Teach Me Under the Mistletoe (14 page)

At the click of the door latch, Kitty half turned, holding her breath as the door was pushed inward, expecting to see her mother. Louise’s silence upon Kitty’s return from the follies hadn’t ensured she would say nothing, only that she would choose a private moment. Kitty had rather hoped she might wait until after the ball, when mayhap she could announce Lord Strathern’s interest in escorting her. Kitty squared her shoulders. If the confrontation was to occur sooner than later, she was ready.

Jenny slipped through the door, looking glorious in a stunning silk gown the color of champagne overlaid by a gossamer veil of deep sapphire. An array of pearls and peacock feather tufts gathered her hair tightly against her head just above her left ear.

Kitty released her breath, thankful for the temporary reprieve. “Jenny, you look splendid.”

“Thank you.” Jenny performed a slow pirouette. “I do hope Stephen feels the same way. Stand up. Let me see your gown.”

This was it. Jenny was always dependable for telling the truth. Kitty stood and moved away from the dressing table. She tried to straighten her back and square her shoulders, to stand the way a lady ought. But such a posture had felt strange and awkward of late, and she ended up doing no more than shuffling her feet.

“You look…” Jenny stepped to the right and examined Kitty intently.

“Oh, dear. I look horrid, don’t I?” Kitty twisted at the waist and craned her neck sideways, trying to see what her sister saw.

“Will you stop twisting about? I can’t decide properly with all your contortions.” She frowned. “Well, it clings to you in all the right places, that’s for sure.” Her forehead pinched, somehow managing to make her delicate features look even more delicate and pretty. “You look… like a virgin sacrifice.”

Kitty slumped in defeat. “Well, that’s it, then. I shall forever resemble a child. No man will ever desire me in the manner a man should.”

Jenny’s mouth fell open as she drew back and stared with wide eyes. “Not want you? My dear, how many men do you want fighting over you?”

“Is that what ye’d like? To have men want ye so badly they’d duel over ye?”
The memory of Hugh’s words was so powerful, he might have been in the room. Did she seem unaccountably bloodthirsty for some reason?

“I don’t want any men fighting over me!” she snapped.

“Well, good, because you already have the attention of a good man, and I’m happy that you’ve finally realized it.” Jenny picked at the lace at Kitty’s neckline then motioned for her to sit again. “How are you wearing your hair?”

Stunned by her sister’s odd disclosure, Kitty didn’t move. “What did you say?”

Jenny angled her head and frowned in apparent annoyance. “About what? That you already have the attention of a good man?” She gave Kitty a push toward the seat.

“What did you mean by that?” she asked, sinking onto the chair.

Henrietta began brushing out Kitty’s hair for the third time.

“Your secret’s out.”

Her secret? That she liked Lord Strathern?

Jenny laughed. “I know you’ve been pretending otherwise but you’ve met the man at the garden follies every day since just before the dinner party.”

Hugh! She knows about Hugh!
But that didn’t make sense. Jenny was defiant in many ways, but she’d never condone Kitty becoming involved with a groom. Or would she? Kitty tried to turn so she could look at her sister, but Henrietta gently stopped the motion.

“Only a moment more, miss… please.” Henrietta tucked a jeweled comb at the side of Kitty’s head and stepped back. “There.”

The style was loose, tousled. It softened Kitty’s features, made her look more… vulnerable. She wasn’t certain she preferred it to her usual style, but Jenny had already shooed Henrietta out.

Too late to worry about her hair, she supposed. And now that the maid had left the room, perhaps they could speak more freely. Kitty concentrated on evening out her breathing before she spoke. “So, you don’t… disapprove?”

“Disapprove?” Jenny’s voice took on a lilting, teasing note. “Only that you’re meeting alone. It’s not appropriate, but then who am I to say anything? Certainly not your mother.” She laughed again. “I thought I made that clear with the little gift I arranged for you out at the follies today.”

Relief flooded through Kitty in a rush of pent-up breath. “So it was
you
!”

“You didn’t think a picnic lunch appeared by magic, did you?”

Kitty leapt to her feet. “But we were so careful. How on earth did you figure it all out?”

