Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 21
“Hah,” James said. “As bad as George. And I’m too old to be in the nursery.”
“Me too,” Edward said.
“Off you all go,” Sophie said before another argument started. “I’ll tidy up here. Mr. Lovelace, would you accompany them and make sure there are no more disputes?”
He ushered them to the door. Her relief was cut short when she saw him returning.
“Please, Mr. Lovelace. Go. You must be tired after your journey.”
He gathered up plates and mugs and she made herself shrug. “I suppose there’s no point in arguing with you.”
“None at all.” He brushed by her, sending an unexpected tingle through her. “And by the way, my compliments on your boys. They are certainly better-behaved than my brothers.”
“James and Edward have been very kind to my sons. I’m grateful.”
“You don’t find them too spirited?”
She thought of their green-gathering excursions and smiled. “Oh my, no. At home with family, children should be free to be spirited. Especially during the Yuletide.”
“Perhaps their grief is easing. Father’s death was hard on them.”
“Yes. My condolences. I do understand.”
He set down the cups and dishes. “Mother employs a scullery maid who will see to these. Come.”
Tucking her hand over his arm, he pulled her into his warmth and they climbed the dark narrow stairs, the woodsy scent of his soap muddling her mind.
“Mother confided she’s enjoying your visit. She likes a full nursery and I believe she’s scheming. Not just about you sponsoring Miss Cartwright. She mentioned the boys. What are your plans for them when you go up to London? James and Edward will return to school. Perhaps Arthur could join them, and Ben can stay in the nursery with little Mary.”
Send Arthur to school? The vicar had tutored him in Latin, and she herself was teaching both boys the other basics. But for the lack of funds, he was ready.
They climbed in silence to the second floor and paused on the landing. Dim light shone from a nearby lamp.
The thought of sending Arthur off depressed her. “At present, Arthur is being educated at home.”
“He’ll benefit from school,” Mr. Lovelace murmured. “Not just from the instruction, but also from the connections and friendships.”
She squeezed her eyes shut a moment and eased in a breath.
“I would miss him terribly, but I do agree, Mr. Lovelace. I…” Perhaps he might intervene with Fitz. “I haven’t yet had a chance to discuss schooling with your brother. As his mother, my decision-making is limited.” As well as my means to pay school fees.
He frowned. “But…Glanford died over a year ago.”
“Yes.”
As his gaze searched her face, she tried to tame the turmoil inside her, reminding herself of Fitz’s comment about Mr. Lovelace keeping her.
Warm hands enveloped her own and their grip firmed.
“Fitz hasn’t spoken to you at all?”
She shook her head.
“Hasn’t visited Arthur?”
“Not since Glanford’s funeral. And thus, I am here. And it’s late. I mean to rise early and shamelessly corner him over breakfast.”
His thumbs swept over the backs of her hands, sending unexpected heat roaring through her.
“You are cold.”
“Mr. Lovelace,” she said, feeling breathless. “It’s the middle of the night. I’m in the dark with a man, a man in his nightshirt and dressing gown, and he’s fondling my hands. I am anything but cold at this moment.”
His eyes lit, and the corners of his mouth quivered, and he bit back a grin. “My lady.” He laughed. “Come this way.” He tugged her a few steps and glanced up.
Her gaze followed his, and her heart turned cartwheels, pounding like the pistons of a steam engine. A treacherous kissing bough hung from the ceiling. This was a recent addition. She didn’t remember the girls hanging it.
Chapter Seven
“Oh drat,” she whispered. “Those girls.” She stepped back and raised one of her hands, still engulfed in his.
The grin creasing his face made her knees weak. Before she could topple, he pulled her into his arms, cupped the back of her head, and she found herself looking up into midnight blue eyes and a silent request for permission.
The spark of attraction roared to a full blaze, sucking the air from her lungs. Her chin moved up and down of its own volition.
Softness. Warmth. The kiss was tender, almost tentative. His arm came around her and her breasts met hard muscle. She gasped, and his tongue touched hers, coaxing, convincing, melting her all the way to the soles of her feet, and then back up again. She’d been kissed before, quite thoroughly, but it had never stirred her like this.
He tugged her closer and her conscience whispered. Too many small ears and eyes about.
It was only a kiss—a passionate, determined, one but…Oh. His hand slid down to her backside and she gasped again.
If Glanford had ever aroused feelings like this…
Her heart took a leap and then crashed. Lovelace meant to seduce her. He was seeing how far she would let him go. No one had ever… They’d only just met, and he thought she would…
Blasted overbearing coxcomb.
She was calling his bluff. If he took this too far, one healthy scream would bring someone running.
She went up on her toes and matched him with lips and tongue and hands, threading her fingers through thick hair and—
He pulled away and rested his chin on the top of her head. His banyan had loosened, and her cheek touched warm skin and firm muscles.
Heavens. He was not wearing a nightshirt. And his heart was racing like a full team of horses.
With a huff, he loosened his embrace and Sophie slipped out of his arms, her glazed look moving from desire to confusion to…anger?
Would she clout him? Considering her answering kiss, that would be unjust.
Grinning, he crossed his arms.
