The Christmas Heiress (3 page)

"But I am supposed to partner-"

'Wonderful. It's a quadrille," Charlotte interrupted, allowing her friend no opportunity to protest. She grasped
his hand and led the way, making certain they were the
fourth couple within a particular set of dancers.

Initially, her mind was distracted, but fortunately
Jonathan was an excellent dancer. He guided her
through the movements with skill and confidence.
Charlotte's nerves settled and she wove in and out
gracefully, humming along to the music. Then she
executed a half turn and found herself face-to-face
with Lord Edward.

He smiled, displaying a row of straight, white
teeth that gleamed like pearls.

Charlotte missed a step.

Her feet felt clumsy, and she was momentarily off
balance. Jonathan immediately came to her rescue.
He clasped her about the waist and centered her in
the correct position. They repeated the pattern of
the dance and this time Charlotte thought she was
ready. But when Lord Edward grinned at her a
second time, her mind spun with possibilities.

Her senses reeled and her mind whirred and her
pulse hammered with excitement. She could feel
the heat emanating from his skin, could smell the
soap with which he had bathed. She had the
strangest urge to reach out and rest her palm on his
chest, but thankfully there was no opportunity to
indulge her whimsy.

This was not what she had expected.

The dance ended, but before Jonathan could
escort her off the floor, Charlotte moved to place
herself directly in front of his brother.

"I believe the next is your dance, Lord Edward."

It was a bold move, but Charlotte decided it was
past time to test his lordship's intentions.

"I am honored, Miss Aldridge," Lord Edward Barringer answered in a neutral tone.

He bowed, then looked up. She offered him a
smile that would melt the bones of a lesser man,
but Edward was not fully taken in by it.

He had known Charlotte Aldridge since they
were both children, and he clearly remembered
the one thing she had always excelled at was getting
her own way. Apparently that had not changed. He
had no doubts that the man who succumbed to
that smile would dance to her merry tune for the
rest of his days.

Nevertheless, duty demanded that he be a polite
host. This was as good a time as any to engage in the
one obligatory dance of the evening he had promised his mother he would make with each female
guest. Though he was honest enough to admit that
dancing with Charlotte would hardly be a chore.

Edward was surprised to feel a pang of momentary
disappointment when the dance was announced. It
was another quadrille, not the expected waltz. Though
in retrospect, he decided perhaps it was better not to
hold this lovely young creature in his arms.

Her green eyes sparkled with lively interest as
they took their positions. They began moving the
moment the musicians struck the correct chords.

Edward was an intelligent man, a keen observer
of people, but it was not necessary to notice every
nuance to quickly see Charlotte's game. She flirted
openly with him, and though he tried not to be,
Edward found himself amused at the enticing way
she smiled whenever he touched her hand.

She was a very lovely girl. She had high cheekbones, an upturned nose, a generous mouth and
skin that resembled the finest porcelain. The blond
streaks in her honey-brown hair shimmered in the
glow of the candlelight and he wondered if its
length went to just beyond her shoulders or fell as
far down as her waist.

Her gown was a deep shade of green that matched
her eyes. Styled in the latest fashion, it accentuated
her hourglass figure and was flounced at the bodice
and hem with yards of intricate lace. And while he
thought it ridiculous for a girl of her age to be wearing such a sophisticated piece of jewelry, he had to
admit the necklace looked stunning on her.

The diamonds framed the neckline of her gown
perfectly, drawing the eye to the soft swells of her
breasts above the top of her emerald silk gown. And
what impressive breasts they were. Miss Aldridge
had a tall, willowy figure, but there was nothing
slender about her chest.

"Your grandfather told me you made your curtsey
to the queen this past spring," Edward said, the next
time they came close. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Sometimes. But eventually the endless parties
started to become boring. Everywhere you go, you
always see the same faces. I was quite content to
return home. As for the queen ..." Charlotte's
voice trailed off.

Edward's brow lifted in surprise. Most young
women of his acquaintance were in awe of the
monarch. "Were you not impressed with her regal
bearing and majesty?"

