An Heiress for All Seasons (3 page)

“A debutante that does not follow the instructions of her mama . . . an heiress with a decided lack of social ambitions.”

“Rest assured,
this
heiress is not on the hunt for a title.”

He stared at her in silence, wondering if this was some manner of game. Was she toying with him? Pretending she had no wish to be a countess merely to pique his interest? Because it was working.

This girl . . . a brash American, no less, had sparked something in him. She was different from the rest.

Different good.

“Will!”

He looked up as Max strode from the back where they’d been playing a hand of cards with the stable lads. She took advantage of the distraction and jabbed him in the chest with her elbow.

“Oof,” he grunted as she scrambled off him before he could stop her.

He rose to his feet, rubbing at his stomach, watching as she fled the long length of the stable lane without a glance back, her dark cloak whirling after her, revealing pale flashes of her nightgown at her ankles.

Max stopped beside him. “Who is that?”

He stared after her as she slipped from the double doors and out into the cold night, resolution stealing over him. He resisted the impulse to go after her.
Let her run. For now.

Turning, he faced his friend. “That, Max, is my bride.”

Max’s eyes widened. “You jest.”

He glanced to where she disappeared. “She is the first chit my mother waved beneath my nose that has inspired even a flicker of interest. So yes, I am quite serious. I’ll have her.”

“That’s hardly reason—”

“I’ve dragged my feet long enough. I need to wed an heiress.” His mother had been telling him so for years. He could deny it no longer. He alone was privy to his account ledgers. And while he still held hopes the investments he made would eventually yield, something needed to be done now. “For the estate and my tenants. For mother and my sister . . . Aurelia needs a proper dowry now.”

Max clasped his shoulder. “Will, you need only say the word. I can help—”

He flinched. The offer was made in all generosity, but it still stung his pride. Just as it stung when his cousin, Dec, had made the same offer to help him well over a year ago. He’d taken Dec’s advice on a few promising business ventures, but there he drew the line.

He shook his head, cutting Max off. “It’s my responsibility. My family and my people. It’s time I do my duty, and Miss Violet Howard will do nicely.”

T
he following morning, the Duke and Duchess of Banbury arrived. They were already at breakfast in the dining room when Violet finally emerged from her chamber. She’d slept abysmally after her encounter with the earl the night before. Upon entering the dining room, a single swift glance reassured her that he was not present. She released a relieved breath. She supposed she would have to come face-to-face with him eventually. Unless she convinced her mother to leave. To disregard that they had been invited to spend the holidays with an earl and instead take shelter in their hotel. She winced, imagining her mother’s reaction to the suggestion. Not likely.

Introductions were made in short order. The earl’s cousin, the Duke of Banbury, sat at the head of the table, his wife directly at his side. They were both young and attractive and seemed overly fond of touching one another. Nothing unseemly. His hand brushing her arm, her shoulder. Her hand atop of his on the table.

There was something in the angle of the duke’s jaw that brought to mind his cousin and made Violet flush warmly. Or perhaps there was no real resemblance . . . merely an arrogance inherent to British noblemen.

Aurelia sat beside the duchess and it soon became apparent that they were close friends. Violet’s mother talked more than usual—and louder—even for her. Clearly she was nervous to find herself in such prestigious company and felt the need to over-compensate with jarring and inane chatter.

Violet sank down in the chair beside Lady Peregrine, smiling numbly.

“Did you sleep well, my dear?”

She nodded and was on the verge of responding when the doors opened and two men walked in the room.

The air expelled from her lungs in a rush. It was him. Only not half-dressed. Thankfully. He was attired properly, all in black with a deep blue cravat at his throat. His hair gleamed wetly, swept back from his forehead as if he had just bathed. Even clothed, she still reacted at the sight of him. Her stomach pitched and rioted as if a thousand butterflies suddenly took up residence there.

“William, how good of you to finally put in an appearance and join us.” Lady Peregrine’s eyes danced with glee.

