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December 24, 1810
Christmas Eve Evening
Brook groaned as he pushed his plate away. “I must say, I didn’t think we would have eaten as well as we did while stranded at a posting inn, but the cook here has shown me how wrong I have been.”
Once more he and Hope had enjoyed a dinner in one of the private dining rooms, but the low buzz of conversation and laughter drifted to his ears. Obviously, festivities were beginning in the common room, and oddly enough, he wished to be a part of that.
Beyond that, unbeknownst to his lovely companion, he’d traded two books he’d tucked away in his trunk to the German princess for a set of dainty, lace-edged handkerchiefs he would give to Hope on Christmas to mark the occasion. It was the best he could do in the situation, but he suspected she would be pleased.
And it would gain him a soft smile, perhaps the one she reserved for him. Was she even aware she did that?
“It is good to have preconceptions challenged every once in a while,” she said with a grin as she laid her silverware across her empty plate. “The roast beef was excellent, I’ll agree.”
“Too stuffed for dancing?” Damn, but she was easily the most beautiful woman beneath this roof tonight, he’d wager, and in that cheerful gown of red silk, never would he pass another Christmas without thinking of her and how she looked just now with happiness twinkling in those doe-brown eyes and her kissable lips curved in a mischievous smile. Though she had donned a woolen shawl, not once did she seem self-conscious about the burn scarring on the inside of her right arm. He hoped a tiny piece of that confidence had come from his encouragement and assurances she was beautiful as she was.
“Of course not. It is something I have looked forward to for the past day.” One of her finely feathered eyebrows rose in challenge. She’d tucked the spring of holly he’d given her into her upswept hair. It rested just over her left ear, and it completed the most fetching picture he’d ever seen. “Are you?”
“Not by half.” Compared to her, the evening attire that was de rigueur for men of the ton in London at social events seemed slovenly and dull. Hope’s red gown and her easy temperament made tonight a special occasion indeed. Slowly, he stood and then offered her a hand. “Shall we adjourn and join our fellow travelers?”
“That would be lovely.” The moment she slipped her fingers into his palm, warmth tingled up his arm to his elbow. Once she gained her feet, she smiled up at him. “What would you be doing at home tonight if you weren’t stranded here?”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as he escorted her from the room. “Well, I would no doubt be cooling my heels in my aunt’s drawing room.” Had it not been for the snowstorm, he wouldn’t have come to know Hope on such a personal level. “I would have brought you to Yorkshire as I’d been tasked. We would have gathered in that drawing room where my aunt would have regaled me with a list of complaints about the house and the staff or told me all about her latest ailments or how humanity has failed her yet again.” His chest tightened and he drew her to a halt just inside the doorway that led into the common room. “You would have been relegated to the background, deferring to my aunt’s whims, only talking when she acknowledged you, and I would have been deprived of knowing the true woman behind the necessity of taking a position.”
“It’s interesting that since our paths crossed at a different moment, the outcome was much more rewarding than it might have been.” Yet the delicate tendons in her throat worked with a hard swallow. “I am glad I was given the opportunity to know you this way instead of what was to be our lot. You are nothing like I assumed.”
That didn’t stop the panic and feeling of dread from climbing his spine. Sooner or later, he would need to complete his original task of delivering her to his aunt. This deviation at the inn, no matter how lovely and inspiring, wouldn’t last. Once the roads cleared, they would no longer have cause to pretend at being married and would need to return to the people they’d always been meant to be.
Without ever meeting in such a close capacity again.
Truly, that was a dismal thought. “This has been... Er, what I mean to say is—”
“Come now, Mr. Gerard. Join us!” The magistrate’s hail interrupted what he would have said and scattered his thoughts. The older man gestured for him to enter the common room. “Some of the younger folks have indicated a wish for dancing. Give us a hand in moving the furniture? That is if you can tear yourself away from your wife’s side for a few minutes?”
Good natured laughter circled through the assembled company. Many of the occupants of the room were dressed in their best clothes. No doubt everyone wished to make use of the fine garb since they wouldn’t reach their Christmastide destinations. It was a comforting sight to see all these people from different walks of life and social structures come together in order to celebrate a common goal.
“I... uh...” In some confusion, he glanced at Hope, who watched him with amusement in her eyes, but in their depths was a trace of sadness. The same thing bedeviled him beneath the façade he wished to show to everyone else. When she nodded, he sighed. “Of course.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said in a low voice. “Go spend the time with your new friends. It’s good for you and will assist you in deepening relationships with your tenants and others under your responsibility.”
Yes, this world was quite different from the one in which he resided, and he needed that reminder. “Of course.” How had she become such a guiding force in a handful of days? It was something he’d missed since the death of his wife, and it was something he was learning about himself; he needed someone to advise and support him, to perhaps show him the best opportunities or choices he should make.
