The Christmas Heiress (36 page)

Lord Reginald stood and strolled to the corner of
the room. He splashed his face with water from the
basin on his nightstand, then slowly dried himself
with a soft towel. "The countess will not appreciate
me spiriting Miss Montgomery away the day of her
big party, when her companion is needed most."

Charlotte nodded. "I agree she will be upset, but
above all, the countess is a hostess and will go to extreme lengths to accommodate her guests. Especially those she likes. Charm her, Grandpapa. She
will not be happy about it, but she will allow it. I am
certain if you ask Lady Haddon, she will step in and
appease the countess and perform some of the
tasks required of Miss Montgomery."

"But what shall I say if Lady Haddon volunteers
to take Miss Montgomery's place at your sickbed?"

Charlotte's eyes widened with dismay. It was just
the sort of generous offer Lady Haddon would
make. How wise of Lord Reginald to realize it. "If
Lady Haddon tries to interfere, tell her I am very
much afraid she will pass along my illness to her children. That should keep her out of the sick room."

"And the earl and his brother? How is their disappearance to be explained?"

"The earl will pen a note to his mother saying he
and his brother have important business to attend
to off the estate. That will also account for the missing carriages."

Lord Reginald appeared impressed. "It seems
you have thought of everything."

Charlotte grimaced. "Far from it. It's a house of
cards, Grandpapa, and I shudder to think how many
different things can go wrong. That is why I need
you to keep the pretense going as long as possible."

"When will you return?"

"By afternoon, I hope." Charlotte glanced at the
window. Sunlight crept through the curtains and
brightened the whole room. It was past time they
set out on their mission.

"I am not keen at the thought of you and Worthington alone together in a lumbering
carriage for hours."

Charlotte's heart thudded. She had not thought
about the time she would spend alone in Edward's
company. "The earl is a gentleman. You have nothing to fear."

"The earl is a man and it has not escaped my
notice that he finds you very attractive." Lord Reginald cocked his head to one side and looked at her
thoughtfully. With effort, Charlotte managed not
to squirm.

"There will hardly be time for improprieties,
Grandpapa, as we race through the countryside in
pursuit of Jonathan and Miss Montgomery."

A faint smile touched Lord Reginald's mouth.
"But what of your reputation, Charlotte?"

"My reputation is in your hands, Grandpapa. I
know you will faithfully protect it, along with Miss
Montgomery's. No one must know what has occurred, especially the countess. The only chance we
have of putting this mess to rights depends on complete secrecy."

"I understand." Lord Reginald patted her on the
arm. "Try not to despair, my dear. The task ahead
of you is daunting, but you must have faith that all
will come right in the end. After all, Christmas is
the time for miracles."

Twenty minutes later, Charlotte found herself, as
planned, standing amid the tall oak trees at the end
of the long front drive of the manor house, stamping her feet in the packed snow to ward off the
chill. But she was not alone. Unfortunately, she had
picked up an unexpected escort when she slipped
out the side entrance of the manor house.

One of the household's dogs, a big shaggy retriever with long ears and a panting tongue that
hung out the side of his mouth, had followed her
down the drive, his tail wagging. She had made the
fatal mistake of petting him and rubbing behind
his ears, and though she had repeatedly tried to
shoo him back to the house or the stables, he
showed no inclination of leaving her side.

"Foolish animal," she muttered under her breath.
"No doubt you are a male dog."

At the sound of her voice, the large dog thumped
his tail with enthusiasm and leaned against her, sitting so close he was practically on her foot. Unable
to resist his blatant devotion, and soulful brown eyes, Charlotte stroked his silky head. It had a peculiar, calming effect on her nerves.

The faint sound of carriage wheels made her
stiffen and listen hard. Hackles rising, the dog
stood and growled. Charlotte stayed hidden among
the clump of trees until she heard the earl's familiar voice call out, "Are you there, Charlotte?"

"Yes, but we have a slight problem." Her furry
companion bounded toward the coach, barking
with excitement.

"Bloody hell, why did you bring one of the dogs
with you?"

