The Christmas Heiress (13 page)

The glint of humor in her eyes caused him to
widen his grin. "You are a marvel, my dear," he said,
laying a hand over the one she had set on the table.

She allowed it for a long moment, then he felt her
fingers wiggling beneath his palm. Edward reluctantly removed his hand and Charlotte immediately
put hers in her lap. Her cheeks were flushed, her
green eyes sparkling, but she kept her composure
and launched into a spirited conversation with Lord
Bradford.

Edward hid a frown, though he was in truth glad
for the momentary respite. Touching her hand had
stirred up a few sensations he had not felt toward a
woman in a very long time. Primal, sensual urges
that sent a fire through his veins.

It was so unexpected. He fervently hoped he had
been able to hide the fascination he felt from his expression, had somehow concealed the desire that was
trying to take control of his body and his common
sense.

Fortunately, before he could make an utter fool
of himself, his mother grandly rose to her feet, signaling that it was time for the ladies to withdraw
and leave the gentlemen to their port. Edward, and
the rest of the gentlemen, stood as the ladies de parted. Still pensive, he sat down, lit a cigar and
wondered how long it would be until they could rejoin the women.

Without so much as a glance back in the earl's direction, Charlotte followed the rest of the women
out of the dining room, every nerve in her body
tingling.

What had come over her? She had flirted outrageously with him during dinner, but even more distressing, she had enjoyed it immensely! When she
had entered the drawing room this evening she had
promised herself she would feel nothing toward
him-not bitterness or anger or regret.

To that end she had succeeded, but amazingly,
the emotions she had experienced were almost
worse. Butterflies of anticipation, an odd surge of
joy at his marked attention toward her, the warm
touch of his strong hand making goose bumps rise
on her arms. And when he stared at her, she found
herself lost in the deep sensuality of his amber-gold
eyes and the playful allure of his smile.

This was not supposed to be happening! Charlotte took a deep breath, startled at the turmoil of
her own feelings. It was all so confusing, but she
continued to smile, walking blindly through the
room until she almost ran into a young woman.
Thankfully, it was Lady Haddon, the former Miss
Miranda Chambers.

"Charlotte, how lovely to see you," Lady Haddon
said jovially. "We were late coming down for dinner
and missed the gathering in the drawing room."

"Miranda, you look wonderful," Charlotte replied truthfully. "The countess mentioned that you and
Lord Haddon were planning to come this year."

"I adore the holidays at Farmington Manor," Miranda said. "And this year we have even more to celebrate with the birth of our second child. A boy!"

"Aren't you a clever girl?" Charlotte laughed softly.
"Lord Haddon must be over the moon."

Miranda lowered her chin as a faint blush crept into
her cheeks. "Charles is rather pleased about having an
heir after only four years of marriage. Though he
swore to me he would be happy no matter what the
infant's sex as long as it was hale and hearty."

Charlotte nodded her head. Though not a view
often shared by most of his peers, it sounded exactly like something Lord Haddon would say. He
truly was a kind and decent sort. "I assume you
brought the children along?"

We would not dream of having Christmas without
'Wethem," Miranda insisted. "The doctor assured me
that young Robert is a fine healthy babe, more than
capable of making the journey. We brought along
his nurse, of course, and a nursemaid for our older
daughter, Julia. The countess has a beautiful nursery
set up for the children, so they are quite comfortable
and not underfoot."

"I look forward to meeting them."

Miranda smiled brightly. "I know you are just
being polite, but I give you fair warning, I intend to
hold you to that request."

They chatted amicably for a few minutes longer
and then Miranda left to speak with another group
of ladies on the other side of the drawing room.
Charlotte gazed pensively at her retreating back.

Marriage and motherhood certainly agreed with
Miranda, transforming her from a pale, plain-faced young lady into a handsome woman, with shapely
curves, a soft mouth and lovely blond curls. Hearing
her speak so loving of her two little ones set Charlotte's thoughts spinning. She had never thought
overlong about having children and was surprised
at the complicated mix of emotions that engulfed
her when she considered the idea seriously.

