She’d have to send a message to the girls that she would not visit on Boxing Day tomorrow. Apart from feeling unwell, there was the snow to contend with. Eden didn’t mind the cold, but she didn’t want to walk all the way to Mrs. Brown’s on slippery, slushy streets. Cabs would be hard to come by. The heavy, dancing flakes might not last until tomorrow, but they would be enough to sugarcoat the landscape and make foot travel difficult. Mattie would have to find an errand boy to deliver her note.
And there was roast goose and all the trimmings to contend with later. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage tea and toast. But this was her first and only Christmas with Hart, and she’d have to rally.
Hart was a bit tired of leading his double life. By day he appeared in Parliament and worked on his affairs with Calvert. By night he was in Eden’s bed. His aunt Juliet had become rather waspish as she berated him for his failure to attend musicales, dances and dinner parties. She had been hurt when he’d begged off Christmas luncheon. Guilty, Hart pecked Eden good-bye and gathered up his gifts for the Cheverlys. He could spare an hour on a frigid Christmas Day to smooth her ruffled, matchmaking feathers.
He wanted no one but Eden. But there were still times when he moved too quickly and saw her flinch.
When she stumbled over the words “Lord Hartford” as she was instructing the servants.
When she worried that somehow Kempton would find her, or Ivor’s friend Lord Blanchard would recognize her.
Hart doubted the latter. He scarcely recognized her himself. Gone was the painfully slender, pale girl with the fierce brows and stiff lips. In her place, was a curvaceous, elegant young woman who smiled often and laughed easily. If she married him, he could take her back to Hartford Hall and make her safe there. As it was, he was concerned that somehow someone would discover she was his ladybird. He couldn’t expect her to be shut up in her charming little house all day, but he worried about her teaching at the charity school, shopping in town with Mattie. If Eden bumped into his aunt, there would be the devil to pay once Juliet realized how Hart had set Eden up as his mistress.
It was time to make a penance call upon his aunt, and remind her that he still had every intention of marrying Eden. Let his aunt think a decent period of mourning was being observed. He mounted the marble front steps and was greeted by Juliet’s very proper butler before his hand could touch the gleaming brass knocker.
“Good afternoon, Baron Hartford. Happy Christmas. Your aunt is already with Major Desmond, but I’m sure they will welcome your presence.”
Hart nearly dropped his hat handing it off to the butler, who in turn handed it off to one of the footmen, Robert or Steven, he wasn’t sure which. He shrugged off his coat, which was immediately dusted of its snowflakes. “Des is here? How on earth did he know that I was going to pay my aunt a visit?”
The butler smiled thinly. “I’m sure I couldn’t say, my lord.”
Clutching the gifts, Hart followed the man up the Turkey-carpeted stairs to his aunt’s drawing room. The doors were firmly shut, but Hart could hear the tinkle of his aunt’s laughter. Old Des could be a charmer if he wished. The butler Gerrard knocked.
“Come.”
“Mrs. Cheverly, Baron Hartford,” Gerrard announced, as though Juliet didn’t have eyes in her head.
Juliet blushed prettily, matching the soft rose of her Swiss muslin day dress. Hart bent to kiss her cheek.
“Merry Christmas, my absent nephew! I thought you refused my invitation. Gerrard, have another place set for lunch.”
“I’m afraid I can’t stay, Juliet. I just brought presents for you and the boys. Where are they?”
“Upstairs somewhere playing with the soldiers Hen—Major Desmond was kind enough to procure for me. What do you mean you can’t stay?”
“I can make no excuses, only apologies. Des, I’m astonished to see you here. How did you know I missed my old aunt?”
Juliet pushed him away. “Old! If that is how you apologize, Gerrard can see you right out.”
Des stood as stiffly as if he were about to go on parade. “I believe your aunt is but a year or two older than you yourself, Hart. If anyone is old, it is I. I shall be thirty on my next birthday.”
Hart grinned, knowing full well his aunt had celebrated her thirtieth birthday nearly two years ago. “Yes, you are virtually decrepit. General Tavistock will see you out on your ear any day now. How is the old Tartar?”
“As short-tempered as ever. There’s talk that we shall go to India.”
“Oh, no!”
Both men turned to Juliet, whose rosy blush had now turned to crimson.
“Ah. For a moment I had forgotten you sold out, Hart.” Juliet twisted her rings, a sure sign she was prevaricating.
Hart looked to his friend. Des was turning a rather alarming color as well. What the devil?
“Mrs. Cheverly, I’ve taken up enough of your time. No doubt you have family business to discuss with Hart.”
“Th-thank you for bringing the boys such a fine Christmas gift, Major. You are too kind.”
