The Christmas Heiress (17 page)

Ten minutes passed, but his emotions still
churned. Jonathan paced the room, his hands
clenched into fists at his side.

Damn it! Why was Evelyn so determined to follow the
restrictive rules of society? Did she not realize that love was
worth the risk of breaking those rules? Or did she deem
him unworthy of taking the risk?

Jonathan paced again, then stopped at the
window, leaned both hands on the sill and peered
out. Charlotte Aldridge was hurrying across the terrace, holding her riding skirt up with both hands as
she trod delicately over the stones. Judging by the
mud caked on the hem of the skirt, she had finished her ride and been out at the stables for a considerable amount of time.

As he broodingly watched her progress, Jonathan
was suddenly struck with an inspiring thought. He needed a go-between, someone who could subtly
plead his case to Evelyn.

Someone who could help him convince Evelyn of
the real value of love.

Charlotte was the perfect person for the job.

Without stopping to think further, he tore open
the door and rushed into the hallway, down the back
staircase and through the long gallery. He caught up
with her just as she entered the main foyer.

"Ah, Charlotte, just the person I wanted to see.
Can you spare me a few moments of your time?" He
grasped her elbow firmly, steering her toward the
empty breakfast parlor.

She seemed startled at his sudden, slightly overbearing greeting, but offered him a ready smile. "I
was going to my bedchamber to change. I'm afraid
I am rather muddy and sweaty from my ride."

"I'm hardly offended," Jonathan said with a
toothy smile. "Besides, ladies do not sweat, they
glow with a radiant sheen."

"This lady enjoys more than a sedate trot around
a groomed gravel path," Charlotte retorted with a
cheeky grin. "I rode through the meadow and
jumped several hedges in the process and that most
certainly makes me sweat."

"Nonsense. You look lovely."

"What is so urgent?" Her amused, curious expression suddenly turned alarmed. "Has something
happened to my grandfather?"

"No, no. Lord Reginald is as hale and hearty as
always. I saw him earlier at breakfast. He and
Edward were discussing some complicated financial
investment."

Shutting the breakfast parlor door with his hip, Jonathan released his grip on Charlotte's elbow
and favored her with a winsome smile. Her face
contorted in puzzlement.

"What is going on, Jonathan?"

He met her eyes and his smile faded. "I need
your help, Charlotte."

She nodded. "Selecting Christmas gifts?"

Jonathan inwardly scoffed. Was that how she saw
him, a man whose most pressing dilemma was deciding on which presents to buy? Did no one of his
acquaintance take him seriously?

He narrowed his eyes, hoping to convey the seriousness of his intent. "I require your assistance in a
most delicate matter. One that requires the utmost
discretion and secrecy."

Charlotte's left eyebrow rose. "Planning to rob a
bank, are you?"

"Charlotte, please." His deliberately disapproving
tone told her he did not appreciate her flip attitude. "I find myself deeply enamored with a woman
who refuses to acknowledge my feelings."

"And you want my advice?" He could hear the
surprise and doubt in her voice.

"Not your advice, your help."

"I cannot imagine there is anything I can do." She
frowned. "Your charm with females is legendary. I
am certain there is nothing you cannot accomplish
if you apply yourself to it."

Jonathan shook his head sadly. "'Tis not so easy
this time. I fear that flirting is not in her nature."

"Ahh, so you have at last met a woman who demands more of you than witty banter, a provocative
glance and a devastating smile. Good. 'Tis past time
that you grow up."

"You malign me unfairly, Charlotte."

"Perhaps." A glint of speculation entered her
eyes. "Who is this mysterious woman who has captured your heart?"

"Evelyn Montgomery."

For a moment Charlotte was shocked into silence. Then her lips flattened. `Jonathan, surely
you know that nothing of significance can develop
between you and Miss Montgomery. She is your
mother's companion."

Though the implications of her words did not
sit right with him, Jonathan's shoulders rose in a
small shrug. "Is she therefore unworthy of some
attention and innocent affection just because she
must work to keep a roof over her head? Is she truly
so socially inferior?"

