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December 27, 1819
G
raham hummed snatches of a popular waltz as he poked about in the attics of Ivy Castle with his brother, Griffin.
The evening meal had concluded a half hour ago, which had capped off a frustrating day wherein he wasn’t given the opportunity to be alone with Arabella. His sister Letty had taken her as well as the children outside, for it had begun snowing again. After that, Graham’s mother had sequestered her time for a couple of hours discussing only God knew what. Then, when Arabella had drifted into the drawing room, he thought he might have been fortunate, but soon after his dratted brothers had arrived and regaled her with tales from their childhood, most of which were the ones that didn’t reflect kindly upon him. Dinner had followed, and his father had escorted her in. She’d sat next to him and conversed throughout the meal, leaving Graham to speak to either his sister or Abigail—the sister of Letty’s betrothed.
He hadn’t put much effort into charming either one of them, for the whole of his attention had been focused on Arabella as he’d attempted to gleam more tidbits about her life. And that was when he’d overheard she liked to play the harp as well as the pianoforte, for it soothed her and the notes were able to sweep her away.
“Tell me again why we’re up here in the mess of the attics,” Griffin groused as he stumbled over yet another pile of clothing someone left outside of a gaping open trunk.
“I’m trying to find a harp. Didn’t Mother, at one time during our childhood, play the instrument? Back in the days when we utilized the music room often?” Graham slipped between sheet-covered chairs and old portraits leaning against each other.
“I believe so. She and Grandmother used to always adore giving musicale evenings whenever we were in residence at Ivy Castle.” Griffin nudged his way through a hanging collection of old willow baskets. “But why do you want it?”
“Because Arabella, er, Miss Holly used to play the harp before her bounder of a father sold it for coin to help pay gaming debts.” He resisted the urge to tug on his suddenly too-tight cravat while his brother stared at him in astonishment.
“Let me see if I understand you.” Griffin left off from hunting through forgotten things to follow Graham toward a back area. “A stranger’s coach breaks an axle, which necessitates her walking through the mud and the rain to Ivy Castle. Once she arrives, she brings with her a story straight out of Drury Lane’s stages, you and Father more or less defend her honor, and then at dinner the next day, you’ve gleaned that she is musically inclined and therefore come up immediately to the attics for the express purpose of seeking out a harp, and an out of tune one at that?”
“Basically, yes.” Graham shrugged and tried to affect the nonchalant expression he’d perfected while in London. “Why is that so strange? I merely thought to make her as comfortable during her stay here as possible.”
For the love of God, don’t ask me any more questions!
“Ah.”
He could almost feel his oldest brother’s gaze burn into the back of his neck. “What does that mean?”
“It means nothing.” Griffin tugged on a sheet and then both men exclaimed at the sight of the harp their mother used to play. Some of the gilt painting had chipped away or faded from the trunk, but it seemed in fine condition otherwise. “You seem uncommonly gripped with the need to make this woman happy, though.” He rubbed a hand along his chin, leaving a streak of dust behind. “I wonder why that is.”
“I’m doing something nice. Perhaps you should leave it at that.” Graham tossed back the remainder of the sheet. When he plucked at a few of the strings, the ethereal notes that drifted through the space were reminiscent of his childhood. “It’s not badly out of tune. I’m certain she can do whatever it is that musicians do to make it right.”
“Oh, certainly.”
“Help me carry this downstairs. As much as I’d like to re-open the music room, that will take too much effort, so we’ll use the drawing room instead.”
“Hold.” Griffin held up a hand. “I’m trying to puzzle out why you wish to do this.”
“I told you.”
“No, you told me what you thought I’d want to hear.” He found Graham’s gaze and held it. For a few long seconds, he searched his face and his dark eyebrows inched upward. “You’re growing fond of the woman, and in such a short period of time.”
Graham chose not to answer, but he was grateful for the dim light in the attics as a heated flush rose up his neck.
Griffin snickered. “Could it be at long last my roguish little brother has found himself captivated by a female for more than just shallow intents?”
“I couldn’t say.” Which was an honest enough answer, for he couldn’t make sense of his confusing feelings regarding Arabella right now.
“Fair enough, but don’t let Mother and Father see how this new arrival has affected you, for they’ll get it into their heads to matchmake.” His grin was overly wide. “I’m convinced Papa enjoys that too much, and though I can’t prove it, I suspect he’s had a hand in all of our matches during this Christmastide season.”
“I thought much the same thing.” Then he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. As long as Miss Holly is happy and won’t be forced to marry that aged blackheart Lord Breckenridge.” He hefted one side of the harp. “Now, be a good man and help me with this.” At least it would shut his brother up for a bit. No sense in betraying his growing and alarming feelings for Arabella prematurely.
“Yes, that match is rather ill-fated and unfortunate.” But Griffin picked up the other end of the harp without further comment.
Thank God.
