His By Christmas (Hamilton Sisters) (11 page)

Yvette had been kissed before, of course, but she just knew this kiss from Lord Shelley would be different. Special. Magical. And most romantic. It would be from the man who would be her husband. William.

When his lips finally met hers, Yvette found them to be surprisingly warm and soft. He smelled good too. Like good clean soap. It was a nice kiss. Nicer than any she had ever had before. She felt cozy and warm in his embrace and didn’t mind being close to him. He pulled her tighter to him, and in a daring move on her part, she placed her hands around his neck. He growled low and kissed her harder. Yvette felt power surge through her own body and with her gloved fingers, she touched his hair and stroked the back of his neck. She didn’t know why she did it, she just thought he might like it. His reaction startled her because his kissing became more insistent. She suddenly felt as if he would devour her. Her body grew warm and she didn’t feel the cold as she did before. His mouth grew more demanding over hers and the tip of his tongue was at her lips, forcing her mouth open. What was this? His tongue! Reluctantly, she opened her mouth and his hot tongue slipped inside moving and touching her own tongue. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it was quite strange.

It felt as if they kissed for quite a long time, and she was beginning to wonder just how long it would last, when suddenly William pulled away from her, murmuring her name.

He hugged her tightly against his chest and her cheek pressed up against the buttons of his wool coat. “My sweet, sweet Yvette. Please forgive me. I got carried away.”

“It’s all right,” she murmured.

“I should have taken more care with you. You haven’t been kissed before, have you?”

“No.” She didn’t know why the lie flew from her lips like that. She supposed it was only a half-truth. She had been kissed before by boys her own age, but never had she been kissed like this. By a man. Frankly, the whole experience surprised her. She wondered what her sisters made such a fuss about. There was no swooning and weak-kneed lightheadedness as they had foretold.

He smiled proudly. “I’m glad you have only been kissed by me, Yvette.”

“I am too, William.” Would he propose to her now? Oh, hurry up already! It was nearing the time she and Aunt Cecilia must return to London. And she was beginning to grow cold again even though she was still wrapped in his embrace.

“Yvette, my feelings for you are . . . well . . . they are quite passionate.”

Yes, she had gathered that already from his kiss. Could he get on with it and ask her already? She bit her lip to keep her teeth from chattering.

He asked, “Is it too presumptuous of me to assume that you harbor some feelings for me as well?”

Yvette shook her head, staring at his handsome face. “You are not assuming. I do have feelings for you too, William.”

He smiled down at her, obviously thrilled with her response. They stared at each other for a moment.

“You’re shivering, you poor girl. Let’s get you back inside and warmed by the fire before you head back to London.” He cupped her chin in his hand, making her look up at him. “You’ve made me very happy today, Yvette.” He kissed her forehead, smiled, took her arm, and led her back to the house.

Feeling slightly deflated and bewildered, Yvette chided herself. She had hoped for too much and now she was disappointed. He hadn’t proposed to her when it felt like he was going to. She’d been certain. And then . . . nothing.

She shook herself from her disappointment. But he
had
just given her all the more reason to believe that he
would
propose to her soon. He had asked to address her by her given name and had just kissed her passionately, and she’d met his mother. Yes, all signs pointed to an engagement. Maybe he was waiting for a more romantic setting than a freezing cold garden on a gray afternoon? Yes, that had to be the case! For he surely had feelings for her and by all accounts he was as pleased with the progress of the day as she was.

Still, she couldn’t help the niggling little feeling inside her that all was not as it should be.

“You should know, Yvette, that I am really looking forward to meeting all of your sisters when they return,” William said as they continued walking back to the house. “In the meantime I would love to call on you and your mother at Devon House sometime next week. I’m sorry that she wasn’t feeling well enough to make the journey to Lansdowne Manor with you today.”

Oh, so that was it! He wanted to meet her mother and sisters before he offered for her. Of course! It made perfect sense now. He wanted to be sure of her family before he married into it. Yvette suddenly felt much better. There were no worries on that score. William would adore her sisters. Everyone did.

“I would be delighted to have you come by, William. My mother is anxious to meet you, too, and deeply regrets not being able to join us this afternoon.”

