“We have a Yuletide log stashed away somewhere, I believe. In general, one of the stable lads should cut a new one every year, and we should have the one from last year. But I need to check on that, for I was with my parents at Midlington. As for what we should be putting in the Christmas boxes … To tell you the truth, I should have asked my mother. She would have known.”
“Or I—Teresa—who would have known as well.” Kitty bit her lip, her eyes teasing. “Mrs. Morley would have been of great use in the matter. Have we made a mistake?”
“No mistake,” Phineas said. “We are keeping servants who are respectful to their mistress, stewards who are not lazy—”
“And grooms who do not make indecent proposals,” Kitty finished for him.
Although they were alone, Phineas leaned over and murmured close to her ear, “The only indecent proposals you receive should be coming from your husband.”
He felt the warmth of Kitty's flush as soon as he said it and resisted the urge to press his lips on her cheek. She looked straight ahead as she murmured a reply. “Then I suppose it would not be an indecent proposal, but rather, a decent one.”
“If we are speaking of proposals—”
“Oh, had we not exhausted that subject?” Kitty observed innocently.
“If we are speaking of proposals,” Phineas continued as though she had not interrupted, “Surely one should soon be forthcoming?” A twinge of frustration made his voice lose its playful edge as he captured her gaze and held it. “I believe my gestures have given you full proof of my feelings.”
Kitty kept her steady gaze on him, and there was a beat of silence before she answered. “Surely my gestures have confirmed for you mine.”
Phineas reached for her hand on the table, attempting a smile. “But you know, my dear, it is not the gestures I need. It is your words. I made an oath.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I believe I have told you that very same thing. It is your words I need.”
“But I gave you those words at your brother’s house.” At Kitty’s look of confusion, Phineas explained. “I said that I had received much more than I’d bargained for with you as my wife.”
Kitty stared at him, unmoving, her expression nonplussed. “This … these were the words you thought to woo me with?”
Phineas leaned back in his chair, a finger of alarm tapping at his awareness. What more tenderness did she want than for him to declare his regard for her in such a public way? He could only nod in answer.
Kitty stood, and Phineas shot to his feet, as well. “I believe I am tired after our day’s travel,” she said, turning to the door.
“What is it, Kitty?” Phineas followed, then leapt ahead to open the door. He fell silent as they walked past a footman, who left his post to clear the dishes in the dining room. No words were spoken as they went up the stairs and to the door to her room.
The silence between them was weighted, and Phineas scrambled to think how he might coax Kitty to answer. Fortunately, since he hadn’t the faintest idea of where to begin, he did not have to pull the words out of her.
“I hope for deeper emotions in our marriage than”—Kitty grimaced—“a satisfactory bargain. And as for those words you wish to hear from me … they seem to get stuck in my throat. I think I’m afraid that you will never bring yourself to say the tender words I wish to hear. And if you don’t say them first—”
Phineas’s heart sank. He knew what it was to get words stuck in one’s throat. What if he gave her his heart, and committed himself to words of love, only to one day overhear her exclaim what a paltry excuse of a man he was?
“—I fear I will always be left wondering.” Kitty placed a hand on his arm and turned to go into her room.
“Wait!” The word was wrenched out of Phineas, though his pulse was beating in his throat from fear. He did not know if he could get the words out, but he could not let Kitty go on thinking he did not have deeper feelings for her.
She turned back expectantly, and he saw a gleam of hope come to her eyes. They sparkled in the light from the candle on the small table in the corridor as she moved back to where he stood.
“Do not imagine that because I am not a man of easy words … I do not harbor any feelings for you. In fact”—Phineas brought his hand up to caress her cheek, his courage faltering at the last minute—“I esteem you.” He leaned down and kissed her gently on her lips.
Kitty’s lips were soft and full, and tempting. When Phineas pulled away, her eyes were slightly unfocused, as though he had broken through her defences. But he had sworn an oath—and in all fairness, he had not given her what she wanted. “Good night, Kitty.”
