Christmas Delights (5 page)

“Are you?” His gaze narrowed. “You seem to be having second thoughts.”

“I never have second thoughts at midnight. Only at other times of the day,” she said lightly, wishing she could run her hands over his elaborate jacket and feel the outline of the hard muscles underneath.

“Then we will make an assignation for some midnight,” he said. “But not tonight. I need time to make arrangements for Eddy.”

Sir Bartley Redcake lumbered up to them, ready for his turn on the dance floor. Lewis nodded to her and turned away, vanishing into the crowd.

The next day, after hours of church services, Victoria found herself faced with a roomful of women. The men had all moved onto masculine pursuits, leaving their feminine counterparts to huddle by the fireplaces in the warmest parlor. The four ladies who comprised the female household of the earl all held embroidery hoops. Victoria and Penelope both had knitting needles and Rose Redcake, who’d stayed behind after the ball because she’d nearly fainted after three dances in a row and had been sent to rest in the countess’s bedchamber, was exclaiming over the talented stitchery of Lady Florence.

“Will you tell me more of the story before I expire of boredom?” Penelope whispered.

“It may just keep me awake,” Victoria said. “Let us see. The princess and our evil queen were facing off. The princess pulled off her veil and stared directly into the evil shade’s wavering, ghostlike face. ‘You make it too easy for me,’ she sneered.”

“Are you telling more of the story?” Rose asked, coming to perch on a sofa arm. “Have I missed anything?”

“Yes, I revealed the rest of the clues,” Victoria told her. “The last was twelve masks unmasking. But now Princess Everilda must decide how to save her betrothed.”

“She needs a friend,” Rose said. “Someone to talk to, someone to advise her.”

“Good idea,” Victoria said. “Princess Everilda sneers some more. ‘Begone, dead hag!’ she cried. ‘For you waste my precious time.’

“Strangely enough, Queen Avice’s shade bestowed a look of pity upon the princess. ‘Save my stepson if you can,’ she intoned. ‘Find the character I know you have lacked.’ Then, with a puff of sickly, yellow-tinged smoke, the queen vanished. Everyone in the room gasped, then started coughing from the pestilent odor of the grave left behind.”

Penelope wrinkled her nose. “Did it smell as bad as London did when we left?”

“Exactly the same,” Victoria said. “Like the train station.”

Rose chuckled, then covered her mouth with a lace-edged handkerchief and coughed delicately. “And everyone ran outside to breathe the fresh-smelling air until the stench dissipated.”

Victoria nodded. “That would be most sensible. Everyone stood in front of the castle, staring out across the water to the tree line, wondering if they’d all had a stench-induced hallucination, and if they would soon see Prince Hugh on his destrier, galloping toward them. But of course, it was not to be, for in that distant time shades were very real, and Princess Everilda had brought disaster upon herself by refusing the mince pie.

“Eventually, the princess sighed and gestured to her liege men to go back inside, but she climbed the battlements, taking only a fur her handmaiden had provided. She stood vigil for many an hour, puzzling over the Herculean tasks the queen had imposed upon her. Did she start at the first or the last? The masks or the merman?”

“Are mermen real in this story?” Penelope asked.

“I should think so,” Victoria said. “There is magic enough.”

Penelope smiled and bent her head to her knitting. She was making a baby cap destined for a workhouse child.

“Eventually,” Victoria continued, “she decided to start at the top, as it were. Twelve masks must be unmasked. She resolved to search her father’s very large castle until she could find them.”

A maid opened the double doors that led into the parlor. “My lady? Visitors have arrived.”

Everyone’s attention turned to the door.

Lewis stepped into the foyer of the Fort, his stomach rumbling. He’d gotten up early, ready to help Nicholas with an experiment, and had been too full of the previous night’s cake and champagne for breakfast. Now, however, after several hours in the chill air, wading through the lake, he could eat a bear. Nicholas had pulled out a stale loaf and cheese in his workroom, but Lewis wanted meat and resolved to appear at the formal luncheon he knew would be served in the dining room.