“I shall avoid this spot on the landing,” she said. “And don’t try that behavior with Miss Cartwright.”
“Miss Cartwright?” The girl was the furthest female from his mind. “Don’t worry. She’ll be like a sister to me. You, on the other hand…”
She leveled him with a heated gaze. “I, on the other hand, am not your sort.”
“My sort?”
“I’ve no interest in a liaison. Not now and not if or when I bring Charlotte—Miss Cartwright—to town.”
“You’ll be staying with my brother. I’m bound to visit there during the season.”
“And I am sure, you’ll find plenty of ladies to court.”
“What if I want to court you?”
“Don’t mock. I’m not seeking a lover.”
“What about a husband?”
“No. I have sons to guide and protect.”
His mother must have made the same argument with herself about keeping James and Edward home for the term. But both ladies would sooner or later have to let go of the leading strings.
“In a year or two, they’ll both be off and you’ll go on with your life, seeing them during the school holidays. And though you’re not perhaps in the first bloom of youth, you are still young enough, and quite beautiful, and—forgive my candor—gentlemen in need of heirs will note that you have produced two healthy sons.”
Astonishment flashed, and the pulse in her neck started up. “I won’t marry to serve as another nobleman’s brood…” She bit her lip, her chest rising and falling most becomingly. “You are a provoking man, Lovelace, but I appreciate your bluntness. Let me be equally blunt. If I could find the sort of good man who’d be a proper stepfather to my boys, I have little to offer. You heard what my son Ben said.”
“I did. A love match is not unheard of.”
“Are you mad? What sort of love match could I find?” She shook her head, and hurried off down the corridor, hips swaying under the too short dressing gown.
Me. You could find me.
He followed her to a door where a maid appeared and looked him over appraisingly before ushering the lady in.
When the door latch clicked, he rubbed his eyes. Perhaps, like Fitz, he was also losing his mind.
The next morning, George entered the breakfast room to find only his mother.
She glanced up from a letter, wished him a good morning and sent the footman for fresh toast.
“I see I am late,” he said. “Where is everyone?”
“Sophie took all the children out to gather more pine boughs and run off their exuberance. You can still catch up if you wish.”
“Tempting,” he said, surprised that he meant it. He turned away and busied himself filling a plate. Sophie’s kiss had piqued more than his curiosity. He’d been up half the night thinking about her. “I’d best have a chat with Fitz first.”
“Fitz left me a note. He’s off to Melton Mowbray.”
The tremor in her voice signaled anger. He seated himself next to her and unfolded the note she handed him. Fitz was leaving to join an impromptu hunting party and would return before the New Year.
Swallowing an oath, he accepted another letter and scanned the page. The candlemaker begged her ladyship’s pardon, but would greatly appreciate payment of a debt months in arrears.
“I’m so happy you’re home, my son.” The hand patting his seemed frail. “I wonder if you might run into the village for me later. Perhaps talk to this merchant and run another small errand. The jeweler has resized a ring for me.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“The girls are planning to take the carriage today and shop.”
“You’re not going?”
“No. I’ll send a maid and a footman.”
Was Lady Glanford also going? He shook off the thought. Mother’s concerns about Fitz came first.
And she must eat more. She was growing too thin.
When the footman returned, George heaped marmalade on toast and insisted she have some as well.
After their hunt for more greenery, Sophie left the younger children in the care of the nursery maids and went to tidy her hair. Not finding Fitz up yet, she’d agreed to the morning’s expedition. The air had been thick with the smell of snow, and the footman who’d come along to help with the Yule log predicted it would begin falling before nightfall.
She found Willa at work picking out the hem of a crimson gown. The maid stood and shook out the dress. “Beautiful, ain’t it?”
Sophie stripped off her gloves and lifted the lush silk. Seed pearls and blonde lace trimmed the neckline and hem, and the waistline and pouf sleeves were the latest in fashion.
“It’s Lady Loughton’s. Ordered last summer afore his lordship died. She said you must have it, as well as some day gowns she’s put aside for you. Here.” She pointed out a blue walking dress in a fine woolen cloth.
“I couldn’t possibly.”
“You’ve brought naught but two plain gowns, and those out of fashion. Better you look your best for Artie’s sake. Let all know Lady Glanford means business.”
She sighed. “All right. But don’t ruin the cloth. She’ll want those hems put back when we leave. Help me change out of these wet skirts.”
“And you’ll wear this blue wool today. ’Twill keep you warm and bring some blue to your eyes.” Willa bustled about unlacing her. “And how are these stays? Biting too much?”
“They’re fine.”
“Hmm. We’ll be having you looking your best. Bound to meet some of the neighbors in town today.”
“In town?”
“I hear those girls planned to go into town.”
“Oh yes, I did hear them mention it.” Sophie fingered the cross at her neck. “Can you go with them and run an errand for me?”
“Aye. But won’t you be going yerself?”
“I have to see Lord Loughton.”
Willa went silent as she settled the blue gown over her, straightening it, and then sighing. “Lord Loughton’s gone off this morning. Won’t be back tonight.”
“What?” Heat flooded her face. “G-gone off?”
