from the other side of her. “She and Miss Constance Poppy left me in the dust last time we had a hunt. Wort and James Poppy teased me relentlessly for ending up on the ground whilst trying to keep up with the ladies.”
That was where she met Mr. Reynolds, Jane remembered. The moment was coming back to her now. Her lips twitched in a smile. “But neither of them caught the fox,” Jane remembered.
The earl took his wine cup and raised it towards her. “Then let us drink to fun, family and free foxes,” he offered. Jane laughed and added, “And a joyous yuletide.” She clinked her glass against his before taking a small sip. She knew if she drank too much wine she would be asleep at the table.
Keegain sipped his wine. “Will your mother and father spend Christmas in the country?” He asked. “Or will they return to London.”
“My father and sister shall spend the holiday in the country. With friends.” Jane took a deep breath as she looked at Lord Keegain. “My mother loved Christmastide, but she passed away many years ago. She was a wonderful woman, active in many charities, and is dearly missed by all who knew her,” Jane explained with the least emotion she could. She did not want to seem morose.
Lord Keegain’s face softened as he lightly placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. Shivers ran through Jane at the feeling of his bare hand on top of hers and she found herself staring at his large blunt fingers. His hand nearly covered hers completely.
“I am sure she is missed most of all by her family,” Lord Keegain continued. “Unfortunately, I know how you feel.” His words and his touch were meant to be comforting, and Jane did feel some measure comfort but mostly she felt a wild well of excitement boil up in her at the intimacy of his touch.
She found her own words at last.“I appreciate the gesture, and wish I could offer up some words of comfort in return. But it seems that no matter how much time has passed, I shall always miss my mother, most especially at Christmas,” Jane said, hoping she did not sound too dreary.
“Then we shall be two upon the face of this earth who feel the same in this season,” the earl said with kind eyes. “I miss my father most at Christmas. I have fond childhood memories of the celebrations. I feel the lack of his presence most keenly, but I also feel closest to him at this time. We shall celebrate the Lord’s birth for the both of them, your lost parent and mine. Although, surely the celebration they both enjoy in heaven must outshine anything we could offer here on earth.”
Jane couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her lips at such a statement. Lord Keegain had dispelled the melancholy and brought back the Christmas joy. She could imagine her mother seated at a vast feast amongst the clouds surrounded by the heavenly host.
She nodded her head before placing her focus back on her food, but he was still watching her. Jane’s cheeks burned as she felt the full force of his gaze upon her. They had known each other only a few short hours and yet he understood her. Never before had she had such a rapport with a person she had only just met; certainly not a gentleman. Never before had she felt both a comfort and a wild expectation unleashed by his mere presence, or by a simple touch of hands. It was most confusing.
8
Jane rose early and dressed herself. Poor Jacqueline had been entirely appalled to learn that Jane quite often dressed herself. Jane had learned to do the job at thirteen when she put aside her child’s clothing and began to dress like a lady. Father, wrapped up in grief at Mother’s death, had not noticed. When he had realized the lack, Jane protested that Mrs. Carron would do just fine.
The sky had lightened to a rosy hue and the clouds looked like snow, or at least a bit of rain. Jane went back to the small desk in the room. When at home, Jane would have loitered over breakfast and a book, but here she did not know what to do with herself. She had already read the novel she had brought with her and written a letter to Julia. She thought she would love a cup of tea, but surely it would be poor manners to go roaming about the house before the family was awake and the servants must have other tasks besides running after her. At last, she pulled the bell and requested tea.
Once Lady Charlotte realized that Jane was awake at dawn and sitting in her room awaiting the beginning of the day, she promised to be a better hostess.
“Oh, no,” Jane said. “I shall just stay abed.”
Lady Charlotte told Jane that she did not mind Jane’s early rising, and no one in the house would mind either. Jane learned later that it was Jacqueline who told Lady Charlotte she was an early riser.
