Once Upon a Christmas Kiss (12 page)

“Oh, don’t be like that, old fellow,” Leaming said swaying on his feet a little. “Miss Winnie and I have an understanding. Don’t we pet?”

Winnie winced at the familiarity, but Lucien wondered what the fellow meant by “understanding.” Vowing to ask her about it later, now he said, “I don’t give a damn what you have, Leaming. Now move along.”

Perhaps realizing, even through his drunkenness, that he’d gone too far, Leaming shrugged slightly and left.

“That fellow is a nuisance,” Beesley said, disgusted. “Are you all right, Miss Winifred?”

“Yes,” Winnie said, her mouth white with anxiety. “But I think I’ll retire to my bedchamber for a little rest before dinner. If you’ll all excuse me?”

Before he could offer to escort her, she was walking briskly out into the hallway, headed for the stairs.

Excusing himself as well, Lucien followed.

***

She wished she’d never set eyes on Leaming, Winnie thought as she hurried up the stairs, wanting only the privacy of her room. It was silly, she fumed, to think that she’d forgotten Leaming’s blackmail threat that day on the ice, but she’d honestly hoped he’d forgotten about it since they’d not spoken since.

It had been too much to hope, though. That he’d dared to mention it in front of Lucien, however, whom she was expected to rob in order to meet Leaming’s demand was worst of all. Not that any of this would come to fruition, of course. Just when she’d begun to think that she might actually be able to wed Lucien without fearing for his reputation, now Leaming put another block in their path. For if wedding him meant giving in to Leaming’s blackmail, she’d have to deny herself.

“Winnie,” she heard Lucien behind her. “Wait up a moment.”

She’d just reached the door of her chamber, so she turned, pressing her back against it. “I’m sorry, was there something you needed?” she asked, hoping her eyes were drier than they felt.

He stopped short. Tipping his head to the side, he scrutinized her face. “What’s the matter?” he asked, frowning. “What was it that Leaming did to overset you? And what did he mean about an understanding?”

Realizing that this was going to a more serious conversation than should be had in the hallway, Winnie opened her bedchamber door and indicated that he should follow her.

Sitting on the settee in the corner, she watched as he took the chair opposite. He seemed so large in her bedchamber. His height and breadth making the furniture seem inordinately small, and fragile.

“What did Leaming mean?” he asked without preamble. “Because it sounded as if he thought you had an agreement of some sort.”

Winnie sighed. “It’s not what it sounds like,” she explained. “We aren’t betrothed.”

It was an absurd thought, but she couldn’t even manage the smile it deserved.

“I hadn’t thought you were,” Lucien said mildly, looking puzzled. When she didn’t respond, he leaned forward and took her icy hands in his. “What is it, my dear girl? Has he done something else to upset you? Because if he has—”

“It’s nothing,” she said shaking her head. “He was just making a bad joke about something he said that day on the ice.”

He stilled. “You didn’t tell me he said anything toward that day.”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d be upset,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “And to be honest, I’d not really thought about it after my fall and everything that’s happened since.”

“What did he say?” Lucien’s tone said he’d brook no denial from her.

“He told me that once we’re wed he’ll expect me to steal from you and send it to him.”

Lucien was silent for a moment, and Winnie could see his jaw tighten and his lips purse in anger. “Bastard,” he said through clenched teeth. He stood. “I have to go.”

Winnie leapt up and grabbed hold of his arm. “Do not! Do not confront him now. He’ll only deny it.”

“I don’t give a damn if he denies it or not,” Lucien said, shrugging away from her hold. “I already know he’s a liar. And now in addition to everything else he’s done to you, he’s also blackmailing you.”

She hurried forward and blocked the door with her body. “Don’t you think I know that? But right now it’s just some hypothetical …” Seeing he wasn’t convinced, she went on, “Who’s to say we’ll even marry at all? What will his blackmail achieve then? I mean, we haven’t discussed whether it will happen or not. Not since we first decided to embark upon this engagement in name only.”

He stopped short. Winnie flinched as he stared at her. “Things have changed since we made that agreement,” he said tightly, his brows were almost touching he was frowning so hard. “At least I thought they had. Clearly nothing has changed for you.”

