'Twas the Night After Christmas (25 page)

“Yes, but what? And why did she
keep
complying even after I had come into my majority?” He swallowed convulsively. “Why did she choose him over me?”

“How do you know that she did?”

His face clouded over. “Because of what she said to me when I was twenty-one and traveled here to confront Father.”

“What was that?”

But he didn’t answer. He merely nodded to where Jasper was running toward them.

“Mama, Mama, I rode the pony! Did you see?”

“Yes, muffin, I saw!” she said with a tremulous smile. She caught him up in her arms, and tears started in her eyes as her gaze met Pierce’s haunted one.

She hugged Jasper tight to her breast. How could a mother ever give her child up? It was unfathomable. It would kill her to lose Jasper.

If it had been
her,
she would have run off with her son and never come back.

Camilla sighed. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t a countess with a husband who had riches and power beyond measure.

“Stop squeezing me, Mama!” Jasper exclaimed, wriggling out of her embrace. “I’m not a baby anymore. I rode a pony!”

She let him slip to the ground, though her heart was in her throat. “Yes, you did. You rode it very well.”

“Did you enjoy the pony, lad?” Pierce asked, obviously attempting to hide the strain in his voice.

“Oh, yes, my lord. He comes from way up in Scotland, and his name is Chocolate because he likes chocolate drops.” As Pierce went over to Mr. Whitley and had a short, murmured conversation with the man, Jasper added, “Do you think he could pull a sleigh, Mama?”

“Probably not by himself,” she said absently, preoccupied by Pierce’s tale.

When Pierce returned to her side, he looked solemn. “We’d better go back. They’ll wonder what has happened to us.”

She nodded, but she knew that wasn’t why he wanted to return to the booth. He wanted to question his mother. To get answers.

As Jasper skipped ahead of them, she said in a low voice, “I know you want the truth, and I don’t blame you. But you mustn’t question your mother about this until you can do so in private, preferably back at Montcliff.”

“Why?” he ground out. “No matter how I look at it, she made the choice to abandon me, at least after I was grown. Because
he
demanded it. Perhaps she felt some ridiculous guilt over going into the marriage with a babe in her belly. Or perhaps Gilchrist threatened a scandal. Either way, she acquiesced to his separating her from her own child.”

“You can’t be sure of that. You can’t be sure of any of it.”

“I know that she didn’t fight for me, and if I’m to believe that
she wanted to, then he must have threatened her with something. What? Or was she just too spineless to stand up to him? Damn it, I want to know. I deserve to hear the truth.”

“Yes, but not now,” she chided. “She’s part of a community here. Surely you’re not so angry at her that you would wish to see her shamed in front of people who respect her.” When he said nothing, she added, “And whether you like it or not, you’re part of the community here, too. You have to behave with decorum, if only because you’re the Earl of Devonmont.”

He walked on in silence for a few moments, then scowled at her. “I hate when you’re sensible.”

She let out a relieved breath. “What a pity. Because I love when
you
are.”

“Do you?” He gazed, unsmiling, at her and lowered his voice to a husky murmur that made her pulse quicken. “Last night I wasn’t being sensible, and you didn’t seem to mind
that
too much.”

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, she jerked her gaze from his. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Yet it did.” He looked as if he was about to say more. Then he glanced down to where Jasper had slowed to listen to them, and he seemed to think better of it.

They walked in silence a few moments, picking their way over the slushy ground and trying to keep Jasper from getting his little shoes too wet in the icy weather. With only a week left until Christmas, there were holly berries adorning every other booth, and pitchmen trying to coax young men into buying gimcracks and scarves and such for their sweethearts.

But Camilla wasn’t feeling very festive at the moment. The
impending storm between mother and son had put her in a quandary. She cared deeply about them both. They would expect her to take a side, but how could she?

Pierce stared ahead at the booth offering ballad sheets for sale. “I suppose there’s another reason I shouldn’t confront my mother before God and everyone.”

She glanced at him. “Oh?”

“If I shame her publicly, you and Jasper will suffer embarrassment, too.”

