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

“Time you were awake, miss.” Her maid’s cheerful voice broke the silence.

Meg wanted to complain that the room was too cold to rise, yet the one hand outside of the covers was not at all chilly. The banked fire had probably been stoked hours ago. “I do not understand the rush.”

“The other ladies and some of the gentlemen are going into the village soon.”

“I thought that was not planned until this afternoon.” Silence greeted her statement. What time was it? She never slept past nine o’clock. She rose, casting a glance at the mantel clock.

“That cannot be correct. I was in bed by eleven o’clock, as you well know.”

“What I know, miss, is that you haven’t been sleeping well for weeks now. It was bound to catch up with you. I have your breakfast coming. Some of the ladies broke their fast in their chambers, so it won’t look strange that you did as well.” Hendricks threw the covers off Meg. “What will look odd is if you don’t go with them to the town. Unless you’re coming down with something. Are you?”

Meg wished she could claim a headache, but that would only draw attention to herself. “No. I am getting up.”

An hour later she was in the morning room where the others were gathering. In addition to Lord Hawksworth were Sir Randolph and Lady Culpepper, the Smithsons, Miss Riverton—a lively lady of about nineteen with brown curls—and her betrothed, Lord Darby. The latter was several years older than she, and had arrived late last night. He was clearly infatuated with her. His mother, Lady Darby, was also present, although she did not look as if she wanted to join their excursion.

Lady Darby’s face puckered as if she had eaten a lemon. “Are you sure a
village
”—she said the word as if it disgusted her—“fair will not be too dull?”

Lady Bellamny’s eyes narrowed. “You must not be aware, my lady, that Grantville is a market town. Each year before Christmas Day, there is a fair to help the town. This year it is to raise funds for a new roof on the church.”

“You see, Mother”—Lord Darby’s tone did not hide his irritation with her—“it is for a good cause.”

“You should be looking to the welfare of your betrothed,” she retorted. “I am sure Susan is fatigued from the travel.”

Lord Darby glanced at Miss Riverton, who appeared anything but tired. “My dear?”

“I am quite well and excited about the treat.” She turned to Lady Bellamny. “I was raised in London and have never attended a town fair. I am greatly looking forward to it.”

Lady Bellamny nodded her head approvingly. “I am sure you will have a wonderful time.” She addressed Lady Darby. “I am certain you will feel better with a rest.”

Knowing she had been dismissed, Lady Darby paled. “Yes, that is most likely it. Thank you.”

Again Meg wondered at someone such as Lady Darby being invited. Most likely she was only here to chaperone Miss Riverton.

Meg glanced around and did not see either Amanda or her mother. “How long until we depart?”

“Immediately,” Lady Bellamny answered.

“Are Mrs. Hiller and Miss Hiller not joining us?”

“They will meet us there,” Lady Bellamny said in a matter-of-fact tone before turning and ordering a nearby footman to have the coaches brought around.

Meg did not understand why Amanda and her mother were not coming with them, but before she could ask, she sensed Lord Hawksworth next to her. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Featherton.” The corners of his lips curled up as he inclined his head. “Allow me to escort you around the fair.” He held his arm out, not giving her a choice.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Placing his mouth next to her ear, he whispered, “I doubt that, but I can assure you it
will
be
my
pleasure.”

She had no answer for that piece of impudence, and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“Life is not always just, Miss Featherton,” he said as he led her to the hall. “However, if one prevails, one can conquer one’s demons.”

“Is that a lesson you learned during the war?” She tried to mask her interest, but the more time she spent around him, the more he intrigued her. She really must not allow that to happen. She was only suffering his attention to save Amanda.

Even in the bright light cast from the long mullioned windows his eyes were shaded. “One of many.”

“And are all your demons vanquished?”

“Many of them.” He was quiet for a moment. “Most of them. There are times when I dream of battle and wake up believing I am still in the fight. Yet those times are rare now.”