As his eyes adjusted to the lower light indoors, his gaze was struck by the ingress of new people. He hadn’t expected the Fort to have visitors on Christmas Day. There were only two of them, a man and a woman, both richly dressed. He recognized them then, for he knew one of them as well as he knew himself: his cousin Alys, Marchioness of Hatbrook, and her husband.

He’d managed to avoid Alys all last night and hadn’t expected to see her at the Fort again. Why had she returned?

As if sensing his approach, Alys turned. She blinked when she saw him, as if she couldn’t quite believe it.

He looked down at himself and wanted to groan. He’d have felt more comfortable meeting her in a naval uniform than stained, baggy wool pants and a thick, shapeless coat, items that were suitable only for machine work.

“Your hair is longer than when I last saw it,” his cousin said. “I had forgotten how curly it could be.”

He touched his matted hair. Must have lost his hat underneath something. “Are we speaking? I did not realize.”

“You have avoided me,” she said. “I never avoided you.”

As Hatbrook turned around, Lewis said, “I never thought you to be a liar. You never called upon me all that time you were running Redcake’s. You left it to Lord Judah to contact me to repair all the bakery equipment. But then, I should have known you were one for avoidance. Look how my proposal to you went.”

“Still holding a grudge from three years ago?” Hatbrook asked. “Beneath you, isn’t it, Lewis?”

“I have no grudge against you,” Lewis told the marquess. “Just my cousin, for making my exit from her father’s house such an awkward one.”

“I didn’t ask you to propose to me,” Alys said, her chin lifting. “We were good friends once. Can’t we be again?”

He looked at the woman he’d once worshipped. At twenty-nine and used to her title now, she did not much resemble the young factory girl she had been when he’d first come to live with her family. She had been a changeable girl at first, but eventually she’d settled down, with a focus on her work that rivaled his own. He had never thought she’d use her new position as a knight’s daughter and her dowry to land a premier nobleman. But then, why would such a man find her unworthy?

Staring at her, feeling the love in his heart that wrapped her fiery red hair in some kind of heavenly nimbus, he scarcely knew what he said, just that he mumbled it and took a corridor blindly. He walked briskly until he was out of sight, then pushed his way through the first door he found with his December-iced hands. Why had he chosen now to confront her when any time in the past three years might have done just as well? And her expecting a child. He’d been unconscionably rude.

Unfortunately, he’d chosen a door unwisely. At least five pairs of female eyes went to him and his filthy clothing as he shut the door behind him.

“I see you have been busy with my son,” said the countess.

Thankfully, her voice held a note of refined humor. She was never rude to a potential husband for one of her daughters, who were also in the room. Both girls were still just young enough to be eligible but were fading fast as marriage mart material. Alys had been older still when she caught the marquess, but then, she was exceptional.

The room also held Lady Florence; his cousin Rose, who was Alys’s youngest sister; and, unfortunately, Lady Allen-Hill and her cousin. Unfortunate, because he had enough pride to want to look his best in front of a woman who frankly desired him. Her large gray eyes regarded him with more concern than amusement. He understood she could see he labored under some distress and wondered how a near stranger could read him so well.

Nodding to her, he went to the tea tray in the corner and poured himself a steaming cup. Wishing for something sturdier than the nearly paper-thin china, he lifted delicately but drank with vigor, then poured again. When he turned back, all the female gazes were still upon him. He was an elephant in the gazelle house.

His cousin stood, looking far too frail in a borrowed gown that revealed a couple of inches of her thin wrists.

He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here, Rose? I didn’t know you had stayed.”

“I am to return this morning with Alys.”

Behind him, he felt air moving and gentlemen entering the room. He recognized the dye magnate, Rupert Courtnay. The man shared his daughter’s crystal-clear gray eyes, but other than that, the lady must resemble her late mother, for he had nothing of her apple-cheeked beauty.

