Lord Levinstone was far too charming and reminiscent of the youthful, playful boy she had once known and adored.
And she had cherished him so very much. Had often dreamed of him bending down on one knee and offering her his hand in marriage. She would have loved to walk beside him in life, to be his wife and mother of his children.
But that changed the moment her family started to fall into financial hardship, and he left for London to have a whirlwind Season that would see him engaged within a month of his arrival. His choice of a rich, pretty bride with an ample dowry suited him very well by all accounts. In contrast, she was left to scrimp and save to keep a roof over her head in rural Cornwall.
For many years she had resented his wealth, but in truth, it was not his fault. He was born into his rich, titled family as she was hers, and she would never regret such a thing. For all the hardships her family faced during her upbringing, she loved her parents and knew they had done the best for her, just as the elder—may he rest in peace—Lord Levinstone had done for his children.
"I'm not certain it is time to jest about the pork, my lord," she replied, meeting his gaze. His dark-blue eyes were alight with laughter, and she could not hold back her chuckle. The man was infuriating, having always had a way of making her laugh, even if she was so dreadfully angry at him.
Which she still was, she reminded herself.
"I have made you laugh. It has been too many years since I heard that sound. One I never thought to hear again," he said. "It is nice."
His words caught her off guard and her stomach twisted into a delicious knot. Of course, she ought to be angry with him, not forgive him his past sins against her, but she had never been one to stay angry for long, and certainly not toward a person who apologized. Up until this very day, Levinstone had not said a word of apology, but that did not mean he would not.
"It seems to have been a long time since I had reason to." She sat back as the second course was removed and delicious lobster rissoles were laid before them. She picked up her fish knife and spiked a little of the tail, slipping it into her mouth. "How I love eating seafood on a cold winter's night. It always reminds me of summer."
"I think for us people who have grown up near the sea, the fruits of the water are always coveted most," he replied, digging into his meal with gusto. "But returning to our conversation about my betrothed, when I told her that I would require my wife to be in Cornwall with me for the majority of the year and that we would come up to London maybe every two or three years for a Season, she agreed that we had made a mistake and would not suit. We ended our engagement affably, and she's now married and settled in Scotland. So perhaps my person disagreed with her and not so much the ruralness of my home."
"Well," Heidi said. "I think she is a little absurd not to agree to marry you. Who would not want to be the mistress of such a beautiful, grand home? A home that overlooks one of the prettiest villages in Cornwall, if I do say so myself. And the staff, who are the most loving and kind to anyone who knocks on your door. She does not know what she missed out on when she agreed to let you go, my lord."
Heidi wasn't sure where the words came from, nor had she thought her truth would result in silence from the viscount. He watched, his eyes making her heart beat fast and heat kiss her cheeks.
"Are you saying that should I have asked you to be my wife, you would not have said no? That living here, where we do, is favorable?"
"I love it here. You know that. Our village, my home, and your grand estate, even when I was terribly mad at you, I still admired all of it."
Levinstone threw back his head and laughed, clasping his stomach. "I have missed you so very much, Heidi. How did we let our friendship go as we have? What a travesty and what a miracle you being here this evening has been. To be stuck here with me where you cannot get away."
Heidi swallowed as nerves fluttered in her stomach. His lordship's words were not what she expected, nor had he spoken to her thus in years. But there was something different, something had changed, and it had not taken them long to slip into their old, comfortable ways and discuss matters as they had always done.
A knock sounded on the door, and the viscount sat back in his chair, bidding the servant entry.
"My lord, the wreath is complete, and you may hang it after dinner if you wish. As per the tradition," the butler announced.
Heidi reached for Levinstone without thought, taking his hand. "Do not tell me that I have arrived on the one night you hang the coveted wreath on the Levinstone's estate door? I have not been here for so many years. I did not know if you still did this or not."
His lordship raised his chin, pride crossing his features. "That you have, Miss Lewis. Would you like to help me hang it? I would be honored to have an old, lifelong, and possibly renewed friend at my side when I do."
His fingers entwined with hers, and heat licked at her skin. His attention dipped to her lips, and butterflies fluttered in her belly. She had never seen him look at her in such a way. Certainly not even when they were on the verge of adulthood.
He's looking at you as if he wants to kiss you, Heidi.
