Tis the Season to Be Sinful (21 page)
George raised a brow. “A clever man would have done the deed to put you off the scent,” he teased.
Richard glared at the dressing room door. “Hallet!”
“Sir?” the valet peered into the room.
“Did you put oatmeal in my black leather shoes this morning?”
“Pardon?”
“You heard him, Hallet.” George glanced at Richard. “Someone has filled Mr. Harper’s shoes with oatmeal. We thought it might have been your idea of a joke.”
Pressing his hand to his chest, the valet stepped out of the dressing room. “There is nothing remotely amusing about fine leather shoes and oatmeal, my lord. Surely, you are pulling my leg.”
“I’m afraid not, Hallet,” Richard replied. “There is a considerable amount of oatmeal inside my shoes. Though I, for one, never suspected you of putting it there. It was all Lord George’s idea.” Despite his initial annoyance, Richard was starting to see the humor in the incident. Edward and James were fearless. It took no small amount of courage to enter his chamber while he slept and do the deed.
“I misspoke, Hallet,” George said. “Please accept my apology.”
The valet’s rigid expression softened slightly. Then he glanced down at the ruined shoes. He flexed his shoulders as though he were trying to lift an enormous weight from them and sniffed. “I will fetch you another pair of shoes, sir, along with clean socks.”
Richard watched the servant leave. It wasn’t going to be easy trying to get the shoes clean, but he hoped they could be salvaged. They were by far his most comfortable pair.
Richard looked out at the sunshine streaming through his bedchamber window. It appeared to be a lovely day. Yet considering how it was starting, Richard wondered if it would be far wiser to climb back into his bed, pull the covers over his head, and stay there until tomorrow.
Juliet picked up her silver dinner fork and tackled the final fish course. This carefully planned meal, meant to impress and welcome the Dixons, was turning out to be much more of an ordeal than she had anticipated.
Conversation had not flagged and everyone was exceedingly polite during dinner, but it all felt stilted, even forced. Devoid of the usual merriment and humorous, teasing chatter, the warm camaraderie among her guests was definitely gone.
Juliet was puzzled by the change, dismayed by the underlying tension at the table. She had always prided herself on being an exemplary hostess; she rarely had difficulty putting her guests at ease and making conversation.
Yet tonight she was having very limited success and it bothered her. Mr. Dixon’s visit was important to Richard, and Juliet wanted everything to be perfect—or as nearly perfect as possible.
The menu was elegant, the food sophisticated and well prepared, the wines varied and bountiful. Juliet had used holiday greenery to decorate the table, along with the finest china, heaviest silver, and most delicate crystal, and had intimately lit the room with candles.
She sympathized that it would be difficult for Mrs. Dixon to memorize the various faces and names of this sizable group, but honestly the woman did not appear to be making much of an effort. She spoke only when asked a specific question and even then kept her answers to a minimum number of words.
Juliet found her stiff reticence somewhat grating and in direct contrast to her husband. When he spoke, his voice boomed over the table, interrupting all other conversation. Which might not have been a bad thing, had not the subject matter been so dreadfully dull and uncouth.
Mr. Dixon, they all quickly learned, liked to talk about money—the amount he made, the amount he hoped to make, the substantial amount more he made than his competitors. It was boorish and rude, but there was no way to stop him. Changing the subject proved fruitless; the man had an uncanny knack for always bringing the conversation back to where he wanted it.
Juliet could well understand Dixon’s success in business—the man was the very epitome of tenaciousness. But as her gaze gravitated from Mr. Dixon to Richard, she could not help comparing the two men. Richard was also tenacious, but in a far more subtle, refined way. It was a manner she could appreciate and admire, unlike Mr. Dixon’s endless boasting.
Richard seemed to be attending to Mr. Dixon’s conversation, but he was nonchalant in his attitude. The casual observer would never guess how badly Richard sought the other man’s favor.
Juliet continued her open perusal of her husband, her admiration increasing. Richard glanced up suddenly and looked directly at her. She waited, and then he lowered his lids suggestively and smiled.
The intimate smile half robbed her of breath, and Juliet felt a blush starting to warm her cheeks. Her heart started to thump, and for a moment she could do nothing but stare at him.
Ah, so he has not forgotten last night.
She had been vastly disappointed to find herself alone when she awoke that morning and even more concerned when she discovered Richard passed out in his bed, the chamber smelling strongly of whiskey.