“Then you may count on my visit.” He squeezed her arm lightly and stopped to look at her. “You have grown very special to me, Yvette.”

For a brief moment, Yvette thought he was going to kiss her again, but he did not.

“You are too kind, William.”

“Come. I’m sure my mother and your aunt are impatiently awaiting our return.” They quickened their steps and went inside the house.

“There you two are. We were beginning to worry.” The duchess smiled indulgently at them as they entered the parlor. “Did you have a nice walk, Miss Hamilton? It wasn’t too cold?”

“It is getting a bit chilly out there, but we managed quite well, Your Grace,” Yvette said. “Your son took very good care of me.”

William gave her a heated look for her eyes only and then smiled.

After saying their farewells and making promises to return, Yvette and her aunt left Lansdowne Manor. Once they were in the carriage on their way back to London, Aunt Cecilia could not contain her excitement any longer.

“Yvette, my girl, I believe you’ve done it! You are on the brink of becoming the next Duchess of Lansdowne! I can feel it in my bones!”

“Do you truly think so? Sometimes I have my doubts.” Yvette’s heart filled with uncertainty and worry as soon as the carriage drove away from the estate.

“Why, yes!” Cecilia’s thin lips spread into a most joyful grin. “It’s obvious to me that the man is smitten with you! His mother approved of you too. And why wouldn’t she? You’re a beautiful girl from a good family. They should be lucky to have you!”

“Thank you, Aunt Cecilia.”

She patted Yvette’s shoulder. “You’re the smartest of all your sisters, you know. You’ve done well, girl, you’ve done well. Landing a duke! I could cry with happiness for you.” Her aunt sighed deeply.

Yvette stared out the window.

“I was there for your sisters’ debuts,” Aunt Cecilia continued. “They couldn’t have cared less about marrying well. Colette was lucky to catch Lucien Sinclair, who was in line to inherit his father’s marquisate, because she was not the least bit interested in a title. All she cared about was that infernal bookshop of your father’s. Then Juliette wasted the money we spent on her and ran away and married a sea captain! An American sea captain! Heavens, what a shame! When I think of the brilliant matches I could have made for her! But at one point I feared both their reputations would end up ruined by associating with Lord Eddington, that handsome rapscallion! But he turned out to be a decent fellow, didn’t he? Although he is definitely not marriage material. Illegitimate sons rarely are.”

Cecilia paused for a breath before continuing on. “Then Lisette and Paulette both turned up their noses at a Season. Imagine! They refused to have one. How your mother allowed such a thing, I’ll never understand. Those two deliberately squandered their resources and excellent connections. Just like Juliette. And it was a fluke that Paulette ended up a countess. But an Irishman? Honestly.” Her aunt shook her head in disbelief.

Yvette turned from the window and looked at her aunt. “In any case, my sisters are all quite happily married to very fine men, Aunt Cecilia.”

“I daresay that might be true,” Cecilia said. “But out of all your sisters, you are the only one who had a proper come-out and, oh, Yvette, just think of it! You shall be a
duchess!
It’s simply too marvelous to believe!”

Yvette pinched herself. Her aunt was saying all the things she had wanted to hear. She wanted her family to be overjoyed and to think her clever and successful for marrying a future duke. Still, nothing was definite yet.

“Your uncle and I are quite pleased with you. And I know your father, God rest his poor soul, would be proud of you too, Yvette.”

Proud. Yes, Yvette wanted her family to be proud of her. And they would be when she was engaged to the future Duke of Lansdowne at Christmastime.

10

Glad Tidings

Jeffrey Eddington walked up the steps to his father’s London townhouse, just as his cousin, James Granger Eddington, was exiting the front door. Both men stopped midway on the stairs when they were at even heights with each other.

“Good evening, Jeffrey.”

“James.”

“How are things?”

“Good. And you?”

“Just fine.” James took a step down, as if to continue on his way. Then he suddenly turned and came back up, until he was a step above Jeffrey. “Oh, by the way, how goes our little wager?”

“Swimmingly.”

“Really?” James’s face filled with smugness. “It seems to me I heard that the Duchess of Lansdowne invited Yvette Hamilton to tea this week. Rumor has it that Lord Shelley is on the brink of proposing to her. Once she agrees to marry him, and you know she will, I win!”