A
s Graham suspected, Arabella was quite grateful to make use of the harp, and even now, as the angelic notes from the instrument still echoed softly in the drawing room where she’d given an impromptu performance for the assembled guests of the house party, he couldn’t deny the insistent tug to his heart. His female relatives and soon-to-be relatives gathered around her and praised her skill while some of the men arranged chairs into a small circle in preparation to play a few rounds of Blind Man’s Bluff.
All too soon, Arabella was chosen as the one who’d wear the blindfold for the first round. Graham was quick to provide his cravat, and once everyone had taken their places in chairs, the game was off.
“I’ll admit, I haven’t played this game since I was a young girl.” The soft laugh she uttered tightened Graham’s chest. Was there ever a more beautiful sight than she with his cravat tied about her head and her blonde hair gleaming in the candlelight? She outstretched her arms as she went first to the right side of the circle. Then, after a pause, she took a few steps toward the left. “If I’m to guess the identity of someone, I’d best start now.”
Graham held his breath as she drifted closer. In fact, he forgot how to properly breathe altogether when she briefly touched a hand to his knee. It was much like being hit by lightning for all the heated sensation that shot up that limb.
“My apologies,” she said in a whisper, much to the general amusement of the assembled company. “There is no other way since no one is allowed to talk.”
He glanced around the circle, aware that his siblings watched every movement between them. With a hard swallow, he sat immobile while Arabella leaned in close to his side. The second she rested a hand upon his shoulder, Graham nearly launched from his chair.
“Oh, this person is easy to guess.” Amusement threaded through her voice as she moved her hand to his hair, and he died a thousand deaths while she lightly combed her fingers through the strands. “No one has such thick, luxuriant hair like Lord Bonham.”
“Yes! Well done, Miss Holly,” his father proclaimed, his voice booming through the room. “Graham has always been somewhat vain about his locks.” The duke launched up from his chair, and in moments, he’d relieved her of the blindfold.
She met Graham’s gaze and held it for a few heart stopping seconds before she smiled, and that organ resumed its normal function. “That was rather fun.” Emotions filled her blue eyes. She parted her lips as if she’d say something further, then his sister Lettice called for another round, and the moment was broken.
Graham cleared his throat. He stood quickly as the rest of the party did, for once someone else was blindfolded, they’d shuffle seating arrangements. In doing so, he and she were temporarily jostled together. “You must have been good at the game as a youth.”
“Perhaps, but I also knew it was you from the feel of your suit and the way your breath hitches slightly every time I laid a hand upon you.”
The sensation of falling assailed him when she smiled. “Clever girl,” he managed to choke out from a tight throat, for every minute he spent in her company sent him deeper into a morass of confusion.
“I’d recognize you anywhere, with sight or not,” she whispered while a scarlet blush raged in her cheeks.
Before he could answer, Lettice pulled her away with cries of Stephen being the one blindfolded next. “He thinks he’s so smart. Let’s put that boast to the test.”
Not wishing to participate in this round, Graham edged away from the circle of chairs as Griffin wrapped the cravat about Stephen’s head and did a series of checks to make certain his twin couldn’t see. By the time the game was underway, his mother joined him to witness the antics sure to follow.
“I do so love Christmastide, don’t you Graham?” she asked. A smile graced her lips as Stephen made jest of his position, much to the entertainment of the company.
“It has its moments, especially this year. Rather odd that all my siblings have suddenly found matches during the house party,” he tossed out with a sly glance at his parent.
“Yes, well, there is a certain magic in the air,” she responded with an ever-widening grin and a faint blush on her cheeks.
“What will you do next year for an encore, I wonder?” he asked in a barely audible voice. Then his whole body went taut. Something he could only liken to jealousy speared hotly through his chest when Stephen ambled over to Arabella and touched first her shoulder then her face in the transparent attempt to identify her. “How dare he take such liberties!” he hissed to no one in particular, forgetting for a moment where he was.
“Perhaps you should have some decorum yourself,” his mother said. She tugged him a bit farther from the game. “Else you’ll give away your regard.”
The words were like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face. “I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t be coy. I see how you look at Miss Holly. In fact, any man who wears his heart on his sleeve like that must have feelings for her.”
Graham sighed. There was nothing for it. His mother would continue until he talked to her. “I’ve only just met her.”
“Sometimes that doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll admit I’m floundering in confusion at present.” He frowned, for Stephen was doing his level best to bedevil Arabella. “In your opinion, though, does love ever happen near-instantly? If so, surely that means it has no staying power. Or perhaps it’s not love. I’m not that sort of fellow, after all.”
He’d worked long and hard at his reputation as a rogue, and men like that didn’t fall for the first pretty blonde that happened their way at Christmastide.
“Oh, you poor lost lamb.” His mother chuckled. She linked her arm with his. “Do you not remember how your paternal grandmother had only known your grandfather two hours before wedding?”
“Of course. It was one of her favorite stories to tell.”
“For good reason. She’s the hallmark of our family tree with success at love and romance. The two of them ended up being madly in love even though everyone in the ton—as well as their families—said they were mismatched without anything in common.”
“Yet their union somehow proved long and fruitful.”