She wished more than anything that the situation was as simple as he thought it. But it wasn’t just something they could decide on a whim. If marrying Lucien meant that he’d spend the rest of his days facing the sort of snide remarks and sideways glances that Winnie’s father had suffered, then she simply would not marry him. It was that simple.

But that didn’t mean explaining it to him would be easy.

“The matter is complicated,” she said, daring to meet his gaze and finding not only anger, but a sadness that almost made her lose her resolve. She steeled herself, however. “It’s not a question of affection, or attraction,” she went on. “You know that I feel both for you.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, turning to pace before her. “If I want you and you want me, then why isn’t it as simple as that?”

“For one thing,” she began, pretending a calm she did not feel, “there is the reality that no matter how we manage this thing with Leaming, there will always be another one lurking in the shadows.”

He stopped, frowning. “You cannot know that. And Leaming himself will cease to be a problem after tonight. I’m going to tell my cousin to send him packing. Broken carriage or no broken carriage.”

“And then what?” Winnie demanded, frustration rising within her at his naiveté. “Will you have your cousin send away every man who presumes to think that because I am, or will have been, a governess I’ll be willing to lie with him despite my marriage to you? Can Hurst really do that, do you think?”

Lucien stalked forward and took her upper arms in his hands. For a moment, Winnie thought he was going to shake her, but instead he pulled her against his broad chest, as if he needed the reassurance of feeling her heart beat against his.

“I don’t know what happened to you to make you think that marriage between us would be a constant series of indignities for us both,” he said gently stroking her hair, “but I can assure you that unequal matches are made every day, most far more lopsided than ours will be, and those couples manage to be quite content. As I told you before, it’s not as if you are a housemaid, or the daughter of a rat catcher. Your father was a gentleman.”

“Yes,” she said, laying her cheek against his chest, trying to soak up everything about him while she was able. “But that ceased to matter when I went into service as a governess. As such I’m neither fish nor fowl. Not high enough to live upstairs and not low enough to live downstairs. And though my birth has managed to make me desirable as a governess, it cannot remove the stigma of taking money—even what little I earn—for work. I ceased to be an eligible bride for any gentleman when I took my first position. If I had a large dowry it wouldn’t matter, but I do not.”

“Who cares about money?” he demanded. “I have enough for us both.”

“And they’ll say I married you for it,” she whispered against his cravat. “They’ll say I seduced you for it. Or worse. And whatever affection you might feel for me now will be chipped away, bit by bit, as even the men you thought were your friends talk about you behind your back, and snicker about you being led about by the nose.”

Taking a deep breath, she pushed against his chest, and though reluctant, Lucien took a step back.

“It’s how my parents lived,” she said, steeling herself against the concern in his eyes. “Even though my father was a younger son, he was quite eligible on the marriage mart. Though it was clear from the first that he was destined for a life in academia, he was still expected to make an eligible match. But when he met my mama, an innkeeper’s daughter, he had to have her. And against his family’s wishes they were married. And he gave up his dream of the ivory tower to become a country vicar.”

As if sensing she needed to speak her peace, Lucien said nothing. Just waited silently. Listening.

“Lucien, you cannot know just how hellish it is to live with someone who blames you for every slight, real or imagined, that comes his way; or who blames his unhappiness on your very existence.” The tickle behind her nose said tears threatened, but Winnie had to get through this speech. “That’s how he treated us, Cordy and me. Papa blamed us for not being sons, but it was Mama for whom he reserved his true animosity. By the time they died, she was so unhappy, Cordelia and I feared that she would take her own life.”

“How did they die, Winnie?” he asked, taking her hands in his. His voice was gentler than she deserved, she thought. Even so, she felt so comforted by the simple gesture that she’d have been unable to refuse him even if she wanted to.

“They were on their way back from visiting his elder brother,” she said, fearing that she’d be unable to say the words when the time came. “Papa was asking him for funds so that he could have his Greek translations published. We were always short of funds, and he was unable to afford it on his own. Mama had been ill all winter, so the prospect of an outing was too tempting to pass up, though Papa would most certainly have liked to go alone.”