“Miss Redcake,” Courtnay said, inclining his head to Rose.

Behind Courtnay, the youngest Dickondell brother grinned at the throng of women. Most men would be intimidated, but this boy was too young to be caught in any of their clutches.

“You should stay,” Victoria said from her position on a sofa. “You will miss my fairy tale if you go now.”

Rose smiled wistfully at her. “I hope the countess will extend another invitation to me, one for which my wardrobe would be better prepared.”

A maid peered around Samuel Dickondell. “Miss? We’re bringing your things to the carriage now.”

Rose approached Victoria, who stood to clasp her hand. She made her good-byes to the Gill ladies.

“Why do you not come on January third?” the countess said. “We are having a large dinner that evening and you can spend a few days with your friend before she returns to London.”

“I should like that very much,” Rose said. “Thank you, my lady.” Rose squeezed Lewis’s arm as she left the room.

He followed her out. “You’re quite friendly with Lady Allen-Hill.”

Rose turned to him, her eyebrows lifting. “Does that matter to you?”

Lewis looked at a masterful, though bloody, painting of a broken stag over his cousin’s head. “Do you have any warnings for me about her?”

Rose tilted her head. “You can’t propose to her. Not unless you want to live in Liverpool and manage her father’s factories.”

“I used to hear that about her, but that was a couple of years ago. Haven’t they found anyone else by now?”

“Her husband,” Rose said pertly. “He died, remember?”

“Then I can’t develop an interest in her,” he said grimly. “Everything I have is in Battersea.”

“And Leeds,” she pointed out. “That’s farther north.”

“I have suppliers in Leeds, not business interests.”

“At least,” his cousin said, “you are showing some interest in a decent female for the first time since Alys rejected you. I am glad, because I think you will make a good husband to someone.”

He felt the need to protest. “I was pushed to propose to her, you know, by what your father was doing.”

She rolled her eyes. “You would have preferred to worship Alys from afar, a gentle, perfect knight. I know that’s what you thought, Lewis, but you’re a flesh-and-blood man. It’s silly to be so idealistic. Find a wife. Women are real people, you know, not statues. We have faults and strengths, just as men do.”

“You’ve turned into quite a philosopher.” The words came out sourly.

“I’m not proud of things I’ve done and said,” Rose said quietly as her sister and brother-in-law appeared at the end of the long corridor. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, stuck as I am in the country, trying to breathe.”

“Has Hatbrook forgiven you for your interference?”

“It’s not him I care about, it’s Matilda, for my part in making her think she could seduce her son’s father into marriage. She’s the person I most injured by my dangerous gossip.”

“Then it’s true; you really did see Alys and Hatbrook together before they were wed?” Lewis had never quite believed it.

“Alys is a real person, not a statue,” Rose repeated. “Just like other women. They desire, they crave.” She bit her lip tightly.

Lewis realized this cousin of his was lonelier than he had ever been. Could he help her find a family of her own? “Do come back on the third,” he urged. “There will be gentlemen here. I’ll suss them out for you over the next week.”

She laughed gently. “See to your own needs. You have a decade on me.
Vita brevis
.”

Lewis watched her as she went down the corridor, her slightly too short skirt showing off her stick-thin ankles. He wondered what Victoria’s lower limbs looked like and resolved to make an assignation soon.

V
ita brevis.
Life is short. Lewis pondered this thought as he paced in front of the fireplace in his room just before midnight on Christmas Day. Eddy had gone to bed so stuffed full of sweets that he doubted the lad would stir before noon unless he was kicked awake. This would be a perfect night for Lady Allen-Hill to scratch upon his door, but he had waited for an hour and she hadn’t come.

