Miss Featherton's Christmas Prince (The Marriage Game Book 9) (23 page)

“It is one of my favorite parlors. We call it the morning room, but the original name was the Lady’s Room.”

The space was large enough for three game tables, two large sofas with low tables between them, and several chairs. Under the two banks of windows were cushioned window seats. Then he noticed there were no fireplaces. “I can see why. How is it heated?”

“Under the floor, hot water runs through pipes. I think my grandfather got the idea from something he saw in Rome.”

The children had gone over to a table already set with a game of fox and geese that appeared to have been interrupted.

He was still an outsider, and he needed to find his way into this family where love and caring were given freely. “What is the Pantomime?”

“
Twelfth Night
,” one of the girls answered.

“Oh, Da—Hawksworth, please forgive me. I completely forgot to introduce you to my brothers and sisters.” Meg wrinkled her nose. “Georgiana and Sarah.” The girls rose. “I would like to introduce you to Lord Hawksworth. Hawksworth, Miss Georgiana and Miss Sarah Featherton.”

He made his bow as the girls curtseyed. The older one giggled, and he understood why Meg thought she was not ready to come out.

Before Meg could go on to her brothers, the lads introduced themselves.

“Gideon Featherton, sir,” a young man of about eighteen said. He also had dark hair and resembled his father. “I’m pleased to meet you. I read your name in a number of dispatches.”

Damon shook the young man’s hand. “I am happy to meet you as well. There were many men who ought to have been mentioned more than I.”

“I’m Alan, sir.” The younger brother stuck his hand out. “I suppose by now you know we are all Feathertons.”

“Pleased to meet you, Alan.” Damon grinned. This then was the bookish one. “I had noticed a similarity in the names.”

Sarah poked her brother and said, “I think you and Meg should play Orsino and Viola. At least then Georgie will not have to kiss Gideon.”

Next to him Meg choked, which made it more difficult for Damon to keep from laughing. “I cannot imagine kissing one’s brother would be pleasant. I am happy to take the part as long as your sister agrees.”

She held her hand over her lips and nodded. “Of course. I absolutely agree that kissing one’s brother is not to be desired. Georgie, you have been rescued.”

“What about me?” Gideon asked in an injured tone. “As much as I like my sister, I don’t wish to kiss her.”

“You have been saved as well,” Damon assured the lad.

His stomach grumbled, and Meg glanced up at him. “Did you not stop for luncheon, or are you always hungry? I seem to remember you ate a great deal at the fair.”

He had not eaten since early this morning, when he finished the basket Millie had sent. Right now a whole roasted ox wouldn’t go amiss. Well, there was no point in roundaboutation. “I am famished.”

She tugged the bell-pull, and a footman appeared. “Please bring some sandwiches and tea.” After the servant left, she turned back to him. “There, that should take the edge off your hunger until dinner.” She glanced around the room as if just noticing something or someone was missing. “Where are my parents?”

He shrugged, but Gideon, who had just taken his turn in the game, replied, “They went with Grandmamma and the duchess down toward Papa’s study.”

Meg looked at Damon, her brows raised and drawn together.

The only question Damon had was whether that tête-à-tête would turn out well for him.

L
ucinda led the way to her son’s, formerly her husband’s, study. Since the house had been built, that was where the serious family discussions had always taken place.

As was proper, Featherton escorted Constance. Helena walked on her husband’s other side. He had not been as pleased as he could have been about poor Hawksworth’s appearance. Still, after Swindon and Tarlington, Lucinda could not blame her son for being overly protective of Meg. It had appeared as if her granddaughter had developed an unfortunate penchant for falling in love with curs and scoundrels. Until Hawksworth, that is. He was everything she could have wished for Meg. Lucinda was willing to admit that they might have given the couple too much time alone. However, Constance was correct. Hawksworth and Meg had done what was right and chosen to continue on to the abbey before their passions overcame them. That said, Lucinda was exceedingly pleased that they were passionate about each other.

The only thing for her to do now was to convince her son that Hawksworth was a worthy man and that it was safe for Meg to follow her heart with him.

Featherton led Constance to one of the chairs flanking the fireplace, taking his seat next to his wife on the small sofa facing the fireplace. Lucinda sat in the other chair. All quite
convenable
. Although why the French word rather than a suitable English word had formed in her mind, she could not say. Perhaps it was because most treaties were written in French, and this conversation must end in a treaty of sorts.

“I am going to assume that Hawksworth was at Lady Bellamny’s house party,” Featherton said, firing the first round.

“He was.” Lucinda always believed in not giving any more information than requested.

“Meg met him in Town,” Helena added. “He was very kind to her after she broke it off with
that man
.”

“Hawksworth is Almeria Bellamny’s godson,” Constance added.

Lucinda could tell by the way Constance focused on Featherton that she had decided to actively champion the boy. Not that a man in his early thirties could truly be called a boy, unless one was on the shady side of seventy.

