A Christmas Kiss (30 page)

Evalyn lowered her head in shame. “I cannot apologize enough for causing you this trouble, my lord. Will you please tell Lady Steele and everyone at Gyllford how sorry I am to have created such a turmoil?”

“You must come back with me and tell them yourself.”

She lifted her head and gave a baffled look. “Why do you ask me to come back, sir? There is no need for it, surely, now that you see me satisfactorily established.”

“You're quite wrong,” Philip said in a low voice. “There is a great need for it.”

“I don't understand. What need?”

“My need,” he said simply. Evalyn's pulse, which had quieted somewhat since he'd seated her on the sofa, started to race again. His meaning could not be what it seemed. She waited wordlessly, her eyes fixed on his, for him to explain himself.

He saw the confusion in her eyes and got to his feet. Now that the moment had come—the moment for which he had waited since Jamie's disclosure—his courage failed him. What was he doing, he asked himself, forcing his attentions on this lovely young woman half his age? She had just declared that she was satisfactorily established. She obviously wanted nothing further from him. He had convinced himself that she cared for him, but on what evidence? Merely on a look—the look on her face that day in the snow. On that flimsy foundation he had built his castle of dreams, and now the whole cloudy structure seemed to be evaporating.

He went to the fireplace and leaned on the mantel. What should he say to her now? Could he bring himself to leave her here in this place, to struggle to raise a large brood of children not her own? Even if she would not marry him, he had to find some way to take care of her, to help her to find a better life than she would find buried away here, an outsider in someone else's family. But he could think of no other way. “You say you are satisfactorily established here,” he said in a constricted voice, his eyes on the fire in the grate. “Does that mean you find these surroundings more to your liking than at Gyllford?”

“How can you ask such a thing, my lord? The days I spent at Gyllford were the happiest in my life,” she answered earnestly.

“Then why won't you come back?”

“You are more than kind to ask me, but you know I can not. My time there was an interlude, a time of … unreality. But sooner or later, reality must be faced. In this case sooner than we expected. But it has not turned out so badly. Even Clarissa could not have found me a better mistress than Mrs. Caldwell.”

“Clarissa didn't intend to find you a mistress at all!” Philip muttered bitterly.

“Why, what do you mean?”

“We were a pair of fools, my sister and I,” Philip said, turning from the fire and giving her a strained smile. “We thought Jamie had brought you home to make you his bride.”

“His
bride
?” Evalyn asked in bewilderment. “
Me?
How could you have believed something so ridiculous?”

“Don't ask me to explain the whole silly coil that led us to jump to that conclusion, but the idea is not at all ridiculous. I only hope the girl Jamie eventually does marry is half so suitable.”

“What nonsense,” Evalyn said, brushing aside the idea with a wave of her hand. “We both know quite well how unsuitable I am.”

Philip glowered at her. “If it is the ‘difference in our stations' to which you are referring—a subject which I thought we had long since repudiated—I shall wring your neck!”

Evalyn gave a short laugh. “Well, wring away,” she said challengingly, “for although
you
may have repudiated it, I never did. Besides, you must have seen that Jamie did not regard me in any light but as a sort of … maiden aunt.”

“No, you're out there,” Philip said with a sudden grin. “He regards you more as a mother.”

“A mother? Whatever are you talking about?”

Philip's smile faded and he turned back to stare into the fire. “It was just a silly joke, I suppose. You see, when Jamie told me that you and he had no plans for marriage, I asked him if he'd mind if
I
married you.”

Evalyn stared at him. “If
you
m-married me?” Her cheeks paled and her eyes fell to her hands clenched in her lap. “Oh. Yes, I see. It
was
a silly joke.”

Philip spun around. “No, no! I didn't mean it that way! It wasn't a joke then,” he said, agonized. How could he explain what he'd meant? How had he gotten himself so hopelessly muddled? He strode over to the sofa, sat down, and grasped her hands. “Oh, Evalyn, I love you so, and I'm saying it so badly!”

Evalyn felt her heart lurch inside her. “Wh-what did you say?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

“My darling, please say you'll marry me. I wouldn't ask it of you if I thought that this course you've embarked upon would lead to a life of fulfillment or contentment. But to remain here, out of the way of society or the chance of change, raising the children of strangers—no matter how kind they are to you—seems to me to be a life of loneliness and drudgery. Surely a life with me—a man who loves you, who offers you the prospect of children of your own, even though he is twice your age—
must
be a preferable prospect!”

“Philip, you
fool
! How could you think that your
age
has any—? I wouldn't care if—! Oh, I don't know what I'm saying. Surely you must have guessed … have seen that I love you!” she said in a voice that wavered between laughter and tears.

For a moment he seemed not to have understood. Then the misery in his face vanished, and he pulled her to him and held her close. She buried her face in his shoulder and gave a shivery sigh. For a long while she held her breath, not wishing to miss a single one of the endearments he was murmuring into her hair. “Oh, my dear,” she said at last, “you
know
you cannot marry me.”

He released her and held her at arm's length. “I know nothing of the sort,” he said with a grin. “You've said you love me, and there is no possible way you can cry off now. I intend to marry you as soon as I can arrange it. But at this moment, there is something else I'm going to do, something I've been wanting to do ever since that terrible day when I so foolishly interrupted myself.” And taking her in his arms again, he kissed her with all the fervor which the long postponement had built up in him.

