Chapter 31

“I’ve never heard the servants sing this loudly,” Henry commented, amused when a pair of maids walked past the drawing room.

Christmas Eve had finally arrived, and everyone was in high spirits, including him. Juliana was at the pianoforte—something she had not played since Thomas’ death. The servants sang carols and decorated the rest of the house while he and Rebecca tackled the drawing room.

They had their Yule log ready to be burned in the fireplace later and had even included a tree this year. It was the first time Dorchester Place had ever seen a Christmas tree, and since it wasn’t a common practice in England, it made it all the more special.

“Everyone is in merry spirits, Your Grace,” Rebecca replied. “The happier you are, the louder you tend to sing.”

And it was all thanks to her. If not for Rebecca, they wouldn’t be smiling at this very moment. She had become an essential part of the household and was important to him. He didn’t even bother denying it to himself.

“Well, if they get any happier, I might go deaf,” he joked.

Rebecca chuckled. “Better a noisy household than a quiet one. Although silence is good at times, having a silent household is not good for the heart.”

She passed him more gold foil paper to cut for decorations. They had been at it for nearly an hour, making enough to decorate the tree and main rooms of the house. Henry had never done such a thing before, but he enjoyed it. Anything that involved spending time with Rebecca was enjoyable in his book.

“What do you mean a silent household isn’t good for the heart?” he asked, cutting a star.

“I believe people thrive when interacting with others,” she explained. “It doesn’t have to be many people, just one person you can interact with fairly regularly.”

“And if you enjoy being alone?”

“It’s not good to be alone all the time, Your Grace,” she replied. “It is fine to indulge in solitude, but to avoid all social interaction ...” She shook her head. “It’s the easiest way to become vulnerable to a sickness of the mind. I have seen it time and time again. The older you are, the worse the effects are. Your mind deteriorates, and your body follows.”

Henry grimaced. “The price seems steep for a little peace of mind.”

Rebecca smiled. “It does, but fortunately, you never have to worry about that. You have a loving family and servants who serve you wholeheartedly. You’ll never be alone if you do not close yourself off from others.”

Henry nodded, setting the scissors to the side. His fingers ached from gripping them so tightly.

“I imagine you could never be alone,” he said. “Everyone loves you.”

She smiled wryly. “Well, not everyone,” she countered. “Several physicians would like to see me burn at the stake.”

“Jealousy is a compliment,” Henry replied, although he didn’t like hearing about people who wished to hurt her.

“I would rather not have people seeking my downfall,” she said, smiling. She also put her scissors down, stretching her fingers. “Why don’t we continue with the centrepieces? We need more for the Christmas table tomorrow. At least another six.”

“Six? But didn’t we do five earlier?”

“We dotted them around the house,” she explained. “The tabletops looked a tad bare.”

Henry gave an exaggerated sigh, making her laugh. “I suppose we can do a few more.”

Frankly, he would do a hundred more if it meant spending more time with her. However, she didn’t have to know that.

“Allow me to gather the different components,” she said. “I will not be longer than a moment.”

She rose gracefully from the carpet, her dress swishing around her legs. Henry’s breath hitched when he caught a brief glimpse of her slender ankles. Rebecca was a very modest woman, barely showing any skin, so seeing a little more of her flesh seemed far more enticing than watching a woman prance about in a low-cut bosom. She seemed to have heard him because she looked back, frowning at him.

“Is something wrong, Your Grace?” she asked.

“No,” he squeaked. “Nothing at all.”

Nothing other than noticing how beautiful she was. Rebecca had taken to leaving her hair down in a braid more often than not. It allowed him to see her thick, chestnut hair in all its glory. Even when braided, it fell to her lower waist and always picked up whatever light was in the room. Sunlight was his favourite, especially when the light shone in her eyes, making them look like the finest gold.