Charlotte's look sharpened. "That is not what I
meant. From what I know of Miss Montgomery, she is
every bit as genteel as any current member of society.
She is an admirable young woman, who possesses an
extraordinary amount of patience and self-discipline.
How else would she manage to get on so well with
your mother? Not everyone can, you know."

Jonathan wondered briefly if Charlotte was referring to the obvious tension between Edward and
the countess, but then realized that there were
many individuals who had difficulty coping with his
mother.

"We both agree that Miss Montgomery is a very
special young woman."

"She is also very pretty."

"Extraordinarily beautiful," Jonathan muttered,
then heaved a sigh. Charlotte's eyes lit with suspicion and Jonathan worried that he might have re vealed too much. "Her looks are not the reason I
hold her in such regard."

Charlotte continued to stare at him, as if she were
weighing, measuring the sincerity of his remarks in
her mind. "Our circumstances are somewhat similar, those of Miss Montgomery and myself. We are
both without parents to protect and nurture us. If
not for my grandfather, I too would have been
forced to make my own way in the world or had to
rely on the generosity of distant relatives."

"Not a very pleasant thought, is it?"Jonathan said
softly.

Charlotte's expression darkened. "It's actually
rather distressing."

"Then you can understand why Miss Montgomery, above so many others, deserves a bit of
harmless devotion in her life."

Charlotte's brow wrinkled. "I understand that a
female in her position cannot afford to be linked to
an impropriety of any kind."

"She won't be, if you help me."Jonathan leaned
forward eagerly, pressing home his point. "All I crave
is an innocent flirtation, a courtly exchange of sentiment, like the knights of old held for their ladies."

A muscle twitched in her cheek. "You, Jonathan,
are no Sir Galahad."

"Nor do I claim to be."Jonathan rubbed a hand
over his face. He must choose his words carefully
and convey them with the right amount of sincerity
and honesty or else she would not aid him. Charlotte was not a stupid woman; if she suspected his
true intentions toward Evelyn, she would in all likelihood refuse to be involved. "I have written several
poems and I want very much for Miss Montgomery to have them, but I fear she would simply throw
them on the fire without even opening them if I
hand them to her."

"Poetry?"

Jonathan nodded, inwardly wincing at the lie. He
had in fact written Evelyn several torrid love letters
in which he had poured out his heart and soul. "If
you deliver my poems and ask Miss Montgomery to
read them, then perhaps she will."

"If you are writing poetry then you most certainly
are smitten. Only a man with a deep infatuation
would behave so ridiculously." Charlotte sighed.
"That is all you want of me? To deliver your notes
to Miss Montgomery?"

Jonathan could not hold back the grin of triumph that lit his face. "It wouldn't hurt to sing my
praises to her every now and again. Let her know
what a fine fellow I am, well-liked, charming, much
in demand by the ladies."

Exasperation came into Charlotte's face. "I will
deliver your poetry. That is all."

"And keep it a secret?"

"Yes, I shall tell no one, not even my maid."

He lifted her hand, kissed it, let it go. "Thank you,
Charlotte. I knew I could count on you."

With a slight smile, Charlotte departed. Once
alone, Jonathan could not stop grinning. Thanks to
Charlotte's romantic nature, he now had a way to
communicate with Evelyn.

He would court her. Leave small tokens in unexpected places-a rose on her writing desk, a sweet
next to her usual chair in his mother's private
parlor, a volume of love sonnets hidden beneath the music sheets on the piano. All items that would
barely be noticed by anyone, except her.

He would write her long letters revealing the love
in his heart, the needs of his body and his mind.
And now with Charlotte's help, those thoughts
would remain a secret, an intimacy they could
freely share without worry of being caught.

It was a good beginning.

Edward knocked, then opened the door and
walked into his mother's private sitting room. Like
all other areas of the house, it was a well-appointed
chamber. A gilt-framed mirror filled the wall above
the marble mantelpiece, antique teardrop-shaped
scones hung on the walls. The chaise and chairs were
overstuffed and inviting, covered in fine patterned
fabrics of complementing shades of gold. Two long
windows looked out onto the south gardens, providing much-needed natural light.