As soon as he joined the magistrate and the vicar, who were moving tables and chairs to one side of the room, the older man teased him.
“I must say, Mr. Gerard, your wife is Christmas personified. You are a lucky man, indeed.” The magistrate glanced in Hope’s direction and gave her a wave. When she waved back, he grinned. “Her presence here sure brightens up a difficult situation.”
“Yes, she certainly does.” Brook sent his gaze across the room where Hope had moved to speak with the young widow and her small boy. When she kneeled to talk to the child at his level, his heart squeezed, and unexpectedly a piece flew into her keeping. She wasn’t timid or retiring, and it didn’t seem that she knew a stranger. Once she’d gained confidence in herself, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do. “I am a fortunate man, as you said.”
Except, all of this was a ruse, a bit of fiction put forth to circumvent scandal, of which they’d indulged in anyway.
“By the by,” the vicar said, and Brook directed his attention to the man who was perhaps of an age with him. His black hair gleamed almost blue beneath the candle lights. “What is your livelihood, Mr. Gerard? I don’t believe anyone has ever mentioned it.”
Hell’s bells.
Why hadn’t he thought to flesh out the lie more thoroughly? “Er, I am in banking, actually.” That sounded like a tidy, respectable way to make a living. “Have always been fond of toting up columns of numbers and do a fair job of accounting.” His laugh sounded all too forced to his ears, but his companions didn’t appear as if they’d noticed. “Quite dull at times, I know, but it allows me to travel a bit with my wife.”
The magistrate nodded. He put several chairs in a row. “Best do it now before you start a family. Once little ones come, it is difficult enough to do anything let alone travel.”
Oh, dear God.
In his mind’s eye he saw himself walking about Hyde Park near the Serpentine with a toddler sitting on his shoulder while Hope strolled beside him, her belly swollen with child. Such fanciful musings that could never be, of course, yet the image persisted. The boy had brown hair the same as hers, but blue eyes like his, and no matter that Brook was busy with the banal task of rearranging tables and chairs in the common room of an inn, a longing for the life that daydream represented grew in his chest until he fairly gasped from it.
“Uh, I shall bear that in mind,” he finally replied to the nods and knowing glances of the other men.
With a laugh, the magistrate clapped a hand to Brook’s shoulder. “You needn’t look so shocked, friend. We all know that having a family is the next step after marriage.”
“Or even sometimes before those vows, in many cases,” the vicar interrupted, and the men laughed again. “Why do you think so many nuptial ceremonies are done in haste?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Much of my time is spent wedding couples who have anticipated things, let’s say.”
“No harm in that either,” the magistrate was quick to add. “Love is love, men. And once it comes for us, there is nothing we won’t do to keep it, protect it, hold it close.” The mustache on his upper lip quivered when he grinned. “Vicar Bowling, you should ask the innkeeper if he’ll bring out his flute or fiddle. I’m of a mood to dance with Mr. Gerard’s beautiful wife and perhaps remember my own.”
“Indeed, Mr. Pierce.” The vicar shot off across the clear expanse of floor with a wide grin.
In short order, the matronly housekeeper brought a bowl of rum punch into the room, and once the treat was shared, laughter and conversation flowed more freely. More logs were thrown onto the fire to create a cheerful, snapping blaze, while a few of the men deposited piles of evergreen boughs on the floor. The women present rooted through the inn’s cupboards and storerooms until they were able to procure ribbons and various shiny baubles with which to enhance the boughs. A few oranges studded with cloves complimented the sharp scent of the pine. Then the decorations were laid on the hearth and tacked above doorframes or set upon windowsills. A few more candles were added to further enhance the festive atmosphere.
A game of charades was then declared, and over the course of the next hour, Brook surprised himself by pantomiming and acting out various things for participants to guess at. Much laughter was shared, and time and time again he looked for Hope’s shining eyes or listened for her delighted laughter when he did something particularly worthwhile or amusing.
When it was her turn, he marveled at her skill, and the vicar seemed taken with her talents as well. After charades, a few rounds of Blindman’s Bluff were enjoyed by the party. Brook declined to participate, but when Hope accepted the blindfold and tried to guess the identity of a few participants, he laughed as heartily as the rest.
Finally, a call for dancing was sent up, and the company agreed. Country reels as well as jigs came in rapid fire. Brook was tugged into the fray to partner various women—including the German princess—who laughed and sang along with the best of them. Hope was a popular partner, of course, but she didn’t seem to mind, for she was always laughing, and her cheeks were pleasantly pink from the exertion.
Damn, but he was so proud of her! Hope had blossomed since the snowstorm stranded them all at The Brown Hare Inn. As he followed her progress about the floor while she partnered the magistrate in a particularly lively reel, warmth spread through his chest. Throughout the time here, she had treated everyone equally, made them feel as if they were the only ones in the room and she’d come specifically to see them. That alone had his respect, for that was what was needed from a duchess.
