Lady Kingsley had quite adamantly declared that the children were welcome to join in the festivities along with the adults. Christmas was not very merry without the laughter of children. The adults, she insisted, had the evening meals and later to themselves.
And so he’d spent more time than usual with his own offspring. It had been… enlightening.
A few times he’d found Miss Cline in conversation with his daughter and Lady Martha, offering suggestions for the young women to entertain themselves so they did not end up wallowing in their chambers. Charlotte had seemed to shed the sullen behavior he’d become accustomed to.
And if he knew his son, Henry had some inkling as to the topic that curious conversation had entailed.
As though sensing his stare, Miss Cline pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose before glancing over to catch his gaze.
The two of them had not spoken privately since they’d hiked up to the folly together. Oddly enough, however, he constantly seemed to know where she was, what she was doing, and who she was doing it with.
She approached and then dipped into a delicate curtsey. “Lord Crestwood. You are enjoying the house party, I hope?” A flush of enjoyment tinged her face a pretty pink and her brown eyes shone warmly from behind her spectacles. This woman, he was coming to realize, was happiest when she was going out of her way for others.
A giver.
“Immensely.”
Yes, almost every other person saw this woman for her deeds. They saw her efficiency, her dedication, and sense of duty.
“And you?” he asked. “Are you enjoying this time away from the vicarage?”
There was so much more to her. He’d known her as a woman—a woman of passion. And still. He recognized a… wanting in her. He was fairly certain those passions still burned just beneath the surface. Or perhaps deeper.
He wondered who she would allow to ignite them once again. For she would allow some fellow into her life, into her bed.
She was not satisfied with her present circumstances. He was certain of it. He’d be surprised, in fact, if she departed from this house party without accepting an offer from Kingsley’s brother, Joseph Fellowes.
Mr. Fellowes seemed quite taken with her and… he would make a fine husband, but…
Henry bristled at the thought.
She smiled brightly. “The young people are excited for tomorrow. If only the snow would return.” And then she laughed. “I shall not be greedy. If it does not snow, that simply means we will have an easier time collecting the greenery.”
“You are the least greedy person of my acquaintance.” And he meant it. But some devil inside of him had him thinking that she’d been greedy in bed.
And good God but he was a cad for remembering.
He’d touched her intimately. He’d come to remember more and more of time spent with her long ago. Lying in his bed, knowing she was so nearby, he’d remembered.
Before their tryst had come to its abrupt ending. Soft tender lips had been eager to taste him. She’ had been eager to learn the secrets of passion.
That was all he’d been able to give her then.
But legally, now, he was free to marry—if he so pleased.
He swallowed hard. Did he? Did he want to marry again?
“You have managed to succeed with my children where I’ve found little success.”
She tilted her head, confused.
“They listen to you.” He’d noticed. “They talk to you.” He clamped his lips together, irritated with himself on these points. “Will you tell me if my son is up to no good?”
“They look up to you a great deal; it is just that you are their father.” She winced. “Without breaking Bart’s confidence, I will tell you that it appeared he might be moving in that direction, but, apparently of mind to heed some carefully given advice, I believe he has realized the error of his ways.”
Henry met her gaze steadily and then cocked one eyebrow. “That pretty little maid who has been lurking around him all week?”
Miss Cline bit her lip. “I promised I would not say. However, be assured that he has been apprised as to exactly what sort of man takes advantage of ladies who are in service.” Henry reeled back at her words. “I did not mean—“
His heart skipped a beat at the unintended insult. Not that he did not deserve it, but her kindness had made him think she’d forgiven him. She had told him she did not hate him. And she may even have meant it. But he’d extrapolated far too much from that. He had hoped…
Henry stepped away. “You are right though. I appreciate your setting him straight on such a matter. And I also thank you for not holding his father up as an example.”
He was frustrated that he could do nothing to change the past, to atone for his actions. The dye had been permanently cast, painting their association tarnished for all time. Damned fool that he was, he’d watched her because he… liked her. And he’d wondered…
Perhaps he would forgo dinner. Perhaps he ought to forgo the holidays completely.
If he weren’t a father, if two young people did not depend upon him… He’d what? At times he felt he was only a shell of a person. But he was needed.
And although his children didn’t show it most of the time, he knew that he was loved.
She realized what he would think the second those ill-advised words left her mouth. She had been a servant, of sorts, when they’d met before. He’d think she was directing her insult at him.
But she had not!
All week long, she’d been acutely aware of his presence; his steady calm, his gentle demeanor and patience. And no one could fail to see the love he obviously felt for his two children—despite their youthful angst. She knew he’d borrowed Lord Kingsley’s study on a few occasions to finish some estate correspondence and that he rode early each morning with a few of the other gentlemen. At times, he seemed as though he were simply going through the motions of fatherhood, of life.
And yet she knew that he tried. And for that, Charlotte and Bartholomew would one day see how lucky they were to have such a man for a father.
Of all things, she didn’t want for him to believe she thought poorly of him.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
She reached out to touch his arm, to correct the assumption he’d obviously made, but before she could speak, the drawing-room doors flew open and of all men, her brother came storming in. He wore one of his older suits, his cleric collar, and a scowl deeper than the one he showed while delivering his most fiery of sermons.