"He brought himself," Charlotte protested. "And
I cannot get him to leave."

"Home, Ranger," the earl commanded. "Home."

The retriever obediently ran a few steps toward
the manor house, then stopped and turned, as if
waiting for his human companions to join him. She
heard the earl swear again beneath his breath.
"Home," he repeated, in a deep, commanding tone.

With a loud whine, the dog gazed wistfully toward
Charlotte. Then dipping his head low, he turned
and started trotting slowly down the drive, toward
the house, as commanded.

Emerging from the trees, Charlotte quickly set
her right foot on the edge of the carriage wheel and
hoisted herself inside. The earl caught her before
she pitched herself into his lap, but she waved off
his assistance. "Hurry and drive away before your
dog decides to turn around and follow us."

The carriage lunged forward. Charlotte shrieked,
but held on to her balance, if not her dignity. Once
she had righted herself and placed the warm fur lap
blanket around her legs, she glanced around.

It was hardly the most elegant coach Charlotte
had ever seen. Small, sleek and built for two, the
half-open vehicle was painted a glossy black with
high yellow wheels, that had an old-fashioned look
to them. But the seats were well-padded and upholstered in soft leather and the carriage was drawn by
an exquisite set of matched grays who were spirited
and primed for the journey.

Obviously the earl had chosen the vehicle for its
speed, but also because he could drive it himself,
thus keeping their outing a secret from the staff.
They took a sharp turn, yet stayed in the center of
the road and Charlotte was relieved to note
Edward's expert handling of the ribbons.

"I assume that since you are here Lord Reginald
has agreed to help us," Edward said, meeting her
gaze briefly. "I suspect it was not too difficult for
you to convince him."

Charlotte bit her bottom lip, unsure how to interpret that remark. Was the earl implying her powers
of persuasion were excellent or did he believe her
grandfather was easily susceptible to her wishes?
Charlotte decided she would give the earl the benefit of the doubt and believe the former.

"Though he was not completely in favor of me accompanying you, he eventually agreed it was the
correct decision," she replied. "Grandpapa admires
your dedication to your family, Edward, and was
pleased to help in any way possible."

The earl's handsome face looked pensive. "It was
good of him, though I admit to feeling more of a
twinge of guilt, knowing he will have the harder
task, trying to deal with my mother all day."

,,it will not be easy, but Grandpapa will do his best."

The earl gave her a lopsided smile and Charlotte
was struck with a wave of melancholy, very aware
that this journey to find Jonathan and Miss Montgomery was a big gamble that might all be for
naught.

"Are you hungry?" Edward's question cut through
her gloomy thoughts.

"A little, but there is hardly time to stop for a
meal," Charlotte replied, wishing her stomach
would not grumble so loudly.

Edward's widening smile let her know he had
heard her hunger pangs. "There is a hamper on
the floor, wedged on the other side of my boot. Can
you reach it?"

"I believe so." Charlotte bent over his lap and
grabbed on to the wicker handle. The close bodily
contact, even through their layers of clothing, felt
unbearably sensuous. Like a fine wine, it was a
heady pleasure to be so near Edward.

"Do you need any help?"

At the sound of his voice, a sudden thrill shot
through her stomach and Charlotte nearly dropped
the basket. "I think I've got it," she mumbled. Tugging hard, she managed to pull it up and place it on
the seat between them. "Where did you get it?"

"From Cook."

Charlotte's head snapped around. "What?"

The earl shrugged. "When she noticed there
were no dirty breakfast dishes, she insisted on packing the hamper."

"Does she know where we are going?" Charlotte
asked in alarm.

"Of course not." Edward shrugged. "She believes

I have gone out with Jonathan on an important
errand, remember?"

Relieved their secret was still safe, Charlotte removed her gloves and rummaged through the
basket, extracting a muffin that was still warm. Deciding it would be too messy, and too much of a
bother, she did not reach for the butter or jam in
the small crockery pots and bit into the tasty morsel.
After finishing her second muffin, she realized she
was being terribly rude, stuffing herself so gluttonously without even offering any food to the earl.

