She waved her hands at the birds, and one of them struck his head toward her with a hiss. “They were supposed to be manageable! I wanted to put these little vests across their backs with egg decorations for the a-laying part.” She held up a muddy piece of cloth with a beautifully embroidered egg on it. She balled it into her hand and shoved it at her side. “I worked on them for weeks after I got the idea for this party. But nothing is working and everything is terrible.”
She huffed out a breath and turned her face, but not before he saw a tear slide down her cheek. And that was enough. He strode forward, waving his hands to scatter the angry geese, and caught her hand. “Come on, we’ll escape.”
“Escape?” she repeated, bright blue gaze finding his. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we’ll have your horse saddled and stop the stable hand before he finishes with mine and we ride off for a little while. Escape.”
Her shoulders rolled forward. “But this is my party and everyone will be expecting a goose-related entertainment when they rise in a little while and—”
“Emily,” he said, squeezing her hand and cutting her off from her rambling. She flushed and for a moment her fingers flexed against his. Seeking the comfort he offered.
“Very well,” she whispered.
He drew her to the gate where the footmen were waiting and they were let out of the paddock. “Have her ladyship’s horse readied and tell your man to keep mine saddled after all. Oh, and let the geese calm themselves down in the paddock. When we return, we’ll decide if Lady Rutledge’s plans are manageable.” He glanced down at her. “And you come with me.”
She acquiesced, following him into the warm stable. He led her to the back where a bench rested against one of the stalls and pointed to it. “Sit.”
She did so, but glared up at him. “What are you doing?”
“You said your boots were full of mud,” he said as he dropped to his knees before her, rather like he’d done when she was splayed out naked on the settee.
Clearly, she remembered the same thing, because she blushed and turned her face. Good. So she thought of yesterday too. That was something. “Y-you needn’t trouble yourself,” she said.
He arched a brow at her as he unfastened her bootstrap and gently tugged it free. “After all these years, you know that isn’t true.”
“I suppose not,” she said, and she was watching him as he set her boot aside and wiped away the mud stuck to her stockinged foot. He pressed his thumb against the arch, massaging gently as he did so, and she gripped the edge of the bench with a quiet inhalation.
“You shouldn’t do that here,” she hissed.
“This?” he pressed, massaging a little harder. “I’m just warming up your cold feet, my lady.”
“You aren’t and you know it,” she argued, but she didn’t pull her foot away. She flexed against him, silently asking for more.
He chuckled and set her foot down, then dumped the remaining mud from her boot before he repeated the action on her opposite foot. As he did so, he said, “I’m impressed by your ability to swear, Emily. I don’t think I’ve heard such creative pairings before, and I belong to several boxing clubs.”
“Of course you do,” she muttered beneath her breath. Then she shrugged. “I learned from the best. You and Andrew were quite loud when you peppered conversations over whisky with swearing.”
“Hmmm, so it is our fault,” he said. He held open her boot and she slid her foot in. He buckled it, choosing not to look at her as he said, “But what about the cause?”
She hesitated a moment. “Geese are frustrating.”
He arched a brow at her. “That is an undeniable fact, but your ire seemed to stem from so much more.”
She huffed out a breath. “You feel a need to dissect me then, Mr. Cavendish?”
He lifted up on his knees, wiping his hands clean on his trousers before he slid a finger beneath her chin and forced her to look at him. “Only to offer my support and friendship, Em. You know that.”
Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment the air between them was thick with a tension that had never existed before. His desire had always been unrequited, unrecognized by her even as he struggled with it constantly. Now it was something different. Seeing it reflected in her eyes was overwhelming.
She swallowed hard, and then she nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m out of sorts, but you don’t deserve my wrath.”
He shrugged as he put his attention on fastening her other boot. Then he let her muddy skirts swish down around them and stood, holding out a hand to her.
“Tell me about it,” he suggested. “Perhaps I can help.”
They walked to the front of the stable together, and she smiled at her stablehand as he helped her up on a pretty sorrel mare named Jasmine she had favored for many years. She patted her flank and her tension seemed to bleed away. Cav remounted Hank, and they trotted off together at a gentle speed that didn’t allow the brisk morning breeze to chill them too much.
“Is it really the geese, Emily?” he asked. “Are you going to try to tell me that it’s only a flock of rude waterfowl that put you on the edge of tears?”
She worried her lip and glanced at him. “I would tell anyone else that but you. You have the annoying skill of knowing when I’m lying. But I feel foolish saying the truth.”
“And what is that?” he pressed gently.
She was silent for a moment, and then she scrunched her face. “I’m going to sound foolish no matter how I say it, so here it is. I feel like a…failure.”
He stared at her too long and nearly unseated himself. He managed to control Hank and keep his wits about him as he said, “How are you a failure?”
“My life is…out of control,” she said. “It has been for a very long time. After all, I had plans, I had dreams and they were all stolen when Andrew died.” She had that hint of sadness to her tone when she said his name, but it was softer now. Not so sharp or broken. “In the last few years, I’ve been in a kind of limbo. No longer in official mourning, but not ready to move on.”