It was obvious that he was troubled by something. She thought it might be connected to the Dixons’ visit, but upon further reflection, she believed there was more to it. Whatever it was, she wanted Richard to share his worries with her. To include her in all aspects of his life, to share his thoughts, his hopes, his secrets.
Maybe tonight . . .
“Isn’t that right, Juliet?” Uncle Horace inquired.
“Oh, yes,” she replied breezily, trusting it had been an innocent question.
She smiled at the individuals seated at her end of the table. Mrs. Dixon turned her head slightly, her expression sour. Goodness, she was not an especially pleasant individual.
It suddenly struck Juliet that perhaps Mrs. Dixon was shy. Maybe it would be more comfortable for her if there were a familiar face close by? Of course, the only other guest of Mrs. Dixon’s acquaintance was Lord George, and Juliet distinctly remembered Richard’s request to keep Lord George away from Mrs. Dixon. Something about flirting, which Juliet had no trouble believing on his lordship’s part.
It was, however, most difficult trying to imagine Mrs. Dixon smiling at anyone. The woman looked as if she could freeze water with a single icy glare.
She was attractive, with striking blond hair and pale, limpid blue eyes. Too bad her personality was so colorless; Juliet couldn’t imagine any man finding her interesting. Then again, some men preferred their women to look pretty while remaining silent.
A footman inquired if she was finished with her food, and Juliet nodded for him to take it away. Her eyes traveled down the length of the table, catching Lord George’s. He raised his eyebrow ever so slightly in a classic
I told you so
gesture. Juliet grimaced, remembering his warning that the Dixons were not the most congenial of people.
I told you so
gesture. Juliet grimaced, remembering his warning that the Dixons were not the most congenial of people.
“Shall we retire to the drawing room, ladies, and leave the gentlemen to their port and cigars?” Juliet asked.
Under murmurings of female approval, Juliet rose and led the women from the dining room. Tea was brought and the women settled in for a cozy chat. Well, most of the women.
Mrs. Dixon refused a cup of tea and sat with a rigidly straight back on her chair, her eyes trained on the door. Juliet sipped her tea without tasting it, racking her brain for a subject that might interest Mrs. Dixon.
“Do you ride, Mrs. Dixon?” she asked.
“On occasion,” Mrs. Dixon answered, a dash of disdain in her voice. “But I am most particular about my mount.”
“We have a fine stable. I’m certain we can find a horse that meets with your approval,” Juliet said congenially, still trying to decide if the woman was naturally morose or merely unsociable. Holding out a silver tray, Juliet smiled. “Do try a gingerbread cookie. Many of us spent a good part of the day decorating them, under Cook’s watchful eye. Or should I say, some of us decorated while the children and gentlemen ate.”
The other women chuckled and nodded their heads in agreement.
“I don’t eat sweets,” Mrs. Dixon said. “They ruin one’s figure.”
“Pity,” Juliet muttered as she passed the tray to Miss Hardie, feeling heartened when the secretary placed two of the cookies on her plate.
“I find the country air always stirs the appetite,” Miss Hardie commented, nibbling the head of one of her cookies.
“I have always disliked the country,” Mrs. Dixon said with quiet vehemence.
Oh, dear. For an instant, Juliet hoped the woman might be teasing, but one glance at Mrs. Dixon’s taut lips and unsmiling eyes confirmed the truth. The woman would prefer to be in town—any town.
“Well, we must endeavor to provide enough entertainment to alter your opinion,” Juliet said with forced cheer, determined to maintain a calm, friendly demeanor no matter how provoked.
The gentlemen arrived. His attention focused on Mr. Dixon, Richard didn’t meet Juliet’s gaze when he entered the room. But Lord George was soon at her side, his grin nearly infectious.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked.
“Hardly,” Juliet whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me about Mrs. Dixon?”
“What was there to say? The woman has all the charm and wit of a potted plant. Though she has no claim to a superior birth or upbringing, she often acts like a queen reluctantly condescending to servants. Having you know that sooner rather than later made little difference.”
“I suppose.” Juliet snapped the leg off a cookie and chewed it thoughtfully. “I am grateful that at least you mentioned your unfavorable opinion of Mr. Dixon.”
