Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas) (24 page)

“Does that displease you?”

There was incredible sadness on her face when she looked up at him. “I have most terribly mixed emotions. I am happy that your family knows I did not give birth out of wedlock, but I’m unbelievably sad to relinquish that maternal claim on the child I think of as my own.”

His hand covered hers, and he squeezed. “A mother is measured in many ways, and by any manner that counts, you are Fanny’s mother. That is one of the things I wished to discuss with you tonight.”

“What?”

“What we will tell Fanny—when she’s much older, of course.”

An incredible sadness penetrated those limpid blue eyes of hers.

“I see no reason why she ever need know the truth of her origins—as far as the opera dancer goes. Beastly, I know. But you are the only mother she’s ever known, and I assure you, you would be the mother she would have selected.”

She flicked away a tear that had begun to trail down her cheek. “That’s very kind of you.”

He lifted her hand to his lips for a tender kiss. “If it’s for kindness, it’s only for kindness to my daughter.”

“Of course.”

“Does my recommendation meet with your approval?”

“Indeed, it does, but what will you tell her about her . . . male parent?”

“You are probably not as familiar with the practice of having natural children, coming from your ecclesiastic background, but in our circle the natural father is understood but never referred to in any other way than as guardian to ward.”

“Anyone who looks at her will be able to ascertain who her father is.”

A smile hitched across his face as he shrugged.

“Is there anything more you wish to discuss?” she asked.

“I suppose not,” he said, rising. He began to walk to his connecting chamber door, then stopped, turned back, and strolled to the settee where she still sat. He lowered his head to hers and settled his lips over hers for a lingering kiss. “Good night, dear wife.” Pulling away from her sweet, yielding lips was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

When he reached the doorway he turned back and gave her a wicked smile. “If your bed needs warming, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

“Out, you odious man!”

* * *

Trembles overlapping more trembles seized her entire body. Except for the chaste kiss on the morning of her wedding, she had never been kissed before. She was completely unprepared for the magnitude of her reaction to it. How could so simple a physical gesture so profoundly affect both mind and body?

Not only was she overwhelmed by the numbing emotions the kiss evoked, she was also stunned over her initial reaction to it. She had enjoyed it! She had fully participated in it! And she’d even wanted to prolong it! Oh, dear, would his lordship think her a doxy?

Long after Sally helped her into her night shift and closed the heavy velvet draperies around her bed, Elizabeth lay there in the utter darkness thinking about the man who was her husband. She was so completely confused. For so long now she had dreamed of her dashing captain—the man she had prayed so fervently for these past two years—coming home and settling with her and Fanny in their little cottage. Then she’d learned he was no simple army captain, but a viscount with an ancestral home the size of the entire village of Upper Frampington. Now the gap between them was too large to bridge. She would never belong in his world.

She began to cry. The pity of it all was, now that he had kissed her, she knew she would never want any other man.

For hours she lay there in turmoil. Then she realized what she must do. She must take a page from his own book of nobility. She must sacrifice her own happiness for the good of those she loved.

For she had come to accept that she was, indeed, in love with Harold Tate, Viscount Broxbourne.

In order for him to find true happiness with a woman of his own kind, Elizabeth must leave.

Chapter 5

Lord Broxbourne—she tried not to think of him as Harry now that he held so exalted a title—collected her in a horse-drawn sleigh built for just two as soon as she finished her morning toast. The skies were gray, the weather frigid. Her first thought upon stepping onto Farley's portico and seeing the clouds of cold air dance around her nose was perhaps she should not allow Fanny to gather greenery later that afternoon. She did not want her to take a cold.

Elizabeth wore a thick, hooded cape of faded claret colored wool, its hood trimmed with white rabbit fur that matched her muff. Would his family find her cloak embarrassing? No doubt his mother and sisters possessed muffs of ermine.

