A Christmas Kiss (9 page)

“Oh, Lady Steele, how can I? You and Lord Gyllford have given me so much already.”

“Please don't call me Lady Steele. I feel we've already become friends. And, as a friend, won't you just try one of these, to see if there is any chance that it can be altered to suit you? Please, Miss Pennington. I'd be so obliged to you.”

“Well, if you agree to call me Evalyn …”

A delightful hour was spent among the silks and muslins and poplins. At least three gowns were found to be immediately useful, with the help of a sash here or a button there. All the rest would be suitable with only a small amount of alteration, and Clarissa assured Evalyn that she had just the woman to do it. Evalyn, standing in front of a mirror, stared with pleasure at her reflection. She was wearing a dress of lilac twilled silk, trimmed along the hem with a row of delicate white embroidery. “Oh, Clarissa,” she breathed, “I don't know how to thank you. I've never worn anything so exquisite!”

Clarissa sighed with pleasure. “And I'm sure I never looked so lovely in it as you do.”

Evalyn sank into a chair, quite overwhelmed. “I can't quite believe all this,” she said, shaking her head as if to wake herself from a dream. “If anyone had told me, a week ago, that I would be spending a fortnight in a room like this, and wearing a dress like this, and finding friends like this … Oh, Clarissa, you are giving me a holiday I shall remember all my life!”

Eight

Sally curled up on the luxurious divan in her bedroom, but left her book unopened on her lap. She had more than an hour to wait before she would begin to dress for dinner. In the meantime, she had a great deal to think about. She was not doing well in her attack on the fortress of Philip's reserve. She had not been able to spend one moment alone with him since she'd arrived. It was clear that he was avoiding her, but he had always seemed to do so. She hoped that his motive was fear of her attractiveness. Many men she had known had exhibited that fear. It was as if they could sense that, if they fell under her spell, they would somehow lose control over their lives. If that was the problem with Philip, she was sure she could handle it, once she overcame this initial resistance.

But now another problem had come between her and her goal. Miss Evalyn Pennington. That Philip was attracted to her was clear. But the small and inchoate attraction did not explain Miss Pennington's position of importance in the household. That was the puzzle Sally had to solve if she were to make this dreadful fortnight of rustication pay off.

The primary question to answer was why Clarissa and Philip seemed so eager to make a to-do over a nobody of a governess. Clarissa had clearly hinted, in her scolding earlier today, that Evalyn's days as a governess were over. Why? The obvious answer was marriage. Evalyn was to be married, thus alleviating the necessity for her to earn her own living. But whom was she to marry? If she were about to marry an Everard, that would explain why Clarissa and Philip were going to such pains to make her feel at home. But which Everard? It could not be Philip, of that she was sure. Although he was obviously attracted to her, he could not be the man; he had just met her! Sally had been present at Miss Pennington's arrival and it had been obvious that they had not met before. And their conversation at the dinner table last evening indicated that no intimacy as yet existed between them.

Jamie, of course, was the logical one. Sally had the distinct impression that the governess had been invited by Jamie. They had arrived together, and had obviously met some time before. Yet he had seemed quite indifferent to her last evening and had even flirted with the Covington girl. Of course, if the announcement were to be withheld—if the engagement were to be kept secret for some reason—Jamie's behavior might have been carefully calculated to throw observers off the scent. But Sally was not the average observer. If Jamie really were attached to her, it would not escape Sally's keen eye. She would watch and see.

Of course, Reggie was a possibility. He had arrived with Jamie and Miss Pennington and had evidently been staying with Jamie at Carbery Hall. And if it were Reggie who was Miss Pennington's betrothed, there would be an obvious reason for keeping the alliance secret: Reginald Windle, Lord Farnham, would have great difficulties explaining to his family that he wanted to wed a governess. The Windles, if she knew anything of the matter, were not nearly as openminded as the Everards. On the other hand, Reggie had already succeeded to his titles and wealth, and he was in no danger of losing them no matter whom he married. No, no. She was on shaky ground with Reggie. Besides, why would Clarissa be so protective of Miss Pennington if she were
Reggie's
intended? Surely Reggie's betrothed would not have such importance in this house, would she? Well, it would be an interesting evening. If she watched closely, she might well have some answers before she went to bed that night.

