All Hearts Come Home for Christmas, page 20
Lord Hawthorne’s forehead furrowed as he leaned forward in my direction. Concern flickered in the shadows of his face.
“There is one left in there.” Lord Rothschild’s voice jolted my eyes away from Lord Hawthorne’s. “I am going to get it. It must be the one with the prize.” He threw his hand into the bowl and fished around longer than
he should have. He grimaced as he shifted his hand in the bowl, feeling for the last raisin. He was spending too long in there.
Lord Hawthorne grabbed his forearm and pulled it out. “Don’t be a fool; I got the prize long ago.”
“What?” Lord Rothschild shook his hand and jumped up and down, blowing on his exposed skin. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“Because he wanted to keep playing the game as long as he possibly could.” Lady Rothschild shook her head at him. “You should know that by now.” She reached for her husband’s hand and inspected it. “Are you hurt?”
“No, just a few singed hairs. But Hawthorne, you devil, you should have told us. Another half-second in that bowl and I would have been burned.”
“Sorry, but I got it on the third raisin. Everyone had their hands in the bowl, and no one noticed.” He was still looking at me from the corner of his eye as he spoke. “There was no way I was going to stop the game then. Not when we were having so much fun.”
“Yes, well, it is fun, isn’t it?” I said. My breathing still hadn’t returned to normal. All that mattered to Lord Hawthorne was that he was having fun. It didn’t matter if he was hurting others in the process. It didn’t matter to him that being near him was the same as having a hand hovering over a bowl of burning brandy. I could dip my hand in, but it couldn’t stay. Not if I didn’t want to get burned. The only intelligent thing to do would be to leave the fire alone.
Lord Hawthorne was still looking at me strangely, but Lord and Lady Rothschild hadn’t noticed.
“Well, what will be your prize, then, Lord Hawthorne?” Lord Rothschild’s deep baritone interrupted our gaze.
Lord Hawthorne tore his eyes away from mine and looked down into the slowly dying fire still in the bowl. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was going to ask for a kiss.”
My heart stopped.
“A kiss from whom?” Lady Rothschild laughed as her eyes flashed in my direction.
“No,” I said before he could answer. Lord Hawthorne was fixated on the flames in the bowl. “It would violate our one rule.” No future husband of mine would want me kissing Lord Hawthorne. It was an excuse—the only excuse I could think of—but I prayed he wouldn’t see it that way. A kiss from Lord Hawthorne would leave me very badly burned indeed.
A muscle worked in Lord Hawthorne’s jaw. His shoulders drooped, and he placed both of his hands on the sideboard. “I’ll give the boon to Lord Rothschild. After all, I was less than honorable in the way I played. It is the least I could do.”
Lord Rothschild shrugged his shoulders. “I was going to ask for the same thing. Nearly, anyway.”
“Oh, Jim.” Lady Rothschild toyed with a curl that had escaped her chignon. “You can have a kiss anytime you want. Why would you use a boon on that?”
“Oh, vanity.” He leaned forward and kissed his wife heartily on the lips. “I was going to ask Miss Davenport to kiss dear Charles. It seemed like he needed it.”
No. No, this could not be happening. Lord Hawthorne wasn’t looking at me, thank the heavens. My face must have been white as a sheet. And to have Lord Rothschild kissing his wife so heartily while my heart was contracting so painfully . . . I needed out of this room. I needed out of the darkness and away from the eerie blue light still softly burning in the bowl.
Lady Rothschild softly swatted her husband’s shoulder. “You can’t make Miss Davenport kiss Charles. That would be completely inappropriate.”
“It is a game. The servants hang mistletoe all around the house this time of year and take good advantage of it, as have I.” He smiled at his wife, and if it weren’t so dark, I would think a blush had risen to her cheek. “A kiss in a game like this is completely acceptable. You can’t deny a boon. Society would forgive, but more importantly, Society would never know, for it is just the four of us here.”