As with Alys, he must have made a hash of things with this woman. Dare he go to her door and make his plea in person? Or would young Penelope answer? Victoria had seemed interested when they spoke at the ball last night, but he hadn’t said a word to her today. Had she found greener pastures? Ernest Dickondell, for instance? Was she looking for a husband or a lover?

He gritted his teeth at the idea and turned around. A short stroll around the corridors might be in order, just to stretch his legs and clear his mind. The countess had provided a seven-course meal and surely light exercise would be in order after such a banquet.

With resolve, he went to his door and opened it, only to find the lady herself with her hand lifted toward the wood, a surprised expression on her cherubic face. His heart thumped an extra beat out of sheer surprise.

“I did not tread lightly?” she asked with a wide-eyed gaze.

He knew he was smiling like an idiot. Just the sight of her put his cock to half-mast. “I did not know you were there. I was about to leave my chamber.”

“I see.” She stepped aside, still appearing confused. “I do not wish to interfere with your plans.”

“My dear lady,” he said, taking her arm and drawing her inside, “you
are
my plans.”

She shut the door softly behind them. “What of Eddy?”

“He is stuffed too full to wake.”

She smiled ruefully. “Penelope is the same. Why, she is snoring. I do not think I shall be able to sleep with her tonight.”

“I am pleased to be your alternate companion.” He inclined his head.

Her lips bowed upward. “What a waste that would be, if people came to house parties merely to find a different sleeping companion. So much duller than what you understand the reality to be.”

“I thought you a seasoned adventuress,” he ventured. “But this is a new game for you?”

“Not at all, Mr. Noble. I am merely curious. I’ve never even been to a house party before, especially one where matchmaking is intended.”

“I am your safe harbor?”

Her lids dipped half-closed over her stunningly clear eyes. “Rather, my uncharted territory.”

“They say all women, and men too, are the same in the dark.” As soon as he made the joke, he knew it had been a mistake.

She winced and turned away, staring into the fire. After a moment of silence, he touched her shoulder. “I did not mean to offend. Or course your husband—” Had she been in love with the man rather than the title?

“We will not speak of Sir Humphrey,” she whispered.

“No, of course not. I suppose I’ve ruined things.” He cleared his throat and tried to press through her change of mood. “Would you like a glass of wine? I sneaked a bottle up here. The underbutler is an old friend; he was a footman for the Redcakes once.”

“That would be lovely,” she said, still in her pensive mood.

He pulled the loosened cork from the bottle and poured half a glass for each of them, then invited her to sit by the fire. Instead of sitting next to her, he perched on the table between the sofa and the fire. Firelight danced on her features, drawing red streaks through her dark hair. For the first time, he noticed her clothing, her figure, and damned himself for being the kind of man who could spend five minutes alone with a woman and not notice these things. He would never be a true rake.

“Your dressing gown is a work of art,” he observed. The stiff white fabric was heavily embroidered with vines and purple and blue flowers.

“Forget-me-nots,” she said ruefully. “A wedding present from Sir Humphrey. Silly of me, not to mention inappropriate to wear it, but it is so pretty.”

“I do not like mourning customs,” he told her. “Why turn young women into crows? Their husbands no longer care.”

“I expect a scientist like yourself has many unconventional notions.”

“It comes of thinking too much.” He felt cheerful all of a sudden. The wine was good and the fire had made the room pleasant. And now he’d taken the time to notice that her gown, which peeked from under the fanciful robe, was cut low enough to show the tops of her high, rounded breasts. Breasts he’d touched once and, God willing, would touch again.

She put the glass to her lips and took a long sip of her wine. When she pulled the glass away, there was a bubble of deep red on her upper lip. He sat, mesmerized, as she licked the bubble away, then smiled at him. “It got away from me.”

He leaned forward and took her glass from her, setting it on the table.

“Are my table manners too upsetting for you?” she asked.

“On the contrary, my lady, you are driving me mad.” Indeed, his cock was fully hard now, straining against his clothing.

