Miss Featherton's Christmas Prince (The Marriage Game Book 9) (11 page)

Not long after they arrived, the landlord knocked on the door. “I was told there would be two more.” He focused on Damon and his companion. “Sir Randolph has ordered the haunch of venison, French beans . . .”

After the innkeeper had finished, Damon understood Sir Randolph’s wish to dine here. “Miss Featherton, are there any dishes you wish to add?”

“No, thank you. That will be fine.” Her voice was firm, but Damon sensed a hesitance.

“I should like to have the oyster pie, as well as the parsnips and carrots.”

“Very good, my lord.”

The other couple he figured to be in their late fifties or sixties, and appeared to be very devoted to one another. Perhaps they were supposed to be an inspiration for Miss Featherton.

The topics of the fair and town took up much of the conversation before the soup was served.

“Sir Randolph, how did you and Lady Culpepper meet?”

She was plump with white curls. Instead of covering her hair with a cap, she wore a very small but charming velvet hat with a feather.

Sir Randolph glanced at her, covering her hand with his. “I was at Cambridge with my lady’s brother. They are twins, and she kept up a lively correspondence with him. My wife did not think it was fair that her brother got to attend university and she could not.”

“You must admit,” the lady cut in, “I was as qualified as he.”

“Indeed I do. More so.” The look Sir Randolph gave her reflected the deep love they shared. “Her brother invited me to spend Christmas with his family and I finally met the sister who had written such interesting letters.”

“He has left out that my brother and I carried on debates about what he was studying.”

“I believe that was the only way he got through school,” Sir Randolph said fondly. “As I was saying, I arrived with her brother, and she wanted nothing to do with me.”

“That is not true!” She rapped his knuckles with her lorgnette. “I merely needed to know how you felt.” She glanced at Damon and Miss Featherton. “You see, my brother had written to me about Sir Randolph, and I was monstrously amused by the fact that he could earn such good notes and manage to get into so much trouble at the same time.”

Damon gave a sidelong look at Miss Featherton and was surprised to see her head propped on her hands, engrossed in the conversation. “I must say, I found doing the same to be quite easy.”

“There, you see!” Sir Randolph exclaimed with approval. “If one is a clever fellow, one’s studies do not take as long, thus providing more than enough time to engage in antics.”

Lady Culpepper shook her head and smiled. “Fribbles, the both of you. Suffice it to say that my father was sure I would find a suitable older gentleman more to my taste and took me off to London for the Season. I thought they were all prosy bores.” Miss Featherton’s hand covered her lips. “Laugh if you wish, my dear. It was the truth. None of them had a scintilla of sense, and of what use was that to me?”

“I was nineteen and she eighteen when we met. Our parents made us wait until I was one and twenty before we could marry.”

The lady’s eyes had misted.

“Was it hard to wait?” Miss Featherton asked.

“Oh my, yes.” Lady Culpepper gazed at her husband. “There were times when we thought we would be able to force the issue.”

Damon glanced at Miss Featherton, wondering if she understood that the older lady was saying they had anticipated their vows and hoped a child might hurry things along.

She pulled her bottom lip with her teeth. “Do you have many children?”

Lady Culpepper shook her head. “No. We were not blessed in that way.” Her fingers covered her husband’s hand, and he turned his so that they were each clasping the other’s fingers. “But we have many nieces and nephews. Sir Randolph’s brother died, but his eldest son lived with us and is more than ready to step in when it is time.”

“Not that I think he is looking forward to it,” Sir Randolph added hastily. “We get on as if he were our son.”

The evening had been pleasant, but Damon was beginning to wonder what the point had been, when Miss Featherton said, “You are so comfortable with one another. I would like a marriage such as yours.”

“Comfort comes with time.” The older lady grinned. “Oh, the fights we had when we were younger would curl your toes. I once threw a porcelain figurine at his head and hit him.”

Her husband rubbed the side of his head. “It hurt like the devil. I think there is still a bump, but the making up was worth the pain.”

“Indeed it was.” Her ladyship smiled gently.

Damon wouldn’t mind things thrown at him if making up was involved. Particularly with Miss Featherton.