“I don’t care about that,” she said.

“I know you don’t,” he said irritably. “You never care about yourself. But that doesn’t mean I should allow it. I may be a selfish arse, but considering the damage I’ve done to your reputation already by singling you out in front of the old ladies—” He halted at the ballad sheet booth. “Great God. I have an idea. Wait here.”

He disappeared into the booth and came out a short while later with a package wrapped in brown paper. “Come on,” he said brusquely. “And let me do the talking when we reach the booth.”

That sounded worrisome. But now they were headed into the most crowded part of the fair, and it was hard to converse, especially since the number of fairgoers had increased substantially, undaunted by the winter chill.

Up ahead, she could see Lady Devonmont and the ladies inside the church’s booth. They looked to be doing a brisk business in stockings.

As soon as they entered, he took Mrs. Townsend aside and said in a low voice, “Is there somewhere I can hide my package until we leave? It’s a Christmas present for my mother.”

Mrs. Townsend blinked. “Oh! Give it to me, and I shall put it under my basket behind the table.”

“I hope she likes it,” he said conversationally as he handed it over. “It’s an assortment of broadsides for the pianoforte, since she enjoys playing and singing so much. Mrs. Stuart helped me pick out pieces my mother doesn’t already have.”

“Oh, yes?” Mrs. Townsend said, and offered Camilla a faint smile.

Camilla tried to look as if she was in on the secret.

Pierce cast the woman a knowing glance. “I did have some trouble extricating Mrs. Stuart from here so she could advise me. Since I couldn’t say why I needed her, Mother proved stubborn. You know how she can be.”

“I do, indeed,” Mrs. Townsend breathed, obviously delighted to be included in the subterfuge. “Your mother worries overmuch about propriety, my lord.”

Her heart swelling at his ingenious solution for tamping down the gossip, Camilla stepped forward to do her part. “I told his lordship that her ladyship would be happy with anything he gave her, but he insisted on the music.”

“Certainly,” Mrs. Townsend whispered. “Very thoughtful of him.”

“You mustn’t say anything to her,” he cautioned the woman.

“I won’t breathe a word—you may depend on me. I’ll just put this under my basket now.”

As she scurried off, stopping every foot or so to relate this new information to the other ladies, Camilla said, without glancing at Pierce, “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he murmured. “Not the best story, I suppose, but it will hold.”

“On the contrary, they’ll find it convincing. It was clever of you to think of it.”

“One might even call it ‘sensible,’ ” he said dryly. He raised his voice just enough to be heard by two ladies standing near. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Stuart.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.” She pasted a smile onto her lips, bowed to him, and then carried Jasper to the other end of the booth. Now that he’d gone to the trouble to mitigate any damage to her reputation, she wasn’t going to ruin it by standing with him and giving rise to more speculation.

She spent the next few hours helping the ladies at the booth. Maisie took Jasper off again to see more of the fair, while Pierce disappeared entirely. Was he touring the fair again, looking at horses and cattle to buy? Or was he just shopping for Christmas gifts to give his Waverly cousins?

Or his mistress.

Her stomach roiled at the thought. As far as Camilla knew, he was still involved with that famous courtesan mentioned in the scandal sheets, and she had no reason to think he wasn’t eagerly anticipating returning to her.

That possibility was certainly lowering. Still, it reminded her that he had no ties to her and Jasper, no reason to involve himself with her. The only association they could ever have was an illicit one. Earls, no matter how unconventional, did
not
marry paid companions.

And she didn’t think she could stand having the other kind
of relationship with him. To be his, but only in some secretive, shameful fashion . . .

Sweet heaven, she was getting ahead of herself. He might not even want that. There was nothing keeping him at Montcliff, so she simply
must
resign herself to his leaving. Otherwise, she was going to find herself quite heartbroken when at last he did.

Still, her spirits lifted shamelessly when he sauntered into the booth in the early evening. The sun had set, but the fair was still going, lit by oil lamps and moonlight. He’d brought a large bag of beef pasties with him, for which all the ladies were grateful. It was well past dinnertime for most of them, and they hadn’t taken a break to eat.

