Christmas Carol (6 page)

She did not have long to worry over the
problem for their guests were beginning to arrive. Lady Augusta
shepherded her nieces into the reception room, where they formed a
line to greet those who were invited to congratulate the newly
betrothed couple. Montfort stood between Lady Augusta and Carol,
with Penelope on Carol’s other side. Carol was not pleased by this
arrangement, since it provided no opportunity for Lady Augusta to
whisper information to her about the various people she was
meeting, most of whom she was apparently supposed to know by sight.
Carol took refuge in polite chitchat, which seemed to her to be
remarkably similar to the conversations held at the large cocktail
parties her parents had once given.

Growing more aware with every passing moment
of Montfort’s masculine presence at her side, Carol listened with a
polite smile and a definite lack of serious attention while an
elderly gentleman, whom Montfort addressed as Lord Falloner,
informed her that the weather was unusually cold for so early in
the season. He could tell from the aching of his gouty big toe,
said Lord Falloner, that a heavy snow would fall before Christmas
Day dawned.

“Dear me,” Carol said to the aged lord, “I
have been so busy lately that I have quite forgotten the date. How
long is it until Christmas?”

“Just three more days,” came the response.
“I’ll wager Montfort, here, has some special gift planned for you.
Hah! Hah! I know what I would give you if you were
my
wife-to-be.”

Carol did her best not to blush at this, and
she carefully did not look at Montfort to see his reaction.
Instead, she gave her hand to the next person coming along the
line. There were so many guests that she thought she would faint
from sheer exhaustion before they all passed through the receiving
line and into the ballroom. She began to wonder if her face would
crack from the effort to keep smiling. At least she could do little
to embarrass herself or anyone else while she stood in line. Her
first real difficulty arose when it was time for her to open the
dancing with her fiance. Taking her hand without a word, Montfort
led her to the center of the polished ballroom floor.

“I hope this is a waltz,” Carol said to him,
annoyed by his continuing silence and worried about what would
happen in the next few minutes.

“You know perfectly well that the first dance
at any ball is always a minuet.” Möntfort’s voice was frosty. “I
believe the exact music for the opening dance was decided upon some
days ago.”

“If it was, no one told me about it.” Carol
stopped right where she was, with all the guests staring at them.
She did not know how to dance a minuet. Nor did she know what other
kinds of dances were popular at this time in history. She imagined
complicated steps involving groups of people, and she was certain
if she were to attempt such a dance, she would make a complete fool
of herself. She would probably also annoy her fiance. However, she
did know how to waltz.

“Caroline.” Montfort’s eyes were dark with
anger, and now Carol was sure that he did not care about Caroline
Hyde. He was marrying her for some other reason than love. Carol
did not have to look far into her own past to decide what that
reason must be. She drew herself up, lifted her chin, and looked
Montfort square in the eye.

“I will dance a waltz, or I will not dance at
all,” she said. “This is
my
betrothal party. I will begin it
as I wish.”

She could see he was furious. She could see
something else, too. There was a faint spark of humor deep in his
eyes, and perhaps a gleam of dawning respect.

“Madam, will you also try to change the vows
we take when we stand at the altar?” he demanded.

“We shall see about that,” she said. “And
about what happens afterward, too.”

“Indeed?” After studying her face for a few
moments, Montfort turned on his heel and strode away from her. Not
knowing what to do, fearing that he meant to leave her there alone
in the middle of the dance floor, Carol remained where she was
standing while Montfort spoke to a servant, who hurried away toward
the musicians’ gallery. Then, to Carol’s great relief, Montfort
returned to her.

“If you will but grant the musicians a moment
to make the substitution,” he said, “they will play a waltz.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Carol tried to keep her
voice level and unwavering. Then the music began and she was swept
into Montfort’s strong arms. Now she was forced to follow his lead,
but she did so gladly, for he was an expert dancer.

“You amaze me,” Montfort said as they whirled
across the ballroom floor.