Her pleasured chuckle gave him the encouragement he needed. He bent forward and found her lips with his own.
So sweet
. She parted beneath him with a gasp and he found no barrier to deepening, intensifying, the kiss. And why not? This was no exploration of a prospective mate but a furtive encounter at a house party. He slid his lips against hers, then tasted her tongue with his own, learning her flavor of caraway beneath the grape. Her mouth opened wider, so he angled in, feeling his body twitch in response. Crouching before her, he found her upper arms, the silk threads of the embroidery rasping under his fingers, then the tops of her breasts. He slid forward on the table, eager to get closer, to touch more. Her hands gripped his biceps, and the next thing he knew, one of them had overcalculated their movement and they were falling.

Their lips lost contact as he hit the floor back first. He let out an inelegant “ooof” as her body dropped heavily on his, their legs tangling together. Her chin hit his chest and she gasped at the impact.

“Sorry.”

“It does not take much wine for us to lose our balance,” she said, grinning at him as her long braid of rich dark hair tickled his neck.

“Or rather, not much kissing,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her and finding her mouth again.

They kissed tenderly until the shock of the fall left their bodies and only passion remained. Some minutes later, Lewis flipped their positions, moving the table so that she could roll to the floor. He lifted himself on his elbows and gazed down at her chest.

“Out of breath?” he asked.

“My belt tie is digging into me,” she told him.

“We must remedy that.” He found the offending knot and undid it. The thick fabric of her dressing gown fell away, leaving her low-cut cotton nightdress open to view. Her erect nipples thrust the textured needlework at the top of her gown into high relief. When he glanced back at her face, he saw she’d flushed pink. “What?”

“You must think me wanton.”

“I hope for it, my lady. I dream of it.” He nuzzled her neck.

“How gallant.” She relaxed back to the floor.

Cursing himself for his inattention to her comfort, he pulled a cushion from the sofa and tucked it under her head. As he moved, making the adjustment, she let out a small gasp.

He glanced down, concerned. She was biting her lip with strong, white teeth.

“What is it?”

“You brushed me,” she said, blushing more brightly than ever.

He slid back on his heels and glanced at her. After a moment’s perusal, he decided her nipples looked even more tightly budded than before. “Madam, I am of a scientific bent. I must learn more.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “You must. I can see that.”

He undid the tiny buttons holding her bodice together. Slowly, her flushed skin revealed itself to his eyes. After a moment’s effort, he had her beautiful, bountiful breasts bare. The globes were perfection, all cream tipped with pink. His mouth watered and he ached to taste her. Now the game would truly begin. His cock twitched again, urging him on.

“We need to know what made you gasp, Lady Allen-Hill. The only way to do that is to perform an experiment.”

“Victoria,” she whispered. “Call me Victoria.”

He nodded absently, his attention focused on using his hands to plump up her soft breasts. “I shall test your sensation with various techniques.”

“Such as?”

Her throaty voice, with that little catch, made him crazy, but he kept his voice level. “Blowing. Licking. Rubbing. Flicking. Biting.”

Her breath hitched. “Biting?”

“Of course. We must test strong sensation.” He realized he’d never been so hard in his life. He could use his cock to break a knight’s shield. That thought reminded him of his old chivalric bent, how he used to consider his love for Alys as something out of an old story about the Round Table. A pure, bright love that didn’t need kisses to maintain it.

Surely an earthier love had its merits. As he stared down at Lady Allen-Hill, a flushed, pretty widow, he willed himself to stay in the moment, to provide her the congress she so ardently desired.

“Lewis?” she whispered, a hint of doubt creeping into those lovely eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He couldn’t behave like this. Dust sheered the floor under the sofa, the floorboards were hard, and she was a lady. “You must think I’m a madman to assault you on the floor. I do apologize.”

“Lewis,” she said again. “I was enjoying myself. Weren’t you?”