"Personally, I think she takes herself a bit too seriously," Charlotte confided in a hushed whisper.

Edward had difficulty holding back his laughter,
but he feared that would only encourage her to
make more outlandish remarks. So he managed to
restrain himself.

"I was not in London this Season," Edward said.
"I spent most of the past year abroad."

"On the grand tour?"

Edward nearly groaned. Unlike his contemporaries, he had spent his time on the continent
studying, learning and working hard, determined
to gain the knowledge he needed to make himself
a successful businessman.

"I visited various European capitals," he answered
evasively. "It was very enlightening."

"I assumed you had not been in Town," Charlotte
replied. "I am certain I would have remembered if
our paths had crossed."

She gave him another enthralling smile and Edward
had the strangest sensation that he was suddenly the
only person in the room with her. He blinked and
shook his head vigorously to ward off the feeling.

He was not searching for a romantic entanglement.
Or a bride. At twenty-three, Edward believed he was
still too young, too unsettled, too financially insecure
to take a wife. One day he would inherit his father's
title and become the next earl, but alas, there would
be no great fortune to accompany his new status.

Being a sensible and forward-thinking man,
Edward was determined to fix that problem. His
plans to achieve financial solvency for himself and
his family would require all his concentration, a
considerable amount of his time and a bit of good
luck. There was no room in the equation for a
young bride.

Especially someone like Charlotte Aldridge. She
was clever and charming and far too lovely. Her
perfume was a delicate fragrance, reminiscent of violets. The scent lingered in the air, charging him
with a restless, reckless feeling. The less he had to
do with her, the better.

The steps of the dance called for them to momentarily separate, and he watched her make a
graceful pirouette, her gown floating softly around
her calves and ankles. When her shapely legs came
into clear view, he could hear the buzz of gossip
starting from the group of stiff-necked matrons
who were sitting around the edges of the dance
floor, watching their every move.

She seemed unaware of it, but then, for an instant,
her thoughtful eyes locked with his and a delicately
fine eyebrow arched in amusement. The little minx!
She was well aware of the sensation she was causing
and clearly it did not bother her a bit. Quite the contrary, she seemed to enjoy causing a stir.

Edward was unsure if he felt relief or disappointment when their dance came to an end. As Charlotte
sank into a final curtsey, there was no mistaking the
welcoming interest in her eyes. Yet he answered her
with a polite, remote gaze.

Everyone shuffled about, regrouping for the next
dance. Charlotte was claimed by Lord Haddon, a
pleasant-looking young viscount. As Edward watched
her take the floor, she turned her head and tilted
her chin in a provocative pose toward the viscount.

The gesture merely confirmed Edward's earlier
opinion-Miss Charlotte Aldridge would be a
bundle of trouble for any man who chose to take
her on.

The following day, breakfast was served in the
morning room, which overlooked the gardens at
the back of the estate. When at home, Charlotte
seldom left her bedchamber before noon, but at
Farmington Manor she found herself wide awake
the moment the sun rose.

Memories of the dance she had shared with Lord
Edward last night lingered in her mind. Those recollections had made her dreams restless, exciting,
filled with new and intriguing possibilities. Charlotte wished the time she spent with him had been
longer, wished there had been an opportunity to
speak with him privately. But she contented herself
with the notion that this was the beginning of the
holiday festivities and there would be many chances
to rectify that problem over the coming week.

Who knew, perhaps today would be the day he
would begin courting her in earnest?

Buoyed by the thought, Charlotte insisted that
Jones take extra care with her morning toilette. She
wanted everything to be perfect. Her gown was changed twice, her hair done in three different styles
before Charlotte was satisfied with her appearance.
Feeling confident, yet slightly nervous, she joined
the earl and countess, Lord Edward, Jonathan and
several other early-rising guests for breakfast.

It was a clear, crisp morning, with blue skies and
few clouds. The grass was lightly browned from the
nightly freezing temperature, and though Charlotte thought there was something about the day
that felt more like spring than winter, the guests
seated at the breakfast table spoke longingly of the
possibility of snow before Christmas Day arrived.