The earl rounded the table and pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek. His steely blue eyes found hers over his mother’s head. “I decided I have been remiss in not properly socializing with our guests.”

“That’s very good of you to recognize that, my dear,” she sniffed.

Ha!
Remiss, indeed! He merely wanted to witness her embarrassment after yesterday.

Lady Peregrine turned her attention to her son’s companion. “Maximus, so good of you to join us for the holiday, too.”

He bowed over her hand. “I would not have missed it, my lady.”

Lady Peregrine motioned to the two gentlemen, her gaze flitting from Violet to her mother. “Ladies, may I present my son, Lord Merlton. I told you he was not a ghost. Indeed he does exist. See for yourself. And this is Viscount Camden, our dear friend.”

Mama babbled some greeting that ran on far too long. Violet could look nowhere other than his face. Those eyes which fixed so steadily on her. As though they were the only two people in the room.

She wrenched her gaze away and focused on the plate of food a servant had placed before her, hardly able to focus on the kippers and eggs.

A shadow fell over her and she forced her gaze back up, startled to find him so very near.

What was he doing staring at her thusly?

“Miss Howard.” He reached for her hand where it rested limply beside her plate. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Blood rushed to her face as he brought her hand to his mouth for a brief kiss.

She snatched her hand back the moment he released it and tucked it under the table on her lap. Such gallantry. Did he toy with her? Lord Camden made no such move toward her. He merely watched, grinning in the same manner as everyone else. Well, except for the duke. He looked rather stunned, his lips pressed into a firm line. Like he did not know what possessed his cousin to lavish such attention on her.

Merlton seated himself across the table from her. She looked anywhere and everywhere but at him for the remainder of breakfast, listening mutely as Lady Peregrine discussed the Christmas festivities she had planned.

She imagined she felt the weight of his stare on more than one occasion, but dared not confirm her suspicion. Actually, it took a great deal of concentration to not look his way.

So much concentration, in fact, that she missed the thread of conversation entirely. She did not snap her attention from her plate until she heard her name repeated.

“Violet shall love to, won’t you, Violet? Violet?”

She blinked, zeroing in on Mama’s earnest face, nodding even though she was clueless as to what she was agreeing to.

“Splendid,” Lady Peregrine clapped her hands. “Then we shall all meet back here before luncheon. May the best couple win.”

Win? Couple?

Violet looked around then as everyone pushed back from the table with decided enthusiasm. Aurelia arched an eyebrow at her in bemusement. She leaned sideways to whisper, “You were woolgathering, weren’t you? You haven’t a clue what you just agreed to.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Violet nodded. “Yes,” she whispered back. “What’s happening?”

“You just agreed to partner with my brother on a quest for holly to decorate the house. Whoever gathers the most holly wins.”

Blood roared to her ears. A quest for holly that would put her in proximity with the earl again? Alone? “Oh, no, no, I cannot . . .”

Everyone was already pushing back from the table and departing the room.

“Don’t look so miserable. I’m stuck partnering with Camden, the scoundrel. I’ll likely do all the work myself while he sneaks off to tumble a maid.” At Violet’s gasp, Aurelia blinked mildly. “Oh, did I say that out loud?” She shrugged. “Just count yourself fortunate you’re paired with my brother. He knows every inch of this estate. He’ll lead you to all the best holly and you’ll be back here sipping chocolate while I’m still out there all by myself, finding nary a sprig.”

“Are you coming, Aurelia?” Lord Camden hovered near the threshold, his boot tapping the floor impatiently, looking about as excited at the prospect of a morning in Aurelia’s company as she was to be spending time with him.

Violet looked rather desperately at her mother as she departed the room arm in arm with Lady Peregrine, her face beaming, clearly thrilled that Violet had won a morning in the earl’s company.

The room cleared out and they were alone. Again.

Not really alone. Everyone was within earshot. Just beyond the dining room doors. Their voices and laughter floated on the air.