“She won’t do it, Rothschild.” Lord Hawthorne was smiling, but it was an empty smile—the kind I had seen on others so often, but never on him. “She is right to refuse. Let’s move on from this subject. It is my boon to bestow, and if you don’t want it, I will give it to Miss Davenport. She may do what she wants with it.”
The servant was relighting candles, but the room didn’t seem to be growing any lighter. My vision was as dark as my future, a future that would never hold another game of snapdragon or a wild ride in Hyde Park. I should never have approached Lord Hawthorne. Mama was right. It was best to stay away from men who weren’t interested in marriage. This one was breaking my heart.
The laughter of the game was now forgotten, and an awkward silence filled the room instead. I had intruded on this family’s lighthearted game. I was Elizabeth Davenport. I knitted and cowered before Mama. I didn’t spend my evenings laughing and playing risqué games. I didn’t belong here. “If it is all right with you”—I inched a little farther from Lord Hawthorne; it was time I distanced myself from him—“my desire is to go home. I find I have grown tired.”
“Granted,” Lord Hawthorne said before the other two could protest. “I’ll have John ready your carriage and let Mother know.”
Less than a quarter of an hour later I was outside on my way to the carriage. Mama was already stepping up into it with help from the same servant who had been with Lord Hawthorne on his wood-gathering trip. Lord Hawthorne stood awkwardly on the side of the path, his smile still empty. I wanted to explain myself. But how could I let him know how he had touched my heart in just a few short weeks? A kiss, for him, would be amusement, and just one more game for his entertainment this evening. It would have been easy for him and searing for me.
“I am sorry not to have granted your boon.”
“Not as sorry as I am to have missed out on it,” he assured me. “But you are correct. I am sure a kiss, no matter how innocent, would upset that future husband of yours.”
His words made my mouth grow dry. When we had first spoken of a husband, I had had a picture in mind. A kind man—someone Mama would have introduced me to. And unexpectedly, we would have found something we liked in each other. I’d have been happy with him. That surprisingly decent man in my dreams had been enough at one point. Before I had met Lord Hawthorne. How long would it take before I felt that way again?
Chapter Six
Why did guarding one’s heart have to be so painful? Mama leaned forward in the carriage once again to pinch my cheeks. She had made certain I had dressed in my loveliest of gowns. It was white, as fashion dictated, but had small pink roses around the neckline. I had matching ribbon woven into my dark hair. But apparently my disposition was off, and that was still bothering her.
“Why are your cheeks so pale this evening, Elizabeth? There must be some way to get some color into them. It is the Christmas Eve ball, and everyone who is anyone will be there. You can’t go in there looking like a ghost.” Mama leaned forward and bumped Papa’s knee with her reticule. “Sir John, does it seem to you that Elizabeth is unwell?”
Papa opened his eyes and glanced around the carriage as if orienting himself to his surroundings. “Yes, m’dear,” he said slowly, rubbing his cheeks before leaning his head back to return to sleep.
“If it weren’t for the fact that Lord Fagerlund will be there tonight, I would have required that you stay home. Rumor has it his mother is getting desperate and he is about to give in and do what she says. I’ve arranged for you to have the first dance with him. Don’t ruin this, Elizabeth. Who knows when another chance like this could come around? I was worried your association with that no-good Lord Hawthorne would damage your chances with him, but Lord Fagerlund’s mother actually said it piqued his interest. He is looking forward to your dance together.”
He was the only one looking forward to it. The last thing I wanted was a dance with Lord Fagerlund. He was good-looking enough, despite his age. But his disdain for others did nothing for his character. And the fact that my ride in Hyde Park with Lord Hawthorne had piqued his interest made me even more wary of him. Nothing about this evening held any appeal to me. Lady Hawthorne hadn’t written; nor had Lady Rothschild. I was no longer even certain Lord Hawthorne would come to this infernal ball. He would most likely be happier celebrating at home. Christmas was tomorrow, and I was in no mood for it. Lord Hawthorne and his family would be playing games tomorrow night. Would he really invite his mother to play snapdragon? I couldn’t imagine it. But I wouldn’t ask him. After tonight, our interactions would be at an end.
