A Christmas Affair (23 page)

“I see,” Charles said, painfully accepting the reality of the situation. “Well, then, I suppose there is nothing else left to do but wish you happy.”

“N-no.” Tears pooled in Amelia’s eyes at the realization she would most likely never see Charles again. It was abruptly too much to bear, and she knew then that she could not endure it. She had to see him, at least once more, or she would never know true happiness for the rest of her life. Gathering her meager courage in both hands, she said, “Will-will you come to Christmas dinner? You and your family?”

He gave her a startled look over his shoulder. “I hardly think that a good idea, considering,” he said, swinging around to face her. “My parents know about your engagement, and—”

“Please, Charles!” she interrupted abandoning all pride as she grasped his hand in hers. “I must see you! I must! For one more Christmas at least. Please?”

Charles felt his own eyes fill with tears, and for a moment he feared disgracing himself. “Ah, my love, what you ask of me,”
he murmured brokenly, his hand shaking as he reached out to caress her cheek. “Very well; for Christmas dinner, then. When will you be leaving for London?”

“Two days afterward. Justin is arranging for us to all travel down together while the servants follow with our things.”

“He is good to you?” The words were forced out between clenched teeth, but Charles felt he had to know.

“He is a perfect gentleman,” Amelia replied with gentle honesty.

“Good.” Charles gave a jerky nod. “But if he ever hurts you, Amelia I swear to heaven I shall kill him.” And with that he turned and left, fearing he would loose all semblance of honor if he remained.

Smuggling the tree into the parlor was much easier than Amanda had anticipated, mostly because the twins were too busy with their Christmas project to make mischief. After instructing the maids to finish bringing down the rest of the ornaments, Amanda went up to her room to rest and change for luncheon. She’d barely closed the door behind her when Amelia rushed in, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

“Oh, Amanda, it is beyond all enduring!” she cried, and then threw herself into her sister’s arms.

“Amelia, dearest, what is it?” Amanda asked, freeing herself from Amelia’s stranglehold and gazing down at her with gentle concern. Had she not just peeked in on Stephen to see him sleeping quietly, she would have been fearing the worst.

“It is Charles,” Amelia sobbed, laying her head on Amanda’s shoulder. “He came here to see me, and—oh, Amanda!” She launched into a tearful account of the morning’s events.

“I don’t see how I can endure marrying Justin when I love Charles as I do,” she concluded delicately blowing her nose into the handkerchief Amanda had pressed into her hands. “I was certain that I could but now . . .” and more tears flowed down her flushed cheeks.

Amanda continued patting her sister’s back, murmuring comforting phrases and feeling like the most wicked sister alive. This was her fault, every bit of it, she realized with mounting unhappiness. If she had accepted Justin’s offer in the first place, it need never have come to this. But it was too late now, wasn’t it?

Amelia looked up to see the dark look on her sister’s face and gave her another hug. “Don’t worry dearest,” she said, her voice hoarse from her stormy weeping. “I’ll do what I must. I-I won’t let everyone down, I promise.”

“Hush, darling,” Amanda murmured, feeling even worse a witch than ever . . . if such a thing were possible. “You must know I would never have you do anything that is abhorrent to you. If you don’t want to marry Justin, then naturally we will think of something else.”

“Wh-what?”

“Well, once we explain about Charles, I am sure Justin will do the gentlemanly thing and —”

“No!” Amelia interrupted. “You promised me you wouldn’t tell him, remember?”

“But darling, if you are so unhappy, what other choice have we?” Amanda asked, doing her best to reason with her overwrought sister. “Justin isn’t such an ogre, you know. He’d understand.”

“I can’t.” Amelia was adamant. “Justin has already been so kind to us, I-I simply can not throw him over like that.”

“But if you can not bring yourself to love Justin, surely it would be better to tell him so now,” Amanda said in a final attempt to reason with Amelia. “There is more to a marriage than an exchange of vows, you know. Have you considered that?”

“You must know that I have.” Amelia’s cheeks grew rosy at the intimate nature of the conversation. “But I-I am determined to do my duty.”

Unbidden, the memory of last night and this morning rose to taunt Amanda. Despite her chastity, she wasn’t wholly ig
norant of what went on in a marriage bed, and she somehow doubted that Justin would be long content with a wife who merely “did her duty.” He was a man of strong passions, and he deserved a wife who would satisfy those passions wholeheartedly.

