Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

W hist wasn’t her favorite game. Eleanor preferred charades, where everyone could laugh and be boisterous, but a good calm card game near a blazing fire never hurt when the weather was bad. She only wished she was partnered with James. Although there was no way they could continue the conversation of the previous day in front of the other guests, partnering him would have given her the opportunity to keep him in her direct line of sight. As it was, he was in and out of the parlor attending to matters for the Duke of Rothes.

Of course, she was aware of the old quarrel between James and Rothes. But she’d never discussed it with anyone outside of her family. Even then, it had only ever been a topic when Rothes felt a need to remind all and sundry of James’s sin against him. She’d always thought it would be something she could ask James about, after they were wed.

How foolish she’d been to believe love was all that a couple needed to get them to the altar. If love was the driving force behind marriage, she wouldn’t be sitting at a table with a pile of cards in front of her. Instead, she would be curled up in the arms of her husband, sitting next to the fire as they read a book together or chatted about the day. The thought of it made her cheeks heat as she remembered the comfort of James’s embrace .

“Eleanor, you must tell us what has your thoughts so preoccupied,” Mrs. Bailey said.

Eleanor instantly put her hands over her cheeks. “A little daydream is all.”

Miss Hartwell giggled and then picked up the cards as David finished dealing them out. “Lord Montefeltro was likely the object of your dreaming.”

“I am afraid not, Miss Hartwell.” Eleanor had yet to confide in anyone other than David about the decision she and Montefeltro had made regarding their engagement. Announcing it in that moment would only add more distress to their day. It was a shock she must give to her mother and father in their own home.

Eleanor picked up her cards and arranged them for the next round. She was ready to begin anew when both doors to the parlor opened. James walked in ahead of two footmen, who were carrying a table.

“We have our talented cook, Mrs. Stone, to thank for a wonderful diversion. Although it is not customary for a host to put his guests to work decorating gingerbread biscuits, Mrs. Stone thought it might be a bit of fun.” James looked to the duke, expecting an argument, but he didn’t wait for the duke to speak. “I must admit, nothing has brought me more pleasure this day than the thought of decorating a gingerbread man.”

Eleanor noticed that no one in the room paid any attention to the duke as he grumbled his displeasure over the activity. Nothing would deter her from a bit of fun, and it seemed she was not the only one delighted. Excitement instantly bubbled in her chest as she saw everyone in the room come to life, setting aside their books and other pursuits to join James at the table.

Traditionally, if gingerbread biscuits were served at a party, they were decorated to look like each of the guests. They had Queen Elizabeth and her Medieval kitchen to thank for the tradition. It was rumored the queen would have biscuits decorated to look like those of her court, the men she was courting, and important guests. It was a time-honored tradition in Emerald Falls, but Eleanor hadn’t ever been party to decorate biscuits. She’d only ever sought out her own to eat on Twelfth Night .

“How charming.” Eleanor followed her fellow card players over to the table.

Holding up a bag, James shook it, his eyes filled with mirth. “There is one more element of fun to this little game. We will each draw a name from the bag, the person whose name you choose is the one you will depict as you decorate your biscuit. Therefore, if I draw my dear mama’s name, then I will create a Mrs. Bailey gingerbread lady.”

Since James was standing in front of everyone, it gave her a rare opportunity to watch his every move without fear of suspicion. He was animated, much like he’d been when delivering the charity baskets, engaging with the children. This was the man she remembered from two years previously. A man who loved life and people. He’d always been a little on the grumpy side, but a smile and a laugh could always dispel his angst. It seemed his disposition hadn’t changed too greatly.

James held up a finger before allowing the first person to draw from the bag. “Do not reveal the person’s name. When we have finished our decorating, we will have a contest to see who can find themselves in gingerbread form.”

Rothes cleared his throat, the sound every bit as threatening as his presence. “What is the prize for the winner?”

“Bragging rights,” James responded.

Rothes took his cane and hit his valet on the back of his knees. “You will decorate mine.”

With all the names in the bag, Eleanor waited her turn to step forward. She attempted to keep her eyes focused on the bag but found being so close to James was intoxicating. She took in a long breath, savoring every part of her nearness to James before she had to step away. With a little dip in her knees, she took her piece of parchment and walked to an open seat next to Montefeltro. Hiding her parchment so only she could see the name, she partially smiled to herself. Clearly written upon the parchment was the name Mr. Bailey .

There was no need for her to study the likeness of her muse. Every time she closed her eyes, his face was imprinted on her eyelids, his smile written upon her heart. This would be a simple task. Or so she thought…until the object of her biscuit decoration took the last seat available, which happened to be directly ne xt to her.