The evening proved to be a complete disappointment to Sally. Not only did she fail to advance her own cause, but by the end of it she was bored, disgruntled, and as much in the dark about Miss Pennington's position as she had been earlier.

Philip took Martha on his arm when the guests went in to dinner, and Sally, though she watched her host and the governess with catlike intensity, could catch no covert glances passing between them. Philip seemed to take no special notice of Miss Pennington, even though Sally had to admit that the mousey creature looked quite lovely in a well-cut lilac gown that must have cost her a year's wages.

After dinner, Sally expected to be asked to play and sing. Instead, she was compelled to join Clarissa and Martha at the card table, and there she was trapped all evening. Gervaise joined the card players when the men rejoined the ladies, and Edward and Philip huddled over a chess board. Whenever she was able to look up from her cards, Sally studied the others, but she was unable to find any signs of a liaison between Miss Pennington and any one of the eligible men. Jamie, having exchanged the merest pleasantries with Miss Pennington, spent the evening teasing Marianne, to that young lady's obvious delight. Reggie spent most of the evening in Miss Pennington's company, but they seemed on such an easy, friendly footing with each other that Sally was convinced only a fool could read into their light badinage any signs of romance.

A light supper was served at ten-thirty, and the guests rose from their various pursuits to gather for refreshments. Now was the time Sally hoped to catch a glimpse of the truth. After supper, the goodnights would be said, and everyone would be off to bed. It was the last chance of the day for lovers to communicate with each other. Secret messages could be passed by the warmth of a glance, the twitch of a smile, the surreptitious touching of hands. Sally was determined to miss nothing. Miss Pennington was the first to say goodnight. She included the entire company in the smile she gave, and left the room without a backward glance. Reggie bore Jamie off with him, saying he wanted to show his friend the new riding coat he intended to wear on the morrow. Before he left the room, Jamie stopped at Marianne's side and whispered something to her. Sally moved a little closer.

“But you must wear something warm if we're to go driving in the curricle,” he was saying. “The wind can cut right through you, riding in the open like that.”

“But I hate my old pelisse,” Marianne answered with a pout.

“Nonsense,” Jamie said. “I'm sure it's most becoming. Anything you wear will look just the thing.”

Marianne blushed with pleasure. “Oh, do you really think so?” she breathed ecstatically.

From this snatch of conversation, it was hard for Sally to believe that Jamie's heart was occupied by an entirely different young woman. Jamie's words were the words of a carefree boy. The entire matter remained very much of a puzzle.

Jamie, completely unaware of having been the object of Sally's scrutiny, entered his friend's bedroom and dropped down on the chaise, putting his feet up comfortably, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back, the very picture of a sultan surveying his
hareem
. “Well, let's see that riding coat of yours,” he said to Reg cheerfully.

“Don't be tho harebrained! Do you really think I want to have your opinion of my coat? Your opinionth have no conthequenth when it cometh to matterth of thtyle.”

“If that's so, why did you say you wanted to show it to me?”

“I jutht wanted a word in private with you. I haven't had an opportunity to talk to you thith evening. There'th thomething on my mind.”

“Well, out with it, man. What's the matter?”

“Dash it, it ain't an eathy thing to tell one'th betht friend.”

Jamie sat up abruptly. It wasn't like Reg to hold back his words, unless there was something seriously amiss. “Good God, Reg! Is there something wrong? You ain't sick or anything?”

“No, no nothing like that. It'th only … well, remember the joke I made latht evening … about you …?”

“What joke? I don't remember.”

“You dropped in here before dinner and were talking about Marianne.…”

“Oh, yes, I remember now. You said something about me turning out to be as big a bore as Geoff.”

“Yeth. Well, you are.”

Jamie gave his friend a dagger look. “That's not funny, Reg.”

“I'm not trying to be funny. I mean it,” Reg said, looking down at his shoes in some embarrassment.

“Are you trying to tell me I'm making a cake of myself over Marianne?”