Rebecca smiled and walked away, giving him a little time to compose himself. The woman had no clue how she affected him, which just made her seem so innocent yet dangerous. A woman walking around without any knowledge of the power she held in her tongue and the subtle sway of her hips was a walking hazard for any man with eyes in his head. She returned quickly with a heavy basket, prompting him to get up and help, taking it from her. Their hands lightly brushed, causing tremors to travel up his arm.

“Th-thank you,” Rebecca stuttered, clasping her hands before her.

Her cheeks quickly turned pink, making her look younger. She resumed her place on the floor, waiting for him to put the basket down.

“I included a little of everything, but we do not need to use them all in one centrepiece,” she said. “We’ll begin with the wreaths.”

Henry unpacked the basket, pulling out evergreen, ivy, holly, hawthorn, laurel, bay, rose Alice, hellebore, oranges, apples, holly berries, and ribbons. Everything was so fragrant and welcoming. He had never thought much about Christmas, even when Thomas was alive, but he was genuinely looking forward to it this year.

They worked on the centrepieces for the next few hours, taking a break for dinner and returning to the drawing room. Eventually, Aunt Hannah, Alice, and Juliana retired to bed, leaving him with Rebecca. Henry couldn’t have planned it any better.

“This is the best way to end a busy day,” she commented, holding up her mug of hot chocolate. “The fireplace is wonderfully warm, the house is decorated, and the gifts will be under the tree by tomorrow morning.” She sighed blissfully. “Just perfect.”

She smiled and sipped her hot chocolate, staring into the fire. Henry just watched her, in awe of who she was. He couldn’t fault her for anything. Someone that perfect couldn’t be real.

“If you say all is perfect, I believe it,” he said.

She chuckled, the sound merry and lovely. “Do you believe everything I say?” she asked.

“You have never disappointed me before,” he explained. “I do not see why I shouldn’t.”

Rebecca tilted her head at him. “All your compliments will go straight to my head,” she said. “I might not be able to fit my head through the doorway.”

Henry laughed. “I’ll make the doorway larger, although I doubt you’re capable of letting anything inflate your pride. You’re just too humble and good, Miss Barnes.”

She frowned comically, touching her head. “Is it swelling yet? I feel it getting heavy.”

“Never fear, I’ll carry you if I must,” he said, vaguely aware they were flirting a little. He liked it. “I can put you over my shoulder and carry you like a sack of potatoes.”

It was her turn to laugh, the melodic sound filling the cosy atmosphere. Henry propped his chin on his hand, watching her. Her laughter came from her chest, and shook her body, threatening to spill the liquid in her cup. Somehow, it only went as far as the inner edge.

“A sack of potatoes, hmm?” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “How primal of you, Your Grace. A gentleman would gently carry a woman before him, supporting her legs and upper body.”

“The more intense a man’s emotions, the more primally he behaves,” he said meaningfully.

He kept a smile on his face, but he allowed his eyes to convey something else. Perhaps it was foolish of him because nothing could ever become of his feelings, but he just needed to show something of what he was experiencing. Rebecca’s eyes widened slightly before she looked away, sipping her beverage.

Henry grew a little uncertain, worried he had made her uncomfortable. After all, he was the one experiencing the attraction. He couldn’t expect her to react to one-sided feelings. He shouldn’t even entertain revealing even a little of his affections.

“I really love chocolate,” she commented rather suddenly. “I hope someone discovers new ways to use this ingredient. There’s cream and sugar in this hot chocolate, which works perfectly. Cakes, biscuits, other pastries—there is no limit.”

“Someone likely will,” he said. “I could ask the chefs to create a new pudding with chocolate. We can have it for the New Year’s celebration.”

“That would be lovely as long as it isn’t too much work,” she said. “We already have a menu planned.”

“You certainly have put much effort into this festive season,” he commented. “I appreciate everything you’ve done and are doing, Miss Barnes. It seems such a waste for you not to have children of your own to share this with. I respect your wishes not to marry, but I wonder if you have considered otherwise.”