“It’s almost too easy to fault his lack of manners,” Lord George replied. “But make no mistake. Under that boorish exterior lies a smart, ruthless, unpleasant man, with an impressive amount of power and influence.”
“Do you think it’s unwise for Richard to partner with him?”
“Richard’s business instincts are unmatched, so I must trust that he has no illusions about Dixon’s character.” Lord George lowered his voice. “I just hope that the lure of another business triumph doesn’t cloud Richard’s judgment and he continues to see Dixon with clear eyes.”
The cookie crumbs in Juliet’s mouth turned dry at the thought of Richard falling prey to Mr. Dixon’s scheming.
“Tell us, Juliet, what grand adventure have you planned for us tomorrow?” Uncle Horace asked, a clear element of eagerness in his voice.
“I believe it is time to haul the Yule log home,” Juliet replied.
“A Yule log?” Mr. Dixon’s brow raised with interest. “How quaint.”
“A tradition we take most seriously,” Juliet said with a slight smile. “The log we will use this year is from a tree that was cut down months ago, to give it enough time to dry. We will set it ablaze on Christmas Eve. But since we now have a tree to decorate that evening, there won’t be enough time to haul our Yule log on that same night. Instead, we will bring it to the manor tomorrow. I do hope you and Mrs. Dixon will join us.”
“We would be delighted,” Mr. Dixon replied. “Very generous of you to include us.”
Mrs. Dixon looked anything but delighted, but Juliet refused to let her dour attitude cloud this small victory. Pleasing Mr. Dixon benefited Richard. And Juliet had reached a point when she freely acknowledged there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do to capture her husband’s attention and regard.
Chapter 13
A boisterous crowd gathered in the stable yard the following morning. An air of excitement and merriment swirled among them, punctuating the cold. Apparently gathering the Yule log was yet another reason to make merry, not that it seemed to take much this time of year.
Two sturdy-looking grooms led out a harnessed workhorse, and Richard realized the animal would be used to haul the log back to the manor.
How large is this damn thing,
he wondered,
if such strength is required to move it?
How large is this damn thing,
he wondered,
if such strength is required to move it?
And how far were they going if everyone was required to ride? Richard eyed with distaste the other horses crowding the area. They were tall and fit and nearly bursting with the same nervous energy that the children, and some of the adults, were displaying.
Riding was not something he did often or with any great skill, and he was not at all looking forward to getting into the saddle. His interest flared when he noticed two open carriages being made ready, but as he watched Juliet’s elderly relatives climb inside, he knew it would be totally emasculating if he joined them.
There was no help for it—he’d have to ride.
Trying to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible, Richard picked his way through the crowd of horses and guests to his wife. Waving off the groom, he bent slightly, cupping his hands. Juliet smiled as she set her booted foot in them and he hoisted her easily onto her sidesaddle.
“Thank you,” she said with another smile as she arranged her skirts.
“I’m glad that I could help.”
Juliet peeped at him from beneath the brim of her hat, and he found himself grinning back at her like a besotted lad. He had planned to come to Juliet’s bed last night, but Dixon had wanted to play billiards, and talk business, and the hour had grown too late.
He regretted now his choice of Dixon over his beautiful wife. Gazing into the mischievous expression in Juliet’s deep brown eyes, he could feel the heat flaring between them.
“My turn,” Lizzy chirped.
At the sound of the little girl’s voice, Richard shook his head impatiently, struggling to redirect his thoughts. Lizzy held her arms up trustingly and Richard turned to Juliet in confusion.
“Lizzy wants to ride with me instead of going in the carriage,” Juliet explained, patting the front of her saddle. “Can you lift her, please?”
Richard gave the child a slightly uneasy look. Almost as if sensing his reluctance, Lizzy took a step closer. Leaving himself no time to think about the sudden tightening in his chest, Richard quickly lifted the child onto Juliet’s horse, surprised at how light she felt. Goodness, she weighed almost nothing at all.
To shield the strange emotion that gripped him when Lizzy lunged into his arms, Richard let out an exaggerated groan, pretending she was too heavy to lift. As he hoped it would, that sent her into peals of laughter.
“You have been eating too many gingerbread cookies. And cream cakes. And sweet buns for breakfast. I think I’ve strained my back,” Richard said, and Lizzy laughed harder.
It was then Richard realized that nearly everyone was mounted and ready to leave. He grimaced.