Her son’s lips compressed, forming a thin line. “The sole fact of which makes him acceptable in your eyes?”

“Not at all,” Constance replied, unperturbed. “What makes him acceptable is that, other than a lamentable tendency toward levity, I have found nothing untoward in his doings. He was an excellent student, and an exceptional officer. He earned his last two promotions on his own merit. I will admit, his deciding to see if he could convince the Dandy set to follow him was not well done. However, if that is the worst thing a young man gets up to when he has been left at loose ends, I am willing to overlook it.”

Helena’s eyes began to sparkle. “Was that what it was? I did wonder. Although I must say, I adored the jeweled heels on his evening shoes. They reminded me of a pair my father had.”

“Oh yes.” Lucinda grinned. “Before we married, my husband had a pair embedded with rubies made to match a pair of mine. We were quite the thing when we were younger.”

“I am not an admirer of Somerset.” Featherton cut in on what was becoming a pleasant conversation.

Really, there were times when he was like a dog with a bone.

“Who is?” Constance’s tone was as dry as dust and just as haughty. “I think you will find yourself in accord with Hawksworth.”

“In any event”—Lucinda smiled at her son and daughter-in-law—“Meg has not yet made up her mind whether to marry him or not. To his credit, he has told her he will not marry a woman who does not love him, and she has yet to decide if she does. However, to my mind, I think she is very close. She and Hawksworth chose to come here so that he could come to know her family and be in a setting that was more comfortable for her.”

Helena nodded thoughtfully. “I must say, I am impressed that he cares enough about Meg that he would assist her to be in a position where she will not feel pressured to accept him.” She glanced at her husband. “I think we should allow this matter to take its own course.”

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable with allowing yet another man to court his daughter at the moment. “Very well. However, if any of us discover anything about him that makes the man ineligible, I shall ask him to leave.”

In other words, if he did not receive another letter from “a friend.” Lucinda let out a breath, careful not to show how happy she was about her son’s decision. There was no need to appear smug. “A prudent decision.”

“In the meantime, I shall write to my man of business and have him look into Hawksworth’s finances. One cannot be too careful.”

Over the past few months, Lucinda and Constance had used all their resources and had found nothing to Hawksworth’s discredit, other than the pink and white silk neck-cloths.

 

Hearing footsteps, Meg glanced at the door once again. Ever since her brother had said the four of them had disappeared into Papa’s study, she had focused on every noise in the corridor, waiting for them to appear. With every fiber of her being, she knew that her parents, grandmother, and the duchess were discussing Hawksworth. No matter if she loved him or not, she would not allow them to make him leave. Not at Christmas. Not when he was so in need of a family. If her father tried, she would convince Grandmamma and the duchess to take them elsewhere. Unlike the duke, Papa would not be so cruel.

During the time Meg had known Damon, she had never seen him so ill at ease as when he was standing off to the side, waiting to be invited in. She had seen the longing in his wonderful brown eyes for the closeness she and her family enjoyed, and it broke her heart that he had never truly known that type of love. Even now, sitting next to her, his jaw was tight and the muscle in his cheek twitched.

If she ever met the Duke of Somerset, she would have to exercise all the control and manners she had learned over the years, and force herself to bite her tongue to keep from telling him what she thought of his child-rearing methods. If anyone had been unjust to a son, it was he. It might be best if she never met the man. Yet, if she really was in love with Damon and married him, there would be no avoiding it.

Meg looked at the door again and, as if answering her plea, it opened. Her grandmother and the duchess entered, followed by her parents. Grandmamma glanced at Meg and grinned.

She covered Damon’s hand with hers, and the feeling that he might be her future seeped into her bones. It was almost as if she had known him forever. Was he what she had been searching for all along? If so, she had lost a great deal of time and spent a lot of tears over men who should not have mattered. Yet was she the right lady for him?

“Children,” her mother said, addressing the game table. “You should be dressing for dinner.”

The children left the game intact until the next time and began to file out of the room. Then Gideon said, “Meg and Lord Hawksworth are going to play Orsino and Viola.”

“Are they?” her father slanted a curious glance at them.

“They don’t mind kissing each other,” Alan added as he walked out of the door.

Unbidden, Meg’s face heated until she was sure she was bright red. “It is just that Gideon and Georgie did not wish to . . .” She stopped before she made a fool of herself.

“You should dress for dinner as well,” her mother said in a calm tone.

“I shall escort you up the stairs.” Damon rose and held his hand out to her.

She placed her fingers in his palm. “Thank you. I’ll ask one of the footmen to show you to your chambers.”

Once in the corridor, he whispered, “I take it that I passed?”

She took in the concern in his face. “Yes. I just wish I knew what was said.”

“As do I. No, on second thought, I do not want to know.” They had reached the landing, and he kissed her. “I am merely happy that they took pity on me.”

“You may not feel the same when we begin rehearsing for the play. The children are far ahead of us.”