Despite her concerns about Lord Hawksworth, she was drawn to comfort him. “I would that you had not had them at all.”

He flashed her a brief grin. “I was fortunate, unlike many of my fellow soldiers.”

“My father is extremely active in helping the plight of those who fought in the war.”

“You are lucky to have a family that cares not only about you, but the world at large.”

Did that mean that his family did not?

Meg’s maid appeared with her outer clothing. After she had donned her bonnet and gloves, she was shocked to feel a tremor of pleasure snake down her spine as Hawksworth’s long, warm, and gloveless fingers brushed her neck as he gently placed her cloak on her shoulders. Meg sucked in a breath, but did not trust her voice to respond. How could she feel anything for him when she knew he was dangerous? He was not what she wanted. From now on, she would simply have to steel herself not to respond.

To make matters worse, when they got out to the carriages, Meg was put into the same one as Lord Hawksworth and the dratted man had to sit right next to her. Not that anything would happen. Lady Bellamny was with them, but she had commanded the whole of the forward-facing seat. Still, Meg didn’t want to feel his shoulder brushing the side of her cheek when he moved or his hard thigh as it touched her leg when the coach hit a rut, and she definitely did not want to hear his deep, seductive laughter as he responded to a quip Lady Bellamny made.

She turned her head, looking out the window and praying not to be affected by the rogue.

“Miss Featherton?” Lady Bellamny asked.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Are you feeling quite the thing?”

Once again she considered pleading a headache. Yet then she would be sent back to the house, and she so enjoyed country fairs that she did not wish to miss it merely because Hawksworth was so distracting. “I’m well. The countryside has caught my attention.” Not that anyone would believe that faradiddle. “I thought I saw a deer.”

“Possibly. Although I would rather you keep that information to yourself. I do not wish the gentlemen to begin organizing a hunt and interfering with my arrangements.” She shifted her black gaze to Lord Hawksworth. “I know you will not say a word.”

He placed his hand on his heart. “Far be it from me to excite the other gentlemen to blood sport.” Humor lurked in his voice. “If anyone is to provide venison for the table, it should be your gamekeeper, but I beg it not be the deer Miss Featherton saw.”

Meg almost rolled her eyes, but instead pursed her lips and said primly, “I am quite fond of venison. However, I would not wish to upset his lordship’s delicate sensibilities.”

He turned his head toward her, raising his brows. “My delicate . . . ?”

“Ha! She got the better of you there, my boy.” Lady Bellamny chuckled. “Serves you right for pretending to be what you are not.”

Meg had almost giggled, but her ladyship’s last statement sobered her. No matter how handsome and charming he was, Lord Hawksworth was not for her.

If fate was with her, she would see Lord Throughgood at the fair and be able to discuss her proposition with him.

Damon could have howled with frustration. For a brief moment, Miss Featherton had come out of her shell. Then, like a tortoise, she’d stuck her head back in again. What had happened?

He reviewed the short exchange. She had been on the verge of smiling when his godmother said that bit about being what he was not.

Hell and damnation. That was it. Swindon and Tarlington had shown her false faces and broken her heart. She must think he was following their lead. And, of course, Damon had been playing a game with Polite Society since reentering it. But his intent had never been to harm anyone, even if he had made some of the more ridiculous Dandies appear even more so. Earlier this past Season, his friend Nick Beresford had told Damon his pretense would come back to bite him, and it had. Just not in the way he thought it might.

He glanced at Miss Featherton, who was applying herself to the barren scenery. She probably had not seen a deer at all. He slid a look to his godmother. Her brows were raised, and her expression said as clearly as if she’d spoken,
Now you know what she is afraid of.

He pressed his lips tightly together, acknowledging her message.

At the first opportunity, Damon must show Miss Featherton his true self and pray she believed him.

The ride to the market town was mercifully short, and in what seemed like seconds they were pulling up in the yard of a tavern.