"Shall I take the ribbons while you eat?" she
suggested.

His brow raised. "Have you ever driven a carriage?"

"I had a pony cart when I was a little girl," Charlotte replied. "I'm sure once we hit a long stretch of
straight road, I can manage the team."

The earl shook his head. "These are not the pair to
learn upon. They are far too high-spirited. I am hungry,
but I can wait until we stop to water the horses." He
stretched his legs forward as far as the coach would
allow. "Unless you would like to feed me?"

Charlotte nearly choked on the piece of apple
she was contentedly chewing. Feed him! The suggestion brought to mind all sorts of inappropriate
sensual images. My gracious, what sort of sexual deviant had she become when the most innocent of
remarks set her body humming with awareness?

Resolutely shutting out the pictures, Charlotte
broke a fresh muffin in half. "Butter or jam?" she
asked tersely.

`Jam, please."

Holding the broken muffin over the basket with
one hand, she reached inside with the other, scooped some jam onto a knife, then spread it onto the larger
muffin piece. She waited for him to transfer the reins
to his left hand, so he could hold the food in his
right, but the sly smile she could clearly see on
Edward's face let her know she would be waiting a
long time indeed.

Calmly, or at least as calmly as she could manage,
Charlotte raised her hand to his mouth. Edward
leaned his head forward and slowly accepted her
offering. His lips closed over her fingertips, deliberately she was certain, and every nerve in her body
was set afire.

Forcing herself to ignore the sensations, Charlotte pulled her hand away, slathered the second
half of the muffin with jam and waited for the earl
to swallow. The moment he had, she unceremoniously shoved the rest of the muffin into his mouth.

For an instant she feared he might gag on it, but
somehow the earl managed to chew and swallow
the muffin without coughing. She watched him
closely, to ensure he was all right, holding the bottle
of unopened wine in one hand, in case he needed
something to clear his throat.

"Drink?" she asked, raising the bottle.

The earl shook his head roughly, declining the
offer. Charlotte continued to watch him. His cheek
was clean-shaven. She wondered idly if his valet
had been summoned and used the razor or if
Edward had done it himself. For all his regal aristocracy, the earl was not an arrogant, or spoiled
man. He could and did fend for himself and she
admired his self-reliance.

Charlotte's gaze shifted to the corner of his
mouth where a stray drop of strawberry jam glis teased. Resisting the most absurd urge to lean over
and lick away the drop, Charlotte pulled a napkin
from the basket and vigorously rubbed the earl's
face.

He winced slightly and pulled away. "No need to
rub my face raw," he exclaimed. "There must be
gentler ways to clean it."

"Then we truly would end up in a ditch," Charlotte remarked dryly. She sighed and looked away.

The earl cleared his throat and muttered under
his breath. "That was not what I meant, but it is a
delightful image. I'm flattered, Charlotte."

She felt heat flood into her face. Needing to
change the subject, she started asking questions
about their route and Edward's opinion on where
his brother might have stopped to be married.

"Do you think they are heading for Scotland?"
Charlotte inquired, having always heard that
Gretna Green was the place were most eloping couples traveled.

"It's possible, but Jonathan seems to have planned
this for some time. I think he might have bought a
special license so as to avoid being married over the
anvil." A muscle ticked along the earl's square jaw.
"Though it will make but a small difference. A scandal is a scandal. The marriage will still be viewed as
an unfortunate mistake, a grave error in judgement
by nearly everyone, including my mother."

Charlotte winced. "This is how people in love act,
Edward. With passion, with boldness-"

"With idiocy," he muttered.

'Jonathan is a very determined man and he has
realized that he cannot live happily without Miss
Montgomery."

Edward rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Could he
not have fallen in love with a suitable young woman?"

"Now who is acting like an idiot?" Charlotte exclaimed. Her words cut sharply through the air.
"We do not choose whom we love."

"I cede the point, but is it so unreasonable to
have expected my brother to have approached his
marriage in a more practical, sensible manner?"