Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas (12 page)

“As you are no longer in the military, Lord Kirtland, you need not consider yourself responsible for the actions of those under your command. My father would hardly line you up before a firing squad for dereliction of duty, even if you were at fault,” she managed to reply. “So don’t worry. You will not s-suffer for my s-sins.” To her dismay, the last words were accompanied by a tremble of her lip and the spill of a tear.

“Oh, the deuce take it,” she cried in embarrassment, wiping at her cheek with an angry swipe of her sleeve. “Please leave! You have already made it clear I am naught but an onerous burden without another lecture to show how much you loathe my very presence in your house. Anne will help me, or I shall stay here on this sofa for the night. Indeed, I should be happy to crawl to the stable if it meant I could avoid another moment of your grim, disapproving stare!”

Noel’s expression, which had indeed been quite grim, changed to one of shocked surprise. “You think I disapprove of you—” he began.

“No—I think you simply despise me.” The tears were flowing more freely. “Not that I care at all what you think,” she added between watery sniffs.

He took a step closer. “Of course you don’t. And why should you, when apparently I have shown myself to be a tongue-tied ass.”

There was a shuffling pause while he cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I have little experience with Polite Society, having lived for the most part in the company of plain-speaking soldiers. Please forgive me if my manners appear rough and unpolished in comparison to what you are used to. I—I meant nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, you needn’t apologize,” murmured Emma, instantly regretting her outburst. No doubt he would now think her more childish than ever. “Rather it is I who should beg pardon for indulging in such a fit of vapors, as well as for becoming a veritable watering pot.” A few small drops still clung to her lashes. “ I-I am not usually prone to tears.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “I am sure you are not. In fact, you have shown more courage than many of my veteran troops, putting on a brave face with what I know must be a very painful injury.”

Ducking her head to hide the blush that his unexpected compliment brought to her cheeks, Emma stammered something unintelligible in return.

“But now I am sure you must be truly exhausted,” went on Noel. “Both from discomfort of your ankle and from being pressed into service as a nursemaid and a lowly laborer.” His expression twisted into one of wry regret. “I am sorry you did not land in more congenial company, Lady Emma. However, I hope you will at least put up with my grim face long enough that I might see you comfortably settled upstairs.”

This time when he bent forward, Emma made no move to sidle away. His arms slipped around her and lifted her from the sofa. The baron was right—his manners and bearing were indeed different from all the other gentlemen of her acquaintance. As her head settled against his shoulder, she realized she couldn’t begin to imagine one of the dandies of her set doffing his elegant coat to wrestle with a giggling child. Neither could she picture any of them deigning to mess with cloves and oranges in order to create a Christmas decoration for a mantel he had just cleaned with his own hands.

“I haven’t enjoyed anything as much as such labors—as you call them—in a long while,” she said softly. There was a shy hesitation. “Or such company.”

Noel gave a low chuckle, and she could feel the light tickle of his breath on her neck. “You need not go that far in doing the pretty, Lady Emma. While I, too, find Anne and Toby delightful to be around, I have no illusions about how pleasant my grim visage has been to you.”

His tone turned more serious. “As I have said, my skills are sadly lacking when it comes to playing a proper gentleman.”

He pulled her closer to his chest on starting up the stairs, and Emma was suddenly aware of the faint tang of orange and clove mixed with the masculine undertones of bay rum and leather. That, along with the heat emanating through the thin linen fabric of his shirt, made her feel a bit light-headed.

“ I-I. . . “ she stammered in some confusion. “That is, y-you. . .”

The baron appeared to take no notice of her stuttering.

“While you seem to have a knack for putting people at their ease,” he went on in a low voice. “For weeks I have been racking my brains for a way to bring a smile and some life to Anne’s face, yet you managed it so easily. My thanks—that was truly kind of you.”

“Oh, l hardly deserve much credit. No lady on earth can remain blue-deviled when talking of the latest fashions and fancy balls,” she jested, though his heartfelt praise had brought a lump to her throat.

“Ah, is that the secret?” His tone was as light as hers. “I shall keep it in mind, though I fear such topics will prove just as difficult as fine manners for a rough country farmer to master.”