Twenty minutes later I cursed myself for not defying Mama and refusing to dance with Lord Fagerlund. His smile twisted something deep inside my gut. It deepened each time he placed his hand at my waist, and all too often his eyes wandered to the neckline of my dress. It was the first dance of the evening, and I was already wishing to leave. There had been no sign of Lord Hawthorne. He most likely wouldn’t be coming. I hadn’t wanted to say goodbye to him, but not seeing him at all left a hole in my heart.
“You look particularly lovely this evening, Miss Davenport,” Lord Fagerlund said as we came together for a turn. “How have I not noticed that impish gleam in those emerald eyes before?” My hand was in his, and his thumb slid over the top of my hand in a completely unnecessary gesture. Only two weeks ago Lord Hawthorne had done something similar while we were practically alone in my own home, but somehow the two movements produced opposite reactions in me. Lord Hawthorne’s touch had convinced me to remain with him, while Lord Fagerlund’s induced only a desire to run.
My back was ramrod straight as I avoided his eyes. “I assure you I haven’t an impish gleam.”
One side of his mouth rose. “That isn’t what I’ve heard. Any young woman willing to ride alone with a gentleman in Hyde Park must have more sides to her than she shows in a ballroom.”
“His sister and brother-in-law were there. We weren’t alone,” I said. He tipped his head to one side and lifted a shoulder, as if to say he had heard differently. Indeed, we had been separated from them for most of the ride. If I had known that would attract the likes of Lord Fagerlund, I would have insisted we stay near Lord Hawthorne’s sister.
We broke apart, and my hand was grasped by a young man who looked as if he were barely out of university. I had been introduced to him at the beginning of the Season. Mr. Jenkins or Ekins—I couldn’t exactly recall, as we hadn’t spoken since. What a difference his soft, light touch was compared to Lord Fagerlund’s heavy-handed grabbing. He smiled quickly but didn’t speak a word before we finished our steps. I could feel Lord Fagerlund nearing even before he reached for my hand. How could Mama think this was the type of man I would consent to marry?
Lord Fagerlund leaned down to kiss my hand after the set, but I pulled it away with a firm “thank you” before his lips came too close. His chuckle followed me as I stormed away, not caring that I was without an escort as I crossed the ballroom. Never again would I dance with Lord Fagerlund. I would tell Mama as soon as I found her.
“Do you think Lord Fagerlund is going to be that husband you’ve been working so hard to be loyal to?” Lord Hawthorne’s voice was bitter.
I spun to see him just to my right. He must have just come from the crowd, or I would have seen him sooner. We were in one of the few open spaces in the ballroom, and I hoped no one had heard his comment. I was not used to seeing him with a frown on his face. It didn’t suit him.
I closed the distance between us, hoping no one would hear my reply, “Of course n—”
“I can promise he will not give you that same courtesy,” he continued before I could finish my answer. “That man hasn’t a loyal bone in his body, and it makes me ill to see his hands on you.”
“No.” I reached his side and could see that not only was he frowning, but he had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept well. “As I’ve told you before, it isn’t as though I have a man picked out. And if it makes you feel any better, having his hands on me makes me ill as well.”
“Then, why did you dance with him?”
“Mama arranged it,” I said.
His jaw clenched in disapproval. “Since when do you do things to please your mother?”
“Since birth, Lord Hawthorne.” I sighed. This was the end of our time together, and he might as well know the truth about who I was. “My whole life. And yes, it is suffocating and unbearable at times. You and I met in the one instance in which I was feeling brave and reckless, but that typically isn’t me. I am not usually driving carriages in Hyde Park at breakneck speed. I don’t walk up to unknown men and introduce myself. I sit at home and knit, and when I am bored with knitting, I embroider.” I took a deep breath and willed my eyes to stay dry. “I have practically reared my younger sister and would rather be in her nursery than anywhere else. That is who I am, Lord Hawthorne. I cannot live up to this wild, abandoned person I portrayed myself to be. Tomorrow is Christmas, and I will go back to doing whatever Mama asks, only I hope there will be fewer balls due to my behavior with you.”