“I thought you didn’t want to encourage the bloodthirsty little devils in their war games, aunt.” Hart watched in amusement as both Des and Juliet looked stricken. Never in a million years would he have imagined that his determinedly unmarried best friend and the Mad Matchmaker would make a match of it. But he still had some of his wits about him, despite his own love-struck state. However, if he knew Juliet, she would not for one minute put up with Des’s patronage of Mrs. Brown’s. Nor would Hart.
“You know I’d do anything for my boys,” Juliet said, her tone more brisk. “The major found the perfect set.”
“Lucky, that. Des, I’d like to have a word with you. I’ll walk part of the way home with you. Juliet, don’t go anywhere. We have some catching up to do.”
Des looked even more rigid than before as they went down the stairs. Gerrard helped them with their outerwear and they went into the street and the storm.
Hart lifted an eyebrow. “When were you going to ask my permission to court my aunt?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You are not her guardian and she’s not a child!” Des blustered.
“Indeed she is not. She is, I believe, a few years older than you are.”
“What of it? She’s a very handsome woman.”
“With a substantial portion. One might even say she is filthy rich.”
Des looked like he’d enjoy throttling Hart in the middle of the sidewalk. “Are you implying I am a fortune hunter, Lord Hartford?”
“Stand down, Des. I am implying nothing of the kind. But Juliet and her boys are my only living family. I feel responsible for them. Cheverly named me their trustee. I should have thought you’d speak to me before undertaking a friendship with her.”
Des removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. It was cropped so short there was little point, but Hart recognized his friend’s nervous habit.
“Juliet is expecting you back.”
“I imagine she’s going to develop a headache and will be unable to receive me. How long has this been going on?”
“Not long. A month or so. We met by accident on Oxford Street.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I didn’t want . . . You weren’t . . . She said . . .”
Hart laughed. “Good God, man! You do have it bad.” To his surprise, his friend sat down upon the snowy marble steps of a town house, having no care for his uniform.
“I love her, Hart. Can you credit it? I, who’ve escaped her schemes for years, have fallen for her instead of all the silly chits she’s thrown in my path. Gad, do you remember Araminta Shirley?” Des shuddered.
“What of her boys?” Hart asked quietly.
“Araminta has no children,” Des said in confusion.
“My nephews, you dullard. Raphael and Sebastian.”
Des’s face lit up. “Capital young fellows, but I don’t need to tell you that.”
Hart sat down next to his f
riend. In minutes he supposed Lady Fullham’s butler was going to throw scalding water on them. They were already attracting the attention of passersby out for a Christmas stroll in the snow on the fashionable street. Hart turned and looked at the dark green door behind him. The knocker had been removed. Good. Lady Fullham must be wintering in the country. But that didn’t mean he wished to lounge about on her icy marble steps for very long.
“What are your intentions, then?”
“I’ve asked her to marry me.”
Hart frowned. “And?”
“She hasn’t accepted. She hasn’t refused, either,” Des said hurriedly. “I know she’ll never get over her husband. She’s made that plain.”
Hart kept his opinion of Juliet’s glorification of her late husband to himself. Cheverly had been perfectly worthy, but far from the paragon Juliet thought him. Des was certainly more than his equal, if not in finances, then in bravery and spirit. “It’s not like you to be contented with second best, Des.”
“I know she cares for me. In time I think I can make her happy. Not forget Cheverly, of course. But I could be a good father to his boys. I’ll sell out if she accepts.”
“And then what? Carouse your evenings away at Mrs. Brown’s?”
Des shot up from the steps. “Of course not! I haven’t been there in weeks, if you must know. Not since Juliet and I—” He broke off and flushed crimson.
“Good God!” Hart stood as well. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken her to bed!”
“As you yourself pointed out, we are both of an age. I refuse to discuss this any further.”
Hart grabbed his friend’s arm before he could stalk off down the street. “We are not enemies, Des! We both have the same goal, to make Juliet happy. I’ll not stand in the way of your suit, you must know that. And if you carry on a discreet affair, I’ve no objection to that either. Juliet has been in widow’s weeds long enough.”
Des shook his head and began striding down the block. Hart had to hustle to keep up with him. “I don’t want an affair, Hart. I’ve told you, I want to marry her. I know my prospects are nothing much to brag about. But I have some prize money put aside. And my great-aunt left me a bit in her will.” Des stopped walking. “I don’t even know where I’m headed. Juliet invited me for Christmas lunch.”
“Your aunt Mary is dead? I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Hart and Des had long complained to each other about interference from their aunts, although Mary had been at least ninety and rather resembled an ancient reptile.
“Two weeks ago. You’ve pretty much disappeared from the face of the earth lately, Hart. I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you. I’ve nothing compared to Juliet, but I’ll make sure hers all goes in trust to the boys should we marry. That’s only right.”
Hart laughed. “Perhaps right in your eyes, but Juliet is very expensive. I doubt she’d be happy with a normal wife’s pin money.”