“Now I have upset you,” Amelia sniffed, dabbing at her eyes. “Pray, pay me no heed. I-I will be fine. It was just the shock of seeing Charles.”

“Yes, and you will be seeing him again in less than two days’ time,” Amanda reminded her bluntly. “Are you certain you are up to it?”

“Oh, yes,” Amelia answered with another delicate sniff. “I-I must be strong, for Charles’ sake, as well as mine. It will be the last time we see each other.”

“Amelia—”

“No, I have already said far more than I should,” Amelia said, rising to her feet and shaking out her wrinkled skirts. “Please, Amanda, say no more of this, I beg you.”

“Very well, dearest.” Faced with such an appeal, there was naught Amanda could do but agree. “If this is what you want. . . .”

“It is.” Amelia’s voice was surprisingly firm as she met her sister’s troubled gaze. “Now, tell me all about the tree you and Justin picked out for us. Is it as large as the one Grandmama had the year before Mama married Mr. Blanchford?” And she firmly guided the conversation to more mundane topics.

Christmas Eve day was filled with secret excitement as each family member busied him or herself with final preparations for the big day. The twins were holed up in the schoolroom, still hard at work on their mysterious project, while Belinda laboriously wrapped the presents she had made for everyone. Even Stephen worked in his sickbed, and Amelia oversaw all with the loving patience Amanda had come to rely on.

By mid-afternoon the younger children had retired upstairs
to “rest,” leaving the adults free to decorate the tree. Although he was openly skeptical at first, Justin soon entered into the spirit of the thing and his height was greatly appreciated as he set the angel on the very top of the tree. “It looks like something out of a dream,” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “I don’t know when I have seen anything lovelier!”

“Wait until you see it with the candles all lit,” Amelia said softly, giving him her shy smile. “It will make you believe in all sorts of wonderful, magical things.”

“I already do,” he replied with a laugh, amazed to find it was so. In the sennight since he had first come to Lawrence Hall with his sad news, it seemed his whole life had undergone some wondrous change. He had never felt happier, more at peace with himself, and he knew much of the reason for that happiness lay with his new-found family. No longer was he the odd man out; he was a viable, important member of the family, accepted for who he was rather than condemned for what he was not.

“I remember my first tree,” Amanda mused, tying another cookie to a branch. “I was scarce more than five years old, and I thought it the most glorious sight in all the world. It seemed so tall and bright, and Papa lifted me up to touch the angel.” Her expression grew dreamy.

Justin stared down at her, touched by the sudden vulnerability reflected in her soft mouth and wistful eyes. He was so used to seeing her face animated with laughter and challenge, and more often than not, sheer temper, that he sometimes forgot how very lovely she was. His eyes rested on her moist, delicate lips, and he was suddenly reminded of the passion he’d longed to taste there yesterday morning when they’d lain in each others arms. . . .

He turned his back with an impatient curse, furious with himself for his inability to control his thoughts. He may not love Amelia, he admitted savagely, but that didn’t mean he should so dishonor her or himself with thoughts of her sister. Amanda had made it more than obvious in refusing his suit
that she was completely uninterested in him as a man, and the sooner he put this inexplicable hunger from his mind, the better they would all be. But oh, God, he thought, unable to keep a sensual shiver from running through him, she had felt so sweet lying beneath him.

“. . . the services,” Amelia concluded, giving Justin a questioning look. “Don’t you agree?”

He gave a guilty start aware she had been speaking to him. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he said with an apologetic smile, “but I fear I was so lost in admiration of our tree that I wasn’t attending. What did you say?”

“Only that I thought it would be better to wait until after church before we show the children the tree,” Amelia repeated dutifully, not seeming to note his distracted state. “Otherwise we will never get them to sit quietly through services.”

“Especially the twins,” he agreed with alacrity. “The mind spins at the very thought of those two gallowsbait growing restive. But what of Stephen? Will he be well enough to join us?” Although he addressed his question to Amanda, he was careful not to look too closely at her lest she read his mind and guess the true nature of his thoughts.