“Not exactly making a cake of yourthelf. But you may very well be turning into ath much of a bore ath Geoff if you don't watch it. You thpent the whole evening in her pocket, and you intend taking her driving tomorrow. I thought we'd be out hunting!”

“I have every intention of going hunting tomorrow,” Jamie said, getting to his feet and speaking belligerently. “I only promised to take her out for a short spin in the curricle after we return.”

“Well, I know how thingth can develop. You begin by taking her driving for an hour, then you take her walking for an afternoon, then you kith her in the shrubbery, and before you know it, you're betrothed!”

“Me? Betrothed? To a mere chit out of the schoolroom? You must have dipped too deep in the brandy—you're foxed.”

“I'm ath thober ath you are, and I'll tell you thith, Jameth Everard—I will not remain here at Gyllford to hear you go on and on about Marianne ath Geoff did about Mith Pennington.”

“Confound it! I never expected to hear such humbug from you, Reg Windle! If you think there's any similarity between me and that idiot Geoff Carbery, you're no friend of mine! Have you ever heard
me
prose on about some female? Have I ever accosted an unwilling wench on the stairs? If you don't beat all!”

Undaunted, Reggie looked at his friend calmly. “No, I ain't ever known you to behave like Geoff. But I ain't never known you to be taken with a female before, either. I've found, though, that when love attackth 'em, all men act like foolth.”

Jamie glared at Reggie in irritation, until it occurred to him that he had observed the very same thing himself. His tension eased, and a laugh escaped him. “Oh, come off your high ropes, Reg! You're right about lovesick fools, of course, but I ain't one of 'em. There's a big difference between a harmless flirtation to pass the time and losing one's head over a girl, you know.”

“Mmmmph,” grunted Reggie, unconvinced. “I only wanted to drop a word of warning. Only a word to warn you that you're getting near deep water, that'th all.”

“Don't brew up a storm about nothing. Come along with Marianne and me tomorrow, and you'll see there's no deep water.”

“No, thank you. That'th not nethethary. When we get back from shooting, I intend to thpend the time with my valet. I have to dethide which waithcoat to wear for dinner.”

“If you spent any time deciding about the waistcoat you're wearing now, it was time ill-spent,” Jamie said mockingly.

“What'th the matter with it?” Reggie demanded.

“Striped satin? How can you ask? It makes you look like an upholstered chair.”

Reggie looked at Jamie with scorn. “Thtriped thatin ith all the rage, you ignoramuth,” he said with disdain. Then he glanced down at his chest, grinned, and added, “Though I did think, mythelf, that I look a bit like a chair.”

Jamie roared with laughter and fell back on the chaise. Reggie broke out in laughter, too, and it was several minutes before the two of them could catch their breaths. Finally, Jamie sobered and said, “Now, this is more like it. I was afraid for a few moments that you were going to leave.”

“And I would, too, if our vithit here at Gyllford turnth out like the one at Carbery Hall.”

“No chance of that, I assure you. And you will come with Marianne and me in the curricle tomorrow, won't you?”

“No, of courthe not. Whatever for?”

“For the practice. A little flirtation is good experience, so that when we meet someone who really matters, we won't make cakes of ourselves.”

“Not I. I won't make a cake of mythelf. I intend to remain a bachelor all my life.”

“It ain't likely. You're too good a catch. You may as well agree to come along, for I don't intend to take no for an answer.”

“Very well, I'll come, but only to thee that you don't get carried away.”

Unfortunately for the hunters, the morning sky showed a heavy covering of clouds. By the time the breakfasters peered out of the windows, they saw a dense fog and a cold-looking drizzle. It soon became obvious that the weather was not likely to clear in time for the day's sport. Gervaise promptly announced that he, for one, was returning to bed. Edward declared his intention of spending the morning catching up on some correspondence, and Philip headed, as usual, for his study. Jamie and Reggie looked at each other glumly. Young, energetic and eager for sport or adventure, they found the prospect of the day ahead of them filled only with boredom and gloom. With a wordless sigh, Reggie looked down into his cup and stirred his tea aimlessly. Jamie propped his elbows on the table, put his chin in his hands, and stared resignedly into space.