The Christmas Heiress (11 page)

Edward rose from his seat and gave a disgruntled
sigh. He reached for the whiskey decanter, splashing the amber liquid into two glasses. His mother's
words had bitten into him, striking at the core of
his insecurity and hurt.

Silently, he handed Jonathan one of the goblets.
Raising his arm in a salute, he said bitterly, "To Miss
Menton and her new husband. May they live a long
and happy life and be content in each other's company for the rest of their days."

Edward tilted his head and drained his glass.
Jonathan, his brows drawing together in a puzzled
frown, imitated his brother's actions.

The countess averted her gaze, apparently trying
to hide her shock. She lifted her teacup and took
a fortifying sip. Edward wished he possessed the
nerve to ask her if she wanted a splash of whiskey
mixed in with her tea, to settle her nerves.

The countess pressed her lips together and gave
a stubborn sniff. "There is still hope for you to make a suitable marriage, Edward, if you decide to
be sensible."

"Even with the smell of commerce on my person,"
he mocked, echoing her words.

"As I said, blood will tell in the end. This peculiar
inclination you have to work is not widely known in
our circles." In obvious irritation, the countess narrowed her penetrating gaze. "Though you may
choose to deny it, you were raised with the expectation of nobility. I believe it would be best if we think
upon this unfortunate matter with Miss Menton as
a blessing."

"A blessing?" Astonishment shone in Jonathan's
eyes. "That is a rather heartless remark, Mother."

"Nonsense." The countess's lips pursed into a
sour expression. "Edward has been given yet another chance to make a proper marriage. I can only
pray that he will not squander this opportunity."

Edward frowned. Part of him could not help feeling angry at his mother's cold attitude and expectation that he simply substitute a new bride, a better
bride to replace the woman who had so recently
duped him.

"The choice of a wife will remain solely my decision. I do not seek nor do I require your permission
or approval, Madame," Edward replied without
apology. It was essential that his mother realize he
would not be manipulated in this matter.

"Forgive the interruption, my lady, but there is a
crisis in the kitchen that requires your immediate
attention."

They all turned to face the female who had entered the room. Edward was expecting to see one
of the maids, but instead beheld a tiny, slender, shapely, strikingly pretty young woman with lively
dark eyes and raven hair that was worn in an elegantly plaited and coiled chignon.

Her gown was subdued in color and style, slightly
out-of-fashion, but made of quality fabric. She was
not a common house servant, yet she was not a lady.
Still, she bore herself with aristocratic grace that
seemed to be bred into her very bones. Was she a
poor relation of one of the houseguests?

"Thank you, Evelyn," the countess replied. "Tell
Cook to wait for me in the dining room. I shall
attend to this problem in a moment."

The younger woman curtsied and turned to
leave, but Jonathan rushed forward.

"I am delighted to see you again, Miss Montgomery," he exclaimed. "And might I add, you are
looking very fetching this afternoon."

"'Tis very kind of you to notice, Mr. Barringer,"
she replied with a shy smile. "It seems that whenever we chance to meet you remark upon my attire.
I am beginning to wonder if you have an affinity for
women's clothing."

Jonathan laughed with delight, and a glint of mischief lit his eyes. Edward moved to stand beside his
brother.

"Cease harassing this poor young woman at once
and introduce us, Jonathan," he demanded.

"I don't believe you have met Mother's companion, Miss Evelyn Montgomery," Jonathan responded obediently. "This is my older brother, the
Earl of Worthington."

Miss Montgomery shot him a quick look of surprise. "My-my lord," she stammered in greeting. He
glimpsed a hint of vulnerability in the dark depths of her eyes before she lowered them and sank into a
raceful curtsey. "Forgive me for not properly iiig you."

Edward could only imagine what tales of horror his
mother had related about him, for what else could
explain the poor girl's sudden strain. Slightly embarrassed by her nervous reaction, Edward sought to
put her at ease.

"I am very pleased to discover my mother has the
company of such a fine young lady, Miss Montgomery," he said kindly. "I am sure you are of great
help to her."