Unfortunately, the lady’s lips were pressed together. “I shall not have a grand passion.”

Just then servants entered to clear dinner and bring several desserts, ending the conversation for a while. The Culpeppers gave her a sympathetic look, but said nothing.

Although Miss Featherton tried to hide it behind an outwardly calm countenance, her fingers pleated the skirts of her gown, and her jaw had developed a hard edge. It was as if a black cloud had descended over her again.

He could understand her hesitance, after a fashion. Love had deceived her twice. What need had she to court it again? Yet he knew for a certainty that if she could trust him enough to give her heart to him, she would have all the passion, love, and respect she could ever wish for and was now afraid to grasp.

M
eg did not think she could stand being around the Culpeppers for a moment longer. The only problem was that she had no way to leave. They represented what she had thought—no, believed—for years that she must have to be happy. What she had dreamed her life would be like. Until Tarlington’s betrayal, she had not understood why a lady would not wed for love, or remain single. If only she did not want children so badly. Yet the sight of Lady Merton with her child had only served to reinforce Meg’s desire.

Where devil was Lord Throughgood? Every time she had been about to approach him, he seemed to disappear. If not him, then she had no one left to consider.

A small cheesecake was placed on her plate. She picked up a fork and ate it without paying much attention to the taste. Perhaps she should wait. There was bound to be someone she had not met before whom she could bear to wed. She stifled a sigh.

You have met everyone.
Maybe a widower. Surely they were more interested in marrying for convenience.

“Miss Featherton?”

Meg glanced up at Lord Hawksworth.

He held out his hand. “We are leaving now. The Culpeppers have gone out to the coach.”

“Thank you.” She stood as he placed her cloak on her shoulders.

Good Lord! How could she have been so engrossed in her own thoughts that she had not noticed the couple had left? Her problems were making her rude. She did not want to think of how often she had mentally berated other people for allowing their difficulties to overwhelm them. This unlooked-for lesson in humility did not sit well.

“You appear distracted.” Lord Hawksworth’s warm voice washed over her. “I am a good listener, and I do not gossip. Anything you tell me will go no further.”

For a moment she couldn’t even think of a response. Confide in
him
? He must be out of his mind. One pleasant day did not mean they knew one another as well as
that
. She sucked in a shallow breath. He did have sisters. Perhaps he thought of her in that light. Nevertheless, it was impossible. “I appreciate your offer, but it is nothing, really.”

It would not be accurate to say he frowned, but it was clear her answer had not pleased him. “Very well. My offer stands.”

“You are very kind.” Not the word she would ever have thought to describe him, yet it was the truth.

The moment she returned to Lady Bellamny’s house, Meg must remember to tell Amanda that Hawksworth was not the ogre she had thought him to be. Yet another lesson in humility.

A clock on the fireplace mantel struck the hour, and she glanced at it. “That must need to be adjusted. It cannot possibly be so late.”

“No, it is accurate. We have spent several hours here. I suppose we might arrive in time for tea.”

“Oh.”

That one word spoke volumes. Damon simply wished he knew what she meant. He forced himself to smile. She was an expert at masking her feelings, but he had always been good at reading people. Right now, though, he would give a fortune to be able to divine what Miss Featherton was thinking.

That she was not as hostile to him as she had been in the past was clear. Yet he could not figure out how she viewed him. Not as a friend—at least, not yet. Given a few more days like to-day, he might be able to convince her he meant no harm. Not for the first time, he cursed his dark looks. They made him appear more forbidding than he thought he was. Tarlington and Swindon had been fair. Perhaps the contrast between them and him might work to his advantage, eventually.

As he escorted Miss Featherton to the coach, he considered the letter he had received from his step-mother. Father was not at all happy that he had chosen to attend this house party over the others. As he had threatened, Catherine was in the middle of getting ready for the duke’s own house party full of eligible young ladies.

She warned Damon he must attend. He would have, in any event. Even though they did not get along, he had never openly defied his father. To do that would make life difficult for his entire family.