When his lordship took her hand to help her into the sleigh and when his other hand settled at her waist, that beastly fluttering in the vicinity of her heart commenced again. The sooner she got away from this man and his seductive touch, the better.

For every day spent in his company made her love him just a little bit more.

And, she had discovered, love was a most painful emotion.

The sleigh was pulled by a single white horse which was in no great hurry. His lordship flicked the ribbons with hands sheathed in beautifully made fine leather gloves. His boots, too, were made of soft brown leather. She found it ironic that his woolen muffler matched her cape. Except his claret
was not faded.

It suddenly struck her that even though they had supposedly been married for more than two years, she had never before sat so close to him, never before been so aware of his manliness. His greatcoat flapped open in the front to reveal two muscled thighs that were twice the size of hers.

Against all her resolve and in complete contrast to her heretofore exceedingly chaste existence, Elizabeth thought of his last words to her the night before. "
If your bed needs warming, I will be happy to oblige.
" She found herself wondering what it would be like to lie with him, to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands on her bare flesh.

The very thought fissured her heart.

"Are you cold?" he asked a short time later.

"Of course, I'm cold. It is snowing."

He chuckled. "For someone who looks like an angel, you can be blisteringly honest."

"Is it wrong to prize honesty?"

"It must not be because I know the parson's daughter would not do anything that was not right."

Despite the nobility of his character, he must really be dwelling on her humble origins. Why else would he keep referring to her father's vocation? "It was my father who was the holy man."

"Then you're telling me you're not holy? Come, come, Elizabeth, I don't believe you."

Hearing her Christian name upon his lips sounded so intimate. It stirred something deep inside her. "All right. I suppose I am respectably religious, and I assure you, I've brought up Fanny to go to church every Sunday and to say her prayers every night."

"I could not have found a better mother for Fanny than you have been."

She prayed he would not see her eyes moisten. "Thank you, my lord. It has always been my object to be as good of a mother as was possible."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you about Fanny's Christmas present."

She felt wretched she had left London in such a hurry, she had not gotten her daughter a toy to celebrate the birth of their Savior. "Pray, my lord, what is it?"

"I've commissioned my steward's wife to make Fanny a muff from rabbit hair. She said she can have it finished by this afternoon."

"You make me feel wretched. I have nothing to give her." But she was pleased that he would not be embarrassed over using a common fur like rabbit. She found a small measure of satisfaction that she was not quite as dowdy as she'd thought.

"Then we shall say the muff comes from you," he suggested.

"We will say no such thing," she protested. "I despise lying. And deceit. Besides, I think it an excellent idea for you to do everything you can to ingratiate yourself with your daughter."

"Like telling her bedtime stories?"

She turned to him, her smile wide and her eyes flashing with mirth. "All the children enjoyed your story ever so much last night. Even though I've read the story hundreds of times, I even enjoyed it. You're a remarkable storyteller."

"I like being with children." He flicked a smiling glance to her. "I gave those epaulets to the lads this morning."

"I would have loved to have seen their faces."

"They're great lads. Remarkable how much Robbie looks like me."

"Indeed. He and Fanny could easily pass as brother and sister."

"Speaking of sisters, what do you think of now having three?"

It made her heart ache. Her entire life she had lamented that she had no sisters, and now she had three wonderful sisters, but she must leave them. How it would hurt! Susan had won her admiration with her generous heart, and Sarah with her love of many of the same books Elizabeth poured over, and pretty Diana with her exhilarating exuberance was a delight to be around. "I wish I could be with each of them always."

"I will miss Susan when she returns to Woodhead, and Mother and I both will miss Sarah and Diana when they marry and leave."

She would wager his mother would not enjoy having to live at Farley with no other female than she.

"I wish you could see Farley in the spring when everything's green and the rhododendron are in bloom."

Her gaze fanned across the barren trees and hills and dales blanketed with crisp white snow. "Winter has its own charm—provided one is properly bundled and doesn't actually have to trod through the snow."