“Shall we?” he offered her his arm. She fought the impulse to rush from the room. It was one morning. It meant nothing. If anything, a morning spent in her company would make it clear to him just how disinclined she was to the notion of marriage. She would make him understand that this was all her mother’s idea—that she was not here with ambitions of becoming the Earl of Merlton’s bride.

With a stiff nod, she placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her from the room.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

H
e pulled the sled over the snow-packed ground, looking over his shoulder to where Miss Howard—Violet—walked several strides behind. At first he thought he was walking too quickly, but he had slowed his pace enough for her to catch up with him. No. Every time he slowed down, so did she. She quite clearly did not want to walk beside him.

Turning, he stopped to face her. “Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Howard?”

She stopped and eyed him warily. Several feet separated them. Snow fell softly over them, lightly dusting their clothes. “Quite so.” She nodded at the wintry landscape. “It’s beautiful here. You must love it.”

“I do. This place has been in my family for generations.”

She nodded slowly, her expression serene, thoughtful as her eyes skimmed the countryside. In the distance, down the slope at the base of the hill, Merlton Hall nestled, stretched out like a sleeping beast.

He gestured widely. “My blood is in this land. In the people, the tenants here whose roots go as far back as my own.” Hopefully his investments would bear fruit, but just in case, he must do right by his family and tenants.

“It must be nice to have roots like that. Papa built our house five years ago. It’s a huge, ostentatious monstrosity just outside the city. Without heart. Mama wanted it to look like a castle. Versailles, I think she told the builder.” Her lips twisted in a self-deprecating manner. “How can one replicate Versailles?”

“That would be a challenge,” he agreed.

She released a breathy laugh. “Imagine living in such a place.” Her gaze lifted to his. “The reason I’m here at all is because my mother is still reaching for something she hasn’t found in America. She thinks she can find it here. Through me.”

A mother living vicariously through her daughter. It wouldn’t be the first time. But what did the daughter want?

Motioning to the sled, she asked in brusque tones, “Have we not gathered enough holly?”

“It’s a contest. I intend to win.” He looked her over as he uttered this, a slow grin curving his lips, and he realized he was only partially talking about this holly gathering expedition.

Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. Cloaked head to toe, her hands buried in a thick ermine muff, the rest of her face was a pale smudge. Pale brown wisps floated untidily around her cheeks. Wide eyes stared out at him, reminding him of a forest in spring, all greens and golds and browns. She looked young. Fresh and vibrant.

And she could be his.

The thought whispered over his flesh, leaving a trail of goose bumps. She could be his and help him save his family from debt. Suddenly, the future looked bright indeed.

“What?” she asked, a telling tremor in her voice. “What are you looking at?” She slipped her hand from her muff and brushed at her face self-consciously with slim fingers.

“I’m looking at you, Miss Howard.”

She dropped her hand back into the protection of her muff, but not before he noted the quiver of her fingers.

Her lips worked for a moment before arriving at the single word: “Why?”

“I enjoy it.”
I enjoy
you
.

“You enjoy looking at me?” She sniffed, her gaze darting nervously over the expanse of white around them before looking back at him. “I am so extraordinary then?” The utterance fell softly, with such skepticism. As though she doubted her own worth. Which was remarkable. She was attractive. Wealthy beyond reason. She had every nobleman in England sniffing about her skirts and she did not appear to especially hold herself in value.

Yes, he thought but held silent. She was extraordinary. She wouldn’t believe him if he said that aloud. He could see that at once in the stiff set to her shoulders. She didn’t consider herself different. Or special. And that only made her all the more appealing.

He tore his gaze off her, afraid he was revealing too much, too soon. Last week, he’d shared his bed with not one but two different women and had been plotting to woo a particular opera singer he’d seen perform. Now he had suddenly made up his mind to marry. That opera singer was forgotten. The only woman he could even focus on was the one before him now.

His cousin had uttered something months ago, following his marriage to Rosalie.
When you find the right woman, spending the rest of your life with her will be a simple decision because it’s the only decision. The only thing that matters
.