“You need not stay in your room,” Lady Charlotte chided Jane, “but I must warn you, I shan’t be up before nine at least.” She stretched luxuriously and smiled at Jane. “As Helen says, I need my beauty sleep.”
Jane laughed as Lady Charlotte took her hand and led her down the back stairs to the kitchen to meet Mrs. Muir, the cook, in her own domain. “As children, all of us snuck sweets from Mrs. Muir,” Charlotte confided, “You must do the same. You shall be one of the family.”
Mrs. Muir was busy directing the staff, but when the girls peeked into the room, she waved them into the warm kitchen. Lady Charlotte introduced Jane one by one to the staff as they entered and exited the kitchen rushing about their duties. She learned that Mr. White was the kitchen clerk and it was actually his kitchen to manage. He kept the accounts although Mrs. Muir did most of the cooking.
Lady Charlotte pointed out all manner of maids, footmen and hall boys, and Jane was soon lost in a flurry of names.
It was all very cozy as they sat near the fire and chatted while Mrs. Muir fed them hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven. Once again, Jane had never tasted the like and exclaimed, “These would melt in your mouth.”
“Randolph imports the cinnamon,” Lady Charlotte confided. “He was cross for a month when the shipment didn’t come in. They are his favorite.”
Jane could not imagine the earl as cross. He seemed a very easy-going sort of man. Still, she could see why these were the earl’s favorite. They were quite delightful. Jane was tempted to take a few of the morsels for a snack later, but she refrained, thinking that squirreling away treats would be quite improper behavior.
“Jane may come down in the mornings before I am awake,” Lady Charlotte warned Mrs. Muir. “Now, you must promise to put her to work as you used to do for us.”
“Oh, my lady. I couldn’t,” Mrs. Muir said shaking her head. “That was when you were children.”
Lady Charlotte lapsed into a story of when she and her sisters and Lord Keegain sat in the kitchen with Mrs. Muir and ate an entire tray of biscuits which were baked for some social or other. She laughed. “Mother was furious and Mrs. Muir never breathed a word of our antics. Eventually, Randolph’s conscience got the better of him and he confessed,” Lady Charlotte said with a laugh as she finished the tale. “Miss Bellevue is my friend.” She told Mrs. Muir firmly. “You must treat her as one of the family.”
“I shall, Lady Charlotte” Mrs. Muir said. “Whenever you wish to visit you are most welcome, Miss Bellevue.”
The girls smiled and waved goodbye allowing Mrs. Muir to get back to work.
After they left the kitchen, Charlotte suggested a ride, but once again it looked likely to rain all day, so they postponed it. Instead the women worked on needlepoint. They discussed their favorite novels as they sewed and chatted about Christmas plans. Lady Helen was very secretive about the gifts she had thought to give her sisters, and Lady Alice was determined to wheedle the news from her.
Several days passed with Alice becoming more and more determined to learn what gifts were bought and which were made.
“Now, Alice, it shan’t be a surprise if you know what the gift is,” her mothe
r said finally. “Besides, Christmas is not about gifts. You know that.” She raised an eyebrow in a soft but unmistakable correction.
Jane remembered her own mother telling her much the same thing when she was a child. The sentiment brought back warm memories.
“Yes, Mother,” Alice said dutifully, but as soon as her mother’s eyes were back on her sewing she stuck her tongue out at her sister, Helen.
“I might just keep your gift,” Lady Helen said teasingly as she rethreaded her needle.
“You wouldn’t,” Alice accused.
Jane smiled at their antics.
When the conversation strayed to people that Jane did not know, her mind conjured the earl’s face. She had not seen Lord Keegain all day and felt the loss. She hoped to see him at dinner, but he was as absent as he had been earlier in the day. Jane wondered where he had gone, but it would not do to express her curiosity. Instead, she shared the evening with the ladies, sewing and discussing Christmas gifts, giving little hints to one another that could not possibly allow the other to guess.
Lady Alice, bored with the game, had tossed her sewing aside and declared she was for bed.