Some time later, he reluctantly released her. “And now, my girl, I think we had better face the Caldwells and tell them that I'm removing you from their midst as soon as you can gather your belongings.”

“Oh, Philip, how can I? I have been with them only four days. How can I leave them so abruptly?”

“You can and you must, for I don't intend to be without you for another day!”

“But Mavis has begun to rely on me, and the children—such adorable little things they are—will be upset, and …”

Philip eyed her with a wicked gleam. “Surely Mrs. Caldwell cannot expect to have a countess serving as governess to her offspring, no matter how adorable they maybe.”

Evalyn looked at him aghast. “A countess! Oh, Philip, I couldn't—!”

Philip laughed and took her in his arms again. “I won't hear another one of your objections, my girl. You are going to be the most beautiful countess in all of Britain. You'll find it quite easy—much easier than being a governess—and I promise you shall enjoy it enormously.” He kissed her so ardently that her objections were swept away with her breath. “Now, go and tell your Mavis that you are leaving within the hour, and that I shall send her the most good-natured and efficient governess I can find to replace you.”

“Oh, Philip, what a wonderful idea,” Evalyn said in happy breathlessness. “May I indeed tell her that?”

“Yes, my darling; of course. But you must in all honesty admit to her that I cannot promise to find one as redoubtable as the one she is about to lose.”

New Year's day had come and gone, but the guests still lingered at Gyllford, enjoying lazy days near the fire, brisk walks through the winter landscape, and convivial evenings in the company of beloved friends. There was one exception: Sally Trevelyan who, upon learning from Clarissa that she had been observed removing the earrings from her jewel case herself, ordered Annette to pack her things immediately. Annette then announced that she was to be wed shortly to the very man who had inadvertently spied on her and would therefore be unable to accompany Ma'm'selle back to London.

Clarissa had made it clear to Sally that in all fairness to Miss Pennington—who she hoped would be returning to Gyllford shortly—she would have to tell the other guests the truth about the earrings. Therefore Sally was forced to take her leave of Gyllford without a single person present to wish her a good journey and no one in attendance except a coachman and footman who had been pressed reluctantly into her temporary service.

Evalyn and Philip returned to the warmest of receptions, and a spirit of rejoicing filled the house. Philip's announcement of their wedding plans was greeted with more delight than surprise. In this small, intimate circle of well-wishers, Evalyn was able to adjust to her new, elevated position with a minimum of awkwardness and embarrassment, and although Philip had to tease her from time to time about her tendency to remain “determinedly poor,” she found it quite easy to bear being coddled, admired and adored.

A small family wedding was planned for the middle of January, and the Covingtons decided to remain for the occasion. Gervaise, who intended to follow Philip's example and lead Clarissa to the altar a fortnight thereafter, also stayed fixed at Gyllford. Reggie, who hoped to become so firmly entrenched in Marianne's affections that her come-out in June would have no adverse effect on their romance, seized the opportunity to remain at her side and also declared his intention of being present at both of the wedding ceremonies in the offing.

Thus it was that a bored and frustrated Jamie wandered through the house one January afternoon, looking for some companionship or activity. A look into the library revealed a contented-looking Clarissa bending over her Gervaise, who was showing her some pictures of the proper attire for the groom at a country wedding as illustrated in
The Gentleman's Magazine
. A search on the grounds revealed his father and Evalyn setting off for a walk, their arms encircling each other's waists. Edward and Martha were settled in the drawing room, he with a book and she with some embroidery destined for Marianne's trousseau. Finally, he found Reggie and Marianne sitting across from one another at the table in the breakfast room, gazing fixedly into each other's eyes, their hands stretched out toward each other and meeting in the center of the table in a loving clasp.

Jamie groaned. “Confound it,” he said disgustedly, “this is getting worse and worse. Nothing but lovers wherever one looks! What am
I
to do, I ask you, while everyone in the house is behaving in this buffle-headed way? Do you two intend to spend the whole afternoon doing nothing but staring at each other like a couple of moonlings? Honestly, if I didn't have to stay for father's wedding, I'd take off for London this very afternoon! Do you know what I'm beginning to think? I hate to say this about my own home, but I think this place is becoming a worse bore than even the Carberys'!”

Marianne and Reggie had become accustomed to Jamie's tirades and had not really listened to a word he'd said. However, Marianne became aware of the silence that followed Jamie's outcry and felt that some response was expected. She sighed and—her eyes never leaving Reggie's face—offered her usual, all-purpose reply. “Oh, do you really think so?” she murmured softly.

About the Author

Elizabeth Mansfield is a pseudonym of Paula Schwartz, which she used for more than two dozen Regency romances. Schwartz also wrote an American immigrant family saga,
A Morning Moon
, as Paula Reibel, and two American history romances—
To Spite the Devil
, as Paula Jonas, and
Rachel's Passage
, as Paula Reid.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1978, 1990 by Estate of Paula Schwartz

Cover design by Andy Ross

ISBN: 978-1-5040-4004-4

This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

180 Maiden Lane

New York, NY 10038

www.openroadmedia.com