The gentlemen joined the ladies. Automatically,
Charlotte looked for the earl. He was easy to spot,
chatting among the gentlemen, then stopping to
greet a cluster of ladies who were taking tea.

After speaking with each of them, he lifted his
head and glanced over at Charlotte. Their eyes met
briefly and she saw a flirtatious spark light their
depths. Then the earl smiled and inclined his head.
Charlotte struggled to control her suddenly erratic
breathing.

At the urging of several of the guests, Miss Montgomery sat at the pianoforte and began an impromptu concert. Smiling with ease, she did her
best to play everyone's request, before launching
into a round of traditional Christmas carols.

A few of the younger women began singing and
the men soon followed. Jonathan sat beside Miss
Montgomery, turning her music and singing with
great enthusiasm. Even Grandpapa was humming
along and tapping his foot.

Charlotte noticed Miranda and her husband sitting very close together on the sofa, discreetly holding hands. Opposite them was the countess, who
was silent, yet her expression was pleasant. And the
earl-the earl's face was an odd mix of longing and
loneliness. She wondered if he was remembering
all the happy Christmas celebrations of his past or regretting those many years he stayed away from his
home, his family and his friends.

The evening ended when the clock struck midnight. Jonathan reminded everyone of the various
activities planned for the following day and the
guests gradually departed for their rooms.

After kissing her grandfather's cheek, Charlotte
bid the earl a hasty good night. He bowed politely
as she took her leave, but his eyes seemed to hold a
warmth when he looked at her. She tried not to
read too much into it, yet the irony of the situation
was not lost on Charlotte.

Even after all these years, and all that had happened, Edward Barringer was still the most fascinating, attractive and appealing man she had ever met.

Edward started his morning with a private breakfast in his bedchamber. He had slept poorly his first
night back home and had lain awake until well past
three in the morning, his mind crowded with far
too many thoughts of the past and the future.

Better, he decided as he watched the dawn slowly
bring the light into his bedchamber, to try and cope
with the present. To that end he went downstairs
and sat in his father's study-his study now-and
tried to review a variety of business papers he had
brought with him from London.

After nearly an hour of reading through a contract that should have taken only twenty minutes,
Edward admitted his concentration was sorely lacking. Leaving the papers scattered on the desk, he
stood and walked over to the window.

For a long time he stayed there, staring off into the
distance. Beyond the great expanse that was the faded grass of the south lawn were the bare dormant
trees of the large woods, and beyond that the gentle
sloping hills that defined the southern border of the
estate. Though barren and bare, the view had a
unique tranquility about it. Still it could not calm his
growing agitation.

"Ah, so this is where you are hiding."

Edward's gaze flitted to the door as Jonathan entered the room. "I am not hiding," Edward replied
in a tired voice.

"Of course you are,"Jonathan responded in a cheery
tone. He made himself comfortable in a leather wing
chair positioned in front of a roaring fire, propping
his feet up on the cushioned ottoman. "Mother and a
bevy of the women are trying to recruit helpers for a
rather ambitious number of charitable projects they
insist must be done before Christmas Day. That means
that all the sensible males are in hiding until they have
assigned the more difficult tasks to the servants, poor
fellows."

"Don't you believe in charity?"

Jonathan raised a hand to dismiss his brother's
remarks. "I most certainly do. But Mother's projects
are always so over the top, and when you add in all
the extra female ideas she is receiving from our
houseguests it becomes a colossal undertaking.
Better to wait until there are more reasonable tasks
to accomplish."

"Planning never was Mother's strong suit," Edward
agreed.

"No, when we were younger she usually relied
upon you to get everything organized for her."

"Those days are long over." Edward clenched his
jaw. "She'd rather the tenants starve than ask for
my assistance."

Jonathan gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's not
all that bad."