“You were pressured to do so, I know. I always respected your ability to hold true to your own heart,” he said.
She gave him half a smile. “At least Andrew’s family has been exceedingly kind about it. They’ve allowed me to continue on in our old home in London rather than moving to my new one. They’ve allowed me to treat Crossfox as a primary residence, as well, and have my parties here and sleep in the chamber that belongs to the viscountess.”
“They adore you,” he said softly, for he knew it was true.
“And I them. They will always mean a great deal to me. But I told you before that Andrew’s brother is marrying.”
“Yes,” Cav said. “Gossip was already circulating before I arrived. Charles is marrying Phillipa Questington, isn’t he?”
She nodded. “She’s very sweet and has been nothing but lovely to me. They told me on Christmas Day that they will begin reading the bannes just after Epiphany, and I am happy for them. But…”
“But?”
Her sigh came shuddering out, and the sound was so painful that it nearly broke his heart. “This life I planned will become…theirs. This home and the one in London will be hers. I will be moving to my new residence when I return to the city. I’ll come here, I’m sure—they are not a family of ogres and have made it clear I’ll always have a place with them. But I’ll only ever be their guest.”
He gripped his reins tighter. Somehow he hadn’t thought about the changes she was facing. The world had become hung up, stopped turning when Andrew died, at least for the two of them. The past five years had almost seemed out of time. But the bubble of that would burst, of course it would.
“How is that a failure, though, Emily?” he asked gently. “None of it is because of something you’ve done or not done.”
“No, but I have struggled with losing these last vestiges of what I once believed would be my life.” She shook her head. “Perhaps more than I l
et anyone, even you, know. And this party…it was supposed to help.”
“Help?” he repeated. “How would it help?”
“I saw it as a way to say goodbye to this place, for one,” she said, glancing over her shoulder toward the house that was now hidden in the distance. “But also I hoped…oh, it sounds so foolish now, I can’t say it.”
He pulled Hank up, stopping him on the trail, and she did the same with Jasmine. He turned the animal so he would face her. “Say it. It’s me. You can say it.”
Her gaze flitted over him, and how he wished he could read her mind, because her expression was clouded with so much emotion that he couldn’t parse out what it all was and name it so he could react properly. She was a flood of everything and he could only watch.
“I hoped that by matching my guests, my victims as you keep putting it, that I would let loose some of the love I’ve had bottled up in me. That I’d see something I nurtured grow into that beautiful thing I lost. And somehow it would give me peace.”
“Emily,” he said softly.
“Don’t,” she whispered, and slung herself off the horse. She walked off into the glade just off the path where they had stopped, her boots crunching on the frozen, dead grass. “Don’t play or tease right now.”
He slowly dismounted, careful as he approached her. He let his hand close around her forearm, and then he rested his chin on the crown of her head. After a moment’s hesitation, she relaxed back against him, soft against him as she allowed hm to hold her.
“I would never tease you about something so important,” he said. “I didn’t know how much this matchmaking meant to you. I’m sorry if you felt I was too playful.”
“I lo—” She cut herself off and went stiff against his chest. “I like that you’re playful. Sometimes it was the only thing that saved me all these years. You must admit that I’m making a muck of everything, though.”
“The matches,” he said carefully.
She nodded, and he loved the slide of the crown of her head against his chin just before she glided from his arms and turned to face him. Like the intimacy of him holding her had become too much in that moment. “No one is connecting, no matter how I slide them around toward each other. The Mulberry twins hide out in their chamber half the time, Lady Abigail stands to the side, just watching everyone. Lady Thea despises Lord Allington so much that it seems to dominate any room they are in together. I cannot…fix it. Hence, I feel like a failure.”
He shook his head. “You have all the best intentions, and who could not adore you for them? But love isn’t a project that can be fixed. Trust me.”
Her brow wrinkled at that statement and he hurried to continue so she wouldn’t question him further on the topic. “You have set a handful of people into a room together and given them a reason to decide if they like each other. If they don’t, it’s because they don’t spark that feeling. It isn’t because you could have done something different.”
“I suppose that’s true,” she said with a sigh. “Leave it to you to give me good advice. I despise you for it.”
He couldn’t help but grin at that. When she said it, it lifted some of the tension between them and he felt like their friendship was back to normal.
“I will try to retreat as swiftly as possible back to being yet another mess you manage, my lady,” he said with a little bow. “I would not wish to shock you by becoming wise.”
Her smile faltered. “You’ve always been wise, Cav. And I’ve never seen you as a mess I managed.” She shifted. “But I suppose now is as good a time as any to address the final matter that is troubling me.”
His stomach sank at the way she worried her hands before her. “You and me?” he said, wanting to be the one who said it first.
She nodded slowly. “What happened between us yesterday.”
“Regrets?”
“No,” she said, so swiftly and firmly that it caught him off guard. Pleased him, but caught him off guard.