27
The next morning, Kitty’s heart beat quickly at the thought of seeing Phineas again. The expectations on both sides had deepened, and it felt like the stakes had too. But when he stepped out of his room at the sound of her door closing, Phineas gave her a benign smile and asked how she had slept. As to that, Kitty had slept fitfully after that kiss, but it had not weakened her desire to hear words of love from Phineas. She put her hand in his arm as they walked downstairs, grateful that they could share this closeness at least.
After breakfast, he proposed they go riding together. This began a new habit of Kitty attending daily rides with her husband and accompanying him as he visited the estate. Each day, she delighted in wearing a new riding habit with the matching hat he’d bought her, just to see his reaction. His eyes lit with pleasure each time, and he found a new way to compliment her appearance.
Kitty was growing much more adept on horseback and could now jump into the saddle on her own, using a mounting block. Despite that, she allowed Phineas to assist her. She believed he liked holding her hand to help her up as much as she liked having it held.
The days were busy as they prepared the Christmas boxes for the servants and tenants, including ham, jellies that Mrs. Morley had had the foresight to set aside, some old clothing, sweets for the children, shortbreads that the cook had made up, and a coin or two. Cook had guided them on what to include, begging her pardon for being forward, as she was to have a box as well. The servants and tenants would all receive them the day after Christmas.
Each night, Phineas would accompany Kitty to her room after dinner where, “I esteem you” turned into “I admire you,” which turned into “I delight in you.” And each time his phrase was followed by a kiss that made her long to invite him in, if it weren’t for some missish impulse—which she could not explain to herself—that held her back.
“It is time to gather the decorations for Christmas,” Phineas announced on their fourth day after returning from Bath. They went on horseback, accompanied by the stable hand, who drove one of the wagons put on sleds to get over the few inches of snow that had fallen the night before. They filled the wagon with evergreen that would be used to decorate every window and door. Then they spent the rest of the day filling the corners of their house with touches of the outdoors and ribbons and felts Kitty had found stashed away behind the table linens. They laughed when a bough of evergreen fell off the bannister, landing on the helmet of the suit of armour underneath, causing it to appear as though he had plaits.
That night after dinner, Phineas placed his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. Her heart beat painfully.
“I cherish you.” Phineas kissed her again, more deeply than he had the other nights until Kitty’s heart sputtered like the candle on the small table in the corridor. He pulled away, and she swallowed over what felt like a lump of nerves.
Phineas turned, as he had done each night, and walked to his room. She opened her mouth to speak but did not know how to frame her request. The door to his room closed before she could think how.
The next day, Kitty woke up late, and her arms and legs were sore from all the decorating. She had insisted on helping Phineas and the servants create the evergreen paradise that now filled Giddenhall. The scent of greenery had trailed them, making Kitty nostalgic for something she had n
ever had. Christmas was celebrated to a small degree in Erasmus's house, but it was mainly for the sake of the children.
She rang for Sterling, who came carrying hot water. “Lord Hayworth sent me to wake you, my lady. He said to dress quickly for there are visitors here.”
Kitty had crossed to the dressing table, and she started out of her chair in alarm. “Visitors? And I have not even had my breakfast yet. Do you know who they are?”
“No, my lady.” Sterling poured the hot water into the basin and came forward to help Kitty remove her night shift. “He did no’ say. But he said to wear the fine gown.”
“What fine gown?” Kitty asked, leaning forward to scrub her face before rinsing it.
Sterling handed her the towel. “I dunno, my lady. Maybe he thought you would know.”
The nicest dress Kitty owned was the one she’d worn for her wedding. And maybe it was whimsical on her part, but there was something about having the house decorated for Christmas with all the greenery that inspired her to reach for that one. It would set off perfectly the green embroidery that was woven through the ivory bodice. Kitty smiled as a fanciful thought struck her. She would become part of the idyllic Christmas setting.