"I tr "
y.

"Do not be so modest, Evelyn," the countess said.
"Your hands and feet are always kept very busy, but
never more so than during a house party. I do not
know how I would possibly manage without you."

"'Tis lovely to have the extra company, especially
during the holidays," Miss Montgomery said. "Christmas is always such a joyful, magical time of year."

Edward was pleased Miss Montgomery appeared
content in her position and pleased also that his
mother seemed to appreciate her companion's work.
In his experience, all too often a lady's companion
was a drab, shapeless creature, an invisible female
who lived and worked in the households of wealthy
aristocratic families as little more than an underpaid
servant. He decided he would consult the account
books before he left the estate to ensure that Miss
Montgomery was being adequately compensated.

Edward smiled charmingly. "We must make certain not to overwork you, Miss Montgomery, else
you will decide to leave us."

Her eyes grew wide. "But I have nowhere else to go, my lord. My parents died within a few months
of each other several years ago. Lacking any suitable relations willing to take me in, I was fortunate
indeed to find work as your mother's companion."

Miss Montgomery spoke with a steady voice, but at
the mention of her parents' deaths, an unmistakable
dark grief flickered across her lovely face. Edward felt
a jolt of sympathy for the young woman's predicament. Though technically not an orphan, he knew all
too well what it felt like to be deprived of blood
relations.

"Considering your circumstances, I hope that you
will look upon us as far more than an employer,"
Edward said, offering the young woman a smile he
hoped was encouraging.

A pretty blush of color filled her cheeks and she
ducked her head. It wasn't too difficult to follow the
progression of her thoughts; clearly, she was embarrassed at having revealed so much about herself.

Jonathan's discreet cough came to the rescue,
breaking the mood. Miss Montgomery darted
lightly back across the room to leave, but stopped
with her hand on the doorknob. "I'm sure it will be
a fine holiday celebration now that you are back
with your family, my lord."

"I will see you both later," the countess said after
her companion had left. "As you might remember,
Edward, we dine earlier than is the Town fashion.
The houseguests will be gathering in the drawing
room no later than six-thirty."

Edward nodded his head politely, wondering why
his mother bothered to remind him about the
evening meal. She would certainly prefer if he were
late, or better still, if he never came at all.

He sighed. This day felt twenty hours long, yet it
was far from over. Edward admitted it was partially
his fault. He had expected too much. Jonathan's
optimism had brushed off on him, making him believe it was possible for the countess to see reason,
to forget the past and to move forward and mend
the rift between them.

He knew now, it would take far more than an afternoon chatting over tea and trading barbs to alter
his mother's opinion of him. It would take far more
than patience and a few glasses of whiskey along
with some garbled explanations of his actions to
reach some kind of peaceful relationship.

It would take nothing short of a miracle.

Charlotte took a late-afternoon lavender-and-rosewater-scented bath, washing her hair and then rinsing it in equal parts lemon juice and hot water.
Once it dried and was combed out, she climbed into
the comfortable four-poster bed, knowing she
would be unable to nap, but deciding a few hours of
quiet rest would invigorate her mind and spirits.

Much to her surprise, she slept a dreamless, untroubled sleep for several hours and awoke to find
her headache gone. Pleased to be feeling better,
she dressed with care for dinner, allowing her maid
to lace her tightly into a fashionable dark green silk
gown with cream lace trim and a matching green
embroidered hem.

Charlotte had always enjoyed wearing fine
clothes and tried to look her best at all occasions,
but it was now of paramount importance that for
the next two weeks she groomed herself with the utmost care. Being in prime looks gave her a boost
of confidence and it was essential that she wasn't at
any kind of disadvantage whenever she was in the
earl's company.

"How should I wear my hair this evening, Jones?"
Charlotte asked her maid.

"Not too severe, Miss," the maid replied. With
skillful hands, she pinned up a large section of
Charlotte's hair and then deftly manipulated sections of the long, shiny tresses into ringlets that
clustered around her face. "If you are wearing the
emeralds tonight, I can place the matching haircombs on the top and sides."