“That means nothing.” Jeffrey gave a careless shrug. “The Duchess of Lansdowne also invited Jane Fairmont to tea as well.”

“Oh, come now, Jeffrey!” James laughed wickedly. “If you had to choose between having Jane Fairmont in your bed or Yvette Hamilton, who would it be? You’d better hurry up, Cousin. Time is ticking away. You’ll be paying off our wager before you know it!”

Jeffrey ignored his cousin’s obnoxious laughter as he continued down the steps. Not sure if he was more infuriated by James’s pompous predictions or the thought of Lord Shelley bedding Yvette Hamilton, he stormed up the stairs and flung open the door to his father’s house.

“Hello, my boy!” Maxwell Eddington, the Duke of Rathmore, greeted his only son with a smile when Jeffrey entered his father’s private study. He sat before a roaring fire, drink in hand. “Fix yourself something. Have a seat.”

Without a word, Jeffrey went to the sideboard, where he poured himself a tumbler full of whiskey from the crystal decanter.

“You just missed James,” his father said affably.

“Oh, no,” Jeffrey replied after he took a swig of whiskey. “I caught him on the steps on my way in. Wished I could have knocked him down.” He sat on one of the leather chairs opposite his father before the fire.

Maxwell Eddington laughed, his blue eyes alight with merriment. “I wish you had knocked him down. The man can’t wait for me to die. I swear he stops by to see me only with the hope to find me on my death bed.”

Jeffrey shook his head, not finding the humor in any of it. He sipped his whiskey. “Don’t say such things.”

“Well then.” Pausing for a moment, the duke changed the subject. “Your mother sends her regards.”

Almost choking on the liquor, Jeffrey didn’t think he heard correctly. He sputtered, “Wh . . . what? When did you see my mother?”

“That got your attention, didn’t it? I thought it might.” His father chuckled. “Yes, I went out to visit her last week. We had a good long talk, she and I.”

“You went to see Mother? My mother?” Jeffrey asked again. As far as he knew, his mother and father had not spoken in years.

“Yes. She looks just as beautiful as I remember, too. She was always a lovely woman, your mother. It’s a shame the way things worked out between us.”

Stunned at this development, Jeffrey shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“What’s to understand?” Maxwell asked. “Janet Rutherford was the only woman I ever cared about. And she gave me the greatest gift of my ill-gotten life.” Maxwell paused and stared at Jeffrey. “That would be you, my boy. Yes, she gave me a son. The finest son any man could ever ask for. Something my wife, God rest her soul, was unable to do.”

Jeffrey stared at his father. “I’m still shocked you went to see her.”

“We thought you might be.”

“We?” Jeffrey questioned, growing more confused by the minute.

“Yes, your mother and I thought you would be surprised. We had a very nice visit together, as I said. Very nice indeed.”

“So you did.” What were his parents doing together? It confounded him.

His parents had caused quite a scandal when he was born. Jeffrey’s mother, a beautiful and acclaimed ballerina, had had an affair with the dashing Duke of Rathmore, who had already been married to the quite respectable, Lady Georgia Grant, daughter of an earl. Their adulterous affair had resulted in the birth of Jeffrey Maxwell Eddington. The beleaguered duchess had bravely ignored all of her husband’s many affairs, including the one with Janet Rutherford. But when the duke publicly claimed Jeffrey as his son, Georgia could do nothing but bear it with her innately bred stoic and quiet dignity.

Jeffrey had been well provided for and spent most of his early childhood with his doting mother and summers with his father at Eddington Grove, one of the smaller estates. He had then been sent to Eton and educated as most aristocratic children were, and had even attended Oxford. His father, thrilled to have a handsome and healthy son, had managed to grant him the courtesy title of Lord Eddington, but as far as claiming him as his heir, that was quite impossible. Illegitimate sons did not inherit their father’s title. As it stood, his distant cousin, James Granger Eddington, was legally next in line. As Jeffrey grew older, he had spent the majority of his time in London with his father, but he’d visited his mother often. His father had purchased a pretty house for her just outside the city and seen to it that she wanted for nothing.