The next part of the tale was something she’d never told another living soul. “They were on their way home—Papa’s brother had refused his request—and when the mail coach stopped at an inn, they went inside. Apparently Papa had enough for a room, and they went up. The innkeeper found them the next morning. Both dead. They found an empty bottle of laudanum beside Papa. So it was assumed he’d given a lethal dose to Mama before taking the rest for himself.”

“Winnie.” Lucien gathered her against him. “My god, how awful for you. You and Cordelia both.”

“I’d always known he resented the indignities that had been forced on him by his unequal marriage,” Winnie said against his shoulder, grateful for the strength of his arms around her. “But it had never occurred to me that he would kill himself—and her—over it. You just don’t expect that. Not while you’re muddling through day-to-day life. I mean, we’d worried that Mama would do something like that, since she suffered from melancholy rather badly, but for all his resentment, Papa had never been violent. But there was a layer just beneath the surface, a suppressed rage that leaked out from time to time.”

“What a coward,” Lucien said, his voice fierce with resentment on her behalf. “Not only to take the easy way out for himself, but to rob you of both your parents at the same time. To leave you and your sister without protection. Though I suppose your father’s family took you in.”

“Oh yes,” she said, unable to keep the disgust from her voice. “We went to our uncle at once, who was happy enough to welcome us into his household. Briefly, that is, just so long as it took for us to find positions as teachers. Me as a governess, and Cordelia as the schoolmistress in Little Sanditon.”

“What?” Lucien stepped back so that he could see if she told the truth. Winnie shrugged. It was hardly the worst thing that could have happened to them. A life spent as unpaid servants in her uncle, Lord Taunton’s, household for instance. Taking orders from his haughty wife and spoiled daughters. At least with positions out in the world, Winnie and Cordelia could make decisions for themselves—at least in some instances. In the Taunton household, they’d have suffered even worse indignities.

“Who is this uncle of yours?’ Lucien demanded. “I shall add him to my list, along with Leaming.”

“He is Taunton,” Winnie admitted, “but I did not tell you all this so that you could avenge me. I’ve long ago forgiven my uncle for his cruelty.”

“Why then?”

“Do you see now why I cannot marry you?” Winnie demanded. “There is no way I will risk doing to you what this kind of marriage did to my own parents. I cannot. I will not.”

He looked as if he would argue with her, but to Winnie’s surprise, he said only, “I can see that I won’t convince you that this is a mistake just now.”

She bit back the protest that had been ready on her lips. Before she could ask what he was about, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“But,” he continued, “I reserve the right to revisit this when we’ve both had some time to think.”

“I won’t change my mind,” she said, sounding mulish even to her own ears.

But he didn’t look deterred. “We’ll see.”

And with a crooked smile, he slipped out of her bedchamber.

When he was gone, Winnie collapsed onto her bed, letting the tears she’d been holding at bay run free.

Chapter Thirteen

The next day, since Hurst could apparently not go a day without spending some time in the open air, he declared after luncheon that they would—thanks to the fresh snow that had fallen the night before—make the trek up Miller’s Hill on the other side of the wood and enjoy a day of sledding.

After their candid discussion the evening before, Lucien and Winnie had spent the morning politely pretending as if nothing had happened. Though Lucien still wished both Winnie’s father and uncle to the devil, he understood why she was so reluctant to enter into marriage at all. Much less one she perceived to be the mirror image of her parents’. And he could hardly blame her. It was a reasonable concern.

He was not yet ready to give up, however. Not least because they were nothing like her parents. Winnie had already proven herself a strong-minded and sensitive woman who not only knew her own mind but would never stand for the sort of treatment her mother had endured at her father’s hands. And Lucien was sane enough and, frankly, wealthy enough to know there was no way on earth he’d ever feel the degree of enmity the Reverend Nightingale had felt for his wife. He simply didn’t have it in him. And though he’d not tell her this, he suspected that the attachment between the reverend and his wife had been merely physical at the outset. Though Lucien wanted Winnie in the worst way, their relationship was based on more than simple attraction. At the heart of it was a friendship that gave them a far more solid foundation than the Nightingales had started married life with.