“Vicar Cline?” Olivia stepped forward. “You decided to join the house party after all?”
“Thomas?” Eliza stepped away from Lord Crestwood. She could hardly believe her eyes. Not only at her brother’s presence but at the rage emanating from him.
Her brother was a quiet man, a kind and gentle one.
His gaze pinpointed her in accusation, and he charged across the room, grasping her arm almost violently. He did not appear as though he’d come to take part in Olivia’s holiday entertainments. He looked determined.
Determined and furious.
“What are you doing here?” She attempted to pull him away. Somehow, she feared that whatever he had to say was not going to be appropriate in mixed company. But he resisted her.
“The question, Eliza, is what you are doing here?” His jaw set grimly. “Mrs. Frye received a letter from one of Lady Kingsley’s guests. The concerned woman felt it her duty to make it known to one of her dearest friends that he was here. Why would you remain, Eliza?” Her brother stared at her in confusion, but she saw hurt in his expression as well. “I had thought you were smarter than this! After everything…”
He?
Did he mean Lord Crestwood? She opened her mouth to answer but before any words emerged, Thomas cut her off. He lowered his voice but it came out sounding almost like a snarl.
“Do you think I did not know his identity? Of course, I did! Everyone did! It was a long time ago, and people forgi
ve, but they never forget. If word gets out about this, and you do not return home immediately, I’m not certain Misty Brooke will be so forgiving a second time.”
She had thought no one cared about it anymore.
She had believed she’d been forgiven. Had she been naïve in thinking she’d paid her penance already? “Thomas…” she began again.
“Cline.” Henry stepped forward from behind her, one hand outstretched toward her brother. “I believe I am the person to address regarding this matter.”
But Thomas only scowled deeper, narrowing his eyes.
Oh, no! This wasn’t happening! Not at Olivia’s party!
At a loss as to what she could say, Eliza’s upbringing and manners took over. “Lord Crestwood, I’d like to present to you my brother, Vicar Cline. Thomas, this is Henry Fairchild, Baron Crestwood.”
Her brother obviously recognized the name immediately. He said he had known all along. He said that everyone had. Not once had he asked any of the details when she’d gone to him after the Watsons ordered her to leave.
But Thomas had indeed, known the culprit of her ruin.
Of course, Mrs. Frye had gone to him right away. Eliza wondered fleetingly which of Olivia’s guests had written to Misty Brooke’s most efficient gossip.
“You may be a nob, but that doesn’t mean you can simply take whatever you wish, whenever you wish it. How dare you even lay eyes upon my sister? After what you did? If I wasn’t a man of God, I’d—”
Eliza cringed at her brother’s words. Oh, Thomas, no!
He was here to protect her, to save her––from Henry Fairchild!
“Why don’t the three of us move this to my study.” Lord Kingsley stepped between the two men. “Not well done to interrupt my wife’s party, wouldn’t you agree?” Beneath the earl’s affable charm, Eliza heard an edge of steel.
She didn’t believe she’d ever seen the earl angry.
Eliza ought not to have come. As soon as she realized Henry would be here, she ought to have returned to Misty Brooke and spent the holidays at home. Why had she not considered this? Having their names linked together in any way, whatsoever, was only going to provide fodder for the gossips.
How naïve she’d been to assume the people in her brother’s parish had forgotten. She’d thought she had atoned for her sins. She’d thought she’d become one of them.
“Apparently, you know nothing of the kind of man you’ve welcomed into your home.” Her brother turned on the earl, his face red with rage. How could he speak thusly to Lord Kingsley?
Eliza stepped forward and took her brother by the arm. She needed to stop this before he went too far.
He shook her off, and Lord Crestwood stepped forward.
This was getting out of hand quickly. Thomas had obviously spent the entire journey between Misty Brooke and Sky Manor summoning all his might to avenge her.
“Thomas, please. Not here.” Eliza glanced over her shoulder. Of course, all eyes were upon them.
“Mr. Cline, I would request a word with you alone.” Lord Crestwood spoke in a calm but firm voice.
“The only word I’ll have with you is on a field of honor.” Eliza had never seen her brother so worked up. She could not allow him to go on this way, most definitely not in her defense.
“Thomas! No!” She went to step forward again, but this time, it was Lord Crestwood who took hold of her arm. Gently though, and in a reassuring manner.
“By God, get your hands off her—“ Thomas went to lunge, but Lord Kingsley and the Duke of Crawford held him back.
And then, in a calm and matter-of-fact voice, Lord Crestwood spoke perhaps, the only words that could subdue her brother’s attack: “Your sister has consented to marry me.”
The words, in fact, silenced the entire room.
Eliza stiffened beside him. He thought that he had to do this. But he did not! She did not want a man, even this man, to marry her out of obligation or guilt. All that was required right now was to get her brother away from Olivia’s guests. “But—“
“So, if you don’t mind,” Lord Crestwood smoothly interrupted her to continue addressing Thomas, “I think we ought to take Lord Kingsley up on his kind offer and move this discussion to a more appropriate setting.”