“Why is that, my lord?” Carol decided the
safest course for her to follow with this man was to maintain a
cool, detached attitude toward him. She had known since the first
moment of meeting him that Nicholas Marlowe was a danger to her. If
she was not careful he could shatter the emotional stability she
had achieved with such difficulty after being badly hurt by a man
she loved. She had vowed long ago never to allow that to happen
again. Even if she were to relent and allow herself to feel
something for another man, it would be the height of lunacy to let
her emotions run wild in her present situation.

“I believed I knew you well/’ Montfort said
in answer to her question. “Now I find you behaving like someone
else.”

“How so, my lord?”

“You have never made any demands of me until
this past hour.”

“Perhaps I should have done so long ago. A
demand made upon you every now and then might be good for your
soul.” Carol watched the corners of his mouth twitch in the
beginning of a smile. The humor was quickly suppressed and he spoke
with great severity.

“It was my understanding that I would find in
you the biddable wife I want, who would give me the heir I need,
and who would not interfere in my life.”

You miserable male chauvinist pig
. She
almost said it aloud, but stopped herself just in time. Of course
he was a male chauvinist pig; all men were in the early nineteenth
century, and especially aristocratic Englishmen, who believed the
world belonged to them. He probably had a couple of mistresses set
up in nice little flats right there in London, and he would think
nothing of leaving his wife’s bed to visit them. Carol decided to
strike a blow for Lady Caroline.

“Good heavens, sir,” she said in a mocking
voice, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she spoke. “What is a
wife for, if not to interfere with a man’s pleasures?”

“I expect you to keep to the terms of our
agreement,” he responded.

“And if I do not?” Carol stopped dancing,
leaving Montfort poised on one foot in the middle of a step. For a
split second his face was like a thundercloud and she almost
expected him to hurl a destructive bolt of lightning at her. Then,
inexplicably, he smiled at her. Catching both of her hands in his,
he raised her fingers to his lips. The onlookers must have thought
he was greatly amused by something she had just said and was
saluting her wit. But when he spoke it was through clenched teeth
and in a voice so low that Carol could just barely hear his
words.

“I do not know what game you think you are
playing, Caroline, but I will not allow you to create a spectacle
to feed the gossips.”

“If you don’t like the way I am behaving,
then cancel the engagement,” Carol retorted.

“I will not cry off,” he said, still smiling
that beautiful, blazing, false smile and speaking in a way that
would suggest to those watching them that he was now whispering
words of tender love. “Nor will I allow
you
to cry off. We
made a bargain, Caroline, and you will keep it. All of it”

Of course she could not break off someone
else’s engagement. What she was doing could put Lady Caroline into
an unhappy situation after Carol departed to her own time and after
Lady Caroline was married to this man. Carol did not know much
about the marriage laws of that period of history, but she
suspected that a husband would have control of his wife’s person
and her fortune—and he could probably control every minute of her
daily activities, too. For Lady Caroline’s sake, Carol would have
to be more careful. But she wasn’t going to knuckle under
completely.

“I find I am a bit faint from all the
excitement,” Carol said. “If I could just have a few minutes alone
to collect my thoughts, I am sure I will feel much more like
myself. I think I will go to the library.”

“Make your curtsy, madam, and I will take you
there.” Montfort bowed gracefully and Carol, in response to his
action, made a dancing-school curtsy.

As he led her off the ballroom floor the
musicians struck up a new tune. There were other men who crowded
around Carol to beg for dances with her, but Montfort made her
excuses before Carol could say anything for herself. Their progress
out or the ballroom was followed by the knowing looks of the
guests. A few elderly ladies whispered behind their fans.

“Is it quite proper for you to close the
door?” Carol asked when she and Montfort were alone in the library.
“Shouldn’t I have a chaperone? Aunt Augusta, perhaps?” she added
hopefully.