"I for one dislike the snow," the countess declared. "It's so dreadfully inconvenient. It can keep
one house-bound for days and days."

"Snow is so beautiful! " Jonathan protested. "It
sparkles and shimmers, white and pristine, especially when it is newly fallen, making everything
look clean and fresh and untouched."

"Looks are often deceiving," the countess retorted,
as she crumbled the edge of a piece of toast between
her fingers. "My sister, bless her heart, slipped and
broke her leg one winter on a fresh patch of snow.
Though it eventually mended, she was never the
same. To this day, it pains her whenever it rains."

Across the breakfast table, Charlotte's eyes met
Lord Edward's. His left eyebrow raised and a
slightly mocking smile escaped as his mother
launched into another desperate tale about the
perils of snow. Charlotte found she could not resist
returning his grin even though it then forced her
to concentrate on keeping her hands steady on her
knife and fork.

"There is no need to be so dire," Lord Edward in terjected when the countess paused to take a
breath. "Most of us will be happy indeed to see the
snow. And if it does arrive, we shall all be building
snowmen, sledding over it, clearing the frozen lake
so we may skate upon the ice and of course engaging in a massive snowball battle."

The countess began pleating her linen napkin
into tight, narrow folds. "Very well. If it does snow,
I shall stand on the terrace and watch all of you lose
your dignity."

"The terrace? Near the south lawn?"Jonathan returned his china coffee cup to its saucer. "A prime
viewing location, yet in close enough range to be
struck by a stray snowball. Or two."

The countess puffed out her cheeks. "I cannot
even begin to elaborate on the consequences that
would befall the individual who dared to strike me
with a mass of cold, wet, snow," she warned.

"The culprit would be thrown into the dungeons at
once," Lord Edward said. "We still have working dungeons, don't we, sir?" he asked, turning to his father.

The earl grinned. "Certainly. I'm sure Harris
even knows where the keys to the largest cell can be
found."

"Excellent." Lord Edward got to his feet. "Now
that my mother is assured of her safety, I would like
to invite everyone on a late-morning outing. The
decorating of the house will begin in earnest today,
and we need to fetch holly, ivy, pine boughs-"

"And mistletoe, "Jonathaninterjected.

"Yes, mistletoe," Lord Edward agreed. "I hope
many of you will decide to join my brother and
me.

There was a chorus of enthusiastic interest. Charlotte added her voice to the mix and hastily
finished her cup of hot chocolate.

"Mistletoe?" The countess tried to look disapproving at her son's suggestion, but could not hold
the expression for long. "I fear I shall be overruled
if I object to having it brought into the house,
though I daresay it would not be Christmas without
at least one kissing bough."

"Only one?"Jonathan protested loudly.

The countess glowered at her younger son. "I will
instruct the servants to fetch the ribbons and bows
and bells from the attic so we may all properly
adorn the greenery. However, I shall personally supervise the placement of all the decorations. The
year Jonathan took charge of putting up the greenery, the front parlor and drawing room ceilings
were covered in kissing boughs and positively dripping with mistletoe."

"Aye, now that was a grand Christmas," Jonathan
remarked with a dreamy look in his eyes. "You could
not take more than three steps without standing beneath a cluster of greenery that required a kiss."

Everyone laughed, and even the countess smiled.
"The placement of mistletoe is very important," she
insisted. "Most people make the mistake of putting
it over a doorway and eventually everyone gets tired
of kissing everyone else."

"Tired of kissing?" Jonathan exclaimed in mock
horror. "Impossible!"

Plans were made to meet outside within the hour,
so those who wished to partake of the holiday activity of gathering greenery could leave before it
became too cold.

Charlotte was momentarily disappointed when she realized her grandfather was not among the group
bundled up for the outdoors, but his cheerful smile
and merry wave from the terrace windows softened
the blow. And made her feel like a very mature
woman, since she was the only unattached female attending the outing without a formal chaperone.