Once Upon a Christmas Kiss (4 page)

“I cannot tell anyone about it,” Winnie said. “It would make it impossible for me to keep my position with the Ormonds if word got out. Besides, the Hursts have the right to invite whomever they wish to stay with them.

“Besides,” she continued, as if trying to convince herself, “it’s likely Leaming has forgotten the circumstance entirely. It was years ago, after all. And you know as well as I do that ladies are often the ones blamed for such things. No matter how unfair that might be.”

“He tried to take you against your will, Winifred,” Cordelia said vehemently. “That sort of man is a danger to all women, not just those who are made vulnerable by their station. What if he attempts the same sort of thing with one of the other ladies here?”

“He would not dare,” Winnie said firmly. “Not when the ladies here have the protection of their male kin who are also in attendance.”

“That is true,” Cordy said with a sigh. “But that does nothing to protect you from him. I don’t suppose you could ask Sir Lucien to have a word with him?”

For a moment Winnie was distracted from the issue of Leaming. “Why on earth would I do that? We are hardly as close as all that.”

“That is not what it looked like earlier this evening,” Cordelia said with a grin. “Why did you not tell me you’d developed a tendre for someone in Yorkshire?”

“Because I hadn’t,” Winnie said defensively. “Sir Lucien is merely a friend. But he’s hardly a good enough friend that I can call upon him to protect me from Leaming.”

“I have a strong suspicion that Sir Lucien would do anything you asked of him,” Cordelia said. “I saw the way you looked at one another tonight. The man is smitten. I’m quite sure of it.”

“You are quite mad,” Winnie said with a shake of her head. “Besides, while we are on the subject of smitten, why on earth didn’t you tell me about Mr. Beesley? The man is very clearly in love with you. Why on earth would you refuse his proposal?”

It was Cordelia’s turn to look sheepish. “I didn’t tell you because nothing will come of it. I will not marry him if it means ruining his reputation, and unfortunately that is what would happen.”

“Why, pray?” Winnie demanded. “Your birth is just as good as anyone else in attendance here. It is hardly your fault that Papa left us penniless.”

Cordelia looked down at her hands. “I had decided to marry him some weeks ago, but that was before Mrs. Green got wind of things. She told me in no uncertain terms that she’d chosen him for her eldest daughter. And that if I continued in my—what she called “my seduction of him”—then she would spread word through the entire village that I was no better than I should be and that I’d trapped Charles into marriage. Which would ruin both our reputations.”

Winnie bit back a very unlady-like word. “I knew that woman was a menace. But I thought her merely a snob. Not a true villain. But clearly she is one.”

“Indeed she is,” Cordelia said sadly. “And she’s ruined any chance at all for a match between Charles and me. I simply will not allow him to become a laughingstock. He is the most generous man imaginable. And would laugh it off if I let him. But he would come to resent me later. And I would resent myself on his behalf.”

“But surely there is some way to thwart her,” Winnie said. “After just a few minutes of conversation with him, I am quite convinced that he is desperately in love with you. And it seems quite unfair to allow Mrs. Green to triumph over you in this manner.”

“Unfair or not,” Cordelia said with a sigh, “I have come at it from every angle and can think of no way—short of murder—to stop her. She rules over the village as if Little Sanditon was Almack’s and she the only patroness.”

“What a pair we are,” Winnie said, hugging her sister to her. “Was there ever a more unfortunate pair of sisters than us? I vow I cannot think of any.”

“I feel sure that the annals of history hold their names,” Cordelia said with a laugh. “But, in Little Sanditon? No.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Each deep in her own thoughts.

Finally, Winnie rose. “I suppose that since I will be forced to remain here, I’d better don a fresh gown and return to the others.”

“You will be all right, then? With Lord Leaming here, I mean?”

“I have little choice,” Winnie said, taking a pretty green silk from the wardrobe. “I shall simply do my best to avoid him. And perhaps I will rethink my refusal to speak to Sir Lucien. For all that I will find it embarrassing, he is a friend of sorts and will likely agree to protect me, if only on the Duke of Ormond’s behalf.”

“On his own behalf more like,” Cordelia said, buttoning up the back of her sister’s gown.

