The Christmas Heiress (5 page)

It was simply a part of his life, but at this point in
time, a part he had no interest in pursuing. Thus
he avoided showing any sort of favoritism to any
female of marriageable age to avoid speculation or
raise expectations. Above all, he strove not to unintentionally hurt anyone's feelings, because he most
definitely was not in the market for a wife.

Then what were those kisses all about? Too much
brandy on too little breakfast and a far too lovely,
willing female. Edward dropped Charlotte's hand
and pulled out his handkerchief. He had broken
into a sweat remembering his actions, feeling
deeply the terrible weight of regret. Fortunately,
she seemed oblivious to his change of mood.

Once his brow was dry, he promptly thrust his
handkerchief and both hands in his pockets. He
tried to assume an air of nonchalance, of outward
calm and peace, but inside he felt a rise of panic.
He chatted and kidded with his brother and Lord
Haddon, joking and arguing over who had collected the most mistletoe and whose specimens
were the finest. They also teased each other over
their tardiness, since theirs was the last group to
return. All the other guests who had joined the
outing had long since departed for the manor.

"Oh, look, it has started to snow!" Charlotte's
voice rang out with girlish delight.

They all gazed up to the sky. Indeed, the snow
had begun to fall in a cloud of swirling flakes, fluttering steadily to the ground on the chilled breeze.
The heavy flakes clung to the branches of the trees
and bushes and coated the ground, quickly trans forming everything into a white fairyland of stark,
sparkling beauty.

"Careful. It is starting to get slippery," Jonathan
warned, taking hold of Miss Elizabeth Chambers's
arm to prevent her from tumbling to the ground.

Lord Haddon showed Miss Miranda the same
consideration, a task more difficult, since he carried all the mistletoe. Edward feared he might have
to do the same for Charlotte, but she ran ahead,
twirling merrily, arms outstretched, her infectious
laughter echoing through the trees. She looked
startlingly, vividly young and incredibly lovely.

"Oh, I do hope there will be enough snow for
sledding," she cried. "I have not had the chance to
indulge in that pleasure for ages."

"Well, I hope there is enough snow for a snowball
fight," Jonathan said. "It would be worth spending
an afternoon in the dungeons just to see Mother's
face when I hurl one in her direction."

"I believe you shall both get your wish," Viscount
Haddon commented. "'Tis falling so thickly I can
see but a few feet in front of me."

"The manor house is just over that rise," Edward
said. "Fortunately we should reach it within the
hour, as I am certain there are several noses pressed
against the window glass, anxious for our return."

But even the threat of heavy snow could not contain Charlotte's excitement. She skipped along,
sure-footed in the ever-mounting drifts, laughing
and teasing them all to join her. Was it just the cold
putting the flush in her cheeks, the glow in her
eyes? Or was it something else entirely?

She was so full of wild, uninhibited joy. There was
a light in her eyes that had an irresistible magic, a beauty in her face that captivated and seduced.
Edward found himself wondering, most inappropriately, what she would look like as he was making
love to her.

Making love to her! The notion caused him to lose
his footing and he barely managed to prevent himself
from falling. Charlotte turned and quickly gained his
side, latching on to his waist. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he muttered.

Though they were standing in the vast open, the
space around him suddenly seemed very small. He
was pressed close to her body and suffered from a
nearly irresistible urge to lean forward and kiss her.
She was staring too, as if considering the same.

Edward valiantly resisted the lure and cautioned
himself against doing anything foolish. He stepped
away and blinked through the swirling snow, feeling a
profound sense of relief when the manor house came
into view. Every window in the house blazed with light,
a welcoming beacon of refuge from the storm.

"We are nearly home," he announced.

Everyone quickened their pace, buoyed by the
promise of dry, warm shelter and a hot, cozy beverage. It was not until they had reached the top of the
south lawn that Edward realized how far Charlotte
lagged behind. Alone.

He signalled for the others to continue. Stomping his freezing feet, he waited for her to finally
reach him.