She watched as he peeked at his parchment, his straightened posture wilting before her. His disappointment lasted a short second, long enough for her to notice but only because she’d been watching his every move. “Everything quite all right?”

James’s head lifted, a small crease between his eyes showing the question he hadn’t asked. She pointed to the parchment, to which he promptly chided, “You are not to ask, Miss Dove.”

She blushed and dipped her head in reply. “Very true, Mr. Bailey. Although, you seem a bit distressed.”

James slowly moved his hand under the table, and then slipped the parchment into her hand. The touch of his skin upon hers sent a warmth from the palm of her hand down to her toes, much like hot water being poured over her head while in the bath. It was comforting, tinged with a hint of something quite wonderful.

She looked down at the little paper to find the Duke of Rothes’s name. There was nothing for it. It was far too amusing for her not to laugh. The sound burst from her before she could stop it causing, everyone around the room to stare in her direction. She had no excuse, and it was too much to expect James would help her out of this predicament, given she was laughing at his expense.

“Pardon me,” James said, apologizing to the room at large. “The outburst is my fault. Please continue with your decorating.”

Eleanor clapped one hand over her mouth as she slid the parchment back into James’s warm hand. “Thank you for making my excuses.”

“Relieve me of my burden and trade subjects with me.”

She couldn’t possibly do that. He would have to decorate his own likeness on a biscuit, which didn’t seem right given this was a competition. “Forgive me, sir. But I cannot.”

“Why? Did you draw your intended’s name? That must be it. You wish to make the most handsome replica of his person?”

Eleanor shook her head. “I am not so bold as you think, Mr. Bailey. You set the rules of this game, and I dare not break them.”

“Come now, Eleanor. You know very well that I cannot in all seriousness decorate this poor gingerbread man to look like the duke. The man has named me as his sole nemesis. ”

She didn’t intend to trade, but it never hurt to vex a man for sport. “I will trade on one condition.”

“What, pray tell, must I do to win your assignment?”

“Agree to meet me in the library so we can finish our discussion of yesterday.”

James placed his parchment on the table and shook his head. “Best we leave that conversation where it ended.”

“I disagree.”

“Eleanor, you are engaged to be married. I will not do anything to jeopardize your reputation.” He turned away, picking up a knife to begin his decorating.

“You would prefer to stay with your assigned name than switch?”

“Anything else, Miss Dove. I shall give you the moon if you wish it.”

Eleanor pursed her lips as she watched him apply a coat of frosting to the biscuit. She couldn’t very well give him her parchment, so she turned to where Montefeltro had placed his. It sat in the same spot as he’d originally placed it as he listened intently to Miss Hartwell’s explanation of the purpose of a gingerbread man and the tradition dating back to the queen.

If there was a way to convince Montefeltro to trade, she would do so. She was about to interrupt the conversation when Miss Hartwell asked if he knew who it was upon his parchment. When Montefeltro admitted he had yet to look, Eleanor quickly took the parchment from James and switched it out with the one Montefeltro had placed next to his gingerbread man.

“I accept.” Her lips twitched, as she handed over the parchment. “Might I ask, how does a man gift the moon?”

He placed the parchment on the table without opening it. “I shall demand it fall from the heavens like a star.”

She picked up her own knife and spread a thin layer of frosting on her gingerbread James. “Then what?”

“You could swallow it, and the moonbeams would light up your eyes. Your blush would deepen and create a glow upon your skin, and then the beams would shoot out of the ends of your hair creating a halo, proving you possess an angelic soul.”

Eleanor tilted her head to the side as she met his gaze. She felt light as though she were floating above her chair. So focused she was upon their connection, she forgot that they were sitting in the parlor with her family. “What would the heavens do without the moon?”

His lips parted as she waited for him to answer her question. Was there an answer? If there was, he was certain to find it having just made her heart flutter with the deepest desire to be near him.

“Mourn. Forever changed and never again able to capture what once was so perfectly placed.” They sat in silence. For how long she didn’t know.

A longing she’d only ever experienced upon the ending of their courtship hovered in the air above them, pulling her toward him. She knew something about the deepest of mourning. Was his statement indicative of the existence he expected upon her marriage? If it was, she could relieve him of the pain in that very moment.

The crease reappeared between his eyes as his mouth turned down in a frown. Pushing the parchment toward her, he motioned for her to take it back. “It is likely best we leave the moon where it is.”

It was easy to exchange the parchment once more, as Montefeltro and Miss Hartwell were still deep in conversation. She handed the one with the duke’s name on it back to James, allowing the enchantment of the moment to fade away as all her nerves settled once more.

As she quietly went about decorating her biscuit, Eleanor thought over his words. The gingerbread man in her possession might not look anything like the inspiration for it, but she was certain of one thing. James Bailey was still very much in love with her.