“Good,” he said softly. He moved toward her a long step and saw her tremble in response. Her gaze flitted over him in one long sweep, and she blushed. “Then what do you want to talk to me about?”
“Cav, I don’t think it’s wise if we repeat it, as wonderful as it was.”
The words were like arrows and they pierced his heart. But he had to pretend they meant nothing. After all, he had expected them. He had been aware of his love and desire for years. But if she felt any of it, if there was any chance for them, this was all new to her. She would fight it. Fear it. Analyze it.
“Why is that?” he asked. “I ask because I have a vested interest in repeating it.”
Her eyes went wide. “You—you want to take me to bed again?”
He shrugged one shoulder, making his reaction nonchalant when it most definitely wasn’t. “I very much enjoyed it, Emily. I have thought of very little else since. If we both received pleasure, then how is it any different than when we play a hand of whist together or laugh over some joke or take a ride around your estate?”
She folded her arms. “It is very different and you of all people should know it.”
“Me of all people,” he asked, and now he didn’t have to fake confusion.
“You have had so many lovers,” she huffed.
He stared at her for a moment and had to fight the urge to laugh in her face. There was certainly no way to explain to her that his mad game of taking women to his bed had always been a way to forget the one woman he couldn’t have. Or to explain that it had been years…years…since he played that game. Since Andrew died and his main concern had become Emily. Always Emily. Forever Emily. Whatever front he put on to the world, to his friends, never extended beyond bluster anymore.
“I thought you said rakes had advantages,” he said. “Isn’t that why you invited so many of us to your matchmaking party?”
She sighed but didn’t rise to his bait. Instead, she moved forward and surprised him by taking his gloved hands in her own. She stared up into his face and he felt like she could see down to the very soul of him.
“You are my best friend,” she whispered. “I may have other friends or Andrew’s family, but when it comes to what is really important, you are all I have. So no matter how much I enjoyed what we did, I fear that if it ruins things between us, it will have too high a price for pleasure.”
He set his jaw. How much he wanted to confess his love to her right here and now in the freezing cold when she was still muddy and flustered and perfect in every way he could imagine. Only her resistance wouldn’t allow it. He knew what would happen then. She would panic, not ready for what he wanted, what he offered.
But if he eased her into it…if he took the passion she seemed ready to accept if only she could give herself permission…well, that was one way to get closer to her heart. A way to make her think about a future that could mean everything.
He lifted his hand away from hers and traced the fullness of her bottom lip with his thumb. She shivered at the action.
“Don’t you know you’re all I have, too?” he asked. “That I would never risk our friendship just for pleasure? I think we can have both.”
“Said just like a man,” she said, and she smiled up at him.
He returned the expression. “When I touch you, I see you react, Emily. I’m not a fool. Do you deny it?”
She shook her head after a long hesitation.
“Then why reject it?” he asked. “Why keep yourself from pleasure if we can promise not to let it spoil what we already have?”
She worried her lip gently and how he longed to lean down and nip it. He somehow maintained control and waited for her response.
“Are you talking about an affair?” she asked slowly. “Something limited?”
He frowned. Even if this was the door into her heart, the way he might find what he truly desired, her resistance still stung. Understanding it and reveling in it were two distinct things.
“If you’d like,” he croaked. “We could say it
only lasts during the party. And then see if we wanted it to be longer when we return to London.”
Having that boundary seemed to bleed the tension away from her entire being. “I suppose that is an intelligent way to do things, if we were to consider it,” she said slowly. “But I’d want a few…rules.”
“Rules,” he repeated, and had to laugh. “Of course you do. What are they, then?”
“My private parlor is a fine place for us to meet, but not in the master bedroom,” she said.
“I would not wish to bed you there, either. I would point out though, that the chamber you have provided for me has a very nice bed, versus wedging ourselves onto your settee, if you would prefer.”
“Oh, yes,” she said with a blush. “That does make sense. Your chamber then.”
“What else?”
“You cannot…distract me…when we’re not in the chamber. We’re only friends when we’re in my public halls, around other people. There are enough rumors about us circulating, I would not want to create more with some unintended touch or look.”
He nodded, but it was difficult. After all, he had built the last five years on stolen glances and grazing touch. She just hadn’t noticed it.
“I will agree to that.” He took her hand. “And I have a rule of my own.”
She looked down at their interlacing fingers and then back up to his face with a swallow. “What is that?”
“No guilt,” he said softly. “If you don’t want me to do something, you’ll tell me and I’ll stop. But what we do together, in the privacy of my chamber or any other, cannot make you toss and turn at night and tell yourself you’ve done something wrong.”
A flutter of a smile tilted her lips. “You do know me so well.”
“I can use that to your benefit,” he promised.
She let out another of those telling shivers, even as pink suffused her cheeks. She drew a few long breaths before she said, “Then…yes.”
“Yes?” he repeated, almost unsure he’d truly heard that. Could this be yet another dream?
“If we can agree that we don’t lose our friendship, that we limit this to our time here and the other rules we’ve laid out, I think we could still…connect as we did.”
Mismatched Under the Mistletoe Page 9
