A Christmas Kiss (6 page)

“We'll go on as usual. There's no need to announce anything until we get to know Miss Pennington better. We won't make any definite plans until after the new year, when all the guests have gone. That seems reasonable, doesn't it?”

“Quite reasonable.”

They left Clarissa's room and headed for the stairway. It would not do to be absent while the guests assembled. “At least we may thank our stars that she's such a fine, sensible, imposing girl. Quite lovely, in fact,” Clarissa remarked cheerfully.

“Not lovely,” Philip said with a sudden grin, “
redoubtable
.”

Six

Evalyn sighed with pleasure as Nancy, her one-day abigail, brushed her hair to a soft glow. Everything in the room glowed. There was a cheerful fire in the grate that lit the hangings of the large four-poster bed with a golden light. The paneling of the walls gleamed. The panes of the tall windows sparkled with reflected firelight. Evalyn had never slept in a room so large and beautiful.

Nancy seemed to read her mind. “Ain't this place fine, Miss Evalyn? Did ever y' see a prettier bedchamber?”

“Never. It's almost too lovely to be true. I keep thinking I'll wake up and find myself back at Carbery Hall.”

“Aye, me as well. Not at Carbery 'all, acourse, but back at the inn. Me uncle, 'e knows 'ow t' keep a girl 'oppin'. Bein' with ye in this place … well, it's like a dream! Even the room they give me downstairs is finer 'n the best room at 'ome. Ye should see the pitcher on me washstand, Miss Evalyn. Shinin' white it is, wi' blue flowers all over it. I'm almost afeared t' use it, it's so fine! An' the walls is white, an' there's blue curtains an' a blue spread on the bed. An' it's all fer me alone! Y' know, Miss Evalyn, it's the firs' time in me life I've a bedchamber all t' meself!”

“Perhaps you shouldn't become too attached to it, Nancy. After all, you were only hired to accompany me on the coach. You'll probably be sent home tomorrow,” Evalyn explained gently.

“I know, Miss Evalyn,” said the unquenchable Nancy, “but tonight it's all mine!”

Evalyn smiled at the young girl's unflagging good spirits. Her own were not so consistent. One glance at her worn blue poplin dress, more appropriate for the schoolroom than the dining room, was enough to dampen her joy in her surroundings.

“Do ye 'ave t' wear yer 'air pinned up so, Miss Evalyn?” Nancy asked. “I cin dress it real fine, jus' caught up a bit in the back, so, an' fallin' over yer shoulder like this. I'm real good at fixin' 'air. Real good.”

Evalyn let her try, and when, a little while later, she had been buttoned into her blue dress and had thrown her mother's Spanish shawl over her shoulders, the mirror told her she was quite presentable.

The guests had all gathered in the library when Evalyn entered. One glance around the room told her the mirror had been wrong. She looked hopelessly dowdy among the stylish ladies gathered there. Mrs. Covington was looking festive in a green dress of spotted silk. Young Marianne Covington was demurely lovely in a dress of pink sarcenet embroidered all over with white violets. Most breathtaking of all was Miss Trevelyan, whose elegant blond beauty was enhanced by a gown of gold-threaded gauze over mauve silk. Evalyn wanted to run away and hide, but she had learned early how to face an enemy even when hopelessly outnumbered. She put up her chin and advanced.

Lady Steele welcomed her with surprising warmth and insisted that she take a seat right in the center of the company. Accustomed to being kept on the fringes of social gatherings, Evalyn felt uncomfortable in a place of such conspicuous importance. She murmured something innocuous and sank back in her chair, hoping to divert attention from herself. But James Everard was grinning at her approvingly, and Lord Reginald bent over and whispered, “I thay, I do like your hair that way!”

And Lord Gyllford took a glass of wine from the butler and brought it over to her himself. She accepted the wine and looked up to thank him. There was a warm glow in his eyes. Could it be a sign of approval of her appearance? Perhaps her dress wasn't so dowdy after all.

Dinner was announced, and before she rose from her chair, Evalyn's arm was claimed by the host himself. As she crossed the room in that surprising position of honor, she noticed an expression of chagrin cross the face of the lovely Miss Trevelyan. Why she, and not Miss Trevelyan, had been singled out by Lord Gyllford was extremely puzzling.