"May we go sledding?" she asked prettily, an alluring smile lighting her face.

"Perhaps later, if the snow lets up," he answered
briskly.

She dawdled, clearly yearning to say more, but he gave her no opportunity. Grasping her elbow
firmly, he propelled her the final feet to the manor,
up the front steps and into the foyer. Handing her
off to the waiting servants, Edward made a formal
bow and hurried away, not even stopping to divest
himself of his wet outer garments until he had
safely reached the privacy of his chambers.

Seated before a roaring fire, he slowly sipped a
warm brandy, his thoughts in turmoil. There were
eight more days until Christmas. How was he possibly going to survive?

Charlotte expected everything to change over
the next few days. She expected the world to be different, to sound different, to feel different.

She certainly knew that she was different. Her tangled emotions seemed to always be riding on the
very edge, and the constant, fluttering sensation in
the pit of her stomach swelled to twice its size whenever she was around Edward.

She was in love.

Yet she was also frustrated. And impatient. Lord
Edward was always kind and polite and attentive to
her conversation, but he never sought her out for a private moment. She flirted constantly with him and he
always responded with a ready smile, but more often
than not he was distant, formal and self-contained.

Compounding the difficulties were the various holiday activities, which included all the houseguests.
During the singing of carols and the tree trimming
and the giftwrapping, they were never alone, though
Charlotte believed a man as intelligent and clever as
Lord Edward should be able to find a way to steal an other kiss or two. Her luck was so bad she had not
even been able to position herself beneath the kissing bough when Lord Edward was near.

The weather too had seemed to conspire against
her. The snow had melted too quickly for an intimate carriage sleigh ride or the fun of sledding
down the hill in pairs or even a snowball battle.

Charlotte had no firsthand knowledge of the
courting ritual and no mother or close female
friends to explain it all to her. At one point she had
become so desperate, she had swallowed her pride
and asked Jones for advice, but the older maid revealed she had no experience at all with members
of the opposite sex.

The final straw had struck last evening, after
dinner. The ladies had retreated to the drawing
room to allow the gentlemen to linger over their
port and cigars. Once the gentlemen rejoined the
ladies, everyone adjourned to the music room,
eager to hear the special performance arranged for
them by the earl and countess.

As they crossed the vast foyer, the heel of Charlotte's shoe caught on the edge of the carpet and
dislodged. She waited for the others to pass, their
believing she was alone, she lifted her gown. As she
stooped to fix her shoe, she felt a steady hand grip
her elbow, offering assistance.

It was Lord Edward. He was close enough for her
to catch the subtle scent of soap he used, to feel the
heat and strength of his body. The experience sent
a great rolling wave of desire rippling through her.

They were alone. Charlotte's heart fluttered
wildly. It was the ideal moment to steal a kiss. She
was near enough for him to grasp her shoulders and pull her to him, to mold her body to his and clasp
her tightly in his arms. To put his mouth over hers
and feel the trembling of passion that had overtaken her, to rejoice in the willingness of her heart.

Yet he had done none of those things. The instant her shoe was secured, he had released his
hold on her elbow and taken one step back, away
from her. Charlotte moved forward, but the Chambers sisters and Lord Haddon entered the hallway
and the moment was lost.

Charlotte pretended that it did not matter. She
threw herself into the evening's activities, outwardly
ignoring Lord Edward, yet all the while she was
covertly studying him.

All in all, he had a handsome, arresting face, but
there was something else, something indefinable
that was drawing her to him. She glanced at the
other young women around her, wondering if she
was the only one to feel so attracted, or did he have
this effect on all females whenever they were near?

After a few minutes she decided that no other females were openly regarding him, or casting coy
glances his way. Apparently she was the lone woman
who had made no secret of her fascination for him,
for all the good it did her.

Charlotte watched Lord Edward broodingly for
the remainder of the evening and by the following
morning she had devised a plan. It was high time to
take matters into her own hands.