Miss Montgomery was seated at the small desk
near one of the windows, busily writing as the countess dictated. The pretty companion looked up when
he entered, but because of the placement of his
mother's large chair, the countess could not see him.

"Good afternoon, ladies. I hope you will forgive
my intrusion." Edward walked to the center of the
room, so he was in plain view.

The countess pulled a face at the sight of her son.
"I am working on my correspondence. I have many
friends and distant relations that I write to at this
time of year. Evelyn and I are very busy trying to get
them finished. It is essential that the letters are
completed and posted before Christmas."

Her tone was cold, distant and openly discouraging, but Edward persisted. "I won't keep you long."
He regarded his mother steadily. "I'm sure Miss
Montgomery is due for a break. No doubt her fingers are beginning to cramp."

"What a ridiculous notion," the countess scoffed.
"Evelyn can write for hours at a time and her penmanship remains perfect."

"Nevertheless, I am certain she would appreciate
a brief respite from her labors."

Miss Montgomery did not respond right away, waiting no doubt for a signal from the countess. Though
Edward did not see it, the command must have been
given, because suddenly the younger woman swallowed, then quickly nodded. "I shall return shortly."

For a long moment after she left there was silence
in the room. Edward could sense his mother's frustration, but he schooled his features into a pleasant
expression and refused to look away. Finally, the
countess opened her mouth, grudgingly, as if she realized she had no choice but to speak with him.
"You said this would not take long and I intend to
hold you to your word. I really must return to my
correspondence as soon as possible."

"I understand. Though you might consider sending cards instead of a lengthy letter. They are all the
rage in London."

"Cards?"

"Yes, Christmas cards. Several art shops in London
have begun selling them during the holidays."

The countess pursed her lips in a grim line.
"Lady Thornton sent me one of those cards a few
years ago. The picture on the front was pretty, but the inside boasted a rather pedestrian sentiment. I
thought it vulgar and impersonal."

"I think the cards are festive and practical." Edward
sat in the chair opposite his mother and sucked air
into his lungs. "They also save a great deal of time."

"The easy, modern way of doing things will never
replace good manners and proper etiquette," the
countess declared. "At least for some people."

Edward met his mother's daunting gaze and experienced a momentary pang of sadness. It seemed
no matter what the topic, he could not find an
agreement of opinion between them. Why did he
even bother to try and reason with her when she
was so determined to be contrary?

"I enjoy sending and receiving Christmas cards,"
he said defensively.

"Is that why you are here? To discuss Christmas
cards?"

"Of course not." Edward shifted slightly, edging
forward in his chair. "I wanted to talk with you about
a few ideas I had for making improvements on the
estate."

The countess eyed him suspiciously. "As you very
well know, you should speak with Willowby, the
estate agent. He manages those sorts of things."

"Willowby and I have already discussed various
ways to improve the production and profit on the
tenant farms. This particular improvement concerns the manor house."

The countess shrugged and continued to stare at
him. "I am sure my opinion counts for little. If you
have set your mind toward making changes, I am
sure I have no choice but to endure them."

"I am trying to discuss the matter and solicit your opinion, Madame," Edward said, struggling not to
lose his temper. "Even though you are acting disinterested and peevish."

The lines in his mother's face grew deep and
dark. Edward concentrated on ignoring the ominous cloud of disapproval she was beginning to
exude. He tried leveling a look at her that almost
dared her to have a tantrum, but that did not work.

His mother was obvious in her disapproval, but
never overly emotional. Perhaps that was the problem. Maybe if she started shouting at him and
smashing things, she would release some of her
anger and frustration.

He wished he could just tell her what he planned
to have done to the manor and demand that she
accept it, graciously no less. But the need within
him to try and establish a bond between them, no
matter how fragile, was too strong.

"Well, out with it," the countess demanded.
"What are you going to do?"