Dinner at Gyllford Manor was always relaxed and leisurely, often lasting as long as two hours. The guests did not find this wearisome, for, as Mr. Covington was fond of relating, his sister, the fashionable Lady Lofting, had often given dinners lasting five hours. Dinner turned out to be a very merry meal, for Miss Trevelyan, finding herself seated at his lordship's left hand, soon recovered her good spirits and kept Philip's attention with a constant flow of lively conversation. Jamie deftly placed himself at the side of the pretty Marianne and, all through the meal, teased her about her new, grown-up appearance. Marianne fully enjoyed his attentions, giggling and blushing prettily and responding to his compliments with a darting glance from under trembling lashes or a whispered, “Oh, do you really think so?”

Since Philip was only occasionally permitted to turn away from Miss Trevelyan to converse with Evalyn, seated on his right, Evalyn found an opportunity to discuss with her other dinner partner, Lord Reginald, the problem of her abigail. “Forgive me for troubling you about the matter,” she said to him quietly, “but Nancy and I were wondering about the arrangements for her return.”

“Nancy? Nancy? I don't quite …?” Reggie mumbled, perplexed.

“The innkeeper's niece. The girl you hired to be my abigail. You only engaged her for the trip, you know, and she is expecting to return to the inn tomorrow.”

“Good heaventh, I'd forgotten all about her!” Reggie exclaimed.

“I beg your pardon,” Lord Gyllford interjected, leaning toward her, “but I couldn't help overhearing what you just said. You are speaking of your abigail, are you not? Has she given satisfactory service?”

Evalyn looked at Lord Gyllford in surprise. “Why, yes, of course. She is a delightful girl, but—”

“Then you should certainly keep her, my dear. Unless she is particularly needed at home just now. Is that the case?”

“No, I don't think she is needed at the inn … that is, I'm sure she could be spared … but it would be impossible for me to keep her with me, my lord.”

Lord Gyllford smiled. “You are quite a decided young woman, Miss Pennington. Tell me, why would it be so impossible?”

“Well, I … you see, Lord Reginald has been paying her wages, and I certainly couldn't ask him—”

“No, you certainly could not. Although I fail to understand why Lord Reginald had been required to do so.”

“Not required, my lord,” Reggie put in. “My privilege, I athure you! Jamie'th pocketh were a bit to let, you thee—”

“Jamie's pockets are always to let, it seems,” Lord Gyllford said drily. “I thank you, Reggie, and I will deem it
my
privilege if you will permit me to take the responsibility of the abigail off your hands. With your permission, I shall add her to our household staff.”

“Delighted,” Reggie agreed promptly.

“But sir, I cannot permit you to go to such expense on my behalf!” Evalyn objected vehemently.

“Miss Pennington,” Lord Gyllford said with mock severity, “as much as I admire decided young ladies, I cannot permit them to dictate to me the composition of my household staff. So we'll have no more discussion on this head, if you please.”

“But—”

“No buts. You are not eating, Miss Pennington. You must try a little of this ragout of veal and onions. Our cook has a way with ragouts. I think you will find it quite French.”

But Evalyn, although overwhelmed with gratitude at the unexpected kindness she was meeting at every turn, felt obliged to voice her objections. She could not accept such generosity. What business had a governess with an abigail? She drew a deep breath and looked up at her host, prepared to do battle. He was looking down at her, the expression on his face daring her to contradict him. She hesitated, but it was not his facial expression that deterred her. It was something far back in his eyes, an expression of such smiling warmth that her words were arrested in her throat. Never had she seen quite such a look in a man's eyes. Her own eyes wavered, and she looked down at her plate. He would have his way. There was no question about it, Lord Gyllford was quite the most disarming man she'd ever encountered.

The gentlemen were left lingering over their brandies, while the ladies repaired to the sitting room. Marianne restlessly wandered from the window to the fire and back again, impatient for Jamie's reappearance. Martha Covington took a seat near Evalyn, thanking her for her kindness to the twins and asking her advice on medication for an inflamed ear which was troubling one of them. Sally took the opportunity to quiz Clarissa about Miss Pennington's identity. “Who on earth is she?” Sally asked, her green eyes watching Evalyn carefully.

“A friend of Jamie's, as I've told you,” Clarissa answered.