Though she did not say so aloud, Winnie rather hoped that would be the case too.

Turning, she said, “Let us go then, you and I.”

Braced for trouble, they made their way downstairs.

Chapter Four

In the music room, following dinner, Lucien sat amongst the other guests listening to Miss Hawthorne’s flawless playing. Though he was normally fond of music, his thoughts tonight were troubled.

There had been something about Winnie’s departure from the drawing room that bothered him. He knew her to have delicate manners, and only something startling could have caused her to be so clumsy with her wine. He doubted it had anything to do with Beesley, whom he knew to be as mild mannered a fellow as they came. No, it had happened as Jem was announcing the newcomers to the party.

He knew Stannis a little from town, and though the young man was rather obsessed with sport, Lucien thought him unobjectionable. Leaming, he knew only by reputation. And that reputation was not good. There had been whispers a few years ago that he’d played fast and loose with a young heiress making her debut. And that his behavior had led to the girl taking her own life. It had been hushed up by the family of course, but the gossip had been rampant in male circles.

Could Winnie have encountered the fellow sometime in her past? He knew well enough that governesses were often the subject of unwanted male attention, and the idea that Leaming might have importuned her made his fists clench at his side. Winnie was a damned beautiful woman, and had likely faced her share of slips on the shoulder. More likely, however, it had been one of her charges who had been the object of Leaming’s attention. At least, that’s what Lucien hoped.

Neither man had joined the company as yet, however. And Lucien rather hoped they would not do so until tomorrow—if indeed Leaming had been the cause of Winnie’s nerves.

Along with her sister, she’d returned to the assembled company just as the party moved to the music room, wearing an exquisitely made green silk that was modest enough, but showed her curves to perfection. He’d seen more than one of the gentlemen run their eyes over her as she walked. He could hardly blame them, but even so he had the urge to plant them all facers. Or at the very least to find a cloak to cover her with.

Ridiculous
, he mentally chided himself. She was merely a friend. He was simply unaccustomed to seeing her in company with other men. He supposed he’d grown rather fond of having her to himself in Yorkshire. That’s all it was.

After the assembled company had applauded for Miss Hawthorne’s performance, Lady Emily said from her seat near Helen, “Who will play for us next?”

“Come now, ladies and gentlemen,” Jem said from beside Lucien. “I do understand how daunting it might be to follow Miss Hawthorne’s exemplary performance, but there must be someone who is willing to risk her reputation.”

“A little Christmas bird told me that Miss Winifred Nightingale has quite a passable singing voice,” Mrs. Cowper said with a malicious grin. “And I volunteer her sister to accompany her.”

Clearly she meant to embarrass Winnie, but Winnie was not to be so easily persuaded. Lucien knew from his own experience that she had a lovely voice, but also knew she would not wish to be the center of attention in such a group as this. He was an accomplished pianist, and he was a little wary of them himself.

“Surely there is someone else who will sing for us,” Winifred said politely but firmly. “One of the younger ladies, perhaps.”

“I should like to hear you, Miss Winifred,” Lady Emily said with a hint of mischief. “In fact, I insist that you sing for us. It would be too cruel of you to rob us of the novelty of hearing a pair of Nightingales’ song.”

There was a chorus of groans at the pun, but an equally loud chorus of cheers.

“P-Please do s-sing for us,” Miss Hawthorne said, once the crowd died down. “Please.”

Perhaps unable to resist the request from Miss Hawthorne, who genuinely did seem to wish to hear her, Winnie relented. “Very well.”

She and her sister rose and flipped through the sheet music Helen had provided.

Taking her position beside the pianoforte, Winnie glanced out into the audience, and for a moment her gaze held with Lucien’s. But as soon as Cordelia began to play, she fixed her gaze on some point on the wall beyond him. And in a clear, lovely soprano began singing “Jesus Christ the Apple Tree.”

If he’d thought himself on the brink of love before, hearing Winnie bring life to the same hymn he’d once heard his own mother sing in their village church when he was a child, had sent Lucien right over the edge. He’d never heard her sing on her own before. Only with Trevor’s sisters, when she was trying to teach them some new song. But this—the overwhelming beauty of her voice lifted in song, her shining face bright with the joy of it—was far more than anything he could ever have imagined.