Her sisters laughed and teased her.
By the light of the fire in her room, Jane recorded much of the day in another letter to Julia, but she left out the most important part: her confused feelings about the earl.
9
A week passed at Kennett Park. The winter weather had set in, but it had yet to snow. Jane hoped for snow for Christmas, if only a light dusting.
Once again Jane awoke early. Charlotte was still abed, but a routine had been established in the household. Jane always rose just after dawn and she would take the back stairs down to the kitchen, and have a cup of tea with Mrs. Muir who made those wonderful crumpets; crisp on the edges and so light they were like to fly away. Jane had begged the recipe for both the crumpets and the cinnamon rolls, but she doubted that any cook she could afford to hire would do them justice. Perhaps she would have to learn the secret herself.
She paused just before she went down the back staircase. It was cold here in the upper hallway; far from any fires. There was a window which looked out on the stables. It was encrusted with frost, but still she leaned in to peer out of the window.
Thrice this week she had seen Lord Keegain ride out early on his great black stallion. He was not so close that he might see her. He was quite a distance from the house taking the lane at a swift trot. Jane recognized his form and movement against the frost on the trees. The fact that he too rose early, brought a smile to her lips. Where did he go? She wondered.
“Morning, Miss,” said Nan on her way to light the upstairs fires. “I shall have a fire in your room directly,” she said.
“Do not hurry, Nan,” Jane said. “I am on my way to have tea with Mrs. Muir.”
The girl laughed. “As if she were some fine lady,” Nan said.
Jane laughed as she turned from the window and continued down the stairs.
Jane settled into the household, choosing decorations with the other girls and their mother. She felt almost part of the family. She was going to miss the camaraderie when she had to return home. Jane missed Julia most ardently and wished her sister were here with her to share the season, but the joyous bustle of the house made her feel in a holiday mood.
The winter weather had fully taken hold, and the family retired to the parlor most evenings with a roaring fire in the hearth to ward off the chill. On the nights where the earl would join them, Jane found herself most distracted. His very presence was a weight within the room.
She kept her eyes on the embroidery in her lap, just as Lord Keegain’s eyes were on his paper. At least he was holding the paper, like she was holding her sewing. Jane had knotted the thread twice and it sat tangled once again in her lap. She could keep from looking at Lord Keegain, but she could not help but feel his eyes upon her. It was unnerving. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
When she glanced up at him, looking carefully through her lashes, a spark of passion like lightning struck between them. She looked down again. She was falling in love with him, Jane thought suddenly.
Love? What a silly notion. She was a practical girl. It was better to marry for comfort and security than to moon over things that would not, and could not occur. Lord Keegain would never be hers. The denial brought a sharp pain to her heart. She felt a lump in her throat and tears prick her eyes. Jane hurriedly made her excuses to retire for the night although sleep was long in coming.
The breakfast table, as usual, was set with great piles of food, sausages and eggs as well as scones and crumpets. Jane had to smile at the ever present cinnamon rolls.
“Today, we begin decorating in earnest,” Lady Alice announced excitedly at breakfast. “Ruddy promised to bring in the pine boughs today.”
“Oh, no,” Lady Charlotte said disappointed. “I wanted to go with him to collect them.”
“Charlotte, it is past time you give up these unladylike ways,” her mother said. “Riding off into the wood to chop down trees and drag in branches! It is up to the gentlemen to do these tasks. Leave it to them and the footmen.”
“It is only riding,” Lady Charlotte groused.
“Are Mr. Fitzwilliam and Mr. Reynolds going to help Lord Keegain with the boughs,” Jane inquired bringing the conversation back to the decorating.
“I am sure they will,” the dowager said. “Both of them have been friends with my son since boyhood. You will meet their families at the Christmas ball.”
Lady Charlotte peeked over her needlepoint at Jane. “I think Mr. Reynolds is quite handsome; do you not, Jane.”
Jane was surprised by the question. She had not given Mr. Reynolds a second thought and now she stuttered with an answer.