“Yes, I know. But where did he find her?”

“I believe he met her at the Carberys'.”

“Come now, Clarissa, don't be secretive. Did I hear someone say that she was their governess?”

“I believe she was, yes.”

“Well, then, why on earth did he bring her here?”

“Sally, don't pry. It doesn't become you. You'll know all in good time. In the meantime, it's enough for you to know that she's here on a little holiday. From what I know of Harriet Carbery, the poor girl deserves one.”

“Very well, Clarissa, if that's all you'll tell me, I must be satisfied. But I must say, I don't see why you and Philip treat her as if she were a visiting duchess.”

Clarissa laughed. “Dear me, you sound as if your nose is quite out of joint! But console yourself. You'd be just as put out if we were entertaining a
real
duchess. You hate playing second fiddle.”

“That's right, I do. I'll say this for you, Clarissa Steele, you are frank to a fault.” Sally turned away, leaned back against the sofa, and looked across the room at Miss Pennington. “My dear Miss Pennington,” she purred, “do you play the piano?”

“Yes, a little. Would you like me to play?”

“Yes, I would. I imagine you are very accomplished. No, on second thought, I believe I'll do it myself. I have a lowering feeling that your playing will put us all in the shade, and, as Clarissa will tell you, I do not enjoy finding myself in anyone's shade.”

Sally sauntered over to the piano, carefully draped her gauze overdress over the stool so that it fell in soft folds to the floor, threw back her head, closed her eyes, and played feelingly. The selection she chose was elegiacally moody. Clarissa watched her for an amused moment and then crossed to Miss Pennington. “Don't be discomposed by Sally's remarks, my dear,” she said soothingly. “Sally likes to play the role of an
enfant terrible
. She doesn't really mean what she says.”

“I quite understand, Lady Steele, and have not taken the least offense,” Miss Pennington assured her. Clarissa was sure she detected a slight twinkle in Miss Pennington's eye. Evalyn leaned forward and whispered, “I think, Lady Steele, that if I put the candelabrum on the piano in front of Miss Trevelyan,
no one
will be able to put her in the shade.” And she rose and placed the candelabrum on the piano ledge, leaving the rest of the room in shimmering shadows. Clarissa shook her head and laughed silently. Jamie and Philip certainly had the right of it: Miss Pennington was a most redoubtable girl!

When the gentlemen came in, they found the beautiful Miss Trevelyan at the piano, deep in the mood of her music and bathed in candleglow that set her hair and the golden strands of her dress gleaming. They drifted to the piano, attracted like moths to the light, and applauded her performance with real enthusiasm. Sally laughed and bowed with pleasure, her petulance forgotten. Clarissa glanced at Miss Pennington. Their eyes met, and they grinned at each other.
How delightful she is
, Clarissa thought.
I think I've found a friend
.

Later, with the candles rearranged and the room restored to brightness, the guests were ready for tea and cakes. As Clarissa served and Evalyn passed round the sweets, Gervaise wandered to the window. “Do you think the weather will hold, Philip?” he asked. “I've set my heart on some shooting tomorrow.”

“I hope so, for your sake and mine,” Philip answered.

“What do you mean? Are you going to join us this time instead of locking yourself away in your study?”

“No, I don't mean that at all. I mean that if you, Edward, Reg and Jamie go out, I shall have a few hours of peace in which to do some work.”

“Work indeed! What on earth do you have to do that's so urgent?” Gervaise grumbled.

“Yes, Philip, do tell him,” Clarissa said encouragingly. “I've long been curious about what you do when you bury yourself in your study every afternoon.” She turned to Gervaise. “I suspect he only hides there to get away from us all.”

“That's unfair,” said Jamie loyally. “An estate of this size requires a great deal of work if it is to be managed well.”

“I'm glad to hear you say so, my boy,” Edward Covington said approvingly. “After all, you'll be doing it yourself one day.”

But Gervaise would not be put off. “Fiddle. I handle
my
affairs, too; and it doesn't take me nearly as long. He's up to something else, I'm sure.”

Philip smiled. “I only disappear into my study to make it seem that my life has more purpose than that of the rest of you.”

“Don't let him put you off with that bouncer,” Clarissa said knowingly. “He has some secret he's afraid to reveal.”