Charlotte had observed that her grandfather
often spent the afternoon in the earl's library, reading the newspaper and smoking one of those
dreadful cigars he so liked. And he was usually
alone. The morning seemed interminable long, but Charlotte somehow managed to bide her time,
hiding her impatience.

And then finally luck was on her side. Everyone
scattered to their afternoon activities and she managed to fool them all, letting each group believe
she was going with the other. She scampered down
the long corridor in the east wing, counting the
doors until she found the one she sought. As she
opened the library door, she was elated to find her
grandfather alone in the room.

Lord Reginald looked up when she entered, his
eyes brightening with pleasure. I thought you were
going off to the village this afternoon with the rest
of the ladies."

"Even I eventually tire of shopping, Grandpapa,"
Charlotte quipped as she leant down and kissed his
cheek.

The afternoon sun streamed through the long,
rectangular stained-glass windows, casting a warm
glow on the rosewood paneling. The room smelled
pleasantly of leather and beeswax and carried the
faint hint of her grandfather's favorite brand of tobacco. Through the window she could see the frost
glistening on the grass that was but a poor substitute for a white blanket of snow.

Lord Reginald patted the cushion on the sofa, indicating that she should take the seat beside him.
With a smile, Charlotte complied.

"Christmas is but a few days away," Lord Reginald
said. "Are you eagerly awaiting the arrival of the
Christ child?"

Charlotte smiled at the fond memory. As a young
child, she had been fascinated by the story of the
baby born in a manager and had pestered her grandfather repeatedly to tell her the story of the
child's birth. She wondered now where he had
found the patience to always comply with her request, reciting the story with great drama, no
matter how many times she asked.

"Our holidays at Quincy Court were very special,"
Charlotte replied. "I shall always cherish them."

"Ah, but the festivities the earl and countess have
provided for all of us are special too," Lord Reginald said. "I am pleased to see that you are enjoying
yourself. "

"Everyone has been very kind," Charlotte said
graciously.

"Yes, the Chambers girls seem like pleasant
company.

"I find that I like them both," Charlotte said with
surprised honesty. "Miranda has a more adventurous spirit and therefore we have much in common,
yet Elizabeth has a sharp wit and can be very entertaining. 'Tis a lovely treat for me to have found
such charming female companions."

They spoke for a few minutes of inconsequential
matters and then Lord Reginald leaned forward,
turning slightly to face his granddaughter. "What is
it you really want to say to me, Charlotte?"

"'Tis about Lord Edward." She slanted her grandfather a gaze, surprised at how nervous she suddenly felt. "I know part of the reason we came here
was to see if Lord Edward and I would suit."

"That was one of the considerations," Lord Reginald agreed. He waited patiently, his undemanding
silence encouraging a jittery Charlotte to reveal her
thoughts.

"I have given it considerable thought and consid eration and have decided that I would not be adverse to accepting an offer from him," Charlotte
blurted out.

"Not adverse, huh?" Lord Reginald snorted.
"That's hardly a ringing endorsement. Do you
think Lord Edward feels the same?"

Charlotte felt herself blush. Just thinking about
Edward, and the kisses they had shared in the
forest, made her heart rate accelerate.

"I believe he has developed feelings for me," she
replied, proud that she was able to hold her voice
even and steady. "Though he is far too much of a
gentleman to speak openly about them."

"If he will not speak of them, then how do you
know he has them?"

"Well, he kissed me!"

"Ahhh." Lord Reginald leaned back and considered her for a long moment. Charlotte was unable
to read the expression in his eyes and worried
briefly that she might have revealed too much.

"And you liked it?" Lord Reginald finally asked.

"Very much." Charlotte felt her blush deepen.
This was far too intimate a subject to be discussing
with anyone, especially her grandfather. She swallowed hard, trying to elevate the odd tickle at the
back of her throat. "But it was not just the kisses. I
also like Lord Edward. A great deal."