Damn Christmas traditions.
He glanced again at the eager stallion that had been selected for him, cursed under his breath, and approached the animal.
Damn Christmas traditions.
He glanced again at the eager stallion that had been selected for him, cursed under his breath, and approached the animal.
By some miracle, Richard was able to mount the horse without making a total fool of himself. Sitting squarely in the saddle, he gathered the reins in his hands and pulled alongside Juliet and Lizzy. The little girl smiled and waved as though she hadn’t seen him in years.
Richard glanced at the large group, surprised at how many faces he recognized. He noticed Edward and James with their heads together, whispering and gesturing. They immediately pulled apart when they became aware he was watching them. Nervously, Richard shifted his weight in the saddle, testing the straps. There had been no further pranks since yesterday morning, but it was best to be prepared for any eventuality.
Soon they were under way, the younger boys in the lead. Keeping to a moderate pace, they cantered across the sloping lawn toward the woods. The carriages followed, managing to drive a fair distance into the woods, halting only when the path became too narrow.
“We’ll return shortly,” Juliet called out and her relatives waved happily.
Soon the woods grew dense, streaks of sunlight breaking through the bare tree limbs casting an almost glowing light. Richard concentrated on staying in his saddle as they twisted and turned along the path, glad that the confined space kept the horses at a walking pace.
Eventually they arrived at a clearing, where the Yule log rested. Richard gingerly dismounted, looping his reins over a branch. He turned toward Juliet, lifting Lizzy off the horse first. She scrambled away to join the other children the moment her feet touched the ground.
Juliet dismounted without assistance. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with delight, and Richard thought he had never seen her looking more beautiful. Giving no thought to the others surrounding them, he encircled her waist with his hands, and his mouth descended on hers, warm and commanding. He felt her surprised resistance for a second and then she melted against him, moaning restlessly.
The sounds of voices penetrated Richard’s head. Everyone was waiting for Juliet. Reluctantly he ended the kiss, a smug sense of satisfaction breaking over him at her clear cry of regret.
“Why have you stopped?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes glowing with heat.
He somehow managed a short laugh. “I prefer privacy when making love to my wife.”
She turned her head and looked in dazed confusion at the group casting glances their way. “Oh, my. Shall we tell them we spied some mistletoe in the upper branches?”
“Of a pine tree? Even I know that’s not possible.”
Fortunately there was no containing the children’s excitement, and their antics soon drew the attention away from Juliet and Richard.
“Careful, or someone will fall,” Juliet warned as a constant line of youngsters precariously walked the length of the Yule log. Richard stopped counting when he reached a dozen. Who were all these children? Surely not all of them were relatives?
“I will tie on the first ribbon,” Uncle Horace declared.
“I’ll find some holly,” James volunteered. “The kind that doesn’t pinch.”
Amid a great deal of laughter, people began scrambling in different directions. It took Richard a few moments to realize they planned on decorating the log before hauling it home.
“I can see by the surprise on your face that they do things differently in the Colonies,” Dixon said as he marched past Richard, a large pine bough in his gloved hands.
“I was raised in the city, where cutting down trees is frowned upon.” Richard forced a grin. “We preferred games like snapdragon to celebrate the holiday,” he added, a game he remembered playing the few years his father had managed to earn some extra money.
“Snapdragon! I was always the fastest at that game, winning nearly every round,” Dixon boasted. “Never once singed a finger either.”
Richard rubbed his brow thoughtfully. “All we need to play are brandy, raisins, and fire. If you’d like, I’m sure I can arrange a game of snapdragon later this evening.”
Dixon’s eyes brightened with interest. “Splendid.”
“Aunt Mildred asked that these paper flowers she made be among the decorations,” Juliet announced as she tied them to the log.
The small clearing hummed with camaraderie as everyone took turns adding their own touches. Even Mrs. Dixon broke into a small smile after fastening a sprig of holly, the bright green leaves and red berries a stark contrast against the brown bark of the log.
When the log was deemed ready, ropes were tied and secured at each end of the large trunk. The ropes were then secured to the harness of the plow horse. Richard turned to retrieve his mount, determined this time not to be the last one in the saddle. But he noticed no one else was heading for their horses. Instead, they had lined up in front of the log.
“Why are they all taking turns sitting on it?” Richard asked George.