He stumbled and missed a step, forced to apologize to a young lady for stepping on her toes, but then immediately he was lost in his own musings once more. Did he want Hope for his next duchess? Was that even an option? After Deborah’s death, he promised himself he wouldn’t search out love again, for it hurt too much when that love ended, yet after meeting Hope and spending time with her—more than he would have courting her properly in London—he’d come to admire and respect the woman she was... the woman she was growing into with each passing day.
But was she cut out to become a duchess? They were from different worlds and classes. Though she’d been gently bred, had she the wherewithal to withstand scrutiny, gossip, and criticism from tattlemongers and rivals?
The answers weren’t immediately forthcoming, and only confusion kept him company.
Then the last set was declared a waltz. Immediately, the floor was filled with couples wishing to participate. Though Hope had a dizzying array of offers, Brook took her hand and gently tugged her away from her circle of admirers.
“Sorry, friends, you have all partnered her at least once this evening, but my wife has promised this dance to me.” He glanced about with a smile of pride, for she was his... at least for the next few days.
She uttered a soft snort. “That wasn’t well done of you.”
“How do you mean?” He guided her to an open spot on the floor.
“Staking a claim like that.”
“Well, I did want every man here to know you are mine.”
There was no other chance for further conversation, for the first notes of the fiddle had begun and he set them off into the dance. The steps when he partnered her were his favorite, for at each turn or twirl, her skirts brushed his legs. He wished it was a Continental style waltz instead of the more popular Vienna for there was better opportunity to hold a partner close, but this was as magical as anything he’d ever encountered.
One of the times when she came back into his arms, he dared to hold her closer than propriety demanded, and as they clasped hands, he peered into her eyes and whispered, “Can you even imagine what I want to do to you when we are alone again?”
Surprise jumped into her eyes, quickly followed by the same need currently burning through his blood. “Then we shouldn’t linger long tonight,” she said with a wink before the steps of the dance carried her away once more.
A growl jumped into his throat, for suddenly he didn’t want another man partnering her, even if it was expected within the set and for a few seconds. The older woman he was with currently snickered.
“It is refreshing to see a man so smitten with his wife these days.” She gave him a smile that showed a gap where a tooth used to be. “That’s how my man and I acted when we were your ages.”
At the last second, Brook nodded. “Did your feelings fade?” While he’d loved Deborah to the depths of his being, those feelings didn’t burn white hot or as intently as what he harbored for Hope.
“Perhaps, but life got in the way. Children came. Worries over money happened.” She shrugged as she circled him. “When you take your mate for granted, distance creeps in.”
“I will remember that. Thank you.”
Once more Hope returned to him, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief.
She laughed at him, much like Deborah used to. “Did you think you might have lost me?”
This night—knowing her over the course of their time at the inn—had changed his life. He needed to think, but right now he was enjoying a party for the first time in a very long while... all because of the woman in his arms. “Honestly? Yes.” As the waltz drew to a close, he lost another piece of his heart to her. How was that possible? And more to the point, how could he keep this feeling of perfection with him for longer than his tenure at the inn?
Dear Lord, had he taken leave of his senses? Perhaps not. It was the season of miracles, after all, yet it didn’t excuse the temporary insanity falling over him. He grinned at Hope, took her hand, and led her off to one side of the room while his mind spun with possibilities, none of which were worthy of his position in society.
Could he? Should he? The decision required much more contemplation.
At some point during the dancing, she’d managed to lose the sprig of holly. “What now?” Hope accepted another glass of punch from one of the footmen, and as she drank it, jealousy speared through his chest for the glass that touched those perfect pink lips.
Damn but he wanted her despite the promise he’d made to himself last night that he would keep her an innocent.
“Do you wish to remain here for the next couple of hours and usher in the midnight hour with the remainder of the party?” Please say no!
“Not particularly.” The light in her eyes promised wicked things. Desire slammed down his spine to lodge into his stones. “Haven’t we always retired early while we have been here? It wouldn’t seem strange to do so tonight.” She squeezed his fingers. “After all, we are a married couple, and it is expected we would take to our bed before everyone else.”
Would that those words were the truth. But he nodded. “I could read to you.” For he couldn’t very well announce in front of all these people he wanted nothing more than to take her to bed and spend the next few hours lost in the secrets of her body.
“That sounds like a lovely way to pass the time until we sleep.” Yet the smile she gave him brimmed with heat and suggestion enough to harden his length. “Do you wish for another drink before we go?”
“Perhaps I should.” For courage. He brought her hand to his lips. “I shall meet you upstairs in a twinkling.” And perhaps clarity would be granted to help sort the confusion from the purpose in his mind.
For he rather thought he was two sheets to the wind over her as it was.