"Yes, please. Use the combs."

The maid unlocked the jewel case and retrieved
the emerald-and-diamond combs. After pinning
them carefully into place, she stepped back to
admire her handiwork. "It looks lovely."

"Yes, it does, Jones. You have a deft touch. Thank
you.

Charlotte removed the matching necklace and
earbobs from the jewel case, then dabbed some
lavender-scented perfume onto the inside of her
wrists and elbows and behind her ears.

At last she felt ready to do battle. She was going
to show the Earl of Worthington that she was a contented, beautiful, sophisticated woman in the very
prime of her life who did not waste a minute of her
thoughts on him.

She had something to prove. To him, but more
importantly to herself. She was, in truth, a contented woman. Life with Grandfather at Quincy
Court was good. She had far more freedom than
many unmarried women her age, financial security and the opportunity to say and do whatever she
wanted, within reason, of course.

If something was missing, well, perhaps that too
might come along one day. Being rejected by the
earl when she was seventeen years old had been a
bitter pill to swallow. For a short time Charlotte had
decided she would never marry, but eventually she
came to her senses and realized it would be foolish
to deny herself a lifelong partner because of one
broken relationship.

No, Charlotte had not given up on marriage. She
had however adopted a high standard of expectation in a partner. Thanks to her indulgent grandfather, the choice of a husband was hers to make, and
even though she was twenty-three, she felt no need
to hurry. She had gained maturity and sensibility
over the years and felt no competition from the
crop of giggling debutantes fresh from the schoolroom who came to London each Season.

Charlotte was courted each year by several gentlemen, though as of yet she had not found the right
one. Her goal was to marry someone who was acceptable to her grandfather and appealing to herself.

The trouble was, no man, no matter how handsome, titled, wealthy or powerful, had been truly
appealing.

Was that because of Edward Barringer, Earl of
Worthington? A little shiver prickled her spine.
Charlotte honestly could not say. But now that she
had been given a chance to see him again, perhaps
she would finally find out.

The guests gathered in the drawing room before
dinner, exchanging greetings and renewing acquaintances. Charlotte visited briefly with each of them, then stole away for a moment to a quiet corner, her
attention drawn to the outside fading light.

She stood at the long French windows, watching
the sun set beneath an orange, gold and pink sky.
"Have you ever seen a more glorious sight?" she
muttered, her voice filled with soft wonder.

"Yes, it is rather magnificent," came the masculine reply.

Charlotte felt herself flushing. She had not realized the earl was so close. She thought she was alone.

Without being invited, the earl came up beside
her and they watched the sun disappear over the
edge of the distant forest. As darkness engulfed the
view, the twinkling glow of the candle-lit chandelier
reflected off the window glass. Charlotte lifted her
head and looked directly at him.

He was looking back, his eyes narrowed in puzzlement. She wondered if he was remembering kissing
her. She tilted her head a little higher. She felt
color flood her cheeks as her mind was swamped
with those extraordinary memories.

Many things were different about the earl, but
the sheer power and magnetism of the man had
not altered. Especially when one was standing so
close. Charlotte felt a surge of confused resentment. The last thing she needed was to rekindle
her girlhood emotions toward him.

"Was it a sudden, impulsive decision to leave London
and come to Farmington Manor?" she asked, desperate to change the strange mood that enveloped them.

The earl's eyes narrowed. "As I have so frequently
reminded everyone who has been so shocked to see
me today, this is my home."

"Yet you never visit."

He brushed his hand lightly through his hair.
"Are you aware of the circumstances of my recently
cancelled engagement, Miss Aldridge?"

Charlotte set her lips. Dozens of sarcastic retorts
sprung to her lips, but she surprisingly found herself unable to gloat at his misfortune. She looked at
him closely, feeling as if she could see through the
elegant clothes and sophisticated confidence to the
hurt and loneliness beneath. "I read the Morning
Chronicle, my lord. And the Morning Post."