“This one,” she said, pulling it out and handing it to her maid.
“Yes, my lady.” Sterling shook the dress and stretched it across the bed. “As soon as we have you in the gown, I will dress your hair.”
Kitty put on her wedding dress, and Sterling pulled her hair into a series of pretty coils that looked stylish despite how quickly they were done. Kitty then put on the necklace that Phineas had bought her and pinched her cheeks to make them glow.
“Well, I believe this is as good as it's going to get, given the short period of time. How do I look?” It was a strange thing for Kitty to ask her maid, as they had not yet developed a warmer relationship than brisk efficiency on the part of the maid and occasional requests on the part of the mistress.
Sterling put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “You are a vision, my lady—if I may say so.”
Kitty flashed her a smile and hurried down the hallway. She almost expected Phineas to exit his room and join her, as he sometimes did when he heard her leave her room for breakfast. But he did not come. As she descended the stairs, she heard voices coming from the breakfast room.
Why would Phineas have shown guests into the breakfast room instead of the drawing room? It was most unusual, and Kitty did not feel prepared to meet anyone without having something in her stomach. She should have asked Sterling to bring her a tray to her room, even though it would only have delayed her further. But it was past time for that.
Kitty opened the door to the breakfast room, and four faces turned toward her. She looked from one to the other in astonishment.
Phineas stood and came to her side. “I knew you would understand which dress I meant,” he murmured.
Kitty dragged her gaze away from the guests and whispered, “Sterling said to wear my nicest gown, and although I have others nearly as fine, I chose this one on a whim.”
“No, I think it was instinct.” Phineas took Kitty by the hand and faced the crowd, saying in a louder voice, “You are dressed in your wedding gown, my lady, which is only natural when one attends one’s wedding breakfast.”
Teresa Bromley, seated on the far end of the table and wearing a broad smile, stood. “Robert, shall we not get to our feet?” She gave him a pointed look, and he lumbered to his feet and bowed to Kitty.
The other person in the room, besides the Bromleys and her husband, was Lucretia Dutton, who also stood and said with a teasing smile, “Best wishes for your happy day, my lady.”
Robert gestured to the coffee cups on the table. “Lord Hayworth must have decided it was too early to toast with wine, so I believe we will be toasting with coffee. Although”—he tipped the cup to show it was empty—“for a toast, it is preferable to have liquid in the vessel.”
“The wine is on its way,” Phineas said with a chuckle. “But feel free to toast with the coffee cups. The coffee is on its way as well.”
“To the newly married couple,” Robert called out.
Teresa and Lucretia lifted their empty coffee cups, laughing. “To the newly married couple.”
Kitty smiled and shook her head, touched by such a show of affection, as Phineas put his arm around her. He twisted to meet her gaze. “This was the wedding breakfast you never had, even though you might get a tiny bit more attention than you asked for.”
Teresa sat again. “I am afraid it cannot be avoided when you have friends crowding around to wish you well.”
Kitty turned a bemused expression on her husband. “How did you arrange it all? We don't even have a housekeeper. How did you manage to invite the Bromleys? They had no time to prepare.”
“So many questions.” Phineas kissed the tip of her nose. “Oh, it was a simple matter of speaking to Robert when we stopped at their house on the way to Giddenhall. I let the Bromleys know when we would be hosting the wedding breakfast to make sure they would be able to attend, since they had the farthest to travel. Then I sent a servant over with an invitation to Miss Dutton's house, and we were fortunate to be able to secure her presence, as well.
Kitty darted a glance around the rest of the room. “And no one else is coming? No … family?”
Phineas’s look was careful, tinged with apprehension. “No family. I thought you wanted something simple.”
Kitty breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. As much as I hope for our family relationships to grow in peace over the years, this is … perfect. It is just how I would want my wedding breakfast to be.”