Henry didn’t know why he needed to see if she was open to marriage. He certainly couldn’t marry her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about it. Rebecca placed her cup beside her on the side table, her expression thoughtful.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t,” she revealed. “Almost everyone thinks about marriage in some shape or form. I think if I were to find the right man, I would certainly give marriage a second thought.” She leaned on the armrest. “Do you have any hopes for the type of woman you’ll marry?”

“Is the sky blue?” he said, grinning.

She chuckled. “I would like to hear what you want to find in your life partner. If you do not mind,” she added. “If you’re fortunate, you might even marry your soulmate.”

“You believe those exist?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied. “Not everyone is fortunate to find theirs, but it happens. Sometimes, your soulmate is not what you want but what you need. If you’re lucky, they’re both.”

Fate would be cruel if Rebecca were his soulmate, but he couldn’t marry her because of their social status. She was everything he wanted in a wife, but he knew he couldn’t entertain marrying her. Sometimes, he wished he could just throw caution to the wind and confess his feelings with the hope of courtship, but he had to think about his family. While they liked Rebecca, they might protest having her as family.

“Well, I have recently changed my mind about what I want in a wife,” he said. “I wanted the usual—good breeding, beauty, a mild disposition, a good hostess—the usual for all aristocratic men. However, I now want more. Simply put, I want to be happy with the woman I choose to spend my life with. She doesn’t have to be perfect, but we need to be perfect for each other. What about you?”

Rebecca smiled. “I agree,” she said. “Being perfect for each other is what I also want. I need to feel a connection to the person I marry. Wanting the same things and loving and respecting each other is also important.

Appreciating each other is another must. And, well ...” She lowered her eyes and blushed. “Passion. Passion is vital. It gets me through all the challenges that come with my work. Passion in a marriage would have the same effect.”

“Passion,” he said, nodding. “I want that, too. How dull a marriage must be without it, and to think I contemplated living a life devoid of it.”

Passion had always seemed like a waste of time, but being around Rebecca had revealed just how important it was. He could never settle for less now.

Rebecca lifted her eyes to his. “It seems we think a lot alike, Your Grace,” she said.

“We do,” he replied.

She smiled, their stare growing longer by the second. The world stilled around them, stealing the tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the room and the sound of the crackling fire keeping them warm.

Henry couldn’t hear anything but his own breathing and racing heart. He could have sworn he could also hear Rebecca’s heart, but that seemed impossible. Henry didn’t know when he stood up, but he was making his way to Rebecca before he could really think about his actions. He just needed to touch her.

“Rebecca,” he said, his voice husky, stopping before her.

She tilted her head back, drowning him in her golden-brown eyes. “Yes?”

He couldn’t find the words he wanted to say, so he reached out to touch her face instead. It was probably wrong of him, but he couldn’t stop himself—and neither did he want to.

“Your Grace,” said a voice outside of their bubble.

Henry jerked, pulling away his hand just before touching Rebecca’s soft-looking cheek. He turned to the doorway, ready to scold the person who had interrupted them. It was his valet.

“Yes?” he asked between clenched teeth.

Rebecca quickly stood up and moved away, putting the armchair between them. She appeared a tad sheepish, while he was merely annoyed.

“Please, excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, keeping her head down. “I should retire to bed. Thank you for the conversation and the hot chocolate.”

She hurried away before he could form the words to speak, never raising her head even when his valet bid her goodnight. She merely mumbled something and scurried out of the room. Henry sighed, turning to his valet.

“What is it?” he snapped.

His valet’s eyes widened. “You asked me to inform you once the jeweller’s man had come with the gift. He arrived moments ago, and I placed the gift in your room.”

He had asked his valet to do that, but the timing couldn’t have been more wrong. However, his valet’s interruption was likely for the best. Henry should not attempt to start something he couldn’t finish.

“Thank you,” he replied. “I’ll be up shortly.”

The valet bowed and walked away, leaving Henry slowly sinking into his seat. He hung his head, resting his arms on his legs. His emotions were evidently becoming too strong to deny, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight them. Things had definitely changed between them.