They had reached the doorway of the guest room, and Noel paused to nudge the door open with his boot. It took only a stride or two to reach the narrow bed. He set her down, then quickly stepped back. “Anne will be in shortly,” he said, turning to light the candle on the small pine table. “Is there anything else you have need of?”

Emma hesitated. “Just a list of the tasks I should tackle tomorrow, so that I might continue to earn my keep.”

“That, at least, is something I can manage with no difficulty at all. They will be sent up with your water and crust of bread.” He allowed a momentary grin. “Good night, then, Lady Emma. You had better sleep well.”

“Good night, Lord Kirtland.”

* * *

N
oel pulled
the door shut behind him. Lud, had he really made such a fool of himself? His lips compressed as he recalled each and every one of his stilted words. She must truly think him a bumbling nodcock for his brusque manner and lack of polish.

Not that it mattered, he reminded himself. A Diamond of the First Water—and one of the most sought-after heiresses in all of London—was hardly going to take note of an impoverished country baron, no matter how charming or affable he might strive to be.

Especially one with a grim, disapproving visage.

His expression grew even fiercer, though the grimace of disapproval was directed at himself for entertaining, even for an instant, such a silly notion that she might find him. . . agreeable. Just because she had hinted that she had enjoyed the evening, and the company. . .

Don’t be an ass
, thought Noel.

Of course she had only meant Anne and Toby! And who could blame her, given his offensive behavior? Muttering an oath under his breath, he headed back downstairs. There was still a great deal to accomplish before Christmas Eve, and while he may not have any idea of how to go on in a drawing room, he could at least perform a host of practical skills. But at the moment, the fact that he knew how to loosen the bolt of a stove and concoct a polish for pine did not afford him nearly the same satisfaction as it had yesterday.

“
O
h
, Toby, do be careful!”

The boy just managed to avoid tangling his feet in the long garland of holly that Emma and Anne had just finished knotting together, but the little hop caused him to tumble headfirst into a basket of pine boughs. The two ladies began to giggle as he righted himself, a profusion of green needles clinging to his sable curls.

“Why, he looks the very picture of a Christmas imp,” remarked Emma as her laughter subsided.

“And is quite likely to wreak some mischief before the day is done,” said Anne with a smile. “Come, Toby. If you wish to be of help, you may hold the end of this holly rope while I arrange it over the dining room mantel.”

She turned to Emma and added in a lower voice, “I am sure that you would welcome a bit of peace and quiet, along with a respite from such mundane labors.”

Emma waved off her new friend’s tentative words. “Nonsense! If you will pass me the ribbon box and the pine boughs, I shall start on the garlands for over the windows while you are busy in the other room.”

“But the sap is quite sticky. And the needles can be terribly prickly.”

“Yes, and the berries from the holly can make a gooey mess.” Emma wiped a smudge of red from her nose and grinned. “No doubt I already look as gloriously disheveled as Toby, so I have no intention of missing out on the fun in order to avoid wreaking further havoc on my appearance.”

Anne looked a trifle unconvinced, but as Toby was already tugging on the twined leaves and threatening to undo all their hard work, she let out a small sigh. “Very well. However, I shall not be long.”

Once alone, Emma brushed an errant curl from her cheek and took a moment to survey the small parlor. Its transformation was nearly complete—the woodwork glowed with its fresh coat of fragrant wax, the mantel was festooned with greenery, the brass fender gleamed like a newly minted coin in the reflection of the roaring fire, and the spicy scent of oranges and cloves perfumed the air. Even the draperies had lost their coating of dust, though the baron must have risen at dawn to have managed the task.

All that was left to do was arrange the swags of pine boughs above the painted casements.

Her brow slowly furrowed as she watched the cheery flames dance up from the burning logs in the hearth. Strangely enough, though the room was hardly larger than the sewing room at Telford Manor, it seemed so much cheerier than the vast formal drawing room where she and her family were accustomed to celebrating Christmas.

Emma looked around once more, trying to puzzle out why. The decorations at the Manor were exquisitely tasteful—hothouse flowers spilled from cut-crystal vases, the greens were always wrapped with expensive ribbon and arranged in perfect symmetry around the windows, while all manner of exotic fruits filled the silver epergnes.