Phineas gestured to the table. “Then, might I suggest you have a seat?” Two footmen began to bring out plates, piled high with hot rolls, pots of jelly, and fresh slabs of butter. Instead of setting them on the sideboard, they brought the plates directly to the table, as though it were a dinner. Afterward, they brought out eggs and ham, coffee and tea, and a pot of chocolate. And the final addition—the wedding cake, dense with dried fruit—was set with ceremony in the middle of the table as Bexley surveyed the procedure from the side of the room. Phineas poured coffee into Kitty’s cup, and with a few sips of coffee and a bite of her roll, she began to feel revived.
There was a knock on the door, and Bexley left to answer it, returning shortly to poke his head in the doorway. “There is a Mr. Carter to see you, my lord,”
Phineas got to his feet. “Bring him here.”
Carter entered and bowed before the guests assembled. “Good morning, my lord. My lady.” He then glanced at the other guests, his eyes lingering on Miss Dutton and his speech momentarily suspended. Kitty glanced from one to the other and bit back a smile. Lucretia was certainly at her most ravishing this morning with a blue gown that matched the color of her eyes.
Phineas indicated the other guests. “Carter, may I present you to our guests? These are the Bromleys—Mr. Robert Bromley and his wife, Lady Teresa. And this is Miss Dutton.”
“The honour is mine,” Carter said to Robert and Teresa. His eyes back on Lucretia, he added, “Enchanted.” She had risen to her feet and curtsied, and Kitty glimpsed a touch of pink on her cheeks. There was another pause, then Carter seemed to come to himself. “Well, I must be going. I'm happy to be able to carry such an important part of your wedding breakfast, but I must not detain you from your celebrations.”
“I would like you to stay.” Phineas came to Carter’s side, his gaze encompassing those assembled. “I asked Mr. Carter to bring the wine, but it was really just a pretext to get him here. It is not often that one wishes to invite one’s man of business to a wedding breakfast, but I would not have a wife—or at least not this wife—were it not for him.” Turning to Carter, he added, “You've been instrumental in bringing this wedding about, and you deserve to be part of the wedding celebrations.”
Carter hesitated, but after another glance at Lucretia, he demurred. There was only one chair left at the small ta
ble and it was next to her, so he took his seat, and they exchanged shy glances.
Cheerful conversation abounded while they ate, and Kitty eyed the growing friendliness between Mr. Carter and Lucretia with satisfaction. Lucretia did not appear to have much of a chance to meet eligible bachelors, considering her one London Season had not met with success, and her sisters had made no push to invite her back. Perhaps something might grow from this?
Although Phineas met Kitty’s smiles with ones of his own, he grew quiet over the meal. He appeared nervous, though she could not understand what he had to be nervous about. He had done an excellent job in bringing everyone together for their celebration.
Toward the end of the breakfast, Phineas got to his feet and ordered the footman to pour wine in everyone’s glasses. When that was done, he lifted his. “It was a bit early to bring out the wine before now,” he began, “but as we take the wedding cake, I wish to make a toast to my wife and to our friends—new and old. I must confess I had a very different view of marriage going into it than I do now. My objective was just to make a prudent match.”
Phineas reached down for Kitty's hand, and she set hers in his. He met her gaze, his glass raised. “What I did not expect was that I would be given a wife with more beauty and more quality than I could ever have dreamed of.”
He cleared his throat, and a patch of color lit his cheeks. “Lady Hayworth, you are worthy of a wedding breakfast at the Royal Pavilion, attended by everyone of consequence. Instead, you are given a wedding breakfast in a small estate in the middle of the countryside, attended by everyone of worth. And somehow I do not think you mind. On the contrary, the only thing you ask for is an affectionate husband and a happy home. I promise to do my best to make this a happy home. And I can assure you of my undying affection.”
Sounds of “Hear, hear!” filled the room, and robust applause broke out for such a small gathering. Phineas tipped his glass and Kitty raised hers, and their eyes met as they drank.
His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7) Page 24