Once they had all alighted from their vehicles, Lady Bellamny announced, “I have reserved a parlor for anyone who is cold or in need of nourishment other than what the fair has to offer. We will meet back here at four. Dinner will be delayed by an hour.”

Damon appropriated Miss Featherton’s arm again. Not that there was anyone available around, except Smithson, who was looking none too happy to be with his wife, nor was the lady smiling.

The fair took up the entire market place, spreading down the main street through the town. Even in a town this large, many of the booths must be from outside peddlers.

He and Miss Featherton strolled around for a few minutes, before he stopped in front of a stall displaying an assortment of ribbons, lace, and other furbelows. “I promised my sisters presents, as I am missing Christmas with them. Would you help me select some appropriate gifts?”

Miss Featherton appeared to study the merchandise. “How many sisters do you have and what are their ages?”

“I have four. They are sixteen, twelve, nine, and five. All of them have their mother’s blond hair and blue eyes.”

She cut a swift glance at him, her brows drawn together. “Your mother died?”

“When I was seven. My father remarried several months later, but my step-mother has always made me feel like I was one of her children.”

“Do you have brothers as well?” She fingered a piece of lace. “This would make a lovely fichu or trim for a gown. I take it the older one will make her come out next Season.”

“I have twelve brothers. All but the first have been given Latin numbers as names. Eight through twelve are at home, but they would much rather I take them out than buy them things.”

“Twelve?” Her eyes rounded.

“My step-mother says my father has only to look at her and she begins to breed. Fortunately, she has an easy time birthing them.”

A shudder ran through Miss Featherton’s arm. “Still, that is a lot of children to provide for.”

“My father is committed only to the eldest and the girls. The others must make their own way. A few of them do not bother with their titles as it makes for an awkward situation with their employers.” He pointed out a brightly colored ribbon in a pinkish color. “What do you think of this?”

“Not with blond hair.” She selected two ribbons, one blue and the other bright red. “How do you like these? Your brothers’ decisions are very unusual.”

“The ribbons are perfect. They are. Fortunately, my father didn’t cut up stiff over it. What about something for my youngest sister?”

“What is she like?”

He paid for the purchases and took Miss Featherton’s arm again. “A minx. She fights my brothers for the tin soldiers and can climb a tree better than some of the boys.”

She led him to a booth with wooden swords and scabbards. “I would encourage her independence.”

He picked up one of the swords, testing it for weight. The varnished wood was as smooth as metal. The hilt was wrapped in leather. “I’ll take this one and a scabbard to go with it.”

“Very good choice, sir. Your son will enjoy it.” The trader beamed at Damon and Miss Featherton, who blushed charmingly. “I’ll wrap it up for you.”

“Don’t bother,” he said, counting out the coins, and wondering what his and Miss Featherton’s children would look like. His stomach rumbled. “Are you hungry?”

“A little. Would you like to go back to the inn?”

“Not particularly. The malingerers are probably there. Shall we see what we can find here?”

“Malingerers?” she asked, this time taking his arm instead of waiting for him to take hers. Was that progress?

“In the army, malingerers are those soldiers who attempt to avoid their duty by faking illness or injury. In this case I refer to those guests who fear a country fair beneath them or think they are too frail to be out in mildly chilly weather.”

“Hmm. It has warmed up quite a bit since yesterday, and it is hurtful for a landlord not to pay attention to his dependents. Most wealth is still derived from the land, after all. Is the army hard on malingerers?”

Damon was rapidly falling in love. “It is a hanging offense, but usually other methods are found to make them rethink their maladies before it gets to that point.”

“It is a shame civilians cannot use harsher measures.” Her tone was so low, he did not know if it was meant for him to hear.

“Although, Lady Bellamny’s punishment of Lady Darby was efficiently accomplished.”

“Ah yes. The threat of social annihilation can work wonders.”

“But, Miss Featherton, how could you deprive the physician and watering places of their income?”

“Yes, of course.” Her voice shook with laughter. “How horrible of me to forget the income they provide.”