But somehow, in comparison with the lopsided paper stars cut by Toby, the simple stoneware crocks of pine and holly, and the slightly crooked rows of cloves stuck into the oranges, they seemed rather. . . spiritless. It was, she admitted, as if her home, though perfect in outward appearance, had grown hard and cold with the lack of laughter and sharing.

Lud, now she thought about it, when was the last time she and her father and brother had spent more than a fleeting moment with one another’s company over the past few months? The answer caused her frown to deepen. She had become so engrossed in her own concerns that she had not given a thought to. . . well, to a great many things, it seemed.

“Sorry,” said Noel gruffly, as Emma flinched at the sound of the logs dropping into the wooden box by the hearth. “But I wished to bring in another load in case it begins to snow.” He brushed some bits of bark from his sleeve. “I trust your ankle is not worse this morning?”

With a start, Emma realized she had forgotten all about her injury. “On the contrary, sir, I have not felt the slightest bit of discomfort.”

The comers of his mouth gave a slight twitch. “Perhaps if you give such a convincing reply to Dr. Dumberton, you might be able to persuade him to release you from confinement sooner than expected.”

Biting her lip, she forced herself to ignore the pinch of disappointment caused by his apparent wish to be rid of her. “Speaking of confinement,” she replied, “I was wondering whether you might allow more than one visit by my cousin today, as well as permission for him to bring a friend with him this afternoon.”

All trace of humor disappeared from the baron’s face, and his shoulders stiffened.

“Ah, I suppose it is not to be wondered at, that you have tired of the company of—”

“No!” she protested. “That is not what I meant at all. What I was thinking was, Charles has invited a friend down from Sussex. A widower, actually, with a daughter only a year or two younger than Toby. Mr. Harkness is a very nice gentleman, and it occurred to me that the two of them might provide pleasant company for Anne.”

She hesitated for a moment. “It would do her good to meet other people and see a spark of admiration in the eye of a gentleman other than her brother.”

Not, she added to herself, that she would
ever
see the light of such sentiment from Lord Kirtland.

Noel’s hand tightened on the log he was straightening. “I-I beg your pardon, Lady Emma,” he said after a moment or two. “It is a most thoughtful idea. If your cousin is agreeable to the plan, he and his friend are welcome to come by whenever they wish.”

Moving with great deliberateness, he finished arranging the rest of the wood in a neat order, then rose and left the room without a further word.

The pine needles suddenly felt like hedgehogs beneath her fingers. Was the baron always so prickly, or was it only her presence that brought out such behavior? Despite the occasional lowering of his spines, he seemed determined to treat her as naught but an unwelcome intruder. Blinking back the sting of tears, she began to fashion a festive bow for one of the garlands, even though her spirits had been sadly flattened.

* * *

T
he devil take it
!
Noel threw down the chisel and rubbed at his scraped fingers. It seemed he was all thumbs at everything he attempted this morning! Not only was the groove for the larder hinge now looking a bit crooked, but once again he had shown himself incapable of behaving with even a hint of gentlemanly civility.

Emma must think him an idiot.

Shoving aside the rest of his tools, he rose and stalked toward the kitchen door. Perhaps a spell outside chopping wood might help relieve some of his pent-up frustration—as well as cool the heat that was coursing through his veins every time he thought of the lovely young lady temporarily marooned under his roof.

It was one thing to ignore her when she seemed no more than a willful brat, but now that she had shown herself to be thoughtful and perceptive and kind to boot. . .

He swore again under his breath, reminding himself that to let his mind stray in such a direction was unwise.

Thwack.
The ax split the log neatly in two. No, it would be best to keep both his thoughts and his person well away from the young lady. Surely it should not be so difficult to avoid her—or at least feign indifference to her presence. After all, she would be gone in another day or two.

But he feared she would haunt his dreams for a good deal longer than that.

“. . .
a
nd don’t forget
, there are a number of things that I want you to bring along when you return with Edgar.”