“Off to Thurgood Manor near Melton Mowbray. Had it from the groom, Marty. Come and sit and I’ll dress your hair.” Willa held the dressing table chair for her. “Left a note for his mother. She was fit to be tied, they say, but that Mr. George Lovelace will have all in hand soon. Mayhap you should ask him for help?”
She dropped her gaze from the rising color reflected back at her in the mirror. Help from George Lovelace might come at a higher price than a few kisses under the mistletoe.
Why did he stir her so?
“There.” Willa patted her shoulder.
Sophie let out a breath. Willa had coaxed some of her thick mop into face-framing curls.
“Been wanting to do this,” the maid said. “You look like yourself again. You’ll catch some gentleman’s—”
“Willa. You know I’ve no plans to marry.” Once had been enough.
Sophie unhooked the chain at her neck and gazed again at her grandmother’s cross. She’d told Glanford the metal was not real gold, that the garnets were just bits of glass, that it was merely a cheap family heirloom, dear for its memories. Only the last bit was true, but he’d believed her, and this piece of jewelry hadn’t gone to pay creditors.
It will one day be yours and you may pass it to your own daughter, her mother had said.
Instead she’d had sons, and she was grateful for both of them. And they must have a Christmas.
“We may as well both go into town,” she said.
The High Street was crowded with shoppers, and George greeted neighbors, thankful he hadn’t spotted the ladies from Loughton Manor. He hurried past the drapers, where they might be thumbing through ribbons and bolts of cloth, and entered the jewelers.
Hawkins stood behind the counter frowning down at a short woman in a dark cape.
George raised a hand in greeting and studied a display of gold chains. With no other customers in the shop, he wouldn’t have long to wait.
“I’m asking where you got it,” Hawkins said.
“As I said,” came the pleasant reply, “the cross is my lady’s. I’m here at her behest to sell it. I’ve not stolen it.”
“Perhaps you could fetch your lady to vouch for you.”
“She’s asked me to do this for her.”
“I don’t know you. Are you a visitor to these parts?”
The woman huffed out a breath. “I’m here for the sake of my lady’s privacy.”
George stepped closer.
“But, if you must know, we are guests—”
The floor creaked under him. The woman cast a glance back, and her mouth dropped open.
He barely managed to keep his from doing the same. He’d seen her in the doorway of Lady Glanford’s bedchamber.
She bobbed a curtsy and reached for the item. Hawkins’ hand came down, covering it, evoking a sputter of protest.
“Good day to you both.” George joined them. “May I have a look, Hawkins?”
Hawkins lifted his hand revealing a gold cross set with garnets.
Color rose in the woman’s wrinkled cheeks. Plump and older, she looked to be the sort of lady’s maid who’d started as nurse to the woman she served.
“It’s not stolen, Mr. Lovelace.”
After an assessing look, more for Hawkins’ sake than his own, he nodded. “I believe you.” He turned the cross over. The initials inscribed on the back were not Lady Glanford’s. Surely this was a family piece, and if it was the only jewelry she’d brought with her to Loughton Manor, it must be dear to her. “But, why is she selling it?”
He didn’t need to ask, but he was curious to see the maid’s response. One learned much about a man or woman from observing their servants.
She looked away, took a breath, and seemed to steel herself. “’Tis…’tis a private matter, sir. Meaning no disrespect.”
“Of course.” They hadn’t a feather to fly with. “None taken. Hawkins, I’ll vouch for this good woman. Carry on and I’ll return later.”
He stood in the haberdashery across the street, watching and thinking about the maid’s quiet dignity, so like Sophie’s. Was she the one who’d brought Sophie the news of her father’s death?
All the shame of that day came back over him. Not all men were beastly to their wives. Father hadn’t been, and neither were his brothers, not even Fitz. He ought to have spoken up more that day.
When Lady Glanford’s maid exited the jewelers, he crossed the street and entered the shop.
After completing his mother’s missions, he easily tracked the footman loading packages onto the family carriage. He pointed George to a shop that sold tea and sweets.
Cassandra beckoned him to a table she shared with Nancy, Miss Cartwright and Lady Glanford. “We’ve finished our cakes, George, but we’ll sit with you while you have yours. Will you ride back with us in the carriage?”
“There’s no room for me with all your packages, and it’s a bracing fine day for a walk. And thank you, but I will pass on cakes.”
“He’s going to the inn to drink ale,” Nancy said. “You never spend time with us anymore, George.” She sent Cassandra a sly look. “And we so wanted you to become acquainted with Charlotte.”
Miss Cartwright’s cheeks reddened like a late summer peach.
Lady Glanford stood. “Take my seat, Mr. Lovelace. I’ll go now and see to the carriage.”
Her maid appeared holding her cloak. Neither would look at him.
“The carriage is just outside, and I believe you should all climb in now, else Mother will be wondering if you’ve run off somewhere.”
“Your brother is right,” Lady Glanford said, urging them along.
“But you haven’t shopped, Lady Glanford.” Nancy said. “You haven’t bought any gifts.”
“And how could she with you along,” George said. “You can’t keep a secret to save yourself.”
At the carriage, George handed the younger girls in while Lady Glanford held back.