At that moment, Eliza would have gladly returned to being the invisible lady she’d considered herself. Finding herself the center of attention, the object of all eyes in a room, was not a comfortable circumstance by any means.
Thomas blinked a few times, removed his hat, and finally turned to look at Eliza again. “Is this true, Eliza? He has offered for you?”
Lord Crestwood squeezed her arm gently. He stood close enough beside her that she could almost feel him holding his breath.
“I–um.” She glanced sideways at him with questioning eyes. He does not have to do this. He was only doing it out of guilt. He didn’t love her.
And yet… his warmth at her side and back comforted her. She could not help remembering how it had felt to be held in his arms.
She should deny it. She should end this now.
“Yes.” She exhaled. “It is true.”
Chapter Fourteen
Betrothed?
As quickly as Thomas had arrived, Lord Kingsley, the Duke of Crawford, Lord Crestwood, and Thomas all excused themselves to disappear, presumably, into the earl’s study. When Eliza went to follow, Olivia took hold of her shoulders from behind and ushered her away from the large drawing room and into another, smaller sitting area.
Eliza wrapped her arms around herself. She had not realized that she was shivering. “I’m so sorry, Olivia.”
Olivia steered her to a loveseat and dropped a shawl over Eliza’s shoulders, all the while shushing her apology. “If anyone is to blame it is Mrs. Frye! Benighted gossip! You, my dear friend, have nothing to apologize for. Absolutely nothing.”
“But… such a horrid scene! Your wonderful Christmas party. I wanted it to be perfect for you!”
Olivia laughed. “You should know as well as anyone that to expect perfection only invites calamity. Let’s forget about the party for now. I’m dying to know! When did Lord Crestwood propose? I had so hoped the two of you would fall in love again. He’s simply the most delightful man, aside from Gabriel, that is, and he’s been through so much. When I met him last summer, I just knew you had to see him again.”
Eliza laughed and at the same time, a choked sob escaped. “Oh, Olivia. Not all of us can be as lucky as you and your sister have been.” She gulped down another sob. “Don’t you understand? He has not proposed! He only said he did in order to subdue Thomas. And now… I’m going to have to tell Thomas the truth, and all of your guests will know that I lied—“
“Why is it impossible for you to have the same sort of luck? I’ve watched Lord Crestwood this week. And he has been watching you. At first with a curious sort of expression, but as the days have passed, I have seen longing in his eyes.”
“You are imagining things, Olivia.”
But Olivia was shaking her head. “You are one of my dearest friends but also one of the most pessimistic women of my acquaintance. You were wrong about Gabriel, and you are wrong about Lord Crestwood. Just you wait and see.”
Eliza merely shook her head. Although she had been very wrong about Lord Kingsley. He’d proven to be most honorable, indeed.
And he had made Olivia happier than Eliza ever thought her friend could be.
“You were right not to marry Mr. Smith. And you were right about Lord Kingsley. I’ll concede those two points.”
“And I am right about this.” Olivia still had one arm around Eliza, and she squeezed her tight. “Do you love him?”
Love.
“It makes no difference.” And then she swallowed hard. “How does one know, Olivia?”
“Oh, because one thinks about him all the time. One wants to touch him at every opportunity. One cannot imagine a satisfying life without him.”
Eliza thought back to all that she’d bee
n feeling since seeing him again at the inn.
When she’d been just eight and ten, she had thought she’d loved him. She’d been more hurt by his abandonment, his rejection, than by what anyone else had said or done.
She’d not mourned the loss of Matthew nearly as much as she’d felt the loss of Henry.
But now…
She knew a different man. A mature man who’d loved and lost.
He was not all flash and charm. He did not flirt and seduce.
It was just him. And he’d established himself most firmly in her thoughts. And her dreams. More than that, she respected him, as a father, as a friend, and… as a man.
Yes, she loved him.
A knock on the door interrupted and then Lord Kingsley peered in. “I thought I’d find the two of you in here.” And then he stepped inside. Eliza sat up straight and wiped at her eyes. He may be Olivia’s husband, but he was also an earl.
“Crawford, Crestwood, and your brother,” he told Eliza, “are departing for London in order to obtain a special license.”
Eliza groaned but Olivia laughed.
“I told you,” she said.
Eliza merely shook her head.
Eliza didn’t sleep well that night. Why hadn’t he consulted with her before racing off on such a futile errand! And to London, no less! Given, it was less than a day’s ride, but as there was to be no wedding, such a journey was utterly unnecessary.
She lay in bed, alternately wondering if Olivia could possibly be right and then chastising herself at the memory of his disinclination to kiss her the other day.
He ‘d also had every opportunity to kiss her when she’d been lost in the castle corridors. She’d literally thrown herself at him.
By the time the sun crept over the horizon, she’d only slept intermittently and suspected she’d have dark circles under her eyes.
Sally entered shortly after Eliza climbed out of bed, carrying a tray of hot chocolate and biscuits.
The Perfect Christmas: With Added Bonus Material (The Not So Saintly Sisters Book 3) Page 10