Jenny giggled. “You came home with muddy boots, remember? I thought nothing of it at first, but when you started walking daily, I followed your tracks and they took me to the follies.”

“W-well… perhaps I went there to think.”

“You went there to meet your man.” Jenny picked up a creamy silk shawl and handed it to Kitty. “Don’t bother denying it. I saw the other footprints there as well. A
man’s
footprints.”

“Things are seldom what they seem.”
Apparently, Hugh had been correct about that also.

Kitty drew the wrap about her shoulders and snuggled into it, contemplating her older sister. “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t take it upon yourself to send out the hounds in search of me. But tell me, why have you been so agreeable?”

Jenny sighed and sank onto the settee near the fireplace. “Stephen and I have decided not to wait for Ellie’s grande wedding. We want to be together now, not wait to even become engaged until after Ellie and Walter marry. And then, of course, Papa and Mama would insist on at least as long an engagement as Ellie had.”

A chill rolled along Kitty’s spine. “Jenny… what are you about? Have you done something rash?”

“Stephen and I shall be leaving tonight for Gretna Green.”

“Jenny, no! You can’t do that. Mother and Father will be crushed.”

Her sister’s smile was slow and calculating. “I
am
doing it, and you’re going to help me.”

“I will not!”

“If you do not, then I shall go straight to Mama and Papa and tell them of your daily trysts.”

Kitty’s heart pounded. How could Jenny be so cruel? Hugh would be let go, and probably his brother as well. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” she whispered, repeating Hugh’s words to her. “Nothing at all to be ashamed of.”

“Oh, please, dear sister, spare me denials. Just meeting him in secret and alone is proof enough for the gossips of the
ton
.” Jenny rose and glided to the door, her slippered feet making nary a sound on the plush Turkish rug.

Kitty’s heart squeezed against her lungs. “You would cast me into the waters of vile gossip so easily?” She spoke slowly, but her mind raced ahead. How could she protect Hugh’s position with her family? If anyone had done nothing wrong, it was he. The only thing Hugh McCollum was guilty of was allowing her to bully him into going along with her mad plan.

“S-suppose I do help you… what would you need me to do?”

“It’s quite simple, really.” Jenny lifted the latch and tugged the door open. “I need a distraction. Come along. We’re to meet Mama and Papa in the parlor.”

* * * *

Carriage after carriage had rolled up to the manor, guests arriving for Lord and Lady Strickland’s holiday ball. Had no one declined the earl’s invitation? Stationed at the end of the drive, Hugh’s responsibility was to direct the drivers toward the stable yard after passengers disembarked. He positioned himself in line with the front door, and each time the footman opened it, he had a clear view of guests mingling and household servants bustling.

While the household servants scurried about seeing to the needs of the visitors, grooms and stablehands were no less busy as they scrambled to see to the needs of drivers and their horses.

Once the carriages were parked and the horses put up, the stable folk had formed their own gathering in an open area of the stables, where ale flowed freely and bawdy tales elicited hearty laughter. Hugh stood at the edge of the crowd, wishing he could bring himself to partake but unable to get a certain lady out of his mind. Had she already set her plan in motion? Or would she wait for later in the evening?

Another roar of laughter followed by the raising of tankards all around the room signaled the end of yet another lewd story. Hugh pushed off from his position on the doorjamb and stepped into the brisk night air. The melodious strains of stringed instruments drifted from the direction of the manor. Hugh found himself on the path and halfway to the manor before he even realized he’d begun to walk.

“What am I doing?” he muttered, halting his steps. Something stirred in the privet hedge next to him, and then he was alone with the distant music and the whine of a gusty wind through the bare trees. And his thoughts. Always his thoughts.

Caroline, frightened by a goose and stumbling into him. Caroline, her soft lips moving under his. Her hands pressed against his chest, clutching at his shirt while she leaned in and begged for more. Caroline, her face turned up to his, dewy eyes, parted lips.

Caroline, telling him of her plans to catch a man’s attention with a kiss beneath the mistletoe.