“If we take care that he doesn’t become chilled on the journey there and back, I see no reason why he shouldn’t accompany us,” she answered quietly, wondering at his glib tone. “We’ll attend the early service and then come back for dinner and the tree lighting. With any luck the children should all be safely in bed no later than ten o’clock.”

“Yes, and that will give Father Christmas more than enough time to be about his business,” Amelia added, shooting Justin a teasing smile.

Justin took her meaning at once. “If you are expecting me to come down one of these chimneys, ma’am, I fear you are in for a long wait indeed. I have a horror of cramped, sooty places.”

Amelia giggled, tossing her blond curls over her shoulder as she exchanged smiles with Amanda. “I only hope you don’t
have an equal horror of beards, m’lord, else I fear Amanda’s plans for tomorrow may go sadly astray.”

“Oh?” He gave Amanda a speculative look, enjoying the lighthearted banter. “And pray, what does she mean by that?”

“Nothing.” Amanda did her best to look innocent. She’d already decided that the only way she could get Justin to participate in the pageant was to spring it on him at the last minute. That way, she reasoned, he couldn’t possibly refuse.

Justin wasn’t fooled by her evasive answer, although he didn’t pursue the matter any further. Knowing the minx as he did, he figured he’d know what was afoot soon enough. In the meanwhile, there was still the rest of the day to enjoy, and he found himself looking forward to the evening’s festivities every bit as eagerly as the twins.

The coach bearing the presents and other items Justin had ordered arrived just as the family was sitting down to tea. After making sure the presents were safely hidden, he called the others into the drawing room where he began handing out boxes amidst much laughter and good-natured teasing. The twins and Stephen tore excitedly into the boxes, scattering paper about as they exclaimed over each piece of clothing. Even Belinda and Amelia joined in the fun, lifting up their new dresses and bonnets with every indication of enjoyment.

Amanda sat off to one side, a smile of pleasure lighting her face at her family’s obvious happiness. It had been so long since any of them had indulged in new clothes, she thought, nodding her head in approval of Stephen’s new greatcoat. Perhaps with careful savings she might be able to take them all shopping once they were in London.

“For you, ma’am.” Justin was standing in front of her, holding out a box to her.

“But I didn’t order anything,” she said, her brows wrinkling as she took the box from him. “Mrs. Whistler must have made some kind of. . .” her voice broke off at the sight of the dress
nestled in a pile of tissue paper. “Oh!” she exclaimed, holding it up for closer inspection, “it’s exquisite!”

Fashioned out of shimmering chocolate-colored velvet and trimmed with almond lace, the gown was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. The skirts were full and deeply flared, while the bodice was modestly cut in a heart-shape that Amanda knew would be flattering to her tall, slender build. She glanced up from the dress to meet Justin’s eyes.

“I knew you would not buy anything for yourself,” he said quietly, pleased that the modiste had followed his instructions so well, “and I wanted you to have something special.”

“Justin, I-I don’t know what to say,” she stammered, clenching the soft material between her fingers as she quickly lowered her eyes. Part of her wanted to reject the stunning gown out of pride while the rest of her ached to accept it. Not just to preserve the family peace, she realized with a flash of insight, but because she was loathe to hurt him again.

“Say that you will accept it,” Justin replied, his gaze resting on her bent head. He’d been expecting a royal battle over the gown and the other items he had bought her, and he could scarcely believe she was being so calm. “Consider it my present to you,” he added by way of final persuasion.

She stroked the lustrous fabric with a shaking finger as pride and emotion warred within her. “All right,” she said at last, her eyes suspiciously bright as she glanced up at him again. “Thank you, Justin. ’Tis a lovely gift.”

“You are welcome,” he said, a relieved smile breaking across his face. “May I hope that you will wear it tonight?”

“Oh, I’d thought to keep it for tomorrow,” she answered with a slight frown. “But if you wish, I suppose I could wear it tonight as well.”

Justin thought of the other gowns he’d ordered for her that the maids had already carried up to her rooms and decided that now was probably not the time to mention them. She’d learn of them soon enough, he reasoned, and to paraphrase the poets: Discretion was occasionally the better part of valor.
“It would please me very much,” he said, flashing her a warm smile. “Just as it will please me to see the others all rigged out in their finery. After all” — his sherry-brown eyes took on an innocent sparkle — “ ’tis Christmas Eve.”