He turned north and pulled to a stop. "I wanted you to see Farley from this view."

She was overwhelmed by the sight of the stately home rising from a smooth bed of white, smoke curling from its many chimneys. Despite its vast size, it presented an incredibly comforting presence. "Oh, my lord." Without realizing what she was doing, she began to stroke his forearm. "It's so lovely."

His arm enclosed her, and once again his head lowered to hers for a thorough kiss. And, once again, she could no more stop the kiss than she could stop loving Fanny. She had fallen slave to her feelings.

When she finally summoned enough presence of mind to realize what a complete goose she was, she pulled away from him and made a display of arranging loose strands of her flaxen locks.

He did not relinquish his hold on her. His face close to hers, he whispered huskily. "Your new home my lady. I hope you will one day love it as much as I do."

She had never thought she would like so large a house, but she found so much of Farley comforting. How she would hate to leave it now! How she would hate to return to her cottage alone.

But she knew what she had to do. Because she loved him. She had to allow him free choice of a wife. Dear, noble soul that he was.

"It's a wonderful home," she said, afraid each second that she would burst into tears. "It's very much a family home."
Too bad I'm not part of that family
.

Even if Fanny was.

He took up the ribbons again and headed to the folly, a decidedly Palladian structure on a slight mound that he explained overlooked the lake.

"There's a lake here?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's frozen over. When we were little we often skated on it—until Susan fell through the ice and nearly froze to death before we could get her out."

"That must have been terrifying."

"Especially for Sue. Papa never let us skate after that."

"It sounds as if he was exercising his fatherly authority well."

"Spoken like a true mother." He took the reins again. "Allow me to show you the mews. They're our pride and joy. Do you know, I've never asked if you ride."

"What is your guess?"

"My guess is that you don't."

"You are correct, my lord. Keeping a horse in an expense a clergyman cannot afford." She was not in the least ashamed of her background; she merely wanted him to be able to choose a woman from his own world.

"If you are not afraid of the beasts, it would be my pleasure to teach you to ride."

He was so kindly. "I expect you're a Corinthian."

"You will have to judge for yourself one day—when you have enough knowledge to make that distinction."

As their sleigh continued to cut its path through the crisp, fresh snow, she looked ahead at a two-story stone edifice. "Do not tell me that building is the mews! Why, it's larger than both my Papa's house and church put together."

"That is the mews we're so proud of." The horse leading their sleigh just trotted right through the open door. Elizabeth was astonished that all of this could possibly belong to one family. The first chamber they passed housed a luxurious carriage, a phaeton, and a larger sleigh. Then came the actual stables where horses of every color were stalled. There must be at least thirty. "You must show me which horse is yours, my lord."

He came to a stop, leapt down, then assisted her. Taking her hand, he led her to a stall mid-way down. "Isn't she a beaut?"

Elizabeth did not know the first thing about horses. All she could tell was that his horse was very large, very black, and had the most beautiful white ankles and hooves. Did horses even have ankles? "Oh, she really is! It looks as if she's wearing white boots."

"I've been gone so long, it's a wonder she hasn't been put to pasture." He patted the beast lovingly.

The horse responded to his touch with a whinnying noise.

"She remembers you!"

 "Should you like me to saddle 'er, milord?" the groom asked.

Harry spun around to face the young man who was probably not yet twenty. "Jeremy? My God, boy, you've grown a foot!" He offered his hand to the groom, and they shook hands like a pair of men on equal footing.

"It's mighty good to 'ave ye back, milord."

Her husband turned to her. "Lady Broxbourne, may I present Jeremy? He's spent his entire life at Farley, and nobody knows horses better."

The groom bowed, and they exchanged greetings.

"Actually," Harry said, "neither of us will ride today, Jeremy. I just wanted to show my bride the stables."

His lordship set his hand to her waist and led her back to the sleigh. "This afternoon, we'll need the big sleigh brought around to the house. I promised the children a bruising sleigh ride."