The thought was not unwelcome, which in itself was thought-provoking. Did she want him to kiss her? Did she want to be his friend and talk and spend time with him as they once did?
Yes. Yes, she did.
She had missed him too.
"I would be honored, my lord," she said.
Without another word, he pulled her up from the chair and dragged her out of the room. The butler stood beside the front door, holding the wreath of holly, mistletoe, and dried fruit to add to the picture that it told of Christmastide and good cheer.
"Thank you, Smithers. I shall need no further assistance," Levinstone commanded.
Heidi watched as the old retainer walked back toward the kitchens before she turned to the viscount.
"Come," he said, reaching out to take her hand. His fingers entwined with hers once again, and she had the overwhelming feeling that this was right. He was home, and being at his side was where she had always meant to be.
That from this night on, no matter their history, their friendship was righted, and they would never part again.
He opened the front door and the wind whipped inside. They quickly hoisted the wreath onto the small hook. "Help me, Heidi. I merely need to hook it on the door," he said, his voice straining.
Heidi helped him lift it and was surprised by its weight.
The wreath fought and poked them with its prickly pines and foliage, but still, they persisted, and soon it was a welcome decoration to the door. A tradition for his family, after all.
A family she had once been part of in years past and now hoped to be so again.
Matthew pulled Heidi against him and returned indoors, shutting out the wind and rain that battered the outside.
He marveled at the knowledge that his oldest and most-missed friend was again with him. Hanging the wreath as they had done for so many years as children, albeit with the help from staff all those years ago.
"There." The wreath is up. Now we should return to our dinner and enjoy what's left of the evening, blustering as it is," he jibed, only half-meaning his words. What he would rather do was whisk her into his library and be alone. Be apart from his servants and talk as they once had, all night long if need be.
They had so much to catch up on. He had missed so much of her life, and he would not bumble the second chance she was gifting him. Heidi was a proud woman, and he knew the cost it took for her to forgive him his sins.
Heidi hugged him back, and he pulled her tighter to his side, liking the feel of her there. They had been so close once. The best of friends who shared all their dreams and plans for the future.
He hated that everything went so wrong. That they had fallen out over someone who no longer factored in their lives.
Not that he should have allowed himself to get swept away with the fancy London society and whirlwind Season. Nor what he had permitted his betrothed to say about his oldest friend.
He let her go as they started back to the dining room before he thought better of it. "Shall we return to my library for a nightcap instead of dinner? There was not a lot left in any case, and we can ask for the dessert to be brought into us there instead," he suggested.
She glanced in the direction of his private sanctuary and where he spent the majority of his time. "That sounds heavenly. I should imagine your library is much warmer too."
They moved into the library, and he smiled as Heidi made her way over to the fire, warming her gloveless hands.
"Tell me, my lord. Your engagement was so quick. Did you fall for the charms of Lady Emma so hastily that you forgot to enjoy the Season you had originally left for? I will admit that I was surprised you became engaged within the first month."
Matthew poured two glasses of brandy and handed Heidi one, coming to stand at her side. She stared at him, and a long, pent-up need started to rumble in his soul.
There had always been something about Heidi that he looked for in others as a means to value their character, and even after their quarrel and falling out, he still followed that rule. He supposed he should have listened to his inner warning bells about Emma before it became too late.
"You are right. I did exactly that, much to my shame. I wish I had not, for had I given myself more time, I may have realized she was not the woman for me."
Heidi met his eye over the rim of her glass as she sipped her brandy. "Have you decided when you shall return to town to find the woman who will suit you? You're not getting any younger, my lord, and perhaps you ought to do so soon before you're old and gray and have a terrible disposition."
Her teasing grin sent a bolt of reminiscence through him. They had missed an opportunity when he had made the grave mistake of proposing to Lady Emma. What a fool he had been then. So sure he was making the right choice when leaving for London in the first place had been a mistake. There was nothing in the city that he did not already have near home.
In truth, he ought to have courted the woman at his side, a woman he had always admired and, perhaps a tiny little bit, adored.
Who was he kidding? He had always cherished her, and it had been a daily battle to hide such emotions.
He stared at the flames, wishing he could tell her such truths. Make amends in any way that he could for his past missteps. Seek her forgiveness, but he did not. She would not want to hear it.
Not yet at least.