Winnie was a beautiful woman, but tonight, she was more than that. She was beautiful, but also joyous. And if he lived to be one hundred, he’d not forget the moment her eyes met his across the room—the moment he felt their spirits connect, as if she were singing just for him.

“… the Apple Tree.” Winnie held the last note, and Lucien felt his chest constrict at the purity of the sound. For a moment he was naked, exposed, every emotion within him laid bare for the whole room to see.

Then the applause began, and even the haughty Mrs. Cowper and the icy Lady Fowlkes were wiping tears from their eyes.

“I should never have guessed it,” Jem said from where he stood beside Lucien, who blinked as if waking from a dream. “She seems such a prim sort,” he continued. “I wouldn’t have expected her to sing with such passion. It’s extraordinary. Like watching a caterpillar turn into a butterfly right before your eyes.”

What the devil?
Jem had no business thinking of Winifred’s passions. That was Lucien’s job. “You will recall you already have a wife, Hurst.”

But Jem only chuckled. “Oh, leave off, coz, I’m not proposing to begin an affair with the lady. I was merely expressing my admiration for her singing. Though if you’re eager to play watchdog, you might wish to go to her side before the crowd around her gets any closer.”

Lucien was already aware of that, however. Winnie was in the center of a group that included not only her sister, Lady Emily, and Miss Hawthorne, but also—to his annoyance—Leaming and Stannis, who must have slipped into the room while she was singing. Remembering his suspicions about Leaming, he hurried over to offer her his support.

“An angel, Miss Winifred. A veritable Christmas angel,” he heard Leaming saying as he approached. “I have never been one to admire with the heavenly host, but for a lovely voice and a lovely face, I might be persuaded.”

“As adept at hyperbole as ever, I see, Leaming,” said Lucien as he elbowed his way into the circle around Winnie. With more goodwill than he felt, he continued, “You should pay the fellow no heed, Miss Winifred, for the objects of his attention often find later that he is full of hot air.”

But if he had hoped to warn the other man off, Lucien was to be disappointed. If anything, Leaming seemed to take the warning as encouragement. “You are too cruel to the lady, my dear man,” the rake said smoothly, “for there is not a word of untruth in my praise. Indeed I am shocked to hear your words so bereft of your usual polish. Have you perhaps been rejected by her?”

Lucien, however, was no longer listening to the younger man. For it took no more than a glance to see that Winnie was, indeed, overset by Leaming’s presence. There was a coldness in her eyes that he’d never seen before. And her hand, which clasped a handkerchief to her breast, was white around the knuckles.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

He moved to stand beside and slightly in front of her, shielding her from the other man’s encroachment. Rather than telling Leaming to take himself off, as he wished to do, Lucien said instead, “I simply wish to ensure that Miss Winifred is not embarrassed by your bold praise,” he said firmly. “Especially given that you have only just arrived.”

“Have no fear of that,” Winifred said tightly, from beside him. “I know better than to believe anything that Lord Leaming says. I know him of old.”

But if Leaming was wounded by her words, he did not appear so. Clasping his hand to his chest as if clutching an imaginary wound, he said. “You wound me, lady. I cannot reconcile that such a beautiful face could mask so cold a heart. Though I should not be surprised, for you have always been cruel to me.”

“You speak as if you claim a prior acquaintance with the lady,” Mrs. Cowper said, her sharp eyes darting from Leaming to Winnie and back. “Have you met before? It was my understanding that Miss Winifred has never been to town. For the season, I mean.”

Disliking the woman’s tone even as he was grateful for her question, which he too had wanted to ask, Lucien waited for Leaming to respond. But it was Winnie who said, “Indeed, you are correct, ma’am. I have not been to town for the entertainments. But I was governess to Lord Leaming’s younger sisters some years ago, and that is where our acquaintance began”—her mouth pursed—“And ended, as it happens.”

“Indeed,” Leaming said, something about his tone lifting the hairs on the back of Lucien’s neck. “But, alas, she left so quickly I was unable to say good-bye. I do believe she broke my heart quite in two. How surprised and pleased I am to see her here. As a guest, no less! I look forward to renewing our acquaintance, my dear.”