Charles regarded his cousin with bemused amazement. It was not merely the sight of the pine needles sticking to her fingers or the faint smudge of red across her cheek or the scraps of cut ribbon and paper clinging to her elegant gown that had rendered him momentarily speechless. Rather it was the striking change in her demeanor since the accident.

“Have Larkins fetch down the box of lead soldiers from the attic, for I know Toby will be in alt at having his very own army to maneuver,” continued Emma. “And gather up the last few issues of
La Belle Assemblee
, for Anne will greatly enjoy seeing the very latest fashions from Town.”

She tapped at her chin. “Oh—and ask Mrs. Hawkins for a tin of her special wood polish, along with the recipe, for Lord Kirtland. . . “ Her voice faltered a little. “That is, Lord Kirtland no doubt has his own preferences, but perhaps he might find it useful.”

Was this the same headstrong young lady who had sat there only twenty-four hours ago beseeching him not to leave her in such a dreadful place?

Repressing a grin, Charles couldn’t help but wonder whether she had suffered a severe knock on the head as well as a nasty twist of her ankle. If so, he found himself hoping the effects would be a good deal more lasting than the damage to her leg. But he wisely forbore voicing such thoughts aloud.

Giving a slight cough, he merely nodded. “Is that all?”

“Actually it’s not.” She smiled. “Please have Cook make up a basket of her cakes and perhaps a pigeon pie and a crock of her stewed mushrooms. And why not include a bottle or two of Papa’s favorite claret! We are busy enough here without Anne or the housekeeper having to make supper.”

At this remark, Charles couldn’t resist an arch of his brow as he regarded her slightly disheveled state. “Hmm, yes. Busy, indeed.”

Emma gave a rueful grimace as she brushed a strand of hair off her forehead, then looked down at her grubby hands and the scraps clinging to the folds of her gown.

“I suppose I hardly look like the proper lady, but there is much to do to get this house ready for Christmas, and it was clear they could use an extra hand.”

“So, it does not appear as if you are suffering from the ennui or deprivation that you feared,” he murmured.

It was true. She had been so involved in helping the baron’s family that her thoughts had been far too occupied to dwell on her own imagined travails. Unsure of how to respond, Emma turned to avoid his inquiring gaze.

“In fact, you and Edgar will be able to help Lord Kirtland move the cupboard in the kitchen. I overheard Anne say that she wished for it to be shifted to the other side of the room, but it requires more than one man.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “And no doubt there are a number of other heavy tasks that might be done while you two are here.”

“I shall warn my friend that we are expected to provide more than just our scintillating presence.” Charles took up his hat and gloves. “Well, I had best take my leave now.” There was a slight pause as he tugged the soft York tan leather over his fingers. “How fortuitous for all involved that you landed here.”

Emma felt a small pinch in her chest. Though her cousin might not have noticed, it was quite evident to her that not everyone at Hawthorne House would agree with that sentiment.

* * *

N
oel sat
off to one side and stared into the crackling fire. A burble of laughter came from the ladies as Charles finished another humorous anecdote concerning the surreptitious addition of a bottle of brandy to the ratafia punch at Lady Atwater’s ball. He forced a smile as well, though he had not really been listening.

It was proving nigh on impossible to ignore Lady Emma. Throughout the afternoon, she had required his presence as one task after another had been drawn up to prepare for the evening visitors. Her animated banter and gay laughter had kept everyone in high spirits—including himself.

But perhaps tonight, if he kept his gaze averted from her mesmerizing beauty, he would not feel so much like a lowly moth being drawn toward a flame.

It was, of course, too late to keep his heart from being singed.

How ironic,
he thought with an inward grimace. The seasoned officer, who had come through countless battles unscathed by bullet or saber, had been brought to his knees by Cupid’s arrow. He was, however, determined to nurse his wound without becoming the object of amusement or pity.

No one would have reason to guess the true state of his feelings.

Another laugh from Anne caused his expression to soften for an instant. The undisguised change in her behavior was cause for silent celebration, no matter his own depressed spirits. Noel slanted a quick glance at her animated face and shy smile. She had clearly made the first tentative steps toward emerging from her shell, encouraged by the kind attentions of Emma and the two affable gentlemen.