“So you really have been using me.” His fist clenched, and his jaw tightened.
“I thought I made that clear from the beginning,” I said softly. What else could he have thought I was doing?
“You did. I just thought . . . well . . .” He cleared his throat and rubbed his face hard.
“What did you think?” I shouldn’t have asked. But I had to know.
He slid his hand down his cheeks, his fingers pulling at the rough, unshaved skin. “I thought perhaps you enjoyed spending time with me as much as I did with you.”
How did he know exactly how to break my heart?
“Of course I have enjoyed my time with you. Enjoyment should be your middle name.”
“I never did properly introduce myself. For all you know, it is my middle name.”
I couldn’t help the smile that pulled up the sides of my mouth. For the first time this evening, his did the same. “That is much better. A frown doesn’t suit you, Lord Hawthorne.”
“So you find me unattractive? Is that the problem?”
With his soft hair, intense eyes, and that crooked grin? Impossible. “I assure you that is not the problem,” I said, and his smile grew broader, deepening the lines on either side of his mouth in a way that made me want to reach out and touch them. “The truth is, I don’t know whom I will marry, but I would like to be a loyal wife to whomever he turns out to be. And I know you aren’t looking for a wife, so I need to be careful and abide by our rule when we are together.”
He narrowed one eye and placed a hand at his hip. Had I said too much? “So if you had thought I was interested in marrying you, you would have kissed me five nights ago? You wouldn’t have used the boon to leave?”
I sucked in a breath and hastily checked our surroundings. No one was within hearing distance. Lord Hawthorne seemed a lot less concerned. Of course.
My heart matched the beat of the dancer’s feet hitting the floor. I would have kissed him. I had thought of it a thousand times since his invitation. “I have no way to answer that.” I would have kissed him in front of his sister—and enjoyed it—if I had thought there was even a remote chance of us becoming husband and wife. My eyes flew to his lips, so often curved into a smile. I had almost kissed him, even assuming he had no interest in marrying me, which was why I had begged to leave.
A couple walked toward us. Our small empty space in the ballroom was about to be invaded. Lord Hawthorne took hold of my elbow. “Dance with me, Miss Davenport, before your ever-meddling mother forces you into some other man’s arms.” He looked earnest, as if his happiness hinged on my answer. “Christmas is tomorrow, and if you never want to see me again after tonight, I will stay away from you. But as for tonight, we still have our agreement, and I hope you will give me the honor of a
dance.”
At least the next dance was the reel. I wouldn’t have been able to handle the touching involved in the cotillion.
I nodded, and Lord Hawthorne held out his arm and escorted me to the center of the ballroom.
The first bouncing bars of the reel played, and a grin split Lord Hawthorne’s face. Even with several feet between us, his energy was contagious, as was everything else about him. His head bobbed from side to side in a most ridiculous manner, matching the beat being played, and for the first time, the reel felt hilarious. He leapt to his left in such a grandiose movement when the music started I almost missed my own steps. He pranced—there was no other word for it—nearer and nearer to me. I couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped my lips. Lord Hawthorne. What in the world was I going to do without him?
We passed each other, my dance steps much higher than usual, following the example of my partner. His hand grazed my arm as he passed, even though there was no need for it. Anyone watching, however, wouldn’t have noticed. They would have been fascinated by Lord Hawthorne’s silly faces and overexaggerated leaps. I noticed though. A jolt of energy passed from him to me, and my legs lifted even higher. This was not how a reel was supposed to be danced. It was high-energy, for certain, but never quite this high. Laughing, I passed another man to my left, who gave me a quizzical look. Yet, when I turned, I noticed his feet were farther from the ground than when I had first seen him.
The ladies that were now closest to Lord Hawthorne were undergoing a similar effect. Soon the whole dance floor would be laughing and leaping like Lord Hawthorne. Even the band seemed to catch on to what was happening, and the music’s tempo, already invigorating, sped up by