He shook his head slightly, not knowing what to say. Her fingers shook as she rebuttoned those tiny buttons that had been such an object of desire to him only moments before. She sat up, then stood.

“When did you decide I repulsed you?” she asked, exhaling sharply.

“You don’t repulse me.” Surprised by her question, he took her hand and held it between his own much cooler digits. “Not at all.”

“Then what?” She pulled her hand away and tucked it behind the other.

“I realized I had never conducted myself in this manner. I realized it wasn’t like me.” He came to his feet.

“I don’t think I understand. I mean, you have been with women, yes?”

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. Men didn’t blush or simper. “I have never engaged with a titled lady at a house party,” he said.

“I was plain Victoria Courtnay before I married,” she said. “No better than Lewis Noble.”

“I misspoke. I have never trysted at a house party, any more than you. We are both novices.”

“I see. Such antics are beneath you. I suppose that is better than you finding me repulsive.” She crossed her arms over those delectable breasts and shifted from side to side.

“I am sorry. Your beauty went to my head.”

“I apologize for disturbing you.”

He heard the break in her voice and felt absolutely terrible. “I will escort you to your room.”

“No need. We are on the same corridor, Mr. Noble.” With a stiffness in her gait very different from her usual flowing, hip-centered walk, she pulled the edges of her wrapper under her chin and stepped to the door. Without looking back, she opened it and departed.

Lewis closed his eyes as the door clicked decidedly behind her, as if it chastised him. What would have been more gentlemanly under the circumstances? Refusing her or agreeing to romp?

Victoria felt more restless than she ever had in her life as she sat with Penelope and the Gill women in the morning parlor the next day. Should she depart? Her father had moped at breakfast as well, making her wonder if he’d had a tryst go wrong, too. Some things could not be discussed between father and child, but somehow she knew they were feeling a similar level of disappointment.

“Victoria, stop woolgathering,” Penelope ordered. “What is Princess Everilda going to do?”

Victoria cast her thoughts in the appropriate direction. “She was meant to search her father’s castle for the masks.”

“What did she find?” the girl whined.

Victoria dug deep into herself for the next kernel of story, hiding behind her fretful thoughts of Lewis. “She was at the highest level, so she searched the attics first but found nothing. Then she went to the floor on which the family lived. She searched the bedchambers and the solarium, then the chapel, all to no avail. On the ground floor, she investigated the main hall, even peering up the massive fireplace until her face was covered with soot. This was particularly troubling because, of course, the prince was expected to arrive that day and she hadn’t quite given up hope that he would appear. But the day progressed and even when her face was clean Prince Hugh had not arrived.”

“She knew the curse was real,” Penelope said. “By then.”

“I am afraid so,” Victoria said dully. Everilda had lost her prince, and Victoria couldn’t lose her virginity to save her life. Idly, she wondered if Ernest would be up to the adventure. But Lewis had kind eyes, and she was worried about the pain and perhaps even some blood. And he made her insides feel like they were melting. She expected if she told Ernest she was still a virgin he would refuse her for fear of entrapment. Or maybe he would want to be trapped by a rich heiress. Then she’d be forced to remarry much sooner than she wished.

“Where did Princess Everilda go after she cleaned her face?” Lady Florence asked.

“To the kitchens,” Victoria said. “She looked in the fireplace there, though far more carefully, because a boar was being roasted on a spit just in front. She opened and sifted through every basket and cask. Finally, there was only one more place to look.”

“The dungeon?” Penelope asked.

“No, no dungeon, but there were twelve storerooms down a dank staircase. This castle was close enough to the sea that there were floods at times, so all the rooms had benches erected higher than the waterline, and that’s where the foodstuffs were stored. She despaired, as you can imagine, when she saw the barrels in the deep recesses of her father’s castle. Unfortunately, though there were many barrels to go through, there was little fresh produce, hanging meat, and the like. She wondered how they would ever get through the winter without men to hunt for game and fish.”