“Ah, yes. Kissing.” He had a wicked glint in his eyes, and she knew he was thinking of the last time they had kissed. “At least we have practiced that part.”

She wanted to slide her arms over his shoulders, press her body to his, and touch her lips to his. Yet no matter how she—or they—felt, what had occurred at the inn could not be allowed to happen here. At least not until she was sure they should wed. She released his arm. “Meet me here in an hour.”

He raised her fingers, and she waited breathlessly for his warm, firm lips to touch her hand. He pressed his mouth lightly to each digit. She curled her fingers around his hand as desire swamped her, making her nipples hard and achy. How easy it would be to pull his head to hers and take what she wanted. Then the familiar sounds of her parents came from the hall below.

Damon lifted his head, and for a moment she thought he would take her in his arms, but instead he grinned ruefully. “I’ll be waiting.”

Sweeping him a curtsey, she strode to her chamber before she gave in to temptation. If only she knew that her attraction to him was not solely due to his kisses, or the way his arms felt around her, or his hands. Oh God, the way he touched her sent lovely shivers down to her toes.

He needed her to be sure. Damon was much more vulnerable than she would have thought, but for all that he was one of the strongest men she knew. He deserved a woman who would love only him for the rest of her life. But was she that woman? An image rose in Meg’s mind of him with other ladies, and she wanted to drag him away.

Perhaps she was worrying about it too much. If only her sister-in-law were here. Mary would help Meg sort out her feelings. She did not dare ask her mother again. Mama would assume that once more Meg didn’t know her own mind. And Grandmamma was actively promoting the match, so she would be no help.

“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Hendricks commented as Meg turned to have her gown untied.

That was exactly how she felt. “I am merely a little tired.”

“Not surprising, with all that’s been going on.”

She had to cease worrying about it. Something would happen. Fate would take control. It had to.

 

Damon checked his watch as he waited for Meg to appear from the other wing. He should not have been in such a rush to see her. He still had at least ten more minutes to wait. Unless she was early. That was why he was here. He wanted more time alone with her. Every minute apart from her felt like hours. He would not even consider that she was not falling in love. That way would lead to madness.

“Waiting for Meg?”

Damon wanted to groan. He had been so lost in his thoughts, he’d not even heard Lord Featherton approach. Damon stood a little straighter. He had never cared about impressing anyone before, but this man had the power to make him leave, and interfere with courting Meg. “Yes, sir.”

“She is not usually late.”

“I am early.” He resisted the urge to look at his watch again, or down the corridor where the family apartments were located.

“You may come with me. We can wait for the ladies and children in the drawing room.”

Hell. It wasn’t even a suggestion. He stood his ground. If it came to a choice of disappointing Meg or her father, she won. “I told her I would wait for her here.”

“I shall send her a message.” Lord Featherton’s countenance relaxed and a humorous glint appeared in his eyes. “Then she will know you did not desert your post.”

Fortunately, the decision was taken out of Damon’s hands. Meg strode out from the other corridor. Her gaze captured his, and he started forward. If her father ordered him from the house, he’d find a nearby inn.

As she held out her hands to him, her father coughed. “Your mother will be a few minutes longer.”

“I hope nothing is wrong,” Meg said.

“No, nothing like that.”

It was clear that her father had wanted to speak with him alone, and Damon was not particularly looking forward to the conversation. He had a feeling he would be made to feel six again. Yet if that was what it took to convince her father that he loved Meg and would never harm her, so be it.

The three of them went to the drawing room. Once Lord Featherton had poured them glasses of wine, and they had disposed themselves near the fireplace, he focused on Damon. “I understand you have been in need of an occupation recently.”

That was one way to put it. “Yes, sir. However, after discussing the matter with Miss Featherton, I believe I have found a way forward.”

“Indeed?” He raised his dark brows.

“I had been waiting for my father to find something for me to do, but she made me understand that it was up to me to take charge of my life . . .” He told her father about their discussion, but not where it took place. “As soon as I am able, I shall ask her grace for the name of a land agent. Better to do it now than wait. I will also begin the process of starting a charitable endeavor I am interested in.”

The man sipped his wine and said nothing for several moments. Meg glanced quickly at Damon, but did not break the silence.

Finally Lord Featherton nodded. “I approve of your plans. If you would like, I shall introduce you to some gentlemen who might be interested in supporting your charity.” A slight smile appeared on his lips. “After all, we should not leave good works solely to the ladies.”

What came next was an invitation for Damon to give his lordship a shortened version of his life. He was certain that if Meg had not been there, her father would have asked about his mistresses as well. They often knew a man better than his family, or knew more about his foibles. He assured his lordship that other than for entertainment, he did not gamble. Nor did he frequent the hells. By the time Lady Featherton entered the room, Damon knew what it was like to be thoroughly interrogated. The questions about women would necessarily be asked at a later time, when Lord Featherton was sure none of the ladies were around.