"Isn't it?" Edward opened and closed a fist, striving to keep his emotions under control. He reminded himself that it was going to take time to
mend the rift between himself and his mother.
Time and an almost inexhaustible amount of patience. "She stared at me as if I were a three-headed
monster when I offered to escort her into dinner
last evening."

"But she did eventually take your arm,"Jonathan
pointed out. "And you had your bit of fun and revenge with the placards. Mother was having fits
over the seating at the dinner table. I was surprised
she managed to eat any of the meal. You know what
a stickler she can be for propriety and formality."

Edward looked away, lowering his gaze to the fire.
"What makes you think that I am responsible for
last night's seating arrangement?"

Jonathan's hearty laugh echoed off the woodpaneled walls. "Aside from me, you are the only one
who possesses enough nerve to pull such a stunt."
Sobering slightly, he added, "Though I must add it
was not the best way to endear yourself to her."

Edward smiled faintly, acknowledging his brother's
point. "Did she say anything to you about it?"

"No. Miss Montgomery was in a panic when we all
entered the dining room, thinking she had made a
grave error in placing the cards, but mother quickly
assured her it was not her fault. It was clear she knew
exactly who was responsible."

Edward felt a pang of guilt. He had not realized
that Miss Montgomery might be held accountable.
"You are certain there will be no repercussions
toward Miss Montgomery?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Mother knows she is
very capable. And there were far too many changes
in the entire seating arrangement for it to be a mistake or a case of carelessness."

The door suddenly opened and Charlotte Aldridge
entered. She wore a crimson morning gown trimmed
with lace flounces on the skirt. Her hair was swept up
on top of her head, with a single wavy lock spilling down her left shoulder. She looked perfectly
delectable.

For a split second Edward thought her expression brightened when she saw him, but he was not
certain.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked with a questioning smile.

"Not at all," Jonathan quickly answered. He got
to his feet. "Stay and keep Edward company. I need
to confer with the stable master to ensure that all
the horses will be ready for our afternoon ride."

Despite his proximity to the fireplace, a chill
spread over Edward's body. But there was no gracious way to stop his brother from leaving.

"Is there something specific you needed, Miss
Aldridge?" he asked, disliking how ungracious and
pompous he sounded.

She apparently decided not to respond to his lessthan-friendly greeting, but instead stated the purpose of her interruption.

"We are putting the finishing touches on the gift
baskets for your tenants and the countess would
like to include a personal gift for the children of
each family. I was hoping you might assist me in the
selection of the present for Martin Ross, who has
just turned fourteen."

"I know the Ross family," Edward replied. "They
have farmed our land for generations."

"It seems that young Martin has a scholarly bent
and the countess thought a book would make a fine
gift. She instructed me to pick one from the library,
but I am having difficulty making a choice." Miss
Aldridge frowned in concentration. "Something on
mathematics, science or history would certainly be
appropriate, but rather dull, I think. My tastes run
toward poetry, which he might enjoy, but I am uncertain. What would you suggest?"

"It seems as though my mother is overgenerous this
season with not only my money, but my possessions,"
he said, not bothering to keep the rising annoyance
from his voice.

Miss Aldridge's nostrils flared slightly and her
mouth tightened. "Until that ridiculous tax on paper
is repealed, books will remain scarce and expensive,
a luxury afforded only by the upper class. A book
would be a treasured gift to a young man with a
scholarly bent whose family has never owned one,"
she said pointedly.

Good lord, she was right. Edward made a disgusted sound, ashamed at how small-minded he
was acting. A book would be a special Christmas
memory for the Ross lad.

He turned away and walked to the inlaid bookshelf
beside the window. "Actually there are several volumes in here that might do," he offered, his fingers
running carefully over the leather-bound spines.
"Ivanhoe is a wonderful tale that will spark any boy's
imagination. It was one of my favorites when I was
younger."

"It is an excellent book, but I suspect he might
have already read it. Any other ideas?"