Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas (13 page)

Why, Anne had even managed a coherent conversation with Mr. Harkness while the two of them had been engaged in hanging one of the pine swags. Although the talk had been mainly about the sorts of mischief young children were apt to create, it was a start.

He took a sip of his wine. Perhaps Toby’s innocent observation had been correct—perhaps Lady Emma was indeed a Yuletide angel sent down from the heavens in answer to his prayers.

No matter that she would bedevil his peace of mind far longer than the holiday season.

“I hope that we might be permitted to call on the morrow and offer further assistance,” said Mr. Harkness, rising reluctantly as the clock on the mantel chimed the lateness of the hour. “I heard mention of chairs needing to be moved down from the attic, and there is still the Yule log to be cut.”

“And you may bring more jam tarts!” cried Toby. He shot a pleading look at his mother. “Oh, do say yes, Mama!”

Anne ruffled her son’s hair. “The duke’s cook has been far too generous as it is.” She picked at a fold in her skirts. “And I am sure the gentlemen have far more interesting things to do than to—”

“Why, not at all,” interrupted Mr. Harkness quickly. “In fact, the Manor is rather quiet as the duke and Robert have been delayed in London. We would much prefer the company of two charming ladies to another endless round of billiards, wouldn’t we, Charles?”

“Of course,” agreed Emma’s cousin.

“Well, in that case. . .” Anne turned to Noel.

“I should be glad of any help you care to offer,” he replied politely. Then he, too, gave a glance at the clock and rose abruptly. “Now, if you will excuse me, there are some matters I must attend to before it grows much later.”

* * *

“
D
ear me
,” murmured Mr. Harkness after the door had fallen closed. “Did I say something amiss?”

“Oh, it’s not you, Edgar,” said Emma with a forced smile. “It’s me. I’m afraid Lord Kirtland has formed quite a low opinion of me—”

Charles coughed. “Well, he did have ample reason.”

“—and now he finds it difficult to be in the same room with me,” she finished softly.

“Surely you exaggerate,” exclaimed Mr. Harkness with an odd quirk of his lips. “From what I observed this afternoon, my impression is that Lord Kirtland does not find your company unwelcome.”

“I assure you I do
not
exaggerate.” She wiggled the toes of her bandaged ankle. “You are quite mistaken. He trying very hard to be polite. But the truth is, he can’t wait for me to be out from under his roof.”

Her cousin tactfully refrained from further comment.

Anne, too, remained silent, though a pensive expression drew her brows together for an instant as she stared first at the closed door, then at Emma.

“If
you don’t mind, I should like to be taken up to my room,” said Emma after an awkward pause. She lowered her head so that none of the others could see her expression. “I am suddenly feeling very fatigued.”

Charles was quick to comply with her request and carried her upstairs without indulging in any more of his usual teasing. He returned in time to catch Anne’s puzzled sigh as she rose to accompany the two gentlemen to the door.

“I can’t for the life of me figure out what has Noel acting so strangely,” she murmured. “He is not usually given to such unaccountable shifts of mood.”

“Emma, too, is behaving quite oddly,” remarked Charles.

Mr. Harkness gave a short cough. “I am, of course, a stranger to them both, but it seemed to me that, well, maybe. . . if you take my meaning.”

Charles stroked at his chin. “By Jove, do you think it possible?”

“Are you saying. . .” Anne’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful!”

“Wonderful, indeed,” repeated Charles, a sly grin stealing to his lips. “Though it appears that the two parties involved are being deucedly stubborn about the whole matter.” He pursed his lips. “Hmmm. We’ll have to see what can be done to help things along.”

* * *

T
he next few
days were filled with a whirlwind of activity that somehow required Noel to spend a good deal of time in consultation with his injured guest. The others seemed to need both of their opinions in making the final decisions for a number of minor details. The result, however, was that the inhabited wing of Hawthorne House was looking more like a true home with every passing moment. Every room had been scrubbed and polished, right down to the last nail head, and a profusion of Christmas greenery in gaily beribboned crocks enlivened the freshly dusted chintzes. Even the hallway leading to the kitchen bore a fresh coat of paint, as volunteered by the visitors from Telford Manor.

The project had engendered quite a few giggles from the ladies, as it seemed that more of the pigment had ended up on the two gentlemen and their small helper than on the plaster itself. But all agreed that the end result was a vast improvement over the former dingy shade of soot gray.

Charles and Edgar—everyone had asked Mr. Harkness to drop the more formal use of his last name—insisted on bringing hampers of food prepared by the duke’s cook for when the work was done, so suppers turned into a shared affair as well. Fortified with an ample supply of excellent champagne from the cellars of His Grace, the meals passed in an effervescence of good spirits. If Noel and Emma were a trifle more sober than the others, it was not remarked upon—at least not aloud.

That evening, Toby had been put to bed, and the adults had moved to the parlor for a celebration of sorts. The cast-iron stove had finally yielded to the ministrations of three muscular gentlemen and now burned without filling the kitchen with a cloud of smoke.