“To make a wish.”
“You’re kidding.”
George gave him a warning look. “Surely you have learned by now that holiday traditions are not something to be taken lightly in your wife’s family.”
“Don’t you think it’s a tad excessive?”
“Nonsense. It’s great fun. If you are of a mind to enjoy yourself. Egad, even Dixon can find the merriment in sitting on a Yule log and making a wish. Why can’t you just join in with everyone else?”
Richard was speechless for a moment. George’s words had struck a nerve, had hit upon the essence of his resistance. Richard was not a joiner; he was a leader. For so many years he’d put distance between himself and the rest of the world. It was the way he functioned best.
Marrying Juliet had thrust him unexpectedly into family life, making his usual way of doing things far more difficult. Was he willing to adapt? Did he even want to try?
One look at Juliet’s sparkling eyes as she sat upon the log gave Richard his answer. He moved closer, pressing himself into the circle. He found he could not go so far as to perch on the log and make a wish. But he did manage to smile and applaud and appear interested as the others took their turns.
The wishing finally ended and everyone returned to their mounts. Richard assisted Juliet and Lizzy before swinging himself into the saddle. He deliberately placed himself in the middle of the pack, leaving no chance of getting left behind. Edward and James broke into a race once they cleared the woods, a few of the younger male cousins, and George, joining them.
Juliet’s aunts oohed and ahhed when the Yule log appeared and the two carriage drivers tipped their hats. Richard found himself smiling, surmising this was part of the tradition.
Richard steered his horse into the open lawn, hoping to catch Juliet. But it was Walter Dixon who drew his horse alongside.
“In our household, the youngest child in the family always poured wine over our Yule log before we set it ablaze,” Dixon told Richard, a fond gleam in his eye at the memory. “That was followed by a prayer for happiness, health, and wealth.”
“I guess there is something to be said for these traditions,” Richard concluded, still trying to understand why they meant so much.
“Don’t underestimate the power of continuity,” Dixon said. “It binds us all together. It’s an unexpected pleasure to see that you have a real respect for it. That’s an attribute I value in a business partner.”
Richard merely widened his smile, knowing the other man would be shocked if he knew the truth. It was Juliet, not he, who had placed such importance on these happenings. Though he was more than willing to take the credit, especially if it would help him achieve the desired result.
How truly ridiculous that months and months of hard work, followed by weeks of developing a sound business proposal, could be trumped by the appearance of a damn Yule log. Yet in the end it didn’t really matter why Dixon agreed to the merger, as long as it happened.
The two carriages led the way as they returned to the manor house. Richard could hear the aunts singing lustily. Another Christmas carol, naturally.
The servants had gathered outside to watch the procession. They clapped wildly as the Yule log was dragged past the front door and brought into the stable yard. Several giggling housemaids rushed to sit upon it, wanting their chance at a wish.
Richard turned, surprised to find Dixon still at his side.
“The strangest thing about Christmas is how it can suddenly grab at you when you least expect it.” Dixon squinted reflectively. “I’d forgotten how much joy can be found in reacquainting one’s self with the simple traditions.”
Simple?
Richard would hardly classify today’s outing as a simple one. Juliet had organized their activities with the precision of an army general, leaving no detail neglected. He was proud of her accomplishment, even more so because she made it seem so effortless.
Richard would hardly classify today’s outing as a simple one. Juliet had organized their activities with the precision of an army general, leaving no detail neglected. He was proud of her accomplishment, even more so because she made it seem so effortless.
The commotion over the Yule log finally ended and everyone went inside. Pressing the advantage of Dixon’s amicable mood, Richard ushered him into the study.
“Have you had an opportunity to review the revised profit estimates I sent you last week?” Richard asked the moment Dixon sat down.
He studied Richard appraisingly, and then gave him a wry smile. “The numbers are most tempting, as I’m sure you know. But are they accurate?”
Richard met Dixon’s gaze. “Actually, they are on the low side. If the project is managed right, the profits could easily be double the amount.”
Dixon leaned back and crossed his arms. “Explain.”
Richard took a long, deep breath, deliberately stalling. Appearing overeager could ruin everything. Adopting a casual, almost cavalier manner, he ticked off the salient points of the proposal. By the time he was finished, Dixon was leaning forward, the look of interest on his face unmistakable.
Finally, I’ve got him!
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