As they shared the food, the ladies discussed when to close the booth. People were still wandering in, though traffic had subsided in the past hour. They’d sold nearly all the stockings, and it was getting quite a bit colder now that the sun had gone down, so it seemed unnecessary for them all to remain there on the off chance that they would sell every stocking. After another hour passed and they sold only one more, they decided to close up.

Pierce had stayed out of the discussion, talking to Mr. Fowler instead. To Camilla’s astonishment, the estate manager had spent the entire day helping in the booth. The ladies had been quite impressed, and one of the widows had even flirted with him, which her ladyship had frowned over. Perhaps she
did
have a spark of interest in the man.

Maisie had brought Jasper back not long ago, and after eating his share of beef pasties, the boy sat in a corner playing with Prancer.

As they began closing up, Pierce went over to watch Jasper play. He looked pensive and somber, and said little as they packed up. He accepted his package from Mrs. Townsend with a word of thanks, then gave commands to the servants about moving the items into the two carriages.

Jasper started to whine, but before either Camilla or Maisie could tend to him, Pierce hefted him onto his shoulder, which managed to cheer Jasper enough to stop him from being
too
querulous as his lordship walked back to the carriage beside Mr. Fowler and Maisie.

Her ladyship walked with Camilla, far enough behind the men to be out of earshot. “We did very well today,” the countess said. “I believe we raised enough to not only refurbish the church’s organ, but perhaps repaint the vestibule.”

“That’s good,” Camilla said. “It badly needs it.”

Lady Devonmont glanced ahead at her son. “Did you have fun earlier when you were going about the fair?”

Camilla tensed. “Yes. Although Jasper ran us both a merry chase.”

Her ladyship cast her a shuttered look. “I overheard one of the ladies explaining that Pierce took you off so you could help him pick out a Christmas gift for me. Is that true?”

“Of course,” she said lightly.

“Come, my dear, you and I both know Pierce is not buying me any gifts.”

Camilla thrust out her chin. “You might be surprised.”

“I doubt that.” The countess lowered her voice. “Take care, Camilla. Judging from London gossip, I gather that my son has
long been used to making free with women’s hearts. Pierce may be charming, but he’s still a rogue.”

Because you made him into one by abandoning him.

No, it would be cruel to say such a thing. And it might not even be true. Pierce might be a rogue by nature.

“He’s not as much a rogue as you think,” Camilla said, remembering the pain in his eyes whenever he spoke of his past. “He has a lot of good in him.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean his intentions toward you are honorable.”

“I would imagine they aren’t.” At her ladyship’s look of alarm, she added hastily, “That is,
if
he had any intentions at all toward me. Which he doesn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

No. But she wasn’t about to tell his mother that. “Trust me, you don’t need to warn me that a man like him would never marry so far beneath him. I am well aware of that.”

“It has nothing to do with your situation in life, my dear. I don’t think he cares much about such things.” She squeezed Camilla’s hand. “And I would personally be delighted to have you as my daughter-in-law. But Pierce doesn’t strike me as . . . well . . . ”

“The marrying kind?”

The countess sighed. “Exactly.”

“He doesn’t strike me that way, either,” she said with forced nonchalance. “I know the situation, and I’m fully armed. You mustn’t worry about
me.
”

Her ladyship gazed earnestly into her face. “I don’t want to see you hurt, that’s all.”

“I understand. I’m safe, I swear.”

She
was
 . . . because even if she did indulge in an affair with him, she would go into it knowing fully what would happen in the end. Knowing and accepting it.

But that was a very big
if.

It became even bigger when they climbed into the carriage and headed home. Pierce looked grimmer than she’d ever seen him. He didn’t speak, just stared out the window as the carriage trundled along.

Jasper fell instantly asleep in her lap, and she was glad of it. She doubted that Pierce—or even his mother—had the patience to deal with a six-year-old’s questions just now.

As they approached the estate, her ladyship said, “You should stay for some supper, Mr. Fowler. I know it’s late, but it’s the least we can offer after all your hard work today.”