Noel, as had become his habit, took a seat slightly apart from the others and allowed the others to carry most of the conversation, though Charles and his friend took great pains to draw him out.

“Was that Dr. Dumberton’s gig that I spied leaving as we were returning with the last load of cut holly?” asked Charles, after recounting the latest bits of news from the London newspapers. His eyes had strayed to Emma’s ankle, which was propped up on a hassock. Showing from beneath the folds of fine merino was evidence of a new—and much less bulky—bandage.

“Yes.” She took pains to study the myriad tiny bubbles fizzing to the surface of her drink. “In fact, he says that I am recovered enough to return home on the morrow.”

“Well, now, that certainly calls for a toast, doesn’t it?” he replied with great heartiness.

She raised her glass, a crooked smile upon her lips. “Yes. Of course.”

The others joined in with murmured congratulations.

Noel was the last to speak. “What good news, indeed,” was his enigmatic comment. He swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp, then reached over for the bottle and refilled it to the brim.

His sister fixed him with an odd look before turning away. A small sigh slipped from her lips. “ It will seem very. . . quiet without you here.” A flicker of hesitation stirred beneath her lashes. “All of you,” she said added softly.

“As to that. . . “ Edgar cleared his throat. “Er, seeing as, er, you might have a bit of free time, I thought you—and Toby—might like to go for a drive tomorrow afternoon. My daughter has finished the visit with her grandparents, and is coming to join me in the morning. I. . . well, I should like very much for you to meet her. Assuming, of course, that you would care to.”

Anne’s cheeks took on a very becoming shade of rose. “Oh, I would. Very much so.” She darted another quick glance at her brother. “That is, if you are sure there is nothing pressing?”

“Not at all.” Noel smiled. Then, as on the previous evenings, he made to rise and quit the room before the others, leaving one of the other gentlemen to assist Emma upstairs.

But this time, Charles forestalled his exit by getting to his feet first. “Edgar, we really must be off now,” he announced, making a show of consulting his pocket watch. “Uncle Ivor is due to arrive sometime later tonight, and it would be quite rude if we were not there to greet him.”

His friend shot up too. “I shall pack up the hampers and help you take them out to the carriage. No doubt Cook will have need of all her platters now that the holidays are beginning in earnest.”

Anne quickly followed their lead. “It has been a long day, and I am sure all of us are quite ready to retire.” Without further ado, the three hastened toward the door.

* * *

T
he devil take it
! Noel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze riveted on the dancing flames. Taken aback at being left alone with Emma, he was still trying to compose his thoughts when she stirred from her seat and lowered her ankle from its resting place.

“It has been a long day,” she murmured, echoing Anne’s words. “I believe I shall follow her suggestion and bid you good night, sir.”

“Lady Emma, just what do you think you are doing?”

She hesitated. “Why, I am going upstairs. The doctor said—-”

Before she could finish, Noel rose from his seat and lifted her up in his arms.

“T-that is quite unnecessary, sir,” she stammered. “I am permitted to move about on my own, if I exercise a modicum of caution.”

“Since caution does not seem to be your strong suit, I prefer to ensure there are no further accidents.”

There was no sting to the words, as they had been uttered with an unexpected gentleness.

Emma glanced up in some surprise, then she quickly looked away. “What you mean is, it would be your worst nightmare were a slip to delay my departure.” Though she tried to keep her tone light, there was a small catch in her voice.

Ha! The only nightmare that promised to plague his dreams was the thought of never seeing her angelic face again!

Noel knew he would be treading on dangerous ground if he ventured a reply, but suddenly his steps stilled on the stairs.

Perhaps it was because he had imbibed more of the champagne than usual that prompted him
to speak. “You think I shall be glad that you are gone?”

“O-Of course,” she replied in a small voice. “You said yourself that my leaving on the morrow was good news indeed.”

“We seem to be in the habit of misunderstanding each other’s words, Lady Emma,” he murmured, his face only inches from hers. “What I meant was, it must be good news indeed for
you
. I remember quite clearly how, on the morning of the accident, you lamented being forced to miss all the fun.”

He drew in a ragged breath. “Well, rather than being stuck in this isolated house any longer, you will soon be back in the whirl of fashionable balls and dinner parties, surrounded by your ardent admirers—who are all, no doubt, a good deal more charming and amusing than a grim-faced ex-soldier.”

“Perhaps I have come to realize that it is much more important to be surrounded by people who truly care for each other than to be flattered with flummeries by a crowd of fawning strangers,” replied Emma.

Her cheek came to rest against his shoulder, then she spoke again, in hardly more than a whisper. “Just as I have come to recognize that you possess a good deal more than charm and bon mots, Lord Kirtland. You are all the things a true gentleman should be. Y-You are caring, compassionate, forthright, and unselfish. Due to your efforts, Hawthorne House has become a true home, and I shall miss. . . everyone here.”