“Exactly. She bore eight children. Five of them died in infancy and childhood, but your father was the only surviving boy.”
Graham nodded. “And his twin sisters lived to sixty before one died of heart ailments.”
“Yes. The other, after putting herself into a convent in her middle twenties, preferring solitude over family or finding a man, died a few years ago peacefully and naturally.” His mother glanced at him. “So you see? Theirs was a marriage for the ages.”
He’d never really known his aunts well. “Arabella is an only child. Her father is obviously a bounder, her mother presumably a mouse of a woman if she won’t oppose his destruction of the family manor and coffers.” Graham frowned. “What if our large, boisterous, oftentimes messy family puts her off.”
“Then she’s not the woman you are thinking—or hoping—she is,” his mother replied in a soft voice.
Across the room, Stephen had moved on to Nora—Griffin’s intended—in the hopes of identifying her... or perhaps merely to annoy his twin.
“She’s told me men overlook her due to her misfortune in keeping fiancés.”
“Yet, she’s here, and the two of you apparently get on together.”
Heat crept up the back of his neck. Had life disappointed her to the point she didn’t want any part of another potential suitor? He pressed his lips together. “It’s a conundrum.”
“It doesn’t have to be if you’d only examine your heart and how you truly feel.”
A sigh escaped him. “Part of me is fearful that what I’m feeling now is but a flash in the pan, that it has no substance.” But that didn’t explain that strong, gossamer-like connection that kept him bound to her.
“That’s because you’ve never experience true love before, have never had your heart involved.” His mother patted his hand. “Everyone feels the same in the beginning.”
A shout went through the company, for Stephen had correctly identified Nora... with a bit of prodding from Griffin, who’d no doubt taken offense at the liberties of the game. Then they quickly reorganized the chairs. His cravat was thrown upon a sofa as a round of charades got underway. Arabella stood in the midst of his family, a smile curving her lips and the sparkle of amusement in her eyes as they took her into their fold and accepted her.
His heart squeezed in both longing and pleasure. She was a woman who needed someone to look after her, protect her. She was made to be a helpmeet, a wife, a mother, a friend. Beyond that, he knew nothing about her. What were her dreams past marriage, her goals out of life, the passions of heart? Obviously, she liked animals, for she had a cat—who’d not deigned to join in the fun of the evening—but what else did she adore? Did she have a favorite food? What made her cry? What made her sing with joy?
“At times I think it’s an impossible challenge, for she’s only here briefly, and she’s not free anyway.” God, how could he stand idly by and watch Lord Breckenridge take her away, knowing all the while she feared him? His heart ached and he rubbed at his chest over that organ with his free hand. “Not to mention what I feel probably isn’t love at all. Knowing myself as I do, it’s surely desire alone and will pass.”
More’s the pity, that.
“Listen, my son.” His mother dropped her voice even more. “Love isn’t what happens instantly between a man and a woman. Such things are reserved for fairy stories and novels that play to a sense of romance and longing. What you felt upon seeing Miss Holly for the first time was your soul waking up and recognizing another soul that is compatible. It’s attraction and desire, of course.”
“But, then what is the point?” He was even more confused than ever.
“I’m arriving there. Be patient.” She patted his cheek. “Love is what comes after living with someone day to day, working with them on building a future, beating challenges with them, going through life’s ups and downs with them. Love is what holds a relationship together, and it only grows with work and dedication.” She found his gaze and held it. All amusement faded from her expression. “You can’t play the rogue and have love at the same time. It’s one or the other, and only one of those things will sustain you to old age. Understand?”
“I think so.” Once more he looked at Arabella. She pantomimed whatever her clue was, much to the hilarity of the company. His heart squeezed again. If he were truly sliding down the slope toward love, what should he do about that? Did he have the courage to see it through and challenge Lord Breckenridge? With a sigh, he felt for the outline of the ring in his waistcoat pocket. No longer did he feel quite so foolish carrying the bauble with him every day. No, it was a sign of hope, as if his grandmother were watching him and encouraging him to do something out of the ordinary. To take a chance.
“Thank you, Mother. I’ll think hard upon all you’ve said.”
“Good.” Briefly, she hugged him and then captured his face between her hands, so he had no choice but to look into her eyes. “Don’t discount fate, Graham. Miracles still happen, especially during this time of the year.”
He scoffed. “I don’t know that I’d call her arrival a miracle...” Yet it had happened so fast, and he’d already fallen hard...
She snickered. “Yes, I know you think its fanciful of me to believe in such things, but I’ve seen too much in my life to discount them. Look at your father and me. I didn’t know him well, but we just celebrated nine and thirty years together. During Christmastide, and you know how stubborn your father can be. That’s a miracle too.” She winked. “There are times when one must take a step in faith merely to see what happens next.” Then she dropped her hands. “Now, go enjoy the remainder of the evening.” She gave him a little shove to the shoulder. “And put your cravat on. You look positively scandalous.”
That made him grin. “Indeed.”
A step in faith. Should he? Could he? It would certainly change his life.
Dare he?