“I shall claim the right of a betrothed
husband and say I want to have you to myself for a short time,”
Montfort responded. With the door closed, he approached her with
the tread of a man determined to dominate their meeting. “Now,
Caroline, I want you to understand that I will not allow you to go
back on your word to me.”

“I have never in my life gone back on my
word, any more than my father ever did,” Carol told him. “I am
insulted that you might think I would.”

“I am glad to hear you say so,” Montfort told
her. “There are some men who believe a woman has no sense of honor.
I am not among them, and I will expect honorable behavior from my
wife.”

“Montfort, are you marrying Lady Caro—I mean,
are you marrying me for my money?”

“Hardly, since my fortune is so much greater
than yours.” He looked at her as if he was trying to decipher all
her secrets. “You have known about my fortune for most of your
life. Why do you ask about it now? Caroline, you are not at all
like yourself tonight.”

“That is certainly true,” Carol said.
Relieved by his claim to wealth, she continued in a more agreeable
way. “I am sorry. I spoke without thinking.”

“Tell me what is wrong and I will try to
help.”

“If I did, you really would think I’m mad.”
Responding to the slight softening she detected in his probing
gaze, Carol seriously considered revealing her true situation. She
quickly decided against the idea. She did not think Montfort would
believe her outlandish story. Furthermore, if Carol were to be
returned to the twentieth century in the next few hours, poor Lady
Caroline would be left to make explanations for incredible events
that she could not possibly comprehend. People might think Lady
Caroline was the mad one.

This business of thinking for two people at
once—and of voluntarily and without expectation of any payment
considering another person’s welfare before her own—was a
completely new experience for Carol. It was also tiring. She raised
one hand to rub her forehead. Montfort responded to the weary
gesture by moving closer to her, as if he wanted to protect her in
some way.

“Surely you know by now that you can trust
me?” he urged.

“Can I? How I wish I could be sure of
that.”

“Why this sudden uncertainty now, when you
expressed no qualms at all on the day when you agreed to our
bargain?”

“Refresh my memory, Montfort. Explain to me
exactly what this bargain is, and why I consented to it.”

“You cannot have forgotten details so
important to your future,” he objected. “Or to your sister’s
future.”

“Perhaps I want to hear you tell me in order
to be certain
that you
have not forgotten.” Carol waited,
hoping he would reveal at least a few facts that would help to keep
her from making any mistakes for which the real Lady Caroline would
later have to pay. She looked deep into his eyes and smiled.
“Indulge my foolishness, Montfort. Please.”

“Are you flirting with me? This is most
unlike you, Caroline.” He looked puzzled. Then: “Very well, if you
are determined to hear the facts once again, here they are. Your
father and mine were lifelong friends. After your parents’ death my
father did his best to see that you and Penelope were well settled
in life. It was my father who suggested to Lady Augusta that she
allow you and your sister to live with her and that she should
sponsor you in society. She was unwilling at first, believing such
an arrangement would cause her too much trouble and would also be
expensive. I do not need to tell you that Lady Augusta can be
foolishly miserly at times. However, I do not think she has ever
regretted taking you in, and she has done her best to launch you
into the world in proper style and to find husbands for both you
and Penelope.

“When my father died and I became Earl of
Montfort in his place, his obligations fell upon me.” Montfort
paused.

“Are you saying that you are marrying me out
of pity?” There was a challenge in Carol’s voice that made him look
at her sharply.

“Not at all,” he said. “Save for the lack of
a large fortune, you are an eminently suitable choice as a wife,
and one my own father would have approved. You and I have always
been on cordial terms. Since I am now in need of an heir to my
title, our marriage seemed the sensible solution to several
problems.”

“I am to provide an heir,” she prodded when
he fell silent.

“And one or two other children,” he added,
“since babies do not always outlive their first few years. It is
best to be certain there will be at least one adult heir to survive
me. In return I have arranged a handsome settlement for you, so
that even if I should die at a young age, you will never want for
any material thing. While we both live I have agreed to keep you in
a style befitting the Countess of Montfort.”