“He’s so tall and Mr. Fitz too,” Charlotte continued, “but Mr. Fitzwilliam is enamored of Miss Mary Wadsworth.” Charlotte looked at Jane with a light in her eyes. “Mr. Reynolds would be perfect for you,” Lady Charlotte said.
“Reynolds is poor as a church mouse,” Lady Helen added.
“Not really. His brother is a baron. It is only that he doesn’t have a title himself, and anyway, Jane doesn’t care about such things,” Charlotte told her sister, waving a hand.
“Oh Charlotte,” Helen said. “Everyone cares about money.”
“Mostly when they have too little of it,” the dowager added.
“Do you not want a better match for your friend?” Lady Helen chided. “There will be plenty of others at the ball, and Mr. Reynolds is so serious.”
“I do not find him so,” Lady Charlotte said, “Besides if Jane married him, she would be almost like family.”
“He does visit an awful lot,” Lady Alice put in.
“He’s a second son,” Helen noted. “He will never be a baron. It’s doubtful he will even live at the barony. No doubt his work with the Crown will land him a modest flat in London.”
“But you do find him attractive, do you not, Jane?” Charlotte urged.
“He is a handsome man,” Jane agreed at last. “But I do not think he would do for marriage, at least not for me.”
“You see,” Lady Helen said knowingly.
“Why ever not?” Lady Charlotte persisted.
Jane felt a blush fill her face. She could not tell them she longed for their brother. She was reaching far above her station. She looked down at the sewing in her lap and tried to formulate a reply, but the dowager saw her distress.
“Leave off, girls,” the older lady interrupted their interrogation. “It is clear Miss Bellevue’s heart is engaged elsewhere.”
“It is?” Lady Charlotte asked. “Oh Jane, pray tell, who?”
“I think I shall keep my own council, just now,” Jane said softly. She concentrated heartily on her sewing.
“A secret then,” Lady Alice scoffed, and Jane looked up, smiling at the young girl. She reminded her so of her own sister, Julia. She felt almost motherly towards the girl.
“I
am sure you will have secrets of your own soon enough,” Jane said.
The conversation gradually wound its way back to the hidden Christmas presents.
10
Lord Keegain had to hurry to get the pine boughs home. The family was going to add decorations to the great hall today. He looked forward to it, not just because he loved the Christmas season, but he also looked forward seeing Miss Bellevue, and spending time with her. When he was with her, he could be himself.
His heart felt lighter than it had in a long while. He wanted to spend the time with her and with his family and friends. He felt relieved that Lady Margret would not be there. One should not feel so about one’s own betrothed. He was sure of it, if his friend Fitz’s waxing poetic about his own lady was any indication.
Tonight, Keegain could decorate to his heart’s content and he would not have to stand back and allow the servants to attend to it. He knew Lady Margret would be appalled at his taking the decorations in hand. What would she say about his other activities in the village?
He would rather not tell her just yet. He shook his head. Why should he worry? He was an earl. He was the master of his own house, and had been for nigh on eight years. He could decorate his own house if he wanted to do so.
Keegain’s father had loved Christmas and so did he. He would do what he willed, within reason of course. His thoughts went back to Miss Bellevue and the joy in her eyes when his sisters spoke of decorating. It was a Keening tradition to trim the house with pine and holly boughs. He considered where to hang the mistletoe and Miss Bellevue’s lush figure came to his mind. Keegain nearly groaned aloud. He had wished for passion this holiday season, and he had found it, only not where he should have done.
His mind should be occupied with Lady Margret, instead his thoughts continually wandered to the petite brunette. He thought of her head bent sharing secrets and giggling with his sisters. He thought of her heated blush upon their first meeting, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her beneath the mistletoe. He attempted to push those thoughts away, but how could he when she was under his roof. His eyes followed her, and he was sure she had noticed.
Winning Lady Jane: A Christmas Regency Romance (Ladies of Bath Book 0) Page 6