Des’s face darkened. “It won’t come to that.” He quoted the amount of his recent inheritance, and Hart whistled. “So you see, you should have no objection to my financial status.”
“I have no objection to anything!” Hart assured him. “I was just somewhat surprised. I never thought you’d fall victim to Cupid’s arrow. And with Juliet, of all people. It’s almost fantastic.”
“Why? Are you the only man allowed to fall in love in London? Who is this mystery woman who takes up all your time? I thought you were mixed up with some little country miss.”
“I’m still persuading her to marry me.”
“Perhaps she’s not worth the effort, Hart.”
“Would you say the same about Juliet?”
“No, no. Women! They do live to devil us, don’t they? Come, it’s too cold to tangle on the street. I should go back. Juliet is all alone.”
“Merry Christmas, Uncle Henry,” Hart laughed.
Eden was waiting in the hallway when he came home, ready to brush the snow from his coat.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“I got bored. How was Juliet?”
“Come sit down in the parlor. You’re dead on your feet, aren’t you?” He pushed her through the doorway into the cheerful room. A fire crackled in the grate. Her book lay facedown on the sofa, and the afghan she had wrapped around her feet had fallen to the floor when she sprang up to greet him.
“I’ll be fine.” She poked at the holly in a vase on the mantel. “This is a very odd Christmas, isn’t it? You should be with your family.”
He picked up the blanket and folded it into a neat square. “You are my family now, Eden. You’re all I want. Besides, my aunt has taken a lover.”
Eden opened her mouth in shock.
“Yes, it’s true. The entire family is steeped in sin. And it feels marvelous.” He patted the cushion beside him.
She settled next to him, examining his mischievous face. “Don’t joke.”
“I assure you, I’m not. Juliet has taken up with my oldest friend, Henry Desmond. I’ve mentioned him.”
“The man you gave your subscription to?”
“The very one. But he, too, has abandoned Mrs. Brown. She won’t care. She’ll keep the money and have the last laugh.”
“But how wonderful for Juliet. Jannah said—” She broke off. It was still almost impossible to speak of her sister without dislodging the frog from her throat. “She said Juliet needed a man of her own, and now she has one. Do you approve?”
Hart shrugged. “It’s really none of my business, but yes. Des is a good man. He’ll steady her. And he cares for the boys. I suppose they’ll marry.”
“How nice.” Eden felt a bit wistful. Hart would remind her she could marry, too, if she would simply say yes.
He fingered the brightly wrapped parcel on the table. “I think you were really hanging about downstairs because you wanted to open your present. Have you shaken the box?” he asked, stern.
“I have. It rattles.”
“You vixen. You’re not to be trusted.”
“I have told you that a thousand times.”
“But I pay no attention to you. You say a great deal of nonsense.”
“I don’t!”
“You do. All this business about never marrying, for example.”
“Not today, please, Hart. It’s Christmas.”
“All the more reason to discuss it, Eden. How long will it be before I wear you down?”
“I am impervious to your entreaties, my lord,” she said, trying to turn her refusal into a jest. “You may climb the tower or slay the dragon. Get in league with the dwarfs if you must. I shall not change my mind.”
“Maybe this will help.” He tossed the box to her.
She reached below the sofa and pulled out a present of her own. “You first.”
He looked inordinately pleased, but the gift wasn’t much, just a small framed watercolor of Buttermere she’d found in a shop, with Fleetwith Pike in the background. “It’s not too far from Hartford Hall, you know. I’ve never seen it myself, but the views are considered very fine.”
“Thank you, Eden. This will remind me of home. I haven’t really had one, you know. Not since I was a little boy. Now you.”
She unfolded the paper carefully, lifting the lid of a square box. Nestled in tissue was a smaller box, and inside a box smaller still. Eden laughed. “Appearances are deceiving, I see. I expect there will be a speck of dust in the last one.”
“Keep going.”
She came to a tiny box about an inch all around. Within was a round diamond-studded wedding band, quite the most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. “Hart!” She couldn’t stop herself from picking it up between her fingers.
“Say yes, Eden.”
“I cannot,” she whispered.
“Eden,” Hart said quietly, “how long will you make yourself suffer for the past? It is over.” He settled her up against his chest, inhaling the clean rose scent from her hair. Her demons might just be too entrenched to banish for good. He cursed his uncle, a
nd himself for good measure. “I wish I could change your mind. I wish I could change a lot of things. I’d dig up Franz Mesmer himself if I thought he could convince you to let go of your pain.”
Eden squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to see the concern in Hart’s face. She felt as though she were going mad. She shook her head, placing the delicate ring back in its container. “I-I really am awfully tired.”
Hart leaned back on the sofa, his playfulness gone. “I suppose we’ve only known each other a few months. Keep it until you can make a decision. Let me take you upstairs.”
Tempting Eden Page 25