He assisted Miss Featherton into the carriage and gave the coachman permission to start. As the vehicle jerked forward, he wondered what would happen if he arrived home with his new bride in tow. The only problem was that part of his marriage settlements should involve the dukedom, and Lord Featherton would expect that to be in the agreements. On the other hand, Damon had a great deal of personal wealth through his mother and none of it was entailed. That had to be better than being tied to the dukedom. And he did not want his father to deny Meg anything.

Meg? He settled back against the squabs. Maybe if he thought of her by her given name, he might make more progress. In his own mind they would be closer.

“My lord?”

He glanced at Miss Featherton—no, Meg. “Yes?”

The coach lights swayed, but he could see a small smile on her lips. “You were frowning.”

“Was I?” He glanced at the Culpeppers, but they were both snoring softly.

“You were.”

“It bothers me that I cannot assist you. What, I ask, is the good of having a title if I cannot rescue damsels in distress?”

“I would not have thought a courtesy title counted.” Her tone was not arch, but searching.

“I will leave you to consider if the courtesy title of an English marquis is greater than that of a prince.”

She shook her head. “You are speaking in riddles.”

Damon raised a brow. “Am I?”

“I was right.” Her bosom heaved under her thick cloak. “You are hiding something.”

“Not I.” He raised his hands, palms toward her in surrender. “For those who matter and care to ask, I am an open book.”

“And you would answer any question put to you?” she asked doubtfully.

“Word of a Trevor.”

“I may take you up on that.” Her chin had risen, and her lips were set.

“Please do. There is nothing I would like better.” He had spoken lightly, but meant every word.

Damon could tell she didn’t believe him, but she would. Somehow, he must make her understand that he had no secrets from her and he never would. All she had to do was ask.

 

Chuffy quickly turned Amanda down yet another row of displays at the fair. “Miss Featherton and Hawksworth.”

“I detest dodging them.” Her head swiveled in the opposite direction. “I will have to tell her before our announcement.”

Discussing their betrothal made him feel better, less haunted. He spied a stall with trinkets, and led her to it. “I agree. After we decorate the house to-morrow or before you retire to-morrow evening.”

“You are right. It must be after the party. What pretty gewgaws.” Amanda was already looking through the collection.

“Thought you might like them.” Chuffy was quite proud of himself for having thought to bring her here.

He would have loved to have Amanda and her parents stay at Grantville, and had mentioned it to his mother. Unfortunately, the troubles with the servants were making his wishes impossible. The only thing to do was carry on, and finding a way for Amanda to tell Miss Featherton about their betrothal was essential. If only she would fall in love with Hawksworth, the quandary would be settled.

Nevertheless, the sooner she was told, the more quickly Chuffy could wed Amanda.

He did hope Hawksworth was making headway. Amanda would feel much better if her friend had found a husband as well.

Once he returned to his house, he would discuss with his father which estate was the most suitable for him and Amanda to live on. His beloved, a home, and peace were all he wanted.

Before he knew it, she had selected a bracelet and a few other trinkets and was about to pay for them. He had to cease woolgathering. “No no. You must allow me.”

Her giggle was enchanting. In fact, just about everything about her was enthralling. Chuffy could hardly wait until she was his. Paying for her purchase made him feel all was right with the world. But no sooner had they headed one way than his soon-to-be betrothed was tugging him in a different direction. “There they are again.”

Blast this all to hell. “I almost think that my home would be better than this.”

She scrunched up her face. “I hate to say it, but I believe you are right.”

“When the staff problem has ended, we shall visit my parents and come to the fair again.” Chuffy led her to an inn at the other end of the town, from where Lady Bellamny had left her carriages. “Can you bear to be around them for a while longer? My mother wishes you and your family to join us for dinner.”

Amanda’s smile was all he could have asked for. “As long as I am with you, nothing else really matters.”

In less than twenty minutes, they were back at Grantville. The door was opened by Benje, their Indian butler, whose real name everyone had given up trying to pronounce correctly. “My lord, miss, your parents are in the library.”

“Thank you, Benje.”

They were half-way down the corridor when Amanda asked, “He seems very competent.”

“Yes, he is.” This was the first time his uncle’s butler had not been at the door. They entered the library. His father and Mr. Hiller were engrossed in a stack of documents. Their mothers were sitting on a sofa drinking Russian tea. Chuffy could tell from the cups. His mother believed in drinking every beverage from the correct container. “Mother, what happened to what’s-his-name?”