With a feral growl, Hugh bent and picked up a round stone then pitched it with all his might into the trees. He was a fool, a blasted fool. Always wanting what he couldn’t have. And now he’d gone and fallen in love for the first time in his life — with a lady so far above him, he was naught but the ground she walked on daily. He wished he could hate her for using him, but how could he when he’d given himself so readily for her use? She’d been clear and honest with him from the start. The fault for his misery lay with him and no one else.

He kicked at the ground, sending a flurry of small pebbles flying through the air. It was time to head back to the stables. But his feet refused to move. The music beckoned, drew him like a siren’s call. Slowly he turned around. The manor was a black giant against the night sky. The upper floors remained in darkness but the bottom two floors, where the ball was apparently in full swing, every lamp must have been lit for the golden gleam to spill through the windows as it did, lighting even the grounds nearby. Gravel crunched under his boots as he strode toward the glow.

The first flakes of white began to fall in small wisps, silent and cold. Gusts of wind sent them spinning through the air, dancing around him in time to the music, a frosty parody of the dancers inside.

* * * *

From the top of the steps, Kitty hardly recognized the salon. Furniture had been rearranged to free up a large portion of the room for dancing. Low fires burned in the hearths at either end of the room, the cheery glow spilling onto the greens decorating the mantelpieces. Overhead candelabras gleamed with flickering candles, the light from them almost brighter than the midday sun. Guests stood about in clusters on the main floor, and a few had stepped into the relative seclusion offered by the galley overlooking the salon.

Kitty continued to mull over Jenny’s words as she waited for entry into the gathering. Next to her stood Randall, oddly looking more comfortable than he had at events past. He reached over and laid his hand over hers where she clutched his arm.

Hugh… he’d done the same thing as they’d wandered among the follies. He hadn’t worn gloves, and his hand had warmed hers with a heat that even days later had lingered in her veins.

“…of Thistledown, and Lady Caroline Tyndall, daughter of Lord Grant and Lady Louise Tyndall.”

With a start, she realized Mr. Warwick was announcing them, and she allowed Randall to draw her forward to descend the marble steps. Heads turned toward them as they walked, including Lady Penelope’s. Was the witch just waiting for them to tumble onto the dance floor?

Kitty chose her footing with care, but she did not draw a breath of relief until they managed to get to the bottom of the short staircase. The triumphant smile she sent to Penelope died on her lips as Lord Strathern stepped from behind Lord Pennington’s daughter and handed her a glass of refreshment.

Penelope tilted her head and gave him a dazzling smile. She murmured something, and he laughed and then bowed with a little flourish.

Kitty schooled her features even while jealousy and rage twined like thorny brambles through her veins.
That trollop! She’ll not get away with this!

Chapter Thirteen

Skulking in the shadows was a distasteful practice, one utilized by highwaymen and street robbers. Yet Hugh found himself doing it for the second time in as many weeks. How many times did one have to hide in the darkness before it became a habit? Surely more than twice.

He’d chosen the darkest window, one distant most from the center of the house. A pair of French doors had been thrown open above and to the right of him, spilling golden light across the veranda and out over the lawn. The falling snow had grown in its intensity, large flakes floating and swirling on capricious bursts of wind. Hugh leaned closer to the window, peering through and scanning the large room. So many people congregated in the large room it was impossible to single out just one.

Gold and red silk, she’d told him. She’d be wearing gold and red silk. Dancers began to set up in the middle of the salon, but she was not among them.

Someone stepped onto the balcony. As Hugh ducked into the bushes, he caught a flash of the colors he’d been seeking. He pushed aside a thick boxwood branch. The breath left him as though he’d taken a blow to the chest. His heart pounded a thick drumbeat against his ribs.

She’s beautiful.
Indeed, her hair had been styled loosely, and wispy curls cascaded along her neck, just waiting to be pushed aside in order to kiss the tender flesh there. The gown embraced her as delicately as a lover’s embrace, revealing just enough of her curvy figure to make him want to delve beneath the folds of silk.

But why was she alone? Hugh wanted desperately to reveal himself to her, to let her see even the depths to which he’d sunken for a glimpse. He inched toward the balcony, opened his mouth to call out—

In a sudden motion, she turned a welcoming smile curving her lips, as a bulky shadow filled one side of the doorway. “Why Lord Strathern… have you discovered a need for some air as well?”