“Dibble.” His mother had a devilish look in her eye. “He found that he could not support life here after the cook left. Naturally, he also had a generous pension and required a holiday.”

Paid for by his father, Chuffy was sure. He cocked his head, straining to listen, but there was no yelling or loud noises coming from below. “Have we peace at last?”

“I hope so.” She smiled at Amanda’s mother. “Thanks to Mrs. Hiller. I have discovered that I am much too softhearted for English servants. Once Dibble began to complain, she suggested he would be happier if he left our service. It has all worked out for the best.”

Amanda glanced at him, an anxious look in her face.

“I must say I agree. All that fighting was too much to bear on a daily basis.” Chuffy bowed to his future mother-in-law. “Madam, my thanks.”

“Mama, how do you do it?” His beloved beamed. “She always knows just what to do to rid us of unwanted servants, and they are content to leave.”

“I merely suggested a course of action that would make everyone happier.” Mrs. Hiller shrugged. “After all, one cannot be comfortable if one’s servants are at odds. It was clear to me that the Grantvilles were much attached to their own staff. Therefore, the others must be resettled.”

“Indeed,” his mother added. “Once Dibble and the cook left, the house felt different. I believe they were the ones creating the problems.”

Papa and Mr. Hiller rose, documents in hand. “We have worked out the settlements. They must be sent to our solicitors, of course, but we believe we have come up with an equitable plan.”

“The only thing to concern you now is your wedding trip,” Amanda’s father said, as he wiped his glasses. “Perhaps somewhere warm.”

Suddenly Chuffy knew exactly where he an Amanda should go. “Athens. It’s much warmer than here.”

“Greece?” Her eyes were round with what he hoped was wonder.

“We have a villa there. It won’t be warm enough to swim until March, but I think you will like it.”

“Like it? Chuffy, I have never even dreamed of going to Athens. I would love it above all things.”

“It’s settled then.” As long as they got through the next few days, and Miss Featherton.

 

Damon breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the drawing room. Throughgood and Miss Hiller were not present. That could only mean that all was well at Grantville. Now if the couple would remain there, some of their problems would be solved.

“Miss Featherton?” A young matron smiled as she rushed up to Meg. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding. How wonderful that you are here!” The woman hugged her. “I didn’t dare call you Meg in front of so many people I do not know.”

A gentleman, Damon supposed to be around his age, strolled up, placing his hand possessively on the woman’s waist. “Miss Featherton, I am glad to see a familiar face.”

“Daphne, you look well, as do you, Fotheringale.” Damon could tell from the set of her jaw that Meg’s smile was forced. “Daphne, allow me to introduce Lord Hawksworth. My lord, Mrs. Fotheringale and her husband.”

The lady curtseyed, as Damon bowed. “Mrs. Fotheringale, it is a pleasure to meet any friend of Miss Featherton’s. Fotheringale, I believe we have friends in common.”

“We most certainly do.” He shook Damon’s hand. “I’ve heard a great deal of you. It is good to finally meet you.”

While Meg was listening to her friend chatter, Fotheringale glanced at Meg and back to Damon, who gave a curt nod. It was time he started letting other people know he was interested in her.

After a few minutes, the other man took his wife’s arm. “If you are to be tramping around outside to-morrow, you should probably get some rest.”

Mrs. Fotheringale leaned on her husband. “You are right, of course.” With her free hand, she lightly touched her stomach. “We are expecting an interesting event next spring.”

“I am very happy for you.” This time Meg’s smile was genuine.

Damon wished he knew why she had not been happy to see the couple earlier.

A few moments later, Lady Bellamny hailed them. “As you are aware, the gathering of the greenery will begin in the morning; it is bad luck to do it before Christmas Eve. Hawksworth, I know you would rather be cutting the Yule log, but we need strong men to help the ladies, and I have decided you shall be one of them.”

All he could do was bow, assent, and keep his grin to himself. “Wherever I can be of service.”

“Breakfast will be served at eight o’